This is a mess.
But we want each other, and I don’t want to say no.For once, I’m not tallying consequences or rehearsing regret.I won’t let myself go there.I’m choosing this.
Him.
Before I can talk myself out of his bed, I rise onto my toes and kiss him.Hard.Hungry.A kiss that robs all reason and makes confession unnecessary.His body freezes for half a beat, then answers as his mouth claims mine.
My hands slide to his waist, fingers curling into denim, tugging him closer—an invitation, a promise, a line I have no intention of uncrossing.
As if pulled by the same current, his hand slides up my spine, and the heat of him burns straight through me, telling me he’s all in.
Then as if he remembers we’re still more clothed than not, he steps back enough to breathe and make the pause, the distance, ache.
With our eyes locked, no words needed, we strip out of our jeans.Then we collide once more.Mouths, tongues, and limbs.
Still kissing, he guides me backward until my calves meet the mattress, and then he gently pushes me onto the bed.He’s in black boxer briefs, nothing else, and his impressive erection stretches the fabric tight.His thighs are like granite and so is his cock.Heat spikes low and fast in my core.
“Come here.”I crook my finger and lick my lips.
He closes the distance, leaning over me and grinding into me.His cotton-covered cock drags against my drenched panties.My breath stutters and I reach up, needing to touch him.His chest is all hard planes and working muscle under my palms, skin hot and alive.
“Jesus, Grace.”His voice drops rough as gravel as he cups my breast through my bra, thumb finding my nipple and pinching until the ache sharpens.“You’re so fucking sexy.”
I can’t find words, don’t need them.My chest heaves as every nerve tunes into him.
His hand slides around my back, and my bra is gone in a single, practiced motion.A barrage of sensations storms me—the cool air, his heated gaze, the way his mouth takes mine as he lowers himself over me.The kiss is ravenous, hot and reckless, pressing hard against what little control I have left.
“Tell me what you want,” he murmurs against my lips.
“You,” I whisper.
He hums like he’s pleased.My panties are pushed aside, and a thick finger sinks into me.My soft groan spills into his mouth, and my back bows off the bed when his thumb circles my clit, slow and deliberate.Devastating.
“Christ, you’re so fucking wet.So tight.”His thumb works my clit with purpose while his finger keeps fucking me, deep, measured, and glorious.
The heat at the base of my spine tightens, coils, my body begging for more than he’s giving.
My head tips back, breath fracturing.“Maddox… I’m going to?—”
“I know.”His thumb circles again.“Not yet.”
His demand decimates me, and I whimper as my muscles tremble, clenching around his finger.Then he drags his digit out just enough to make me ache even more for him before sliding back in, slow and sure, hooking at the perfect spot.
He watches me fall apart, every inch of attention on what he’s doing to me.“That’s it.Let it build.Let me feel you.”
I’m shaking now, breath gone, body strung so tense it hurts.
“Come for me, Grace.”His command snaps the last thread.
My lips latch onto the flesh of his shoulder as I break around his finger, around his voice, the release rolling through me in long, punishing waves.He keeps me there, keeps me open until I’m spent and shaking and nothing exists but his hand and my ragged breaths.
I’m still trembling when his finger slides out of me, but he doesn’t leave me.He stays close, palms smoothing over my thighs, grounding me while my breath catches up with my body.
“Easy.I’ve got you.”He shifts back just enough to free himself from his boxers, and the sound of fabric sliding down his legs makes my pulse skitter in anticipation.
He reaches for the nightstand, movements unhurried, like he knows exactly how much this pause is doing to me.I track every second of his movements, unable to look away.He rolls the condom on, jaw tight, gaze flicking back to mine as if checking that I’m still here with him.
“Still want me?”