Chapter 20: Our Thing: Chapter 20

I’m wrapped in Max’s warm body with his erection pressing against my lower back. His fingers move between my thighs and push inside me. I’m somewhere between awake and asleep. He fingers me slowly. Leisurely. My breathing gets heavier and his tongue licks my earlobe. My body opens for him.

‘I won’t see you much today,’ he says, his breath feathering down my neck.

‘I know.’

I hum as foil crinkles and he shuffles around behind me. He reaches between my thighs and positions his penis between my lips. His erection slowly slides into me. He groans low and long as he grinds deeper, pushing further. The pressure between my thighs is consuming, yet tender. His fingers are unhurried as they touch me everywhere.

‘Beautiful,’ he murmurs. ‘Every fucking inch of you. Petite. Perfectly curved. Perfect tits. Fuck me, I just want to eat every part of you. . .’

‘I think you’re beautiful,’ I moan, quivering within his arms and hands. His hips roll against my backside, his penetration gradual and deep. Moans vibrate in my throat as I fist my pillow. His girth forces me to part my thighs and I hook my leg behind his knee, allowing for full-length thrusts. I’m so full of him.

‘It should have been like this for your first time.’

I breathe. ‘I like my first time.’

‘I was rough.’

‘You weren’t.’

Fingers move into my mouth and I suck on them in a slow, lavish motion.

We make love lazily all morning.

Afterwards, we wash each other in the shower. I wrap myself in a robe and help Max into his tailed charcoal suit, black shirt, and black tie. My chest feels so full as I reach around his waist to thread his belt and buckle it up. He watches as I dress him with a smile on my face.

He sits down to pull his shoes on. There’s a tight line between his brows as he laces them, an internal weight upon his shoulders.

I sit on the edge of the bed. ‘What is it?’

He stares at me. Pensive. ‘If you really want this side of me, I won’t be able to hide certain things from you.’

‘I don’t want you to hide anything from me.’

‘Don’t ask questions. I’m not prepared to tell you the answers.’

‘I already told you I won’t.’

He stands and walks with measured strides to the cupboard, punches a set of numbers into the safe, and pulls out a gun harness. I hold my breath. He turns to face me deadpan and clenches his jaw when he sees me studying the black straps and leather holster. His eyes are anchored to mine as he slides the harness over his shoulders. He reaches into the safe and pulls out the black handgun I’d seen earlier. Grabbing the magazine, he loads the gun. I flinch when it clicks into place.

Holding my eyes, he tucks the gun into the left side of his holster and fastens it tightly with a clip.

My body swarms with discomfort and fear and. . . lust? But more than anything, gazing at Max Butcher in a harness, knowing all that I know about his world and accepting that there is so much more that I don’t, I just want him safe. I want him kept safe. That gun might just do that, and so I decide to like it. I finally breathe out.

‘Come here,’ he orders. ‘Give me a kiss goodbye.’

My heart flutters. I’m immediately on my feet and closing the space between us. Rising onto my tippy toes, I reach up to hold his neck and press my lips to his. He envelops me with big, strong arms. I grasp at them, running my nails lightly along his muscles. Surely, Max is too strong to die.