Page 77 of Dr. Bad Boy

And for the rest of the scene I hold perfectly, precisely still. He circles around my body, snipping and pinching, smoothing and pinching. I’m floating as Max eases me down, laying me out on the ottoman. He looms above me, checking in, and I swallow hard as I try to focus on his face.

“You still with me?”

“Yeah…” Man, it’s hard to get that word out right now. I giggle.

“That’s enough pain for you tonight.”

I make a disappointed sound and he tweaks my nipple.

“Don’t, Violet. That’s too fucking tempting. You’re such a dirty little painslut, aren’t you?”

His words light me up inside and I squirm against him. He’s between my legs now, kneeling in front of the ottoman, and I realize he’s got his cock out, because it lands heavy against my thigh. Oh, yes.

His knuckles rub against my leg, then he’s fisting himself, jerking himself off against my pussy. Each nudge of his thick length against my clit makes me moan, and when he finally rips open a condom and slides inside of me, I’m a goner. I’m coming almost from the first stroke, and I swear I don’t stop until he shudders to a halt on top of me.

Max needs to let loose more often.

And as he wraps me in a blanket and carries me upstairs, I wonder if he really had a bad day, or if that was all part of the scene. I try to ask him as he tucks me in, but the words come out in an incoherent mumble.

“Shh,” he says, kissing forehead before he rolls me over and slides in behind me. He’s naked now. When did that happen? “Go to sleep.”

“Mmm,” I say. “But—”

“Tomorrow,” he says. “We’ve got all weekend.”

26

Violet

When I wakeup the next morning, Max is sitting beside me on the bed, running his fingers over my naked torso.

I blink up at him and smile as he traces a gentle circle around what feels like the start of a small bruise. I’ll be feeling last night all week. I stretch my arms out above my head and make a contented sound as he smooths his palm over my hip.

“Don’t be making those sexy purring sounds, kitten, or I’ll have to strip and that’s not the plan for today.”

I refocus on him, and yeah, he’s dressed. That’s weird. He’s wearing jeans and a dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. “Do you have to go to work?”

He shakes his head, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I thought we might venture outside.” A protest bubbles up inside me, but before I can voice it, he presses a finger to my lips. “Not here in the city, don’t worry. I thought we could go to Montreal for the night. We can stop at your apartment on the way and pick up whatever you need, but I’ve got some clothes for you as well.”

I blush. “Appropriate for going out in public clothes?”

He raises one eyebrow. “Are you questioning me?”

Oh, damn. “No, Max.”

He squeezes my hip. “Good. Up and into the shower, kitten.”

It turnsout his clothing choices are more than appropriate for being out in public. Dark skinny jeans that fit me like a glove and a gorgeous black cashmere sweater over a silky long-sleeve tee. The Agent Provocateur lingerie set under that is nothing but satin ribbons and two shallow cups to present my breasts for him, but we’re the only people that know that.

After he holds my coat for me in his foyer, he turns me around and buttons it up, brushing his knuckles against my cleavage.

“You doubted me,” he murmurs as he brushes his lips against mine.

I crook one eyebrow at him. “So you pretend you’re not going to torture me all day?”

He steps back and picks up our overnight bags. “Of course I won’t pretend that.”

I laugh and step forward, giving him a quick kiss. “Let’s go, my torturer.”

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