Page 48 of One Pucking Life

I start fidgeting, avoiding his gaze. I suddenly decide the couch pillows need fluffing.

It feels like I’m going about it normally, but I must be hitting them a little too hard because Max steps closer and places his hand on the pillow I’ve rearranged three times already.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I snap.

“Hey,” Max says gently, taking another step forward. His hand presses against the back of the pillow I’ve been abusing. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing. I’m going to head up to bed.”

“Laney. Stop.” He takes my hand. “Look at me.”

I do, locking eyes with him. The depth of those blue irises guts me. “What?”

He lets out a short laugh, almost disbelieving. “Seriously, what is it? You’re mad about something.”

“I’m not.” I yank my hand from his and cross my arms.

“You are. Did I do something wrong? Did you not like your gifts? You can exchange them if you want.” His eyes search mine.

“Yeah, that’s it.” I give a sharp nod. “The Louis Vuitton bag and Tiffany’s necklace you got me weren’t up to standard. You guessed it.”

I know I sound like an utter bitch. But the anger and tension and unrelenting need pulsing through me won’t let me stop. I can’t rein it in.

His eyes widen. “Seriously, Laney. What did I do? I…” He glances around, clearly thrown. “I thought today was incredible.”

“Itwas,” I shout. “Your gifts were beautiful and thoughtful. Everything was perfect. But I’m just so very…angry.”

“Angry? Why?”

“Because the one thing I want, I can’t have. That’s why, Max. That’s fucking why.”

I try to step past him, but he grabs my wrist, stopping me.

“What can’t you have?” His voice has changed—less gentle, more commanding.

I try to pull away, but his grip tightens. “Forget it.”

“No,” he says firmly. “I’m afraid that’s not an option.Tell me.”

My chest rises and falls with the weight of everything I’ve been holding in. My entire body aches with need.

“You!” I shout, my voice breaking. “You.”

He doesn’t flinch. Instead, his voice drops to a husky whisper that sends a shiver down my spine.

“How do you want me?”

My core throbs between my legs. “Hard,” I pant. “I want you inside me, fucking me so deep I feel it for days.”

He crashes his mouth against mine, our lips moving in a frenzied rhythm as our tongues twist and tangle—exploring, tasting, devouring. Insatiable. I could kiss this man forever, but the pulsing between my thighs grows too intense to ignore.

Still kissing Max, I begin removing my clothes, and he does the same. When only our tops remain, we pull apart to rip them off.

He bites his bottom lip, inhaling through his nose, eyes scanning my body. Lust radiates from him in molten waves. I take a moment to drink him in too, committing every inch of his sculpted body to memory.

My mouth parts in a soft, shaky breath as I eye-fuck his perfectly beautiful cock, already imagining the way he’s going to stretch me—fill me.

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