Page 49 of One Pucking Life

“Bend over against the sofa and spread your legs,” he commands.

He leaves the room, and I obey without question. Seconds later, I hear the foil crinkle as he tears open a condom. He positions himself behind me and, without warning, thrusts deep inside, pounding so hard I feel the pressure in my belly.

I cry out as he does it again. And again. My fingers dig into the back of the sofa.

“Like this?” he groans between thrusts.

“Harder,” I whimper.

“Oh, fuck me,” he growls, gripping my hips as he slams into me with brutal intensity.

The room fills with the sharp slap of skin on skin and the breathless sound of our moans. I feel every thrust echo through my entire body—radiating from the soles of my feet to my fingertips, up my spine, to the prickling heat across my scalp. My mind goes blissfully blank, overcome by the sheer, blinding sensation of it all. So good. So needed.

That tingly warmth that signals release begins to build.

“I’m so close,” I breathe.

Max reaches around, his hand sliding between my legs. He continues to fuck me, deep and relentless, while his fingers flick across my clit. Just a few strokes—and I’m gone.

I cry out, trembling as wave after wave of orgasm crashes over me, every muscle tightening and releasing in utter bliss. It’s everything I knew it would be. Strong. Intense. Mind-shattering. Max and I have insane chemistry, and I was right—sex with him is earth-shaking.

Through the haze of my own high, I feel his body stiffen. The guttural sound that rips from his throat tells me he’s coming too—and it wrecks me all over again, knowing he felt it just as hard.

My body slumps forward, boneless. I collapse onto the cushions as Max slips out of me and disposes of the condom. Seconds later, he joins me on the couch, spooning me from behind.

He wraps an arm tightly around my waist, pulling me against his chest. His mouth finds the side of my neck, kissing a lazy path across my skin.

“Was that what you wanted?” he murmurs.

“Yes,” I sigh. “Exactly what I wanted.”

“I’m not so sure it was,” he says, biting playfully at my shoulder.

“No?”

“I’m not confident you’ll feel that tomorrow—and I was very clearly instructed to make you feel it fordays.”

“Oh, yeah?” My body’s barely recovered, and I already want more.

“I’m pretty sure that’s what you said,” he replies. “Just give me a minute, and I’ll be ready.” He slides his hand between my legs and groans when he feels how wet I still am. “I thinkyou’reready now. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I moan as his fingers tease my clit. “I’m so ready.”

I feel him harden against my ass. He grabs another condom and rolls it on in seconds.

Still on my side, I hook my leg over his, and he slides inside me from behind. We both groan as he begins to move. The angle isn’t as deep as before, but it’s just as delicious.

Max thrusts slowly, deliberately, one hand fondling my breasts, his thumb brushing over my nipples. His mouth trails along my neck, kissing, sucking, biting—sending intense jolts of pleasure through me.

He brings me to orgasm again and again. Hours pass in a blur of pleasure, only ending when we’re both too spent to continue.

I fall asleep wrapped in Max’s arms, our bare bodies tucked beneath a soft blanket. The lights from the Christmas tree glow across the room, casting everything in warm, golden magic. The entire day was wonderful—but this moment, right here, was all I wanted.

CHAPTER

NINETEEN

MAX

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