Page 38 of Surrender: XXX Maxim
“I… I’m good,” I stammer, shaking my head.
“You don’t appreciate the taste ofvanilla, after all?” He definitely isn’t talking about a shitty frozen treat anymore.
“I-I do.” My fingers shake as I curl them over the base of the cone, overlapping his. If I aimed to prove him wrong, I fucking regret it instantly. The heat of his hand is a furnace, melding with the scorching sun.
“Then taste,” he commands.
Sweat beads over my forehead as I copy him with my own brief lick.Vanilla?This is a version of it I’ve never experienced, that’s for damn sure. The taste flooding my mouth feels anything butsafe.
“It’s good,” I agree, drawing back.
He samples another taste for himself. “It’s sweet,” he declares after swallowing. “I could see how some men prefer this overall.”
“For some people, that’s all they need,” I point out. My gaze drifts beyond him to where Mikie and Ray swing Ainsley between them, while Daisy carries Eric on her back. “Boring. Easy. Safe.”
“Safe? Appealing to some, yes. Though I think I will always prefer another taste…” A low sound resonates in his throat as he laps up an entire section of ice cream in one ravenous swipe. Another. His gaze doesn’t leave mine once, feeding a dangerous curiosity.
What taste could appeal to him more?
The dessert is already starting to melt, dripping in rivulets down his knuckles, conjuring sinful imagery.Glistening fingers, assaulted by his tongue, coated in a liquid far different from this...
I exhale sharply as he takes a step back. I can breathe again. But the reprieve comes at a cost. His entire posture shifts. In an instant, he towers above me, no longer the aloof carnival director. In his gaze lurks a dare he doesn’t pose out loud.
Come.His chin tilts, beckoning me closer. Closer. Closer.
I comply before I truly register advancing toward him. Eventually, we wind up yards away from the commotion centered around the kids, and I’m faced with the sheer size of the property. A row of swaying palm trees and a wooden shed obscure us from view now. Happy squeals and joyous shouts make me suspect we won’t be missed for a while.
“Maybe your sister had the right idea?” Maxim proposes. His voice sounds closer to its usual baritone, though still cautious. “More than one flavor. A mix. A harmony—” He offers the melting cone to me again. “Taste.”
I lick.
He inhales, his eyes gleaming in the sun.
“Would you really be okay with that?” I swipe my hand over my mouth. “Addingvanillainto your life?”
“I am not unwilling…” He steals another bite of ice cream, his expression contemplative. “But there will always be parts of me that I cannot change. Certain tastes I cannot compromise for anyone. Can you understand that?”
The cone returns to my mouth. I barely feel the chill wafting off it amid this heat. The suffering mass of ivory symbolizes so much more—no match for satisfying Maxim’s true appetite. A wolf can’t subsist on vanilla ice cream forever.
But the fact of him even trying it at all might be enough...
“Yes,” I whisper. “I understand.”
He nods to his hand. “So taste.”
I lean in, but at the last second, he moves the cone out of reach, and our lips meet instead. I stiffen at first, only to relax into him. Groaning, he shoves his tongue inside me, snatching me against his chest. The cone falls, but he turns his attention to savoring a different taste. Sugar and sin.
Me.He licks at the sweat dripping down my throat. Down my chest. Between my breasts. My dress is a cumbersome obstacle, no match for him. Fabric rips, and his hands eagerly replace the material, groping. Grasping. Taking.
But even from here, Ainsley’s laughter tickles the air. Too close.
“Wait—” I barely voice the plea as he tugs me into an enclosed space. Somewhere hot. Stuffy. The shed?
I only make out a row of hooks on the wall, sporting an array of clothing before his fingers are inside me, his mouth near my ear. “Relax,” he growls. “We’re alone. Fuck… Always so wet for me.”
He’s right—and the intensity of his touch takes my breath away. There is no restraint to each violent, brutal thrust of his thumb. No care to disguise the lust edging every hoarse sound to leave his throat.
He devours me.
