Page 66 of Last on the List
I yank his hand off my hip to guide him to my center. He rubs me through my shorts, and the fabric dampens with my arousal as I ride him, my pelvis fucking his firm strokes.
Groaning loudly, he presses his head onto my back and bows over me, blanketing my body with his heat as he continues to dry hump me. The naughty, illicit nature of what we’re doing fully clothed somehow feels hotter than being stripped naked and fucking on the sawhorse.
A tiny yelp escapes my lips when I feel him bite down on my shoulder, and it’s as if that noise shocks him back to reality because he pulls his hand away and backs up.
“Fuck,” he growls and shoves both hands through his hair. “Shit, I bit you again.”
“It’s okay,” I exhale with a laugh, glancing at the tender area that’s reddening already.
I feel the loss of his warmth as he puts more space between us and begins pacing by the sawhorse, his erection painfully obvious. “Jesus…Everly is still awake. She could have walked in.”
I fight to catch my breath, straightening my tank top back to its rightful position before crossing my arms over my nipples. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened.”
“You happened,” he snaps back at me, his face looking almost angry.
“You think this is my fault?” I exclaim, my state of arousal being doused rather quickly. “I’m pretty sure you touched me first.”
“That was after you fucking ghosted me,” he stammers, looking more unraveled than I’ve ever seen him.
My face twists up in confusion. “I didn’t ghost you! I’ve been talking to you all day.”
“Not that kind of ghost, you like…Patrick Swayze’d me.” He gesticulates with his hands like he’s wrapping around someone at a pottery cauldron.
I huff out a noise of annoyance. “You can’t turn a person into a verb.”
“You are all fucking verb, Cassandra.” He begins pacing again, his breath hitching in his chest as he points between us. “This isn’t working.”
My chest contracts with the ominous words he’s just uttered. I press my hand to my heart in a feeble attempt to calm down the dread that washes over me at where I think this is going. I try not to cry when I ask, “Do you want me to quit?”
Max stops, and a vein in his forehead pulses angrily as he gapes back at me. “No! Fuck…I can’t lose—Everly can’t lose you,” he thunders.
My brow furrows with stubbornness. “Well good because I’m not going to quit.”
“But this tension is…impossible.” He exhales heavily, and his shoulders drop. “We can’t lose control like this again, especially when Everly is around.”
“I agree.” I swallow the thickness in my throat and try not to show my disappointment. “We can’t let it happen again.”
“Or…” Max starts, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly deep in thought. His eyes glance at me nervously. “What if we do let it happen again? What if we let it happen as much as we need it to? What if we just…bang it out?”
“Bang it out?” I repeat, my libido popping back up out of nowhere like a wanton hussy.
Max shrugs. “Yeah, so we just keep doing this but maybe with some specific rules that we both agree to so there’s some structure and order to it.”
I pause to consider this. “Like, do you want me to sign a contract?”
“Jesus, no! What the fuck?” He looks angry again.
“Sorry…I was just thinking a Christian Grey moment and my imagination got carried away.”
“Clearly.”
I chew my lip nervously.
“Is that a kink we need to discuss?” he asks, his eyes watching me carefully.
“BDSM? Oh, my God, no!” All the blood rushes to my cheeks as my choking fantasy silently breaks into the party to sayheeeeeyyyy girl.
“Okay then.” He looks relieved.
