Page 112 of Moonlit Nights & Northern Lights
“No, it means—” I growled in frustration. “Look, Maxwell, I need your cock inside me right now, or I swear to god I’m going to die. Like, actually die. Is that what you want? My death on your conscience?”
“Fine, then!” Maxwell’s voice was edged with frustration.
“Fine!” I echoed.
My cock hadn’t deflated throughout this exchange. Not even a little bit.
Then a horrible realisation struck me. “Fuck!” I exclaimed, smacking my palm againstmy forehead. “We don’t have condoms!”
Maxwell blinked at me, his expression shifting to disbelief. “You didn’t bring any?”
“Why the fuck would I have brought condoms?” I gesticulated wildly. “This isn’t actually a couple’s retreat, as much as we’re pretending it is.”
“I thought you’d have some in your wallet or something.”
“Do I seem the type to be that prepared?” I asked, throwing my hands up.Not that any of mine would even fit you anyway,I resisted adding.
Maxwell’s lips quirked. “Point taken.”
“But I got tested like a month ago,” I offered, shifting my weight. “All clear.”
“A month? And you… haven’t had sex since then?” Maxwell asked, his tone carefully neutral.
I scowled, crossing my arms over my chest. “Obviously not, else I’d have said. I’m not at it with different blokes every night, you know.”
“Sorry,” Maxwell said, looking genuinely contrite. “The way you and Priya talk sometimes made me think that you… erm… enjoy a very healthy sex life.”
“Are you calling me a man-whore because I occasionally have casual sex?” I demanded, my voice rising an octave.
Maxwell’s eyes widened in horror. “Fuck, no! Look, I’m really sorry.” He ran a hand across his face, clearly mortified.
Oops.I’d probably slightly overreacted.
“I guess…” he continued. “I’m very aware that you’re much more sexually active than I am. In fact, I haven’t had sex in ages—coming up to a year now.” He glanced away for a moment. “But anyway, to the best of my knowledge, I’m completely safe. I had a bunch of annual checkups earlier this year, STDs included.”
By now my cock had finally gotten the message and deflated considerably. Maxwell noticed—his eyes dropped to my groin before he reached out and took me in hand, gliding his fingers very slowly up and down.
“I’m trying very hard not to read your mind right now,” he said quietly, his thumb tracing a delicate circle over my sensitive head. “But I’d very much like to know what you’re thinking.”
“I’m thinking that we should go upstairs before we fight again, because I really do need you to fuck me senseless.”
Maxwell immediately dropped my dick, took my hand in his, and guided me toward the stairs. His fingers laced through mine, warm and certain, as he led me up each step.
My heart fluttered wildly as we ascended the stairs, Maxwell’s hand still firmly grasping mine, his grip deliciously tight.
“I have lube, by the way, in case you were wondering,” I said. “It’s in the zipped pocket of my suitcase from ages ago.”
He paused at the top of the stairs, turning to look at me with his signature arched eyebrow. “The suitcase whose contents are still scattered across the floor like a clothes bomb detonated at the bottom of the stairs?”
I glanced down at the explosion of my belongings—T-shirts, trousers, and socks flung in every direction like shrapnel.
“I guess I should probably bring that up now,” I said, reluctantly letting go of his hand and bounding back down the stairs. I rummaged through the disaster zone, finally locating the small bottle. Victoriously, I held it up.
Then, I left my suitcase exactly where it was, taking the steps two at a time to rejoin him on the landing.
Maxwell’s eyes darkened, a low growl rumbling from his chest. “You’re bloody infuriating, do you know that?”
I waggled the bottle between us, my grin widening. “You secretly love it, apparently.”
