An Ounce of Hope(80)

Max lifted a little from the bed, pulling the damned thing over his head, and dropped it to the floor. Carefully, with his fingers, he pushed her hair back, not holding her-knowing her aversion to being restrained in any way-but keeping it back from her face. He wanted to see her, see her explore his body. He wanted to capture every single moment because, fuck, he'd never seen anything as erotic as Grace taking control. He fisted the bedsheets with his free hand, clenching and releasing, instead of succumbing to the overwhelming need he had to grab her, throw her down, and have his way with her.

As if reading his mind, she hummed with a smile into his skin and Jesus fucking Christ when her tongue came out to taste his nipple, Max almost leaped from the bed.

"You taste good," she said into his chest, her fingers moving through the hair that speckled it. She sighed. "I want to taste you all over."




 

 

"Goddamn," Max uttered, grimacing at his uncomfortable hard-on. His hips flexed with the need for any type of friction. "Do what you want," he urged. "Please. Anything."

She glanced down at his predicament. "Can I . . . would it be okay if I undressed you?"

Max scoffed and quickly pushed the button through the hole on his shorts, eager to get her started. "Grace. Don't ask." He opened his arms wide, offering himself to her white-hot stare. "Just touch."

She kneeled up and clasped the fly zipper, pulling it down too fucking slowly. Max lifted his hips and pushed his fingers into the waistband at his lower back, helping her pull the godforsaken things down his thighs. He kicked them off his feet, leaving him in nothing but his boxer briefs, tented with his want. Max bit his lip when her finger traced the outline of him through his underwear.

"You're so hard," she murmured.

"You have no fucking idea," he replied, holding back an incredulous laugh. "Take them off me."

For a split second, Max saw her waver, he saw anxiety and doubt, and his stomach dropped. He opened his mouth to reassure her, to tell her that, despite him and his cock wanting nothing more than to have her bouncing all over it, it was okay, that they didn't have to do anything, that they'd take it slow, but, God bless her, he didn't get the chance.

Without preamble, Grace pushed her small fingers into the elastic of his underwear and pulled. Max didn't hesitate. He lifted up, allowing her to rid him of them, and kicked them off his feet to the end of the bed.

Naked and hard as hell, Max lay back and allowed Grace to stare at him.

Her green gaze wandered from the tip of his toes to the crown of his head and back again, roaming over his cock in such a way that Max was pretty certain he could have come from that particular look alone.

"You're . . . exquisite," she whispered, reaching out a hand to caress his erection. He growled at the sensation of someone other than himself touching-it had been too fucking long-the gentle stroke, the throb that craved more, harder, firmer.

He swallowed back a moan when she gripped him and slid her hand up and down, cautious yet determined. "What the hell's wrong with this picture?"

With her eyes still on his dick in her hand she replied, "Absolutely nothing."

He laughed gently, bringing her eyes back to his. "Grace." He lifted a hand and stroked her thigh. "I'm naked and you're not." She glanced down at herself as though surprised by the fact. "Let me see you," he urged. "You're in control here, Grace. I'll do whatever you want, but I want to see you." He squeezed her leg. Still on her knees, she released him, appearing to consider him carefully. "I've got you," he murmured. "Trust me." 

She took a deep breath and lifted her dress up and over her head, leaving her in a pair of black panties and nothing else. Her hair fell down her shoulders and back and her dark skin was so fucking beautiful in the soft light that filtered through the white lace, which hung at her bedroom window. Her scars-her tiger stripes, as Max had come to call them-moved like ripples on a pond as she discarded her dress to the floor.

"Perfect," he said softly when he saw her fidget under his appreciative stare. Max couldn't help but touch. He reached out and cupped her tits, loving their weight in his hands and the pebbling of her nipples against his palms. "Fuck, yeah."

"What do you want?" Grace gasped, arching her back and pushing more of herself into his grasp.

"Whatever you fucking want," he replied before licking her stomach.

"Max, tell me." The slight pleading in her voice brought Max's head up. "I want to know. Please?"

Max moved back, resting his weight on his elbow. He rubbed a hand through his hair as a barrage of filthy, hot, and sweaty images assaulted his mind. He chuckled nervously. "Grace, this is all on you. I don't think-"