When I think about pleasure, I think about Max, and my mind wanders again. This time back to his loft. I wish I could get him out of my mind. It was just sex. But it was really good sex. It's been a long time since I've had my mind blown like that. I want to ask for more, but how would I do that without looking desperate?
As I watch the dog chasing after his toy, I feel the wind shift behind me. More like a gut feeling than a physical one. Then a voice: "I guarantee what's happening between those pages is far more interesting than what's happening in that field right now."
My heart jolts awake and I scramble to keep from dropping the book. Despite only spending less than an hour with him, I know that voice.
"Sorry," Max says, coming around the bench to sit next to me. His scent is carried on the breeze, engulfing me, as soft and delectable as a cashmere scarf. I don't know what the scent is, but I remember it from the pillow on the couch. I want to bathe in it. Capture it in a jar and take it everywhere with me, opening it when I need a fix. "Didn't mean to scare you."
He's dressed simply, in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, but he makes simple look so damn good. He could walk right into the pages of a magazine and women would buy whatever he's selling for their man. No man will ever look that good in those clothes, though.
I try not to show my surprise and elation when seeing him again, and try to replace the smile on my face with something casually indifferent. "You've read it?" I ask.
"Of course I have. Austen is one of the greats."
Again, I try to keep the surprise from my face. "It's a love story … "
He looks at me with an eyebrow quirked. "And?" he says.
"I didn't peg you as a romantic," I admit.
"Way to put me in a box, Fiona." I like the way he says my name, making sure every syllable is its own island, making it sound distinct and more important. "And here I was about to apologize for being such a dick when we first met," he says.
"Oh really?"
He leans back, arms resting on the back of the bench. The tips of his fingers touch my shoulder. He nods.
"Apology accepted," I say.
"Oh, I didn't apologize. I said I was going to, but you blew it," he says.
Laughter bubbles in the back of my throat, but barely makes a sound. "You're taking it away from me?"
He looks at me with a dead-eyed serious expression. "Maybe if you're nice I'll give it back to you."
"You're going to make me earn your apology?"
"Nothing in life is free."
This time my laughter is full-bodied and belly-shaking. His stony face cracks into a smile. "You're such an ass," I say. "But I'm sure that's no secret to you."
He shrugs. "It's a bit unoriginal, but okay."
I shake my head and continue to watch the Labrador play fetch with its owner. Instead of bringing the toy back, he runs away and his owner chases after him. But it's really hard to focus on a man and his dog when Max is sitting so close to me. The tips of his fingers still touch my shoulder. I wonder if he's as aware of them as I am. It feels like hot pokers touching me. Not painful by any means, but impossible to ignore.
"So, what did the next envelope say?" he asks.
"That's actually why I'm here," I say and turn to watch his face. "I have to sleep with ten guys in this park before I can move onto the next envelope."
His mouth literally falls open and his entire body turns rigid and it's so hard for me to maintain a straight face. Eventually his smile cracks open.
"You're a terrible liar," he says.
"What gave me away?"
"Your face."
"What about it?"
"Everything."
I frown. Kia always told me I had a terrible poker face. I guess she was right.
Pulling the envelope out of my purse, I hand it to him. He reads it and looks down at the book in my hand. "The girl had good taste," he says.
"But the weird thing is, I'm pretty sure she already read the book," I say when he hands the envelope back. "She was always talking about how romantic Jane Austen's books were-which is why I've always wanted to read Pride and Prejudice. Why would that be on her bucket list if she's already read it?"
He shrugs. "Maybe she wanted to read it one last time."
I look up at the clouds. They form a shape of a heart. Fitting for this conversation. "Maybe."
"So, if you're supposed to be reading it," he says, taking the book from my hand and finding my bookmark. "Then why are you still on page one?"
"I keep getting distracted."
"Then why don't you come back to my place. I'll read it to you in bed."
When I look at him, I can't help the smile spreading over my face even though I try not to be so obvious. I think about the way his hands and lips felt on my body, and I get cold chills that harden my nipples, obvious beneath my silky shirt despite my bra. His eyes flicker to them and he shows me an appreciative smile which instantly makes me wet. I squirm in my seat at it coats my underwear.
"Lead the way," I tell him.
He's taking my clothes off before we're even upstairs, kissing my bare shoulders, running his fingers through my hair. He unclasps my bra with lightning speed and grasps my breasts from behind, pinching my nipples which sends a jolt between my legs.
"I've been fantasizing about fucking you ever since you left my place," he says, breath warm and heavy in my ear.
I smell the tang of cologne on his skin, something spicy, expensive. It's intoxicating. He unbuttons my jeans, loosening them enough to slip his fingers into my panties and down between my legs. He moves them expertly. Like a locksmith discovering the combination, my legs open for him. He's rubbing, probing, dipping his fingers into me. My knees buckle and he has to balance his own weight to counter mine. Small, pleasure-filled noises rise up in my throat.
His voice is almost a growl when he says, "Damn, you get so wet."
It's obvious by the sounds his fingers make when he slides them in and out of me that they're drenched. But fingers aren't enough for me. I want him. All of him. My body aches for him.
I turn around to face him. "Fuck me," I demand, because I'm no longer playing around.
His smile nearly knocks me off my feet. He can't possibly get sexier than he is right now. This time we make it to his bedroom. He pushes me onto his bed and yanks down my jeans and panties in one fluid motion and gets down on his knees, pulling me to the edge so the bottom half of my body is hanging off the bed. Holding my ass in one hand, he pulls me forward, his tongue snaking out, entering my folds, and he starts to lap at them as if he were thirsty. First the outer layers, teasing, playing. By the time he reaches my clit, I'm ready for it. Desperate for it.
He sheds his own clothes and finds a condom in his bedside table drawer and slips it on, then climbs on top of me. He doesn't waste any time, and pushes into me with a grunt. My eyes close involuntarily as I marvel at the fullness I feel. I force my eyes open, though. I want to look at his body, study the art that decorates him. It tells a story, I'm just not sure what it says about him yet. On his chest is a deer head, its antlers reaching across his pecks, almost into his arm pits. On his arm, there's a wolf. On the front of his neck is an eagle with its wings stretched out. He's either an animal lover or they have special meanings.
As he slides in and out of me, it feels so good that I forget to explore the rest of his tattoos. Maybe there will be time for that later. Right now, I'm just enjoying the ride. I'm crying out for it, in fact. He pushes into me, rubbing my clit at the same time and I writhe on the bed. When he takes my legs, and puts the backs of my knees over his shoulders and folds me in half, I'm certain he has reached the furthest depth of me. He's so deep it almost hurts, teetering on the edge of pain and pure bliss. I love it. Every pulsing inch of it.
Though he's furiously driving into me, he kisses me on the lips, slow and sultry. "You're so beautiful," he says into my mouth in that lovely deep voice of his. I've been called beautiful in bed plenty of times before, but with the others it felt more like pillow talk. I believe Max when he says it.
I lick his lips and he sucks my tongue into his mouth.
When he lets go, I whisper to him, "It feels so good."
He changes his rhythm, pulling almost all the way out before driving back in, making sure I feel the entire length of him.
"You like that?" he says, almost teasing.
"You feel so fucking good."
I'm clawing at his back, loving the way he feels inside of me. Then he starts to hammer hard, staring me in the eyes while he does it. He's so hot, and there's something about the hungry way he looks at me that turns me on even more. Three more hard thrusts and I'm yelling his name and cursing. It's like I'm possessed as my orgasm claws its way out of me. My legs clinch as I ride out my orgasm. He climbs off of me and kisses his way down my legs, and kisses the tips of each of my toes as I'm slowly coming back down from the incredible high.