“No!” Maxim said when I started to push my fingers inside. “Nothing inside, just touch your clit.”
My sex clenched, fluttering with the need to be filled, but I did as he said and only touched the outside of my lips and worked at my clit, desperate to feel something inside me while not wanting to disobey him.
The soft snick of his zipper lowering got my attention, and I watched as he pulled his cock from his pants. He was hard, his cockhead red and slick with his own moisture. I watched as he stroked his hand down his broad shaft and back to his cockhead, moving my fingers along my soaking sex in time with his hand.
My vision began to dim, and the orgasm hit me hard and suddenly. As I came, my sex clenched even tighter, yet empty, still needy, needy for Maxim.
“Come here,” he said, his breath a little deeper as he stroked himself.
I moved to him quickly and perched on the edge of the desk, shamelessly spreading my legs. He stepped between them and pushed my thighs wider apart, moved closer until his cock rested at the edge of my entrance.
“Little flower,” he said, pushing his cockhead against me until he barely breached me, “you want my cock inside you? Want me to fill you up, take away the emptiness?”
He got closer as he spoke, and I reached for him, grabbed at his strong shoulders, pressed my chest against his, his suit brushing against my tight nipples, anxious to get closer to him.
“Yes,” I whispered.
“No,” he said.
Instead of pushing his hardness inside me, filling me as only he could, he began to stroke himself again, moving his hand up and down his hard, thick shaft faster and faster, balanced there on the edge of my opening but not entering me.
He stroked even faster and then, on a harsh breath, he started to come. He sprayed my pussy with his seed, and at the first splash of his warmth, my sex clenched down hard, rocking my body still desperate for him, still needing to be filled.
He wouldn’t, though, and with hazy eyes I watched as he tucked his cock back into his pants. My hand drifted between my thighs and I touched myself but then froze when I heard his voice.
“Stop,” he said.
His voice brought me back to myself, and when I fully came back to myself I shuddered, part embarrassed, part pleased, still empty, and after a moment, he spoke.
“Senna, I decide who sees you and how. Now get dressed and don’t ever wear that again,” he said.
I gaped, but then began to move almost automatically. I left, feeling angry, more than a little humiliated, but also deeply satiated with pleasure, thrilled by Maxim’s possession.
And still no closer to figuring out what any of it really meant.
Twenty
Maxim
I stayed away late, but then was driven to her.
“Are you pouting, little flower?” I said.
She glared at me and then smacked my hand away from her chin.
“Don’t patronize me, Maxim. I’m not a child.”
“Then don’t act like one,” I chided. Then I reached for her again and she again smacked my hand away.
“Senna…” I said.
“What the hell was that today?”
I should have asked her the same question. She’d left without bothering to tell anyone where she was going, but Adrian had kept a close eye on her until she returned.
Initially, I hadn’t been concerned. She was protected, but when she walked in, and I’d seen the small tank top she wore, tight against her waist, hugging her breasts, the shorts, far shorter than any I’d ever seen her in, I had lost it.
“Perhaps I overreacted,” I said.
She glared even harder. “Perhaps,” she replied.
“I don’t like you dressing like that,” I said.
“What about what I like?”
“What are you talking about, little flower?” I said, realizing that this conversation had quickly moved beyond what had happened today.
“Is this all there is for us?” she asked.
“What do you mean?” I said.
“You know.” She gestured between us, looking at the rumpled sheets. “Is this all there is, Maxim?”
I didn’t respond immediately. For once, I wasn’t entirely sure what to say. So instead, I answered with a question. “What else do you want?”
She looked at me, her eyes deep, dark. And it was with a sudden realization that I understood what she meant. I shook my head. What she was thinking wasn’t possible. There was no room for anything that might resemble a real relationship. I had already erred in keeping Senna around for as long as I had. But I’d accepted she was a liability, could deal with the repercussions of it, that being with her made me weaker and put her in danger.
The danger, while troublesome to think about, did not scare me. I would confront anyone who dared come after me, or, God forbid, Senna. But the plain truth was I had nothing to give, no capacity to understand a relationship, no idea how such a thing might even look. I shook my head. I could kill without blinking, run an organization like the Syndicate with little trouble, but a relationship, something real, beyond the physical, with Senna was beyond me.