Romance Impossible(75)

"What are you waiting for?" I whispered, finally, my hips rotating a little of their own accord.

He let out a little huff of laughter. "Always so demanding," he said, breathless. "Why don't you let someone else decide what's best, for once?"

My fingers closed around the short hairs, the ones closest to the back of his neck. Hard. Harder. Until I saw the muscles in his jaw twitch in the dim light; until he bit his lip against the pain, but still wouldn't yield.

"Tell me something," I whispered, locking his eyes with mine. "Do you ever get tired of being the smartest person in the room?"

And then he was inside me, in one harsh movement, and I yelped as the small of my back collided with the concrete wall. A dull throb set in, and I saw the hesitation flash across his face.

"I'm fine," I insisted, through gritted, teeth, and it was true. The far greater pain was having him inside me, stretching me open oh-so-slowly, but not moving. I needed him to move.

I needed him to take me like he wanted, hard and fast, until I had to bite my lip to keep from screaming, until I tasted blood.

I needed this. I needed to leave everything of my old life behind, and I couldn't do it yet. Not until I'd had someone else, besides Eric. Not until my long, self-imposed celibacy was broken by a man who was everything that Eric was not.

Satisfied with my answer at last, Max drove into me again and again, shaking the milk crates beneath me, making my teeth rattle. I let go of his hair and my hands were everywhere, nowhere, reaching down instinctively to steady myself. My fingers slipped through the slats of the crates. I held on for dear life, while Max's fingers left bruises on my ribs.

I wouldn't have it any other way.

He was relentless. I felt like we must have been this way forever, locked together in the basement of the very building where I'd first seen his tattoo. Where my eyes had first drifted down the trail of hair that led from the middle of his stomach down beneath his waistband, pointing down to the very part of him that was wrenching a series of harsh cries from me, sounds that felt like they were ripped from the very back of my throat.

He didn't complain about the noise anymore. But finally, one hand clamped over my mouth, silencing me once and for all.

A jolt of pure ecstasy rocketed through me. I closed my eyes, and I saw stars.

When my inner muscles clamped down around him, he finally stuttered - hesitated a little, starting to lose his perfect, relentless rhythm. I felt a rush of triumph. Like breaking a prize stallion.

I win. I win. He's helpless.

He groaned next to my ear, long and low and guttural, his fingers squeezing so hard around my waist that I squealed, muffled, into his other hand. Inside me, he twitched and swelled.

At last, we were still.#p#分页标题#e#

His harsh, panting breaths were all that filled my ears.

In that moment, I didn't know what the hell was going to happen. And strangely enough - that was all right.





CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Quadrillage





The quadrillage is one of those finishing touches that turns ordinary food into a beautiful presentation. Simply rotate meat or vegetables carefully on a grill or grill pan, not too frequently, and at just the right angles to create a crosshatch pattern from the blackened marks. It is not always bad to burn. Sometimes, it makes everyday things beautiful.





- Excerpted from Dylan: A Lifetime of Recipes





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Max





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The sobering reality started to kick in, right about the time my erection started to flag.

Funny how that always works, isn't it?

I swear to you, on my life, I didn't walk into that basement with the intention of fucking Jillian Brown. But there she was, and there I was, and, you know...

Well, I was obviously doing her a favor. She practically begged me for it. No, scratch that - I'm almost one hundred percent certain she did actually, literally beg.

Not that that's a reasonable excuse, on my part. Call me stubborn or call me strong-willed, but either way, I should have easily been able to walk away from that situation. I could have stopped it long before it spiraled out of control, but I didn't.

And I'd have to live the consequences of that.

Much as I wanted to pretend, I knew things would never be the same again.

We parted in a slightly awkward silence, cleaning up and putting ourselves back together without making eye contact. To my surprise, Jill was the first one to talk.

"Well," she said, standing up, smiling a little bit hesitantly. "I'll uh...I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

Her face was still glowing with the pleasure I'd given her, her hair ridiculously mussed from being slammed up against the wall. And here she was, talking like we were just any other boss and employee, saying goodnight after a hard day's work.