I tipped my hips, allowing him to angle the head of his cock toward that spot inside me I instinctively craved. When he hit it, I exploded with a hard orgasm that radiated outward in a blinding sinful light that sent my body somewhere else.
I moaned into his mouth, and he broke the kiss. Then our eyes met as he thrust hard and came, his gravelly groans mixing with my sounds. I felt his hard flesh twitch inside me, pouring his cum, the walls of my core milking him for every drop of pleasure.
Still, he never looked away.
People say that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. And in that moment, I knew—with every drop of blood flowing through my heart—that what we were together was so much more. It wasn’t subjective or up for debate. It was the purest form of beauty that existed in the world.
Still inside me, Max relaxed into my body, resting his mouth on that little spot between my neck and shoulder. His hot breath tickled my neck, and the lazy kisses he applied were better than any dessert I’d ever tasted, any song I’d ever heard.
I stopped breathing for a second. Maybe two. How in the world could he make me feel like this? So wanted, so beautiful.
I was definitely falling in love with this man. We were two perfect halves who’d found each other and made something more.
But what would we do with the ugly halves?
I’d soon come to realize that they’d come after us with a vengeance, looking to destroy us.
“Tell me, Lily, when did you realize you wanted to be a goddess?”
I laughed, gazing into his hazel eyes, the dim light from the hallway casting light over one wall.
“A goddess?” Now separated, but our bodies still touching, Max looked at me—really looked at me—and his expression was full of affection. It humbled me.
“Yes. A goddess in my bed. In my life,” he said.
“Don’t be so corny, Max. It undermines your alpha-male mystique.”
He smiled, brushing his thumb over my bottom lip. “I can’t help it. I’ve been struggling for so fucking long, and now I have to wonder if it wasn’t all for you.”
“Oh, come on. Don’t tell me you’re some closet romantic.”
“Closet romantic, no. But I believe in manifest destiny—you being the occupier, of course.”
I smiled. “Oh, Mr. Cole, do talk historical terms to me. It makes me feel so dirty,” I said jokingly.
He grinned, and it literally filled me, bathed me, permeated me in the deepest joy.
“All I can say is that sometimes things happen for a reason. And I can’t explain the fact that I haven’t been able to make any progress with my disorder until you came along. My only explanation is that I really wanted it to happen.”
“That is the corniest bullshit any guy has ever said to get in my pants.” I smiled. “Okay. It’s the only corny thing anyone’s said to get into my pants; nevertheless, I won’t tolerate these cheesy lines from you. So either put up or shut up.”
He laughed toward the ceiling. “My, my. Aren’t we the greedy little woman?”
“Greedy?” I pointed to myself. “You promised me a weekend of fucking some sense into me. I’m still waiting.” I was going out of my frigging mind. For him.
“Just giving my giant cock a little rest. But I promise there’s more.”
I laughed. “You call that giant? No wonder you didn’t show it in that lip-gloss campaign. Us ladies would’ve mistaken it for the product.”
His jaw dropped.
“Did I go too far?” I asked.
“You just called my dick ‘lip gloss.’”
The thing was huge. Porn star huge. But did this man seriously need me to say that? He knew what he had. His ego was proof of that.
“I guess I could take another look and reevaluate?” I shrugged innocently. After all, I had really, really been dying to have another up close and personal experience with his penis in my mouth. It was a serious ego boost of my own.
“If you must, Miss Snow,” he said with an exaggeratedly silly deep voice, “but why don’t we take it to the shower? I’ve been fantasizing about lathering you from head to toe in soap and then getting you dirty again.”
I liked that plan. A lot.
I jumped from the bed and bolted across his big open bedroom, heading for his enormous, scary-clean, shiny man bathroom—no frills whatsoever—for the shower. Yes, this man wasn’t a clean freak, but he definitely needed a little more “dirty” in his life. I was there to help.
~~~
Sunday morning, I awoke to two things. One incredibly good. The second not so great.
“Max.” I gave him a shake, his strong, heavy legs intertwined with mine, his head resting on my chest. I hated to break up this moment of waking up in a man’s arms for the first time, but…“There’s someone ringing the doorbell.” Over and over again.
He groaned and rolled off, giving me his back.
Boy, this man was a heavy sleeper. “Max, wake up.”
He wasn’t having it, and after a night of animalistic, sensual fucking that resulted in me actually losing my mind in orgasmic pleasure, I couldn’t blame him for wanting his rest.
I slipped from the bed, giving a longing glance at his tanned, hard, bare ass, and grabbed his tux shirt from the floor, closing it with my hands. Max was a big guy, so his shirt on my body looked like a very short dress.
I shuffled down the stairs and opened the front door, using it as a body shield and assuming the person would be his driver waiting to whisk him away.
I threw open the door. “Sorry, but Mr. Cole is mine for…” My voice trailed off as I took in the woman standing before me. Her dark hair and hazel eyes told me all I needed to know. This had to be his mother. He had the exact same scowl when he was angry. Other than that, however, her face was abnormally…perfect. You know when you see those people on TV who are addicted to plastic surgery and their noses are so straight and their lips are so full that they look imperfect? Nature doesn’t make anyone that symmetric. Just like it doesn’t make fifty-year-olds with tight skin and zero wrinkles.
“Lily Snow…” She looked me up and down like a turd that landed in her way.
“Yes, I’m Lily,” I said weakly, not sure what to make of her tone. “How do you know me?”
“I’m his mother. I make it my business to know who’s trying to slum their way into my son’s life. And I assume from the lack of clothing, you spent the night fucking my Maxwell. So now that he’s had his fun,” she lifted her chin, “I suggest you go back to whatever rock you crawled out from.”
Had she really just said that to me? Had Maxwell Cole’s mother treated me like a piece of shit?
Yep.
Staring at her familiar hazel eyes, I unclenched my fist. “I’ve got a really great idea. Why don’t you go fuck yourself?” I slammed the door in her face and marched upstairs, giving Max a little jiggle. “Max, your mother is here. And I think I finally understand everything about you.”
He cracked open one eye and looked at me. “My mother is here?”
I nodded. “Yeah. And Jesus, Max, what a bitch. No wonder you’re so fucked up.”
He blew out a breath and ran his hands over the top of his thick head of brown hair. “You don’t know the half of it.” He slowly moved to his feet and slid on his discarded black tux pants. “I’ll be right back. You stay here.”
Should I mention that I just told her to go fuck herself and slammed the door in her face?
I heard screaming, like a banshee with PMS, erupt from downstairs.
Nah, I think he just figured it out.
Then I heard every bitter, degrading, vicious word from her mouth—he was disgusting, stupid, a loser. How dare he tarnish their lives with the ugly filth he’d brought to his bed—and my pity factor elevated tenfold.