Maximum Rush (Tangled Desires Book 4)

by Murphy,Misti

  Taking his time, he licks everywhere, until I’m bucking against his mouth, my hands pressing on the top of his head to try and ease the intense pressure that comes with so much pleasure. “Rush.” I cry out. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

  “As much as I want to give you.” His hands slide up to my ass, cupping each cheek, and he pulls one of my legs over his shoulder. “And I’m not ready to stop eating you yet.”

  Holy crap. I yelp as he drives his tongue inside me. Grabbing his head, I hold on for dear life so I don’t lose my balance and collapse. Is it possible to die from too much pleasure? He plunges that magical fucking tongue of his inside me over and over while he holds me firmly against his mouth. There’s a ferociousness to the way he consumes me. Low rumbling groans coming from beneath the thin material that keeps me from watching him.

  Oh God, right there. Yep, uh-huh. Oh shit. He pushes a finger into me, pumps it in and out as he works his tongue over my clit, pulling it into his mouth, sucking on it until the sensation is too much. I cum in his mouth, my entire body jerking to the rhythm of his licks. My head hits the wall and I wince, but it doesn’t stop these intense waves of pleasure that course through me, and it doesn’t stop him from working me until I squeal, shoving his mouth from between my legs. It sure as hell doesn’t dint AC/DC’s Thunderstruck from playing in my mind like an orgasm-fuelled anthem as he gets to his feet, wiping his palm across his glistening lips.

  Chapter Twelve

  Rush

  Well fuck, talk about satisfaction. Her whole body is flushed, glowing from her orgasm. Her lips are parted, her breath coming in quick pants as she smooths shaking hands over her skirt. It’s pretty fucking awesome to have this effect on someone who’s so uptight, so guarded about her body. My chest expands with the feeling of accomplishment. She might still be trying to hold out, but it isn’t going to last forever. This challenge, this obstacle is one I’m going to enjoy completely obliterating.

  Bodily leaning into her, I press my hardness between her thighs. I’m as hard as concrete, aching for release from how arousing it was to break through her stubbornness, her primness until she screamed her pleasure. Cupping her face with my hands, I drag my cum soaked lips over hers, diving my tongue into her mouth to taste the sweetness there, to let her taste herself. Yep, that’s wicked gratification. “Do you like the way you taste, sweet cheeks? Your arousal on my tongue while I’m kissing you?”

  She whimpers, one leg rising up the outside of mine, even as she pushes me away to wipe the back of her hand across her mouth. “You’re all sticky.”

  “You have no idea.” I take her hand and put it on my pants, cupping my erection and leisurely moving it up and down. Fuck, I push into her hand as my cock pulses with pleasure. “My cock is dripping, it wants in you so bad.”

  “It’s not going to happen.” She yanks her hand out of mine. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let you do…” her voice falls to a whisper as she glances between us, “that.”

  “Trying to save face, by pretending you’re some holier than thou virgin, little nun?” I trap her to the wall, toying with the necklace she wears. A small silver elephant pendant dangles from it. “I’m not sure it’s possible when you scream like that.”

  “I didn’t scream.” She wiggles her way out from between my arms, darting glances everywhere but at me.

  Oh well. I grin as each bump of her body on mine is pretty damn fucking pleasurable. And I have plenty of time to make her change her mind. “The neighbors heard you. I bet if you look out the back window, you’ll spot at least one of them at the fence trying to work out if you were cumming or dying.”

  “They didn’t!” Her eyes go huge, her face a bright red that moves down her throat and under the cute off the shoulder black top she’s wearing. “Do you really think they heard me? Oh no.”

  “You were beautiful, operatic even.” I straighten myself out. I need to go upstairs and work out the frustration that has my balls so heavy. Or maybe not. Because the idea of holding out for her to give in to me, of building the anticipation, is compelling. “So fucking loud and shameless.”

  Cringing, she covers her mouth with her hands. “Seriously?”

  “Absolutely.” I chuckle, squeezing her shoulders. “I can’t wait until you’re screaming from my cock in you.”

  “No.” She backs away. “No, that isn’t going to happen. It was a momentary lapse. Poor decision making skills in the heat of the moment.” She almost trips on the first stair to the second floor. “I’m not a hussy. I’m a professional, here to do a job, not to have meaningless sex with you.” She turns and jogs up them, and I watch that pert ass sway with the movement while she calls over her shoulder, “If that’s what you wanted you should have brought one of your millions of fans who would have been all over the idea.”

  I could have done that, or I could have come alone. It’s not like there aren’t women in this town, and it’s not like I couldn’t have gone without any kind of sexual release for a couple months.

  “But I didn’t. I got you.”

  ***

  It’s damn quiet at two in the morning. In Vegas, there’s always something going on. In New York, I can find some sort of entertainment in the wee hours of the morning. Even Los Angeles has something to offer. But Reverence? Not a fucking chance.

  Shutting down my laptop, I give up on work for the evening. There’s not a lot happening with the show at the moment anyway. This is supposed to be down time, but I thought I might as well get a leg up on planning the next TV series, work out a few new ideas I have for some street tricks. But I’m too agitated to concentrate, so I might as well hit the gym and work off some steam.

  Getting up off the couch, I head into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water. Maxi has barely looked at me for a week. Sure we eat together, we swim together in the heated pool on the basement level, and she asks question after question for her article, but ever since I got my mouth on her, she can’t seem to look me straight in the eye. Instead, she does this awkward glance over my shoulder thing, while she goes bright pink.

  It’s driving me fucking crazy. I’ve gotten a taste of her, and I want more, but instead of making it easier to push her buttons, it seems that particular morning’s oral entertainment has only made her more self-conscious. How anyone can be so ill at ease is beyond me.

  “You don’t sleep?”

  Her voice pulls me out of my head, and I twist to find her staring at me. One hand on the wall, she bites her lip.

  “Like the dead.” She’s not wearing much. A pink T-shirt with a silver elephant on it. Her long pale legs are completely bare, her dark hair a mess of waves that hang down her back. I want to click my fingers and see that T-shirt fly off, see if she’s only wearing panties or, like I’m imagining, nothing underneath. I wish I commanded that kind of magic. “Just takes me a while to get tired enough, sometimes.”

  Her fingers trail along the wall as she takes a shy step forward, then another. And still she hasn’t stopped staring at me, her eyes round and heated. My dick responds, stiffening under her attention as she glances down. “Y-you’re naked.”

  “Yep.” Because she was supposed to be asleep upstairs, not standing in my kitchen, tempting me. “I thought you’d be asleep.”

  “I was.” Another unsteady step. “I came down for a glass of water.”

  “You wanted a drink?” I mumble, meeting her in the middle. I don’t know why I repeat her, only that all the blood has run away from my brain.

  “Yeah,” she breathes, twisting a lock of her hair between her fingers.

  “Is that all you wanted?” Because fuck, I want her to say she wants me inside her. That she wants me to hike that shirt up over her tits and yank whatever poor excuse for a barrier she’s wearing underneath right off her.

  “Hard,” she whispers.

  She wants me to take her hard? I can do that. Fuck, I want her gripping the counter beside us, her legs spread while she stands on tip toe, a
nd I plunge deep inside that sweet fucking pussy.

  “Your dick. It’s…” Reaching out, she touches the tip.

  I grit my teeth on a groan, her gentle touch like an electric shock straight down the length of my cock to my balls. “Because you’re standing there, looking like a wet fucking dream, and all I can think about is whether you’re wearing panties that will keep me from thrusting into you right fucking now.”

  She blinks, her pupils dilating, and I reach out and grip the back of her neck. “And you touching my cock is making it really hard. So tell me what you want.”

  “I don’t know.” Inhaling, she yanks her hand back as though she’s only just realized she’s been stroking me, her fingers giving me both pleasure and frustration.

  “Sure you do.” I can’t seem to remove my hand from her neck, can’t seem to help dragging her a little closer while I rub some of that glossy black hair between my fingers. Her breath is warm on my chest, her nipples hard outlines under the cotton. And still she stares at me with those luminous eyes. “All you have to do is say it.”

  Say it, and I’ll give you the ride of your life. Say it, and I’m all yours for the rest of your time here.

  Somewhere upstairs music begins, piercing the otherwise quiet night. Not music, a ringtone, her phone. It breaks through whatever’s happening between us. Pulling away, she bolts for the stairs. She doesn’t give me another second to convince her that she wants me almost as much as I want to fuck her.

  Snatching up a bottle of Evian, I jerk off the lid and swallow hard, the plastic crinkling under my harsh grip. Damn, I’ve never had to work so fucking hard, I’ve never been this frustrated by anything. Tossing the bottle at the trash can, I head for my own room. Not that there’s any chance I’m going to get to sleep now.

  She’s talking to her mom as I pass her room. I can tell the difference between when she’s talking with her mom, and when she’s talking to her boss. She tends to be less squeaky and uptight with family. Softer. And she always asks about Sarah, but I’ve noticed she never talks to her, and Sarah never calls her. Possibly because whoever Sarah is, she can’t use a phone. Which makes me think maybe Maxi has a big old secret she’s keeping close to her chest, and possibly an actual reason for being the way she is when it comes to sex.

  I clench my jaw. It’s none of my business, but that doesn’t make me any less curious. It doesn’t make me despise fucking Drummer Boy any less. And whoever else led to her being so insecure about her body, about enjoying what she clearly wants.

  Or maybe Sarah’s a dog. That’s probably more likely. One of those designer fluffy toys women like to carry around in handbags. A shih tzu-maltese cross, or something. I can see her with a dog like that.

  “Okay. I’ll talk to you in the morning,” she says, and I hear her shifting around.

  Scraping my hair back from my face, I turn to go to my room when she opens the door. This time she doesn’t look anywhere but in my eyes. “Do you always get naked at night? Do you walk around the house like that when I’m asleep?”

  “Pretty much.” I nod, covering my junk, in case it’s making her uncomfortable.

  “You really can’t stand being clothed, can you? Sensory issue, maybe?”

  “I feel freer like this. It grounds me in a way.”

  “Hmm.” She leans against the wall. “And I’m wrecking your equilibrium. Can we make a deal?”

  “What do you have in mind?”

  “Boxer briefs, or boxers, whichever is more comfortable.” She flutters her fingers along her collarbone, no doubt imagining each option in her head. “Could you stand to wear some, if it meant you could lose the rest of your clothes, whether I’m awake or not?”

  “I can manage that,” I say with a grunt. I can manage being as close to nude around her as often as possible, letting her stare at me until she’s gagging to get to my cock.

  “Okay.” She puts her hand in mine, probably to shake on our new agreement.

  Except, I’m still so fucking turned on from her hand on my cock earlier, and annoyed at the idea of anyone causing her to doubt herself that I grasp her wrist, pulling her into me and tilting her head back so I can lick inside her mouth and nibble on her bottom lip before I let her go. “You’re something else, Maxi O’Keeffe. Something else entirely.”

  Only I have no idea what that is, but I’m damn well going to find out.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Maxi

  Sitting cross-legged on my bed, the laptop in front of me, an elephant cushion on my lap, I click through another page of dresses. Somehow, I managed to pack a cushion in my luggage, but not an actual dress to wear to either of the weddings. This is procrastination at its finest, since I should be working on my article, yet I can barely concentrate on the garments as I scroll. That’s what I get for making deals with the devil.

  Ever since that night I found him in the kitchen, every single inch of his chiselled body on display, my mind drifts to the way his dick felt on my fingertips. Hot and hard and silky, while his eyes darkened under hooded lids. There’s a rush, ha ha Rush, to knowing I affected him like that, which makes me want to do it again, and knowing he’s wandering around the house at all hours of the day and night with nothing more than a pair of boxer briefs that outline everything is becoming a bit of an obsession. I’ve never been consumed by the desire for dick, until now.

  “What are you up to?” He taps his fingers on the wall as he stalks into my room, dressed, for once.

  I’ve gotten so used to him wearing only tight boxer briefs that I forgot how gorgeous he is when all I can see is his face, only a hint of all that hard flesh outlined in leather pants and soft cotton. He could wear a trash bag and make it look good.

  His eyes widen as they settle on the cushion on my lap.

  As if I’m not awkward enough, he’s getting an eyeful of my decidedly uncool obsession. Shoving it off the bed, I pretend like I wasn’t just cuddling with an elephant. Straightening my spine, I click through another page of dresses. “Trying to find something to wear to your siblings’ weddings. I packed in a hurry.”

  “Thought you might have.” His gaze flicks to the T-shirt I wear to bed, the one with the big silver elephant motif. “You’ve got a lot of elephants.”

  That’s an understatement. My entire bedroom at home is covered in elephants. Statues on the windowsill, cushions on the bed, and that’s not counting my screen saver, or the paperweight on my desk at work. I’m aware it makes me look like a complete loser. “No, not really.”

  “Well, I scheduled a light plane to take us to the city. I need a break from the quiet around here, and you need dresses. How long until you can be ready?”

  “I need to change. Maybe five minutes.” I like his hometown, enjoy the quiet, adore his family, but this girl will never say no to shopping. Especially not whilst in another country. I close the lid on the laptop, and leap off the bed, or rather trip over the edge of the bed and almost go down in a tangle of limbs.

  Except he gets a hand on me first. “Easy.”

  Oh God, I can just imagine what he’s thinking.

  “You’re like a baby giraffe. All limbs and neck, and no coordination whatsoever.” He lets me go, stepping back and furrowing his brow. “I don’t know why I still want to fuck the hell out of you.”

  “Hey, come back, beautiful.” He’s grinning at me as though he’s privy to my grandiose fantasies, and they don’t perturb him as much as they do me. “I’ll be waiting downstairs. There’s a pair of leather pants in the back of your closet. Wear them.”

  Is he kidding me? Nobody looks good in leather except cows… and well, him. He wears those leather pants like a second skin. Hot damn. But me?

  “Really?”

  “I mean it, Maxi.” He runs a hand down my arm. “You’ll see.”

  It only takes a million minutes to work my ass into the pants. Laying on the bed, I finally manage to pull them up over my butt and get them done up. Talk about a work out. Slipping on a cami, I
twist my hair into a braid, flip it over my shoulder, and manage a quick round of pretending I was born this way while wearing a full face of makeup, before jogging down the stairs to meet him.

  “Wow, those pants…” he shakes his head, causing his hair to flop in his face.

  “Let’s not talk about it.” I grimace.

  He picks up a jacket from a pile of boots and jackets that I haven’t noticed before, and holds it out for me to slip into. “Fuck me, beautiful.”

  “No.” I let him zip up the jacket, his fingers lingering. My chest rises and falls, wanting more of his touch. My nipples ache, and I have to lick my lips to wet them because even though I keep telling him I don’t want his cock, I’m finding it hard to not wish he was undressing me, instead of covering me up. What would he do if I told him to take me to bed instead? My imagination has him scooping me up and kissing me while he takes the stairs two at a time so he can fuck me. “Are you aware it’s not exactly cold outside? This is a bit ridiculous isn’t it?”

  “Boots.” He pushes a pair of boots into my hands and starts pulling on his own. “They should be the right size. I checked your shoes before I bought them.”

  “What are we doing?” Putting them down, I step into them, disappointed that I’m not actually having sex. But then, it’s better this way. It doesn’t matter that I keep fantasizing about it, that I find myself wanting him more each day we spend together, or that my mind wanders back to that moment where his mouth was all over me at the most inopportune times. I’m here to further my career, and then I’m going back to Sarah. I’m not here to be his fuck toy. I’m not going to be like my sister.