She whimpered beneath the unrelenting pressure of his mouth as he ground his rock-hard cock against the notch of her thighs. Bracing one hand on the wall, Max held her in place with just the pressure of his chest against hers. He slid his free hand all the way up beneath her dress to her crotch, just as he had done in the backseat of the taxi. This time, however, he didn’t leave her unsatisfied, slipping his fingers in and out of her wetness until she began to grind her pelvis against his hand.
“That’s it, sweet,” he urged, his voice no more than a rough grunt. “I was cruel to tease you this way in the taxi and not let you come, but I’ll be very happy to make it up to you. Starting right now.”
He pressed the pad of his thumb down on her clit, while his fingers continued to thrust inside her pussy. She cried out his name as the orgasm spread through her lower body, feeling the spasms all the way down to the tips of her toes, and she had to resist the temptation to tell him right there on the spot how much she loved him.
Max led her on shaky legs into the bedroom, removing her coat without a word, and then just as quickly unzipping her black dress before helping her to step out of it. His hand clamped onto one hip as he muttered hoarsely, “Remember what I told you, love. Leave everything else on. Now, go stand in front of the dresser.”
Less than two weeks ago the commanding tone in his voice would have terrified her, intimidated her to the point of second guessing her decision to let him take her virginity. But she had learned quickly to trust him implicitly, knowing without ever having to ask that he would never hurt or frighten her, would never do or say anything that she wasn’t ready for or eager to experience. She walked over on still unsteady legs to the dresser, then watched in the mirror as her swoonworthy, darkly handsome lover began to undress.
Jill licked her lips as he removed first his suit jacket and then the tie before unhurriedly unbuttoning his shirt. She made a little sound of pleasure at the sight of his bare, powerfully muscled chest, thinking to herself dreamily that she would never, ever get tired of such a splendid view. She’d nearly salivated a few times watching him working out in the gym, in awe at how many bench presses he could do, how much weight he could dead lift, how well defined each sinew and muscle and tendon on his upper body was. He was so strong, she recalled dazedly, able to pick her up as though she weighed no more than a child. There had even been a time or two in the shower when he’d lifted her up, supporting all of her weight as she’d wrapped her legs around his waist while he’d thrust inside of her.
Her mouth dropped open in a silent “O” of mingled admiration and arousal as Max finished undressing, freeing his jutting erection. He walked over to her then, though his movements reminded her more of a big jungle cat stealthily stalking its prey.
His hands went to her hips, pulling her buttocks back against his groin as he began to slowly thrust his penis against her backside. At the same time he bent forward until his lips could trace a path along her collarbone all the way up to her ear, and then back down to her shoulder.
“You smell delicious,” he murmured, tunneling his face into her long hair. “Like peaches and cream. And you feel even better. The softest skin I’ve ever touched. The most perfect breasts.” He pulled the shallow lace bra cups down to bare her nipples, then cupped her swollen tits in his palms. He slid a palm down over her quivering belly inside the waistband of her panties, then kept going until he was cupping her vulva. “And the hottest, tightest, sweetest pussy I’ve ever fucked. You taste every bit as delicious as you smell, love. Here, see for yourself.”
Max slipped two fingers inside of her vagina, coating the tips with her juices, and then shockingly plunged those same fingers between her lips. At his harshly muttered urging, she sucked, tasting her own muskiness on his fingers. And watching herself do so in the mirror only made the act that much more erotic, that much naughtier, and certainly far more arousing.
Even though he had just made her come a scant few minutes ago, her body was already aching and needy, already craving more. As his hands slipped back inside her bra, tweaking her tender nipples, Jill began to rotate her buttocks against the erection she could feel rubbing up and down the cleft of her ass. Her eyes drifted shut as her breathing grew ragged, but then flew open again as Max grasped her chin, tilting it up towards the mirror.
“Eyes open, sweet,” he rasped. “Watch my hands on your breasts, see how much you like that? You’ve become quite the little sensualist, haven’t you, love? So responsive to even the lightest touch. The shy virgin is no more, she’s been replaced by this seductive wanton. The young girl is now a woman, a woman who drives me crazy with lust every time she’s in the same room. A woman I need to fuck more than I need to breathe.”
Impatient now, he nearly tore the fragile scrap of her black lace panties off of her, so eager for her that he barely remembered to roll on a condom.
“Place both hands on the edge of the dresser,” he instructed gutturally. “Then bend over slightly - yes, exactly like that, sweet - and stick this gorgeous arse up in the air a little. God, look at yourself in the mirror, Jill. You are so fucking hot, so tempting, not even a monk would be able to resist you. And Christ knows I’m no monk, am I?”
“Ohhh!”
She cried out almost helplessly as he entered her with one brutal thrust, her hands gripping the edge of the dresser frantically as the mirror visibly shook with the force of his possession. She tottered a little, off balance in her high heels, until Max gripped her hips and held her steady. Mesmerized, she watched their bodies in the mirror, gasping at how carnal and shameless she looked in this position - her breasts falling out of the low-cut bra, her nipples grazing the edge of the dresser with each savage thrust of Max’s cock deep inside her pussy, her cheeks flushed a rosy shade of pink, her green eyes dazed and half-shut, her lips parted as she breathed unevenly. Behind her, she could just make out the fierce look on her lover’s face, the wildness in his eyes, and the way his own breathing was labored, escaping in moans and grunts and shouts.
Two weeks ago he wouldn’t have dared to be this rough with her, could not have been so demanding and insatiable, pounding into her from behind almost desperately, as though he was attempting to leave his mark on her permanently. The words he muttered were guttural, almost animalistic, but she didn’t need to hear or understand what he was saying in order to know what he wanted. With each powerful thrust forward of his hips, she met him in turn with a backward push of her buttocks. Within seconds they had found the rhythm, a rhythm that continued to intensify and quicken, until both of their bodies were slicked with sweat, and their cries and groans intermingled.
When the climax began to overtake her, Jill could feel the spasms not just in her low belly and pelvis but even in her lower back and rippling up along her spine. Her legs quivered uncontrollably, her ankles threatening to give out from under her, but none of that mattered now, not when she was so completely caught up in the whirlwind of pleasure engulfing her from head to toe. She was so dazed that she didn’t even feel Max’s fingers digging deeply into the tender skin of her ass as he came, barely flinched when his teeth grazed her shoulder as his chest heaved against her back.
He seemed as dazed as she was as he settled her on the mattress, almost stumbling as he made his way to the bathroom to wash up and then return with a damp washcloth for her. She cleaned herself up this time, since Max didn’t seem quite capable of performing the chore for her. He sat on the edge of the bed beside her, staring into space, his chest continuing to heave as his breathing slowly returned to something resembling normal.
She placed a hand on his upper arm in concern, but before she could speak he took her hand and brought it to his lips.
“Are you all right?” he croaked, his voice barely audible. “God help me if I hurt you, Jill. I swore to you that would never happen, and yet I acted like an untamed savage just now, treating you like a - ”
“Like a woman,” she interrupted, rising up on her kne
es behind him and wrapping her arms around his neck. “And I am a woman, Max. I’m not the same inexperienced little virgin you brought to this bed two and a half weeks ago. And you didn’t hurt me, I promise. I - I loved what we just did. I - well, I love you, Max. There, I’ve said it. That’s what I was thinking of earlier in the taxi. Hoping that I would have the nerve when the time came to tell you how I really feel. I love you. I think I fell a little bit in love with you the first time we met.”
His back stiffened, and he gave a quick shake of denial. “Jill, no. You can’t love me. You can’t. That wasn’t what we - ”
“Agreed on? Discussed? Actually,” she added calmly, “I can’t say that we ever really discussed the subject, Max. Oh, I know you don’t do relationships, you’ve made that very clear. And I know you aren’t in love with me, I never expected you for one second to actually return my feelings. And before you try and tell me I’m too young and inexperienced to know what I’m feeling, then don’t. Because I do love you, Max Wainwright, and it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way.”
Max buried his face in his hands, shaking his head again. “God, Jill. I’m the last man on earth you should have fallen in love with. The last man on earth who deserves the love of a woman like you. So, please, don’t tell me that, will you? Because I can’t - .
“Shh.”
She wriggled around somehow until she was sitting astride him, holding his face between her palms. He looked positively miserable, the expression in his eyes bleak and defeated, and he quickly looked away from her all-too-intuitive gaze. She slid her arms around his waist, resting her head against his chest, trying not to feel alarmed when at first he didn’t respond.
A little shudder of relief passed through her when his arms finally encircled her torso, and she brushed her lips against the side of his neck.
“I know you think you can’t love me back,” she whispered huskily. “That for whatever reasons you refuse to discuss you’ve closed yourself off from love and relationships, that you’ve chosen to be alone. And telling you how I feel might end up being the stupidest, silliest thing I’ve ever done, but I don’t care. I wanted you to know, Max, needed you to know. And I’m sorry if I’ve made you angry or upset, and if you want me to leave now, then I will. But I’m hoping – praying - that maybe, just maybe, there might be a tiny chance that you have feelings for me, too.”
Max’s hand stroked her hair, but he kept his face turned away from her. “Jill. How could any man not have feelings for you - even someone as unworthy and unfeeling as I’ve always been. But I’m not the man for you, sweet, and I certainly don’t deserve your love. As for leaving - no. Please, Jill. Stay with me tonight. And the next night. We haven’t discussed what will happen after I leave Seattle, and frankly, I’m too out of sorts to begin that conversation tonight. So, please. Let’s just get some sleep now, all right? And we will talk - just, not quite yet.”
She knew she didn’t dare push him any further this evening, that she had already said so much more than she had ever planned to, or imagined she had the courage to do. Instead, she merely snuggled up against him as she had done every night since their first time together, and whispered, “You are worthy of my love. And no matter what you might say, it’s not going to stop me from loving you, you stubborn, silly man.”
Jill fell asleep almost instantly after that, but for Max, sleep was a long time coming as he fully realized just how impossible the situation he’d been responsible for creating had become.
Chapter Fifteen
For the third night in a row, Max gave up on the idea of trying to fall asleep, wrapping one of the hotel’s bathrobes over his nude body as he rose from the bed. In the darkness of the bedroom, he let his gaze fall tenderly on the woman curled up so trustingly in his bed - the one who evidently had no trouble at all sleeping deeply and dreamlessly. He envied her that ability, along with many of her other qualities and attributes, among them being able to find complete joy and contentment with the smallest thing. She was the sunshine to his shadows, the day to his night, and the one person he’d ever met who could always bring a smile to his face, no matter how foul of a mood he might be in. And the fact that he was going to be the man responsible for breaking her tender heart in less than twenty-four hours was weighing heavy on his mind, so heavily that he feared sleep would be impossible this night.
Even in sleep she made him smile, he thought. She was huddled so deeply under the plush duvet that the only parts of her that remained visible were the abundant fall of her golden brown hair, and one side of her lovely face. Her cheek was flushed rosily in sleep, her long lashes fanning over her smooth, flawless skin. Her plump pink lips were slightly parted as she breathed in and out peacefully, and she reminded him of a serenely beautiful angel.
The temptation was strong to brush his knuckles against her cheek, or comb his fingers through her long hair, but he resisted, unwilling to wake her as she slept so peacefully. She looked so much younger this way, he realized faintly, without a speck of makeup on, her features relaxed and unguarded. And the recollection of just how young she really was, how inexperienced and naïve, made what he would have to do that much more difficult.
‘Damn it all to hell,’ he cursed beneath his breath, striding into the living area. ‘Like I need another fucking reminder that I had no business even going near an innocent like Jill. I should be flogged, drawn and quartered, and tortured in a dozen other ways for what I’ve done. For being so selfish as to think with my prick instead of my brain. And for being foolish enough to actually believe for even an hour that you deserved a woman like her. I thought you were smarter than that, old chap, thought you’d accepted a long time ago that you were destined to spend your life all alone. So how on earth did you allow yourself to become so weak?’
He poured himself a generous portion of Scotch into one of the Baccarat crystal tumblers that were an amenity found in every Gregson hotel suite. How far he’d come along in the world, thought Max dryly, from his boyhood in England, where the drinking glasses had either been made of plastic or chipped, cracked glass. He barely recognized any trace of the boy he’d once been, so thoroughly had he transformed himself, though there would always, always be that inherited darkness, that edgy thrill that came from violence, deep down inside of him, no matter how plummy his upper crust manner of speech sounded, how much his bespoke suits cost, or how hard he worked to keep that disturbing part of himself hidden away.
It wasn’t the only reason, of course, why this - this thing with Jill couldn’t be permitted to continue, but it was the one that gave him the most cause for concern. It had been a very long time since Max had felt out of control when it came to that turbulent, volatile part of himself, but that was largely due to his solitary lifestyle. Oh, he spent a fair amount of time with Jordan and Finn, but he had never once felt threatened or ill at ease with either man. And while he was confident that he could never, ever harm Jill physically, the same couldn’t be said from an emotional perspective. Who knew how he would deal with having an actual relationship, being with the same person week in and week out? He had never been comfortable discussing his feelings, or with sharing his house or his possessions. He remembered all too well what it was like to have absolutely nothing, one of the reasons why he was so careful to take good care of his things now, whether it was his clothes or the furnishings in his home or even the business that he’d built up from nothing. He had little to no faith in his ability to willingly share his things, much less his life, with someone else, even if that person was the kindest, sweetest, and most generous being he’d ever known.
Max stared out the imposing floor-to-ceiling window, noticing that it had begun to rain yet again. If it hadn’t been for Jill, he’d be counting the hours until he could return to San Francisco, where it was at least marginally warmer and less prone to constant rain than Seattle. In fact, if it hadn’t been for her, he would have likely wrapped this assignment up a couple of days ago and would already
be spending the night in his own home. But he had admittedly dragged things out longer, hadn’t spent quite so many hours as he would have usually done on the job, all because he had preferred to be with Jill instead. And that admittance alone should have raised all manner of alarm bells, since Max was typically fanatical when it came to his business, having the ability to focus entirely on the job and block out all other distractions.
But there had never been a distraction as lovely and sparkling and irresistible as Jill Parrish, with her honeyed Southern drawl - the one she tried so hard to disguise but that would always be as much a part of her as her sunny personality and generous spirit. For a young woman who’d been deprived of so much in her life, and who’d been unfairly forced to suppress her true nature, she was the most unselfish and giving person he’d ever known. And while he might have been the one footing the bill for most of their meals, as well as buying her little gifts over the past two and a half weeks, Jill had been giving back to him in so many ways, every single hour they had spent together. The most precious gift of all, of course, having been her impassioned declaration of love the other night.
“Damn,” Max muttered again, but out loud this time. He ran a hand impatiently through his already mussed hair, then bolted down the rest of his Scotch.
Maybe he shouldn’t have suggested Jill order a pre-dinner cocktail that evening at El Gaucho. Or refilled her wine glass. The thought had crossed his mind more than once that it might have been the extra alcohol that had caused her to blurt out her feelings, to lend her a sense of false bravado. But, no, he realized faintly, she hadn’t seemed the least bit drunk or even tipsy, just a little more animated than usual. He guessed that she would have told him how she felt sooner than later, regardless of what she’d had to drink.
The One Real Regret Page 25
