farewell (18+)

7. Does It Count?

I grabbed Max's hair and kissed him like he was the last man in the world as we stumbled into my apartment. I pushed his jacket from his shoulders, and he tossed it away before coming back to me. I felt him push me back into my living room, heard him kick the door closed without ever breaking the kiss. We made our way to the couch without braking the kiss, knocking the side table down in the process. Every bit of the act was aggressive and demanding.

I pulled him by the hem of his pants as I lay down, and he crashed on top of me. I mewled under his weight. His mouth was hot against my jaw, neck, and collarbone, teeth grazing my skin. He buried his face in the valley between my breasts, pulling the buttons of my sweater in a hurry.

"Max!"

"Okay..."

He gave it a pull, and ripped the damn thing open, buttons flying everywhere. I shrugged it off with my bra, and his head was back to my chest. He took one nipple in his mouth, tongue swirling against it, while his thumb teased the other. My body came alive with sensation. I whimpered like a horny girl, bucking my hips to get as much friction as I could between my legs. Try as I might, it wasn't near enough to ease the tingling sensation in my core. It just got louder and louder.

My hand traveled down his torso, sliding inside his pants. I squeezed him, taking a painful groan from him. He moved against my hand, and we engaged in a mutual caress as the last of my reserves evaporated through my pores.

"I don't want you to regret this," he said.

"Max..." I cried out. "I really, really want this. Please."

I sounded so needy. But it was very hard to care when I had his hand cupping my sex the way it did, like it belonged to him. I gasped for air rubbing myself against any part of him that he decided to give me. That's what he did to me, turned me into some desperate, horny mess.

And I loved it. Every. Minute. Of it.

Max knelt up, taking my pants and underwear in one single pull. Before I knew it, he was kissing and nibbling the inside of my thighs, making his way up. I quivered, letting out soft, kitten-like sounds.

"It's so easy to make you moan. I love it..." He looked up at me through his lashes. "Let's see if I can make you scream."

I felt a shiver run through me. He ran his tongue flat up against my opening, then sucked my hardened clit like candy. I stifled a moan; I didn't want to give in that easily. We smirked at each other. My hand shot to his hair, making him grunt in pain. I hadn't even realized I was holding so hard.

He sucked me, nibbled me, swirled his tongue like a freaking paper windmill, looking for the right technique that would make me lose my shit. He started flicking his tongue, I breathed loudly, thrashing my hips against his face. He held me in place, keeping a steady pace with his mouth. I struggled to move, screaming and cursing in my heat. I could practically feel him smile against my opening, victorious over me.

"Say my name, love," he asked. No, he demanded. "I love it when you say it."

Oh, Max... You're so good to me.

I screamed his name once, twice, as he slid a finger in and out, adding to the sensation. Every push sent waves over waves of pleasure directly to my core. I bucked and thrashed violently. My muscles stiffened, and I became still as I was thrown over the edge. My high pitch cry echoed through the empty apartment, and I felt his fingers lace with mine. I looked at him through the fog of my orgasm. His whole face was glistening with my juices.

He got up and smiled, mouth made a tiny 'o' when he huffed. "I knew I'd make you scream."

I felt the thrill of having him, of belonging to him in that brief moment. It was fleeting, brittle, but I would take it any day. I would take him any day. I was exhausted, sated, and utterly content. This guy had sent me to the moon and back with the flick of a tongue. It was too much power. Too good, too addictive.