It’s impossible to be with her, because I want everything at once. I want my hands on her, pinching her nipples, holding her wrists down. I want the taste of her in my mouth, but also the walls of her pussy clenching around my cock. I want her bent over the bed.
I want her in every single way I can have her, but right now, I can only have her like this.
Being with Maeve makes me wish I were omnipotent, that I could be in multiple places at once. That I could hit every button and find the highest point of her pleasure.
“Felix,” Maeve breathes, lifting her hips toward me, pleading in her voice. “Please.”
It’s the sweetest word I’ve ever heard, and it’s all I need to drive forward and take her, my entire world crumbling apart when I’m fully seated inside her, finding the closeness I have always craved, and feeling truly and impossibly at home.
Chapter 17 - Maeve
The best fuck of my life was after a beach party in Los Angeles, a beta going down on me under the light of the moon in a cove flooded with the scent of the sea. It was romantic. It was impossible, I thought at the time, for a girl like me.
And it doesn’t even come close to comparing to this.
When Felix slides inside me, the pressure feels like finally reaching an itch you’ve never been able to scratch, relief you didn’t know you needed. A full alignment of the self, a horrible, terrible realization that something has been missing this entire time.
His breath comes quick when he’s inside me, and his hands flex on my hips, like he thinks he needs to hold himself back. My breasts flatten against him as I rise up, wrapping my arms around his neck.
He thrusts slowly, his breath loud in my ear. When I tip my head back, he grazes his lips over the spot of his mating mark on me, and it sends a shiver coursing the length of my spine. I wind my legs around his waist, digging my heels into his back and pulling him closer to me, tilting my hips, anything so he’ll hit that spot inside me.
And when his knot starts to form, my eyes could roll back in my head. I arch up from the bed, the pleasure unlike anything I’ve ever known in my life. He takes one of my nipples in his mouth, murmuring around it, something like,“Good girl, that’s right, take it for me, baby.”
I thought I knew everything there was to know about Felix Rana. But I didn’t know aboutthis. I didn’t know about the aching, desperate brush of his fingers. I didn’t know about thepower of his hips, the soft praise from his lips, and the way he could make me fly apart at the seams.
When he’s not whispering against me, telling me how beautiful I am, how much he’s always wanted me, he’s just whispering my name, again and again, between each kiss and each thrust.
The second time I come, he breathes hard, pounding into me fast, and I think that he’s going to come, that I’ll start to feel the release of that knot inside me, but when I come down from the high, I realize it’s still there, growing inside me.
It sets me on the path to the top all over again.
He’s endlessly attentive to me, drawing his mouth and hands over parts of my skin I didn’t know could be erotic. My chin, my bicep, the flat part just between my breasts. Felix treats my body like it’s a new land and he’s the cartographer, tracing every line with the tip of his tongue.
“Maeve,” he whispers for the hundredth time, to the point I no longer recognize my name. It’s become something of a wish on his lips, a chant, a prayer. His dark eyes drink me in, so when he pulls back, adjusting his knees in the bed for a different angle, they lock on my breasts, which bounce with each movement.
When I orgasm for a third time, his knot grows to the point just before pain, and I whimper against it, sweat beading on my brow, my entire body a loose, slick ease of pleasure. I feel like taffy pulled through one of those machines, like Felix took me and warmed me up, wrapping me around himself until I found my true form.
“You okay?” he asks roughly after what must be more than an hour. Have Ieverhad sex for this long? How has he not come yet?
“Yes,” I say, because the last thing I want him to do right now is stop.
He won’t be able to pull out of me—not with the knot—but he could stop the movement, and that would be a killing blow.
And when Felix draws his body close to mine again, he cups one hand behind my head, tipping up my chin for better access to my neck. At the precise moment his teeth sink into my skin, he releases, the hot, steady stream of him more pleasurable than I could have imagined.
I hold on to him tight, afraid I might float away without him as my anchor.
We’re wrapped in one another as he licks at the mating mark, keeping his hips still inside me as his knot pulses steadily, releasing himself inside me. It’s like the soft ticking of a car when you’ve pulled into the garage and cut the engine. A cooling-down that feels somehow just as good—or better—than the thing itself. That long, languid feeling of stretching your arms over your head when you first wake up in the morning. An unfolding of the self.
Folding into him.
We start to drift off together, his cock still buried inside me. When he pulls me close and presses a gentle kiss to the spot just under my ear and above the mating mark, I realize with a horrible, sinking feeling that this was a terribly irresponsible choice.
***
Luckily, when I wake up the next morning, Felix’s cock is no longer inside me.
In fact, not only is he not inside me, but I don’t feel like a mess like I was the night before. My cheeks warm when I realize he must have gotten up and cleaned me up after I fell asleep.
