𝙰𝚝 𝙵𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚂𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖊𝖓

The morning light filters in, and as consciousness creeps back, I feel the weight of an arm, inked with intricate tattoos, heavy over my waist. It's a possessive hold, as if Maxon subconsciously fears I might slip away.

I lie there for a moment, my mind foggy, trying to piece together the puzzle of last night. This isn't my hotel room, that much is clear. It all leads to this moment, waking up beside Maxon, who's deep in slumber, his breathing even and calm.

The realization settles in, and I'm filled with a mix of emotions—surprise, confusion, maybe a twinge of regret, but also an undeniable sense of belonging as I'm tucked close to him.

Last Night
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The serene journey back to the hotel was marked by a comfortable silence, only the soft hum of music from the car radio filling the air. When we arrived, Maxon was the perfect gentleman, stepping out and reaching back to help me exit the vehicle before handing his keys to the attentive valet. With a subtle touch guiding me, he led me through the opulence of the hotel lobby.

Once inside the elevator, Maxon stood close behind me, his presence enveloping me in a cocoon of warmth. His nearness was intoxicating, stirring a flutter in my chest. The elevator announced our arrival with a cheerful chime, and with a respectful distance, Maxon led the way to his room.

He maintained a gentle hold on me as we entered, and with a graceful push of his foot, the door closed behind us. It felt like a dance, each of our movements in step with the other's.

He spun me into his arms, and we were kissing again, deeply, each kiss stoking the fires of longing within us. His hands roamed to my backside, urging me closer, and I responded without hesitation, my own hands tangled in his hair.

Our lips locked in a dance of their own, hungry and insistent. Maxon lifted me with an ease that sent shivers down my spine, carrying me toward the bed that promised to be our haven for the night.

Once there, he gently laid me down, removing my shoes with care as he peppered my feet with kisses, each touch a testament to the passion that was unfolding between us.

The delicate attentions Maxon paid to my feet stirred something deep within me, reigniting the smoldering desire that our earlier interactions had stoked. I felt a tightness, a yearning, and instinctively my thighs pressed together in a futile attempt to quell the rising heat.

Yet, Maxon was attuned to my reactions, observant of the subtle shift in my demeanor. His eyes followed the path of his kisses downward, acknowledging the state of my underwear, evidence of the passion we'd shared. His lips, soft and inviting, continued their journey, now pressing against the fabric that barely separated him from my skin.

Each gentle kiss sent a wave of anticipation through me, only amplified as he transitioned to a more deliberate teasing—his tongue tracing, lightly licking, and his mouth softly sucking through the barrier of my lingerie. I shuddered under his ministrations, an involuntary moan escaping me as I watched him, the visual coupled with the sensations he elicited sending me into a spiral of desire.

The groan that tore from my lips was both one of longing and of slight surrender to the moment, to the man who so skillfully was awakening every sense, every nerve ending, with his tender yet provocative gestures.

"Please, Max," I pleaded, my voice strained as I reached down to grip his hair. A low growl escaped him at the action. He removed my underwear with his teeth, pulling it down my legs before pocketing it.

He turned back to me, his gaze intense. His eyes remained locked with mine as he lowered himself and ran his tongue across my core. "Don't tease," I managed to say.

Seizing the opportunity, he introduced two fingers at my entrance, plunging them in rhythmically while his mouth worked on my sensitive spot. "Oh...f-fuck..." I gasped, gripping his head and pulling him as close as possible. He moved his fingers in and out, eventually replacing them with his tongue. I felt my legs start to shake as I weakly tried to push his head away.

Maxon released my legs, instead taking hold of my hands and pinning them by my sides. My eyes rolled back as I felt the wave of pleasure building up. "S-stop," I stuttered out, "please," but my plea only seemed to spur him on.

Sensing I was close, he quickened his pace. The intense explosion of pleasure that followed left me breathless as I climaxed, my body reacting with a shudder and release. He drank in every drop as if quenching a desperate thirst.

Maxon let go of my legs before grabbing my hand and holding them by my sides. feeling my eyes roll to the back of my head as I felt myself about to cum. "S-stop" i tried to get out "please" desperately, Censing that I was close because he sped his mouth up.

The feeling of an intense explosion that I felt when I felt myself cum and squirted at the same time "let all that shit out" he mumbled. He slurped up every drop like a plant lacking its moisture. Pulling away from me I looked at him slightly dazed and saw his beard was saturated and glisoning.

With a gentle yet determined lean, he claimed my lips with his own, allowing me the heady taste of my own sweetness on his tongue. The sensation drew a low groan from me, an involuntary response to the desire that was building within. In turn, I could feel the insistent bulge that was pressed against my sensitized core, a clear indication of his own arousal.

His words were clear, demanding no less than complete submission, "You will never allow yourself to be pushed up against anyone but me. Do you understand?" The raw possessiveness in his tone sent a fresh wave of desire coursing through me, making me throb with anticipation all over again.

My voice seemed to have disappeared, stolen by the intensity of the moment. All I could do was nod in response. "I want a verbal answer when I speak to you," he insisted, his voice an intoxicating blend of dominance and desire. "O-o-ok Maxon," I managed to stammer out, my voice barely a whisper.

Without another word, he stood up and stalked towards the bathroom, his movements as graceful as they were decisive.

As the sound of the shower turning on echoed in the room, I was left lying there, my body still humming with desire, and my mind filled with thoughts of Maxon.

Stranded amidst the disarray of the bed linen, I found myself caught in a state of yearning, a residual echo of the passion he had awakened within me.

My skin prickled with the ghostly imprint of his touch, a delectable torment that intensified my longing for his return. The whirlwind of my thoughts, like a stormy sea, was dominated by the enigmatic silhouette of Maxon.