His head gave a small jerk as if my question was surprising and he answered, “Yeah. Why?”
“I thought I’d stay home, read, maybe plot how I’ll drug and kidnap my father, drive him to the next state and dump him outside a Police Station with a note pinned to him saying that he killed JFK and was there to confess.”
“As worthwhile a way that is to spend your time, you’re comin’ with me to Bitsy’s.”
“Maybe Bitsy doesn’t want me to come,” I suggested halfheartedly for Bitsy lived in town and pretty much everyone in town had shown a rather healthy curiosity about me.
“Oh, Bitsy wants you to come, it was her idea,” Max informed me unsurprisingly.
That was what I was afraid of.
I sighed then I asked, “How much of a chance do I have of getting out of this?”
“Zip,” was his short, also unsurprising answer.
“Great,” I muttered, looking at his throat.
His arms gave me a squeeze and he called, “Duchess.”
I tipped my head back to look at him.
“She’ll love you,” he whispered.
Then, while I was processing his words, he kissed me. I forgot about Dad, Niles, Bitsy and his words.
I forgot about everything except the fact that his mouth was on mine, his tongue was in my mouth, the latter he could do amazing things with, I was in his arms and he was in mine.
When he seemed happy to keep making out in the kitchen, I was more than happy to let him do it and I took advantage of the fact that my arms were around him. I pulled up his shirt and slid both hands in.
Then I explored. And I liked what I felt, too much. So much, I moaned a little in his mouth and pressed closer.
If I could think, it might have dawned on me that Max just meant to make out in the kitchen. When I pressed in closer, the kiss grew deeper, wilder and his hand fisted in my nightie at the waist, bringing it up, while his other hand slid over my bottom.
I hadn’t had that in awhile, too long, and more importantly, it had never felt like that. In fact, it felt so good I moaned again, lost the ability to stand, gave him my weight and dug my nails in his back.
He growled into my mouth. I pressed my h*ps into his. His hand at my bottom slid up and then back down, this time in my panties.
That felt infinitely better.
“Max,” I breathed against his lips, liking his hand there a lot.
“Fuck, Duchess,” he growled against mine then repeated, “Fuck.”
His hand was moving over my behind and my head dropped forward, my lips against his neck, I touched my tongue there.
His lips went to my ear and his voice was even rougher when he asked, “You wet?”
I wasn’t thinking, couldn’t think, so, confused, I asked, “Sorry?”
“You wet for me?” His gruff words sounded in my ear and they made me shiver from top to toe in his arms and, if I hadn’t been wet before (which I was), his words would have done it.
“Yes,” I whispered my honest answer against his neck.
“Fuck,” he muttered into my ear.
“Max,” I breathed again, I had no idea why but it sounded like a plea.
Unfortunately he was immune to my plea. I knew this because his hand came out of my undies, both his arms went tight around me, he buried his face in my neck and he held me close for a good long while.