Mad Max - Sapphire Knight Page 0,66
fail.
The same pattern repeats throughout the next week. I wake up each night with Max there, crawling into my bed. Every night, he consistently brings me pleasure and comfort without seeking anything in return. We don’t talk much; it’s all based on touch. I’m so confused with us, then toss in everything else that’s happened, and I don’t know what to think. I’m supposed to hate him, and a piece of me does. Yet, I don’t completely, and that knowledge leaves a thick taste of betrayal on my tongue towards my famiglia. If only I had them here to offer me the guidance I seek, but that’s the real kicker—they’re gone forever.
I can’t take this to my priest or the head of the famiglia, and in my world it’s what you’re supposed to do with problems you can’t cope with on your own. I already know what they’d say before asking. Father Roberts would tell me to covet my marriage, the eyes of the church doesn’t support divorce, especially since we’ve consummated our union. Joker would order me to bow to his henchman’s will and let any trepidations go, as a good mob wife would typically do. I’m not the norm though. I toe the line on so many things. I’m independent, my will is my own and no other’s, so why do I feel guilty when I allow myself to escape with my husband in the middle of the night?
I close the thoughts off as he climbs between the valley of my thighs. He’s gloriously naked. I have just enough light to take in his impressive form and serious expression. He’s tired again, and rightfully so since it’s the middle of the night. I want to ask him why he’s here, why he keeps returning, but that’s not what we do. We barely speak to each other in these late-night rendezvous, and as selfish as it sounds, I don’t want to taint these visits by bringing reality into them.
He settles between my legs, his weight parting me further as he works his length into me slowly. I’m used to him possessing an edge when we’re together, but tonight, he’s a bit tender. I draw in a quick breath as I feel him slide all the way down. Even like this he stretches me to the point it’s a shock. The sensation never waivers, no matter how many times we have sex. It’s part of the allure drawing me back for a repeat performance. “Max,” I softly breathe into the room, the comfort his presence brings not lost on me.
“I’ve got you, darling,” he murmurs, kissing along my shoulder. Who knew that spot could be so erotic, yet he manages to ignite a fire in my blood each time his mouth meets the flesh in that area. His words are a double-edged sword. I’ll get hurt either way, whether I believe him or turn him away.
His body’s warm and heavy against mine, encompassing me like a weighted blanket sent to bring me a sense of solace. He shifts his hips, administering soft thrusts in and out of my core, my wetness coating us, as well as running down my butt. Since the first time we met, he’s had my pussy turned into a faucet, eager for his attention. My fingers rake along his arms and then his back. I can’t seem to touch him everywhere sufficiently enough to be sated. He draws back enough to tilt his head down and take in the shadow of his cock leaving and reentering me. My skin flushes, heat peppering my body as I watch him watching us.
His hair dips down, falling across his forehead, and I reach forward, pushing it back. He’s too perfect on the outside to appear mussed. He’s only broken and ugly inside, I’ve come to learn. His eyes flick up, meeting my irises, and the stare’s so deep, I can feel it all the way to my soul.
“Max,” I hiss on a breath, unsure of what else to murmur. His head drops, his mouth landing on mine, lips full and soft as they show me another way to feel him. Our tongues caress, slow and sensual, his hips shifting to grind his pelvis into mine. “Dio Santo,” I cry into our kiss as bliss descends, shooting through my limbs. I ride it out, him stealing every noise I make with his kiss.
“Brilliant,” he admits, staring at me as if it’s the first time he’s actually seeing me. His arms