Apprehension warmed my belly, and I looked back to the locked door, wondering how it would feel to be spread on the blanket beneath Max, feel him pounding into me, and then suddenly hearing the sound of the door opening and slamming shut.
“Okay,” I said, smiling.
“It has the best view for fireworks,” he explained. “They set off four simultaneous shows you can see over the river. I figured it was something you’d like to see.”
I pulled him closer to me and kissed his jaw. “I’m actually most excited to see you totally naked.”
With a little growl, Max pushed some pillows to the side and laid me down on the thick blanket. He smiled, closed his eyes, and kissed me.
Damn, why did he have to feel so good? It would be easier to be casual—though certainly so much less satisfying—if Max were a mediocre lover, or treated me primarily as a convenient way to get off every week. But he was tender, attentive, and so sure of himself in this respect that it took very little for him to make me bow beneath him, ache for him, beg him quietly.
He loved the begging. He’d tease me to get more of it. I’d beg him to tease me longer.
In times like this, when he was kissing me, running his hands over my skin and pinching me in sensitive, hungry places, I struggled to not compare this lover to the only other I’d ever had. Andy was quick and rough. After about a year of playful sex, our contact never really was about exploration or sharing something. It had been in our bed, sometimes on the couch. Once or twice in the kitchen.
But here, Max slid a strawberry over my chin, sucked off the juices. He murmured about tasting me, licking my juices, f**king me until I screamed and it echoed across the street.
He took pictures of me as I peeled off my shirt and then his, as I licked my way down his stomach, unbuttoned his jeans, and took his hard length in my mouth. I hoped he would let me keep going this time.
He whispered, “Keep your eyes open. Look at me.” And then he took a picture. I was lost enough in the feel of him that, for the moment, I didn’t care.
Eventually, his phone fell to the blanket and his hands went into my hair, guiding me, keeping me slow. My mouth was moving so slow across him I couldn’t imagine he would come like this, long pulls back and then slowly taking him in again. But he didn’t let me speed up, and his eyes grew darker, and hungrier, and finally he swelled in me.
“All right?” he asked, voice tight. “I’m coming.”
I hummed, watching his face flush and his mouth open a little as he stared at my mouth on him. The sounds he made when he came were deep, and hoarse, and mixed nonsense with the filthiest words I’d ever heard. I swallowed quickly, focusing on the dazed expression on his face.
“Fuck,” he groaned, smiling. He reached down, pulled me up to his chest.
The sky above had started to darken. It turned pink, and then lavender, and we stared up at the lacy layer of clouds. His skin was warm, and smooth, and I turned my face into it, inhaling.
“I like the deodorant you use.”
He laughed. “Why, thank you.”
I kissed his shoulder, and hesitated, afraid to ruin the moment. But I had to. “You took a picture of my face.”
I felt more than heard his laugh. “I know. I’ll delete it now. I just want to look at it a couple of times.” He dropped a heavy arm to the blanket and blindly searched for his phone beside him. It was under my hip, and I pulled it up, handing it to him.
Together we flipped through the pictures. My hands on my shirt, on his chest. My br**sts, my neck. We paused at the picture of my hands unbuttoning his jeans, pulling him out. When we got to one of my thumb sweeping over the head of his cock, he rolled over onto me, hard again.
“No, wait,” I said, the words dying inside his mouth as he kissed me. “Delete the face ones, Max.”
With a groan, he rolled back over and showed them to me. I couldn’t deny they were some of the most sensual things I’d seen: my teeth bared against his hip, my tongue touching the tip of his cock, and, finally, my mouth spread around him while I stared directly into the camera. My eyes had grown so dark it was clear I would suck him as long as I could. With a photo like that, I would remain in that position forever.
He clicked the delete button, confirmed the request, and then it was gone.
“That was the hottest thing I’d ever seen,” he said, rolling over onto me again and kissing my neck. “I really despise that no-faces rule.”
I didn’t say anything. Instead, I pushed his pants the rest of the way down his legs, then he shoved my shorts off and pulled my legs around his hips.
“Get a condom,” I mumbled into his neck.
“Actually,” he started, pulling back just enough to look me in the eye, “I was hoping we could move past the condom rule.”
“Max . . .”
“I have this.” He pulled a paper out from under the blanket. Ah, the ever-romantic test results. “I haven’t gone bare since high school,” he explained. “I’m not f**king anyone else and I want to be bare with you.”
“How do you know I’m on birth control?”
“Because I saw the pills in your purse at the library.” He shifted back, positioning himself to press against me, and rocked his hips. “Is this okay?”
I nodded, but asked, “Aren’t you worried about my history?”
He smiled, kissed along my shoulder, and ran a hand up and over my breast. “Tell me.”
I swallowed, breaking eye contact and looking to the side. He put a finger on my chin, turning my face back to his. “I’ve had one other lover,” I admitted.
Max’s eyes stopped smiling. “You’ve been with one other person?”
“But he f**ked everyone else in Chicago while we were together.”
He let out a quiet curse. “Sara . . .”
“So, if you consider that I’ve been with everyone he was with, then I’ve been with far more than one.” I tried to smile to take the sharpness out of my words.
“Have you been tested since?”
“Yes.” I shifted my hips up against his, wanting this more than I realized. Andy had started using condoms halfway through our relationship; that alone should have clued me in somehow. At the time it felt depressingly distancing, although he told me it was to be sure we didn’t have kids before we were ready. Now I realized he afforded me at least that one courtesy.
But Max was doing it all backward. Distance at first, and then careening headlong into this strange monogamy we had.