Last on the List (Wait With Me #5)(51)

She fists her hands in the comforter, trying to hold on as she slides up the bed each time I bottom out in her. Her eyes close as she arches up to meet me each time I enter her.

“You have to look at me, Cassandra,” I bark, my patience wearing thin. “It’s nonnegotiable. I need your eyes on me. You got it?”

Her green eyes snap open, captivating me as her brows knit together. She nods in understanding, her hand reaching up to stroke my jaw. “Eyes on you.”

“Good girl.” I nip at her thumb and, with renewed energy, begin pumping into her, watching her as she reacts to every thrust, every grip, every sound exchanged between us. Her eyes never leave mine, and the security I feel in watching her pleasure is enough to have me come undone in record time.

Not the good kind of record.

But a record, nonetheless.





My breath is heavy as my body pulses back and forth, rocking into the mattress as my consciousness fights with my subconsciousness. Awake or asleep? Awake or asleep? Are you in, or are you out?

My thighs squeeze together, desperate for release as I grind against something, my pelvis twisting and swirling like a ship caught in a vicious storm. My pace quickens as I pump faster and faster, feeling my heart rate increase with every moment of blissful unconsciousness. A moan escapes my lips as liquid heat flushes over my body, effectively yanking me out of my dream-like state.

My eyes crack open, squinting against the brightness of my tiny cabin as sunlight pours in through the upper windows. I hear the faint sounds of birds chirping outside, but they are nothing compared to the blood rushing in my ears as the heady aftershock of my release topples over me.

Fighting to catch my breath, I notice a blanket of heat pressed up behind me and glance down to see strong, masculine fingers clutching my breast and rolling my nipple delicately. A hard thickness pumps into my backside, over and over, keeping me on that glorious rocking ship.

“Did you just—” Max’s hoarse voice croaks into my ear.

“Come in my sleep?” I finish his sentence on a wobbly sigh. “Yes, I think I did.”

“Jesus,” he growls, his hot breath on my naked shoulder as he thrusts against me once more.

“Was I…” I pause, feeling a slight tinge of humiliation poke holes in my post-coital bliss.

“Fucking the bed?” he finishes my sentence this time. “Yes…but I like to think I helped.”

I cover my face and groan.

“No need to be embarrassed,” Max’s growly voice murmurs in my ear. “I woke up hard as stone and started humping your ass like a sex-starved teenager.”

“Oh,” I reply dumbly as his hand releases my breast to wrap tightly around my waist.

“I can’t seem to stop getting hard around you,” he adds as he continues to slide his silky erection against me.

I blink back my shock because I can’t imagine the position I am currently in is all that alluring. Truly, for a female, side laying is savage. My left breast is currently working to swallow my right breast, and my FUPA—fat upper pussy area—is doing its best to fuck the mattress as well. Gravity is a foe for plus-sized girls, not a friend.

Max’s cock wedges between my thighs, and he thrusts again.

He clearly doesn’t mind the lack of gap.

That would be a funny graphic tee for Dakota’s store. Print the London Underground circle brand on there and below it say: Mind the Lack of Gap.

I tug my lip into my mouth and recall the insanely wonderful things Max said last night to reassure me he liked what he saw.

“If you think for one fucking second your body isn’t everything I want…everything I have been craving…and everything I jack off to when I can’t sleep at night because you haunt all my waking moments…then you’re not as smart as you think you are.”

It was a run-on sentence to be sure, but it got the job done. My libido was like… “Thank you, sir, may I have another?”

And what’s crazy is, he delivered!

“Make no mistake, you aren’t a convenience fuck, Cassandra. You are a dream fuck.”

Like seriously. Max Fletcher has game. I don’t care if he did it just to get in my pants. I will engrave those words on my tombstone when I die.



RIP





Cozy Barlow


Dead From a Good Dickin’



Max’s husky voice tears me out of my dick death musings when he says, “After my quick performance last night, I am putting in my formal request for a redo.”

“A redo?” I repeat, my brow furrowed as I stare forward at the shiplap walls. “I’m pretty sure I had two orgasms last night.”

He growls and nips my shoulder. “I can do better.”

“Such an overachiever.” I giggle and then frown when I feel the loss of his body heat as he shifts off the bed.

I roll onto my back to become besties with gravity again and tuck the sheet around my body as I savor the view of a bare ass Max walking around the bed. Seriously, zero dad bod situation happening here, and I need to mentally catalog every bit of this view to keep me warm on those cold winter nights.

His ass cheek flexes as he hunches over to pick his wallet up off the floor and dig out a condom.

“Do you just…have those condoms in there all the time?” I ask as he holds a foil packet in his fingers. He’s probably a guy who gets so many girls that he has to always be prepared.