Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 130255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 651(@200wpm)___ 521(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 651(@200wpm)___ 521(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
I inhaled sharply at the feeling of his tongue flicking against my swollen clit. My hips bucked against his tongue almost of their own accord, and Max’s fingers twitched against the top of my thigh.
He applied more pressure to my clit, bringing his mouth to cover my pussy totally. I whimpered, and my eyes fluttered shut as he circled my clit slowly, making every breath I took harsh and laborious. Every tiny little noise that escaped me seemed to spur Max on, and he went from the focused area of my clit to a full exploration of my wetness.
It was almost an assault on the most tender, needy part of me, and I had no control over what I was doing. Not as Max released the t-shirt and gripped my arse tightly, pulling my hips in so my clit was firmly against his tongue.
I reached down and ran my fingers through his soft, dark hair, arching my back as another moan escaped my lips. His tongue circled and pushed and flicked over my clit, toying with it, a mix of tiny sucks and nibbles, until my legs clenched and I could no longer do anything but give myself over to the pleasure that flooded my body.
I grabbed the hay behind me to keep me up, although I wasn’t sure if that was my own feeble body strength or if Max was partially helping.
All I knew was that I hadn’t been wrong.
That man could eat a girl’s pussy like a champ.
Max slowly stood up and slid one hand around the back of my neck, dipping his head so his lips were close to my ear. “Believe me now?” he whispered in a raspy tone that danced across my skin, making the hair on my arms prickle into standing.
“I think so,” I whispered back.
“Good. Now I have to finish this up.”
“What about you?”
He cupped my chin and tilted my head back, forcing my gaze to meet his. “That wasn’t about me, Ellie.” He held my gaze for a moment longer than he needed to, and he broke off contact with the tiniest smile before he turned and wiped his mouth with his hand.
I stepped to the side and adjusted my knickers, then sat myself down on the hay bale that had just been assaulted by my foot.
How the hell was this man real?
CHAPTER THIRTY
MAX
The Collision of Then and Now
Grief was a strange thing.
After my parents’ death, I was told a lot of things by a lot of people. That it would get easier. That I would forgive my father in time. That I wouldn’t miss my mum as much one day. That I’d learn to live with it.
They all meant well, of course.
Twenty-one years later, I knew it was all bullshit.
It wasn’t easier. It still hurt just as much as it had when Grandma had told me what happened—and then the day she told me the truth about what happened. The raw pain was still there, it just didn’t seem as bad because I was no longer grappling with the complete shock and confusion over what had happened.
I still hadn’t forgiven my father. I wasn’t sure if I ever would. I wasn’t sure if he deserved my forgiveness for killing my mum—to forgive what he did to her that day would be to forgive years of awful behaviour, and I didn’t know if I had that in me to forgive him.
I understood that forgiveness was for me, not for him, but a little part of me wasn’t ready to let go of the blame and anger over it.
I missed my mum more than ever, and I most certainly hadn’t learnt to live with the fact she was no longer here.
Some people did. I understood that. It was easier for some people than others, but right now, I was not one of those people who could move on.
More than anything, I wished Mum were here right now.
Instead, she was nothing more than a memory, buried six feet under where I was currently sitting.
I’d spent the last ten years rejecting any notion of romance or family. I’d never experienced what it was like to grow up with a functioning family or a happy ever after.
Fairy tales didn’t exist in my world.
Unless you asked Disney. Then all orphans tended to find themselves in the midst of a fairy tale.
Maybe I needed to hire them to write my life story.
Would I stand a chance if someone else was in control?
I knew the answer to that.
No.
I knew because I’d already lost it.
The one thing I prided myself on was my control. My restraint. The ability to have a handle on everything and everyone around me. It was a coping mechanism I’d developed after that fateful day when my life had changed beyond comprehension, and I’d learnt to manage it so that it wasn’t overwhelming for anyone close to me.