Author's Notes:
America has never forgotten the red dress. The one she wore to seduce Maxon. An epic fail. But she had been an inexperienced girl then. Now having honed her skills at seduction she knows how to use them well to get to her husband. Who says revenge isn't well served in a pair of red stilettos?
This Bedtime Story is for all you Guest readers who have waited patiently for another Valentine's Day story and a story about that sultry red dress!
Here is your "Bedtime Stories" chapter!
WARNING!
For EROTIC sexual content. If this sort of material offends you, please go read something else. You have been WARNED! All others please continue on and...
I hope you enjoy!
~Sweetwaterspice
Maxon and America: Bedtime Stories
"A Pearl Necklace and Red Stilettos"
A Dark Maxon Valentine
"Give a girl
the right pair of shoes,
And she can conquer
the world."
~ Marilyn Monroe
~ The Queen's Chambers
Two Weeks Ago...
I sit alone in the quiet of my bedroom on the tufted chaise lounge covered in ash rose velvet, a cup of tea between my palms. I requested not to be disturbed. I needed time to think. Afternoons are a perfect time for reflection.
I settle further into the comfy chaise, take a sip from my tea cup enjoying the full bodied taste of peppermint.
Valentine's Day is just around the corner and although Maxon and I have already agreed not to exchange gifts this year, what's a Valentine's Day without a well thought out surprise for the love of your heart?
A smile tilts the corner of my mouth. My devious little mind conjured a scheme finding the opportunity too delicious to ignore. My smile widens as I look over to the small nesting table— to the pair of red stilettos resting alongside my current erotic novel.
Unbeknownst to my husband, he'd given me the ultimate weapon for my revenge. And you better believe it, I was going to use it.
There are some things a girl can forget. Being mocked is definitely not one of them. Especially if the source of the mockery originates with the very person who's the target of your seduction. I shouldn't be so petty, really. It's all in the past, isn't it?
Sure, that's what the rational me keeps saying but I'm not listening to her.
Scratch the candle lit dinner, flowers and chocolates from this girl's list. Tag this Valentine's Day as my own Special Edition— and one that Maxon would never forget. I was going to make sure of it.
Sometimes revenge is sweeter when served in a pair of red stilettos.
I lift the cup to my lips once more and smile against the rim. I take a sip. And a deep breath.
I sit back and remember...
"Seriously, America?" Kriss whispered.
"I'm sorry?" I replied in confusion, tilting my head in her direction.
We stare at each other.
Her eyes take me in. The deep red strapless dress with nary a back had caught Maxon's attention. And everyone else's apparently.
"You look trashy."
"Well, you look jealous."
Bitch. It was the first word that came to mind. Kriss Ambers was becoming my biggest rival. I had finally made a decision. I was going to fight for Maxon. And it was high time I stepped up my own game and obliterate the competition. No more playing it safe. No more playing "nice".
I could barely breathe in the damn dress let alone eat anything but I had a plan.
Tonight, Maxon was going to be mine. King Clarkson had made it clear where I stood. He'd told me the other girls were making advances towards Maxon— physical advances— and that I was far too plain to have a chance of matching them in that department. Talk about destroying any confidence I had left. And Maxon was still spending quite a bit of time with Kriss. I hated it. Every secret look that passed between them was like a dagger to my heart. But I had only myself to blame for that.
After dinner I rushed back to my room lighting candles, trying to make the space inviting. I didn't have much time. Seeing Maxon's reaction, the gawking look he gave me was enough. The looks we exchanged after dinner... he would be here soon enough. My heart thumped with excitement.
I had never tried seducing a man. I wasn't a stranger to the intimacies that went on between the sexes but still, I was navigating uncharted waters. I had shared kisses and touches with Aspen. We had even slept in the same bed more than once in a tangle of arms and legs. But I never had to try seducing Aspen... things were… different. I wasn't competing for Aspen's attention.
The knock came at the door and I blew out the match. Bolting over to the bed I picked up a book and fanned out my red dress. It was a beautiful dress. Deadly enough to take down a man.
"Come in."
Maxon entered making butterflies flutter in my belly. I watched as he surveyed my dimly lit room with wonder in his eyes. My heart was beating so hard I wondered if he could hear it as his eyes at last focused on me. His gaze traveled up my exposed leg, visible from the slit running high up my thigh.
Closing the book, "There you are," I smiled, standing to greet him.
Maxon shut the door locking us away from the world. This was it. How far would I go? I pushed the question aside. This wasn't time to second guess myself.
When his eyes locked on my curves, my confidence soared.
'I wanted to tell you that you look fantastic tonight."
"Oh, this thing?" I flicked my hair over my shoulder— dramatic, right? "It was just sitting in the back of the closet."
He smiled. "I'm glad you pulled it out."
Lacing my fingers with his I invite him to sit with me. "I haven't seen much of you lately."
"I'm sorry about that," he apologized as he followed. He mentioned the tension after the latest rebel attacks on our families which was not a subject that lent itself for seduction. My resolve nearly faltered. I was being selfish, wasn't I? But then Maxon shared how his father was pressuring him to end the Selection. "…but I'm holding my ground. I want to have time to think this through." Those words reinforced my decision.
We settled on the edge of my bed and I closed the gap between us. "Of course. You should be in charge of this."
"Exactly. I know I've said it a thousand times, but when people push me, it makes me crazy."
"I know," I replied with a pout. Ugh! I was horrible at this!
He looked at me but I couldn't read his face. My inexperience was quite obvious to myself if not to Maxon. I was trying to figure out my next move but I didn't want to seem desperate or pushy. I wasn't sure how to proceed without giving myself away. Then I wondered, What would Celeste do? I hated thinking of another girl with Maxon. Then again, Celeste didn't have to try to be sensual or sexy or alluring. I, on the other hand was like a bull in a china shop!
"I know this is silly, but my maids put this new perfume on me today. Is it too strong?" Yes, I actually asked that. I cringe at the thought of it now. Seduction Rule 101— Don't be lame.
I tilted my neck so he could lean in. It worked! I thought enthusiastically in that moment but I wasn't anticipating my body's reaction when his nose grazed a soft patch of skin. His voice rumbled, low and dangerous into the curve that led to my shoulder.
"No dear, it's lovely."
The room felt suddenly very… heated. And when he kissed me there, I felt myself go up in flames. I swallowed, trying to control my body, my focus. I needed to regain control of this situation.
"I'm glad you like it. I really missed you."
Maxon's hand snaked up my back. Delicious shivers ran down my spine and heat like I've never felt bloomed in my core. Our eyes locked in that moment. I felt like I was standing on the edge of a precipice, our lips millimeters apart and all it would take to push me over was... a brush of his lips.
"How much have you missed me?" He breathed, his voice doing funny things to me. My heart skittered and I felt like trapped prey attempting escape.
I was surprised I was able to respond because he definitely had the upper hand.
Matching his seductive tone, I whispered back, "So much. So, so much."
I leaned forward aching for him to kiss me; to shove me off that damned ledge. He slipped a hand around my waist pulling me closer, his grip firm and confident. His other hand weaved into my hair. My body wanted nothing more than to fuse into his. The hunger for him surprised me. My skin prickled with need... with want and desire.
Suddenly feeling nervous, I remembered my plan. Maybe he'd take the hint if I placed his hand where I needed it to be. On the zipper at the back of my dress. I guided his fingers there. I could feel the ghost of his fingertips along the seam.
We stared into each other's eyes. It was as if time just froze. I had never gone all the way with Aspen and I was certain that Maxon hadn't been intimate with any other girl. This was monumental. His fingers still lingered at the opening of my dress... I was a breath away from just giving him the green light when he burst out laughing.
The hearty sound of his laughter boomed in my ears. The fog in my head instantly lifted.
Maxon shot to his feet. "Of everything you've done, this is by far the most entertaining!" I watched with horror as he bent over in raw amusement, hitting his knee as he continued to laugh.
"Excuse me?" It was the only thing I could think of saying at the moment to save a shred of my dignity.
He kissed me hard on the forehead, like I was his sister or something. Humiliation swallowed me like a tsunami leaving devastation in its wake.
"I always wondered what it would be like for you to try." He laughed some more, the corners of his eyes crinkled. "I'm sorry; I have to go. I'll see you in the morning."
And then...
He walked out on me. Walked. Out!
And the silence that descended on me was crushing and suffocating.
I had never felt so small. So unworthy. This had been a ridiculous idea but it didn't mean it hurt any less.
Of course Maxon could see right through my scheme. This wasn't me.
Blowing out candles, I chided myself. "Great going, America! Notch another tally to your most embarrassing moments with the future king of Illéa!"
I ripped off the dress leaving it on the floor, a pool of red fabric like the stain of blood at a crime scene. My blood. I ran to the bathroom where I hoped to wash off the humiliation of the worst night of my life.
I set down my teacup and pick up one of the shoes, admiring the red little devil.
Having had to face Maxon the day after my pathetic performance nearly killed me. I couldn't even describe the dread. Yet I managed it with my head held high... somewhat. But the rejection stung nonetheless.
That was then. The past can't be undone but I can sure as hell do what I must. I am a confident woman now... with loads of experience.
"You will regret the day you ever laughed at me, Maxon Schreave. Payback's a bitch."
A few days later...
~ America
"Sorry, babe," Maxon greets me as he enters his office. I set aside my book and smile up at him as he leans down and presses a kiss on my lips. "Got held up," he huffs and takes a seat next to me on the dark brown leather couch.
He tugs on his sports jacket before settling back. I love the way he looks even in more casual attire. I take all of him in from head to toe. Underneath his jacket he wears a button down navy blue shirt, the collar undone, revealing a slight hint of skin at the hollow of his throat. His trousers pull around his thighs defining the contours of hard muscle. And other sensual parts of him.
"I tell you," he says, drawing my attention away from his delicious physique, "If I have to listen to one more attempt by Phil Dawson to finagle his way or stupidly believe he can push me into agreeing to have a stud of mine sire a mare of his, I'm liable to punch the asshole in the face. I've told him more than once and I hate repeating myself, we do the choosing. No one will dictate to us with whom we'll partner for the season."
"Can you blame him?" I ask him, unfolding my legs from under my thighs. "Your stables are still the most sought after. He's only trying to improve his."
"And rival mine in the future. That's what he's after."
"Well, of course that's what he's after. That's the price you pay for being top dog. You should feel honored."
"What I feel is annoyed. I'm not going to bend over today so that he can fuck me up the ass tomorrow."
I throw my head back, laughing out loud. Resting an elbow on the back of the couch, I smile at him. "I love how passionate you get. It's sooo sexy," I coo. Lowering my voice I add, "Kind of turns me on." I tug on the lapel of his jacket.
"Yeah?" He shifts, mirroring me, resting his arm on the back of the couch.
I nod. "It's hot." He smells of the outdoors. All man and masculinity.
His eyes darken and the look he's giving me screams mischief and forbidden things. I watch as he licks his lips making me clench my thighs. He asks, "How hot?"
I feel the draw to him. Like a moth to a torch. I blink, once, twice, shaking my head as I snap out of giving in to the allure he casts and playfully punch his arm. "Stop distracting me!"
"Hey!" He holds up both hands defensively. "Don't take it out on me. I can't control how irresistible you find me, babe."
"I just love your modesty."
He shrugs a shoulder. "Just saying. I get why you can't keep your hands off the full package. No apologies needed."
I bite back a smile because he's absolutely right. My eyes fall to his moistened lips and I want to sink into them. Bite them. Refraining, I slowly raise my gaze to his eyes fighting my own lust to devour them. "We're supposed to be discussing our Valentine's Day plans," I say in a low tone of voice and kiss him on the tip of his nose.
"Okay. Let's discuss. What did you have in mind?" he says, curving a hand around my bare knee and soon begins sliding it up my dress. Caressing my thigh.
"Maxon!"
He laughs at how flustered he can get me. Leaning back on the sofa he folds his hands behind his head. "Look mom, no hands!" He flashes an arrogant grin.
"Seriously! I need to know what we're planning so I can decide on an outfit."
"Personally, I'd rather you wear nothing at all."
I cock a brow. "Of course you would."
Maxon reaches over to tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "You know me. I like to keep things simple," he says dragging a finger down the side of my neck. I swallow against the thundering beat of my heart and clit.
"We've already agreed on no gifts," I remind him.
"Right…" He leans over and kisses me where his finger trailed just seconds ago.
"Maxon… concentrate," I breathe.
"I'm listening," he whispers the words against my neck. And I'm close to losing my grip. The things this man does to me!
"How about dinner? On the roof?"
"Anything you want, sweetheart." He's kissing my neck.
"Anything?"
"As long as the night ends with both of us naked and fucking…"
"Oh, nooo!" I glance up to the clock on the wall and leap to my feet.
"Oh, no? I didn't think that idea sounded that bad."
Slipping my bare feet into my ballerina flats, "Not that! I've got to meet Mary in like…" I look at the clock again, "ten minutes." Maxon groans in response. "Natalie's coming over to show me a few pieces she said I would die for. Perfect for Valentine's Day!" I chirp with excitement.
"And she wants me to model with these on." I reach down into the shopping bag for my red shoes picking them up by the straps.
Maxon eyes flare and I catch the movement in his throat as he swallows; eyes glued to the sexy stilettos now in my hand. "You're wearing those?" There's a slight pitch in his tone.
I contain my glee deep inside. On pretense, however, I furrow my brows. "Yes, why? What's wrong with them?"
But I don't give Maxon a chance to reply as I push ahead. "I happen to like these." I add with a slight defensive tone in my voice.
He regards me as if walking perilously through a mine field. With a palm flat against his chest he exclaims, "I like them too! Trust me."
I know he's telling the truth. He's had a fascination with these babies since the day I brought them home, asking me to wear them on several occasions for which I've come up with any excuse why I couldn't. Not with that dress! or They'll kill my feet if I wear them that long!
But acknowledging any of that would go against my plan. There's a barnacle I have to remove. And Maxon won't be laughing at me this time.
I'm not being wicked, really. Well, maybe a little.
"You like them? Really?" I smirk, heavy with skepticism. "Because the last time you saw me in them you nearly had a stroke."
"Only because I was... shocked. You, you know… I was caught off guard."
My eyes narrow. "Are you sure? Because if you don't like them Maxon, all you needed to say is so. You don't need to pretend to spare my feelings."
"I'm not pretending! I told you I like the shoes! Hell, I've been begging you to wear the shoes. You like them, I like them. So why the hell are we arguing about the damn shoes?!"
"Who is arguing? I'm making a clear observation! There's a big difference. Is it because they're too strappy?"
"What?!"
"Too high? Too... too sexy?!"
"No! Wait... Where the hell is this coming from?" He pauses perhaps attempting to analyze my mood swing. Says, "Is it... is it your time of the month?"
I fling one of the shoes at him and he catches it one handed. "Don't be a dick, Maxon! Just because I'm defensive about my taste in shoes doesn't mean I'm menstruating!"
"A second ago I thought you were ready to ride my dick not chop it off."
Grunting I snatch the shoe back. I take a step to leave and pivot back. "Wait!" I say pointing the shoe in his direction. "Is it because they're red? You hate them because they're red!" I accuse.
"I never said…"
"Of course you do! You hate red! Ugh! How could I forget!"
"Forget what?"
I point an accusing finger at him, the shoes swinging loosely between my digits. "That you hate red!"
"I don't hate red!"
"You do! Remember?"
He shoots up from his seat. "What are you talking about, woman?" he asks, baffled.
"Of course you hate my shoes because they're red. And you laughed at me the last time I wore that sultry red dress!"
"What dress?"
"The. Red. Dress!" I hiss. "When I tried to stupidly seduce you when I was an Elite! THAT RED DRESS!"
Maxon's silent for a moment and then I see it in his eyes; the moment the memory resurfaces. The light flickers on. Throwing his hands up in the air he says, "I was a stupid teenage boy and an asshole, America! I didn't know what the hell I was doing. My dick didn't even know what IT was doing!"
"It didn't do anything, Maxon! Isn't that the case? Because I was a complete turn off! That's why you laughed at me. I was trying to be sexy and sophisticated and alluring and you… you just laughed. And then walked out on me! It was the most humiliating thing ever! I turned you off! That's why I've never worn red again!"
"You didn't turn me off! America, you're the sexiest woman I know!"
"Unless I'm wearing red, obviously."
"That's no the case."
"Well, tell that to my red shoes!"
I storm out of his office leaving Maxon to his thoughts and with my plan now in full motion.
"A woman needs ropes and ropes of pearls."
~ Coco Channel
~ Maxon
I tried talking to America about the shoes; trying to make amends but she wasn't having any of it. She smiled and told me to forget the whole silly episode. And that she was being over sensitive and all that other shit you make yourself say to pretend you're unaffected.
Well... I know my wife. There's something beneath all of this.
She'd brought up the incident with the red dress for a reason. Even though I thought the hatchet had been buried on that one forever ago, was I wrong. I thought back to that night. What woman wouldn't feel slighted or hurt after the guy she tried seducing not only laughs in her face but leaves the room... still laughing!
I seriously never considered how my reaction made her feel. America had proved a good sport about it the morning after and me not knowing shit about women took her response to my apparent rejection at face value. I feel like an absolute ass.
But in my defense, that's not the America I knew. The girl that I was in love with. She wasn't that type of girl. The type to use her virtue as a bartering chip. Wasn't that the reason she'd kneed me in the nuts when I first met her?
Yeah, I couldn't process— that girl in the red dress? If she only knew the things going through my mind. I had had plenty of opportunities with the other Selected. Sure, I was a randy teenaged boy. But even the kisses I'd shared with the others didn't make me crazy with need or make me want to lose my mind the way America did. I didn't want any of those girls the way I wanted America.
I wanted to strip her naked. I wanted to feel her hot and panting, writhing beneath me as I made love to her... as I claimed her innocence and she took mine. I wanted to feel our bodies slick with sweat from the efforts of our lovemaking. It took every vestige of self-control I had to pull myself away from her that night. So I laughed. And laughed harder. To spare us both.
You'd think my stupid ass would've been smarter.
And then yesterday. The argument about the shoes had been more than about shoes. It was about how I had made her feel.
Damn!
I had to find a way to make this right. I wasn't about to make the same mistake twice!
Thankfully for me the winds of good fortune shifted in my direction or more precisely through the adjoining door between our chambers. Floating on the air through the cracked door, female voices filtered. My ears perked as I silently approached.
"A pearl necklace?! Seriously, Natalie?!" America gasped.
"He did! I swear on my mother's grave!"
"Your mother is still alive!"
"The point is... every girl deserves a pearl necklace. It's the ultimate mark of intimacy."
"Isn't that called sex?"
My ears perked up at that. This should be interesting, I think as I leaned in closer.
"America, it's more than sex. When a man ropes those strings of pearls around your neck it's the most erotic sensation you'll ever experience."
"Truly? Huh... Well, Maxon's never given me one of those."
"Maybe it could be your Valentine's Day present."
"No! I'm not going to ask Maxon for a pearl necklace, Natalie."
"There's no shame in asking, you know."
"Whatever."
"Well, your loss. I, on the other hand was thrilled with mine." Natalie sighs, and although I can't see her, it sounds wistful, "Music isn't the only talent in Antonio's repertoire."
And they'd both burst into laughter.
A sudden feeling that I, Maxon Schreave, was lacking in some area washed over me which wasn't settling well in my gut. What the fuck? Whatever Antonio's repertoire included, I was a thousand times more than that Italian asshole. And my pride wasn't one to be outdone. I pushed away from the conversation, ears ablaze and exited towards my office.
If America wanted a pearl necklace then a pearl necklace is what I was going to give her. Point blank. Anything for my girl.
~ Valentine's Day ❤️
I pop the bottle of champagne, pouring the bubbly into two flutes as I wait for America to exit her bed chambers. Several well arranged trays with our favorite finger foods had been laid out on the low table in my room by one of the butlers who bid me a Happy Valentine's Day as he exited.
We'd decided on a picnic on the roof. America wanted to keep it casual and felt wearing a pair of jeans and chucks was just as romantic as wearing an evening dress and heels. Have I told you how much I love my girl? America had selected my wardrobe for the evening— a pair of dark blue jeans, black V-neck sweater under a fitted black blazer. I had to say I liked the look. Sporty and casual. I could get used to this.
Pouring myself a second glass, I turn to look out the double doors of the balcony. The evening's first stars begin to appear against the darkening sky. Valentine's Day was a big deal for me. I had always aimed to make it special for America. Memorable at least. She was the love of my life. My universe. She deserved every bit of happiness. A smile creeps up as I sip from the champagne glass fueled by the evening's activities and the anticipation of the gift I have for her. I can't wait to see her reaction. I'm only hoping I got it right.
"Maxon?"
I turn with a smile as she calls my name and feel the smile melt straight off my face.
"Holy… Peter, Paul and Mary…" I hear myself mutter distantly. I take her in. Slowly. From head to toes. And back up again. Her hair is loose, red tresses bounding about her shoulders. A white dress shirt, one of mine covers her torso, the sleeves rolled up her forearms, the hem draping across her bare thighs. And on her feet… the red stilettos.
I tip the glass of champagne back, draining it in one gulp and shake my head. Looking at her feet I say, "Those are definitely not chucks."
She doesn't say a word but her movements grab my attention. My eyes inch up her red painted toes to her slender ankles wrapped around cords of red. Discomfort pulls at my groin making me realize these damn jeans have shrunk considerably. As my eyes travel upwards, her fingers work the buttons of my shirt. I watch with a thrill and eagerness as each button is set free. I can hear my every breath— each inhalation and shaky exhalation and my fingers clench so tight around the glass in my hand I think it might just shatter.
As the curtain of my shirt parts it isn't an angel in white that greets me, but a demon draped in scraps of red lace.
A whimper rips from deep inside me as my shirt falls to the floor. I bring a balled fist to my mouth, teeth sinking into my finger; America's tight body in sinful display. My cock on full alert.
I watch as the wickedest smile blooms on America's face. "Why Maxon... No laughter?" And then she turns into the room, hips swaying, her thong-clad ass bitch slapping me.
It all comes together at that moment. The red dress. The way I had left her room that day. This was her vengeance and my reckoning.
"Lord, I beg for forgiveness..." Setting the glass aside, I add, "In advance." I send the prayer before rushing to her and reaching her in one bound.
She squeals, surprised as I catch her by the waist, pulling her back flush against my chest. She smells fantastic and I fill my nostrils with her scent. I spin her about to face me. My mind is lost. I can feel the surge of blood pumping fiercely through my veins, my body flooded with a rush of need and lust.
My arms wrap around her waist pulling her to me. "Do you think I'm the same boy that walked away from you that night?" There's a dangerous warning in my words. She might've been dealing with a boy back then but she's got a man on her hands now.
She tries to use her hands to push me away but I've pinned her arms to her sides. Her chest heaves against mine, the mounds of her breasts smashed against my chest, the swells spilling beneath the layers of red lace. Her face is flushed but her eyes burn with defiance. My lips curl in a wolfish grin like the very devil she dared to summon.
"Here's a secret… sweetheart." I lean into her ear, whisper, "Do you know how much it killed me to leave you that night? How damn hard I was? I wanted to fuck you, America. I wanted to fuck you so hard and long you would see nothing but stars. I wanted to pound you into that mattress until the only thing you could feel was all of me. Every thick, inch of me. I wanted to claim you. Inside and out. I wanted your marks on my back as I made you call my name.
I pull back, the look I'm giving her, hard as steel. "You want an apology?" I ask her, grabbing a fistful of her hair. I tug back and her head follows. Her eyes are wide and questioning. "Here it is."
I crush my mouth against hers. It's an aggressive kiss, nothing gentle or romantic about it as I push my way past the barrier of her lips. Her tongue meets mine with equal fervor. America whimpers as I pour every ounce of lust I feel into the kiss. Soon, she begins clawing at the back of my blazer. I loosen my grip on her only long enough to shrug it off as our tongues taste each other. Fingers tug my sweater, pushing against the fabric as eager hands glide up my ripped abs. Her touch sends another bolt of lust to my cock. I raise my arms, yanking the top over my head.
"You wanted me?" her question's a pant against my lips once I find hers again, my need for her unhidden.
I grunt like an animal, picking her up by the back of her thighs. "More than you know." She drapes her long legs around my hips and my hands are now full of her bare ass. In my haze I think I should take her to bed but I don't. There'll be time for lovemaking later... not now. I'm too riled up and I want her fast and hard. I want nothing more than to sink into her wet heat; feel her need of me and erase any doubt that she was ever undesirable.
I slam her against the wall and she's writhing in my arms, legs clamped around my hips aiding her levity as I fumble with my jeans. My dick springs forth, freed from restraint, hard and impatient.
"Come here," I say gruffly, yanking her hips to mine. A yelping sound escapes her at the slightest brush of her pussy against the mushroom tip of my swollen shaft. Her fingers thread around the back of my neck. I feel for the sweet spot between her legs, ready to push the lacy piece of fabric shielding her from me only to find it soaked through. I groan with a need so ravenous, I hardly recognize myself.
"Is this what you wanted that night?" she asks, gliding her dripping pussy over the broad head of my dick.
I'm breathing hard, fingers digging into the round flesh of her ass. "Yes," the single word, a hiss. Her lips press against mine in a bruising kiss. I break it, resting my forehead against hers. America looks at me. "But let this be a warning to you, babe," I say, the fabric now pushed aside, my smooth head at her entrance ready for invasion, "Don't fuck with me... ever again."
With those words, I pull her down hard on me. We cry out as one. I throw my head back as ripples of satisfaction stream down my spine, the back of my thighs. My blood sizzles as she swallows me whole. Her pussy's so hot and slick and perfect... I don't hold back. My hips thrust in a steady, pounding rhythm— hungry, ravenous, pushing mercilessly into the chasm between her wide opened legs.
Nothing has ever felt so damn good. Her fingernails dig into my shoulders, her teeth into the space just above. The only sounds between us amount to short grunts and the gasps of sex and fucking. I take her like a savage against the wall. Nailing her against it. Impaling myself deep inside of her. My mouth's on her ear, her throat, her breasts, her lips. I can't get enough of her. She's too much and still not enough. My body fuses with hers and every stroke against her silken walls makes me hunger for another and another and more after that.
I step back just enough to see where we're joined because yes, I love the visual.
"Look at me... fucking you."
Her head tilts down. "Yeeessss…"
I pull all the way out just to see her sex part for me on return as I penetrate her slower now. It's torture for me but I want her to experience this joining in more ways than the obvious.
"That's it. Take it all. Take me, America."
I bury myself deeper, watching how her folds mold around my shaft until I disappear completely and listen to her cries for more; her yearning pants. My name. Yes, my name.
I pick up speed shifting to a higher gear. And from my peripheral, I grin at the sight of those red shoes.
And all the ways I want to take her wearing those shoes.
Turning from the wall I move us to the bed.
~ America
One moment I'm in Maxon's arms... the next, I'm being tossed on to my back. I hit the mattress sinking in a cloud of softness and then my body jerks, pulled with the force of two masculine hands firmly on my hips. I feel my bottom at the edge of the bed now and Maxon hovering over me his eyes two brown orbs full of dangerous intent. He strips naked as I lay there watching, trying to catch my breath after he took me so vigorously against the wall.
This was not the way things were supposed to go. I was supposed to be the one in control. I was the one supposed to punish him. But he'd turned the tables on me once again. I had pushed him to the edge and this time he didn't back away.
Maxon takes one of my legs and runs his mouth from the hollow behind my knee over my calf over to the straps of my red stiletto wrapped about my ankle.
He looks at me. "Did I mention, I liked the shoes?"
"Yes," I exhale.
"I've wanted you in these shoes, America. And you kept teasing me."
"I...
"Did you think I didn't notice?"
My face heats. Before I can answer he continues, "I get it, darling." His hand is wrapped around my ankle and he's looking at my shoe. "I understand now."
He sets my leg down and leans over, kisses me softly. His fingertips brush the outline of my cheek. It excites me and frightens me equally.
"You've never been anything but desirable. Especially when you're wearing red." Maxon grins and pushes off the bed. Taking hold of my hands he pulls me to stand.
He cups my face between his hands and kisses me. He encapsulates every breath I take, everything my body feels. My hands run over his hips, up the sides of his torso and fan over his chest. His fingers curve over my shoulders.
Our eyes connect. "Strip for me," he tells me, his voice low, predatory. "And keep the shoes on." I'm quivering. Delicious warmth blooms in my core like glowing coals burning bright at his order. All I want to do is please him.
He kisses me one more time before he moves to sit on the edge of the bed as I stand there. I feel his eyes touching every part of me... and I've never felt so wanted.
It gives me power, the way he's looking at me and so I proceed. Ever so slowly with dainty fingers I take hold of the hook at the front of my red lacy bra and watch his eyes blaze and his dick twitch as I unsnap the binding. My breasts spill, heavy and aching to be fondled. The straps slide down my arms and I let it drop to the floor. My thong follows suit as I manage them over the heels of the stilettos. That seems to turn Maxon on even more. He's fisting his cock as a murmured curse leaves his mouth. He's so damn hot.
He gestures with anxious fingers for me to join him. And I take the few steps separating us feeling a tremulous hammering in my heart. I straddle him because that's the way he wants me and his hands are sure and commanding. They're everywhere. That goes for his mouth as well. He sucks on my peaked rosy nipples, cups my mounds, squeezes them like he owns them because he does, pinches my tips with his fingers, with his teeth. My head is already spinning. There's nothing I can do but submit.
He falls back on the bed taking me with him. Maxon's big hands cover my bottom, spreading me wide. He pushes down on my hips, making me sink over his hard shaft. Groaning, he thrusts upwards but it isn't gentle. I inhale sharply in equal measures of pleasure and shock— then a cry rips from my throat because he's hit the spot making my insides instantly tremble.
Maxon's hand clamps around the back of my neck, an arm wraps around my waist, holding me in place, those wicked hips pounding into me harder. Repeatedly. I'm so wet it only adds to the intensity of our clashing hips, our fucking. His breaths rush against my ear filling them with the erotic sounds of his pleasure mixed with the manly grunts from his efforts. Every inch of him spears me as Maxon rolls my hips over his delicious cock.
I hiss and curse and say his name. He fucks me harder and tells me to say it again. I do. Louder.
Maxon is relentless. I am but a willing servant kneeling at the feet of his throne.
Flipping me on to my back, he grabs my ankles his movements continuous. "Damn I love these shoes," he murmurs in his sexual haze. He proceeds to prop my legs over his shoulders, his muscular arms anchor him above me. I run my hands over the flex of hard muscle reveling at the beauty in the definition of his body.
I watch his hips roll, undulating into me. Another cry peals from me as he presses the pad of his moistened thumb over my swollen clit. My back arches high off the bed. The added pressure catapults me close to the edge.
My hand goes to pry his wrist off but he's not having it. "Let it happen, babe. Don't hold it."
I feel my muscles strain, the tendons in my neck pull tight and with the cry of a banshee I grip Maxon's shoulders digging my nails into his flesh.
Stroke by unforgiving stroke, Maxon drives into me his thumb circling over my tented button. I explode.
The climax hits me so hard I'm literally dizzy grabbing unto the bedsheets in clumps. The room spins... or is it me?
I sense Maxon's withdrawal, his knees straddling my torso. "Come here." He reaches for the back my head, the maneuver making me raise on my elbows. His fingers curl tightly into my hair and shivers flit through the nerves in my scalp. I'm fascinated watching with rapt attention as he continues to stroke himself furiously. And I can't help licking my lips anxious to taste his delivery.
"Happy Valentine's Day, America."
Maxon's grip on his cock tightens, the veins winding his shaft are full, raised. His forearm strains for a second before he roars. He pulls my head back and my chest raises upwards. Then I feel it— The first pearly string of cum across my neck followed by another and another. I gasp in excitement as white ropes hit the column of my throat, my chest.
As his chest heaves from his efforts mine struggles to suck in air. Once spent, Maxon presses his forehead to mine.
"A pearl necklace…" My smile is wide feeling the thick layers of his cum adorning my throat.
He leans back and smiles, assessing his delivery, admiring it shamelessly. "Damn… that's beautiful."
I reach for him, my fingers slipping into the gold locks at the back of his head.
"How did you know?"
He shrugs. "Call it instinct."
"I love it."
"I love you," Maxon says and kisses me. "My little helion dressed in red."
I am the one laughing this time.
We enjoy the finger foods, naked in bed, feeding each other from the array of tasty bits from several of the trays and drink more champagne celebrating our love.
We fuck some more. Once in front of the mirror so Maxon could enjoy the full effect. Yes, with the shoes on.
Afterwards Maxon undertakes the task of removing my red stilettos jokingly lamenting that 'Someone's got to do the dirty work.' How can a man look so damn sinful when taking one's shoes off?
He tosses one over his shoulder and I hear it thunk in the background. And my back arches off the mattress because my toes are in his mouth. The second shoe follows soon after and this time his wicked tongue runs over the toes on my other foot. He sets my foot gently down. Snakes up my body, straight into my open arms. His hot body covers mine and I freely roam, touching any part of him I can reach.
Maxon's hands caress my body, his mouth latches on to the tip of a breast. He tugs the peak between his teeth and lets it go.
"I loved my pearl necklace."
He's busy with the other breast but at my confession releases my flesh and grins up at me. "Would you like another?"
"I'd love another."
He kisses me and I'm expecting to get it on again but then Maxon reaches over my shoulder pulling the drawer of his night table open and comes back with a black velvet box.
"Anything for my queen."
"Maxon!" I gasp as he waves it before my eyes and winks. "We promised, no gifts."
"I couldn't help myself," he grins triumphantly.
We shift, sitting up on the bed as he hands me the box. I open it and instantly suck in a deep breath at the beautiful string of pearls.
"You shouldn't have!"
"Trust me, it's a completely self-serving gesture, sweetheart," he teases, kissing my forehead.
I roll my eyes. "How so?"
"I've always wanted to see you in nothing but a pearl necklace."
"But I thought... You said... instinct..."
He grins that beautiful wolfish grin. "I'm a man that covers all his bases, darling."
"I'd say."
He pulls the rope of pearls from the box and I angle my head so he can put them on. They're so long they fall right between the valley of my bare breasts down to my navel.
"Now there's a fantasy come to life," he says in that seductive tone, tracing the beads resting between my milky breasts with his fingertips.
"Absolutely breathtaking," he adds. His words make me feel beautiful, desirable.
I kiss him and against his lips, I sigh, "Happy Valentine's Day, Maxon."
And those are the last words I utter before I'm lost again in his arms, in his kisses, in his body and in new memories.
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