Then Maksim broke her hold, his hands gripping her hips. He lifted her and set her down on him, filling her wet vagina to the hilt in one smooth thrust.
A loud cry surrounded them, and Jo was only vaguely aware that it was her own voice. She was too overwhelmed, too encompassed in her own release. Nothing existed but Maksim's strength filling her and her own pulsating bliss.
Gradually, reality came back to her and she realized she was draped over him, her body a puddle of sated release. His hands still held her hips, loosely now.
Finally, after her breath returned to some semblance of normalcy, she muttered, "You just couldn't let me have control, could you?"
He chuckled, although she was glad to hear the sound was breathy.
"You had control," he assured her. "My brain is mush."
She smiled, pressing a kiss to his chest. Then she stretched, savoring his sinew under her.
She raised her head, her eyes wide. "Well, your brain is all that's mush." She wiggled her hips. He was rock hard, still buried inside her.
She frowned. "You didn't?"
He smiled at her, raising one of his dark brows. "Didn't what?"
She sat up, widening her eyes.
He laughed. "Not yet. Believe me, I am not done with you." He jerked his hips, moving inside her.
Instantly she could feel her body coming alive, anticipating what he had in mind for her now. As if reading her mind and more than happy to show her, the hands on her hips tightened and began to guide her on him, moving her in a slow, persuasive motion.
Jo braced her hands on Maksim's chest, balancing herself as he moved inside her.
"You feel so damned good," he muttered, his voice rough with hungry need.
She made a noise in response, clearly lost in the feeling of them joined. Flesh to flesh, a tight slick joining.
Her fingers curled into his chest, her blunt, tidy nails digging into his skin. He relished the bite of them, the feeling somewhere between pleasure and pain.
Then she used her leverage to steady herself, and gradually, and magnificently, she started to take a little control. It wasn't until she'd changed the rhythm totally that he realized what she'd done. She simply felt too damned good.
First she moved a little faster, then shifted a little slower. For a moment, he tried to maintain his command, but then he gave over to her.
He moaned long and low, arcing his back, feeling ecstasy gripping his spine.
"How does that feel?" She rotated her hips slightly as she continued sliding up and down him.
He groaned, closing his eyes, doing nothing but feeling her. Feeling himself inside her.
"Damn, you feel good."
She smiled, pivoting her hips more. He groaned again. But he couldn't let her keep the pace. He was too close. Too willing to submit to her.
"Turn around?" he said, his voice a harsh demand.
"What?" She blinked at him, her eyes hazed with lust-muddled confusion.
"Turn around. On your knees."
He half-expected her to deny him. But she slid off him, cool air a jarring, not particularly pleasant shock to his wet, glistening cock.
Don't worry, buddy. You'll be home again. There was no way he was staying out of this woman a moment longer than necessary.
He turned to her, finding her on the mattress, her perfect, wonderfully rounded ass in the air, the pink lips of her sex glittery, damp, and luscious in the low lamplight.
He touched her, cupping her cheek, running his thumb down the crevice of her derriere to those hot wet lips. He brushed over them, letting her juice soak his finger. Then he leaned forward and pressed his mouth to her, his tongue entering the tight heat his cock had just left.
She cried out, her hips bucking. And he moaned. Then his tongue flicked out of her, sliding down to find her pebbled clitoris.
The small nub of flesh pulsed at his touch. He licked her, savoring each pulsating, mindless little whimper she made into her mattress.
"Jo, you taste so good."
She made another unthinking moan, her only response to indicate that she heard. Or that she might have heard.
He returned his mouth to her, licking, swirling, sucking until she cried out, that noise telling him exactly what had happened.
Then as she lay, her face against the covers, her sweet ass still raised in the air, he took her hips in his hands, positioned himself and returned his cock to the place it most wanted to be.
To his utter shock, he thrust only a half-dozen times, and she shouted out again, the walls of her vagina squeezing him in violent convulsion. He made it two more pumps, then roared out his own release.
He collapsed beside her, pulling her against him, his body curling around hers.
Neither of them spoke, the room echoing with their ragged breaths. Finally, when her breathing had evened out and he thought she must have fallen asleep, she roused herself enough to glance over her shoulder at him.
She smiled, her expression sleepy and sweet.
"Well," she said, then paused as a cute little yawn escaped her, "I guess we both got so fucked."
For a moment, Maksim didn't react. Then a burst of laughter shook his chest and filled the room. He hugged her against him, feeling…
Happy, content, that all was right with the world.
He tried to muster concern that none of his inherent disillusionment seemed to be present, but the disquiet didn't come.
He squeezed her and kissed the top of her head, feeling fine with his sense of well-being. He could worry about being a bitter, cynical demon tomorrow.
Unfortunately tomorrow came all too soon.
Maksim stretched, liking the cool, soft feeling of the bedding around him. He liked the smell, too, a scent of warmth and flowers like heated roses with vanilla. Jo's scent.
He rolled over and opened his eyes, expecting to find Jo sound asleep beside him. But he was greeted by tossed-aside blankets and the impression in the pillow where Jo had been.
Sitting up, he scanned the room, then listened once he discovered he was truly alone. He could hear her in the kitchen, the clatter of dishes, the opening and closing of the fridge. The faint sound of music.
Throwing his legs over the side of the bed, he stood, then stretched, his muscles feeling good and well-used. Then without bothering with clothes, he padded to the kitchen.
"Good morning," he said to Jo's back as he entered. She turned, nearly sloshing her coffee as she took in his naked state. Her eyes skimmed quickly over him, then stayed on his face.
"Good morning." Her voice was cool and distant. "Coffee?"
He frowned. "Sure."
She turned back to the counter as if she'd turn to stone if she looked at his nudeness a moment longer. She reached up into her cupboard for a mug, the mug in question clattering against wood and other ceramics in her hurry to retrieve it. Finally, she snagged it.
"Milk? Sugar?" she asked, not looking at him.
"Both."
She nodded, still not looking at him. She busied herself with preparing it. The clack of the spoon on the edge of the cup was deafeningly loud as she stirred. Her attention was conspicuously focused on her work.
Finally when there was truly nothing more she could do with the damned coffee to keep her focus off him, she turned.
Still barely looking in his direction, she placed the mug on her café-style kitchen table.
"There you go."
He stepped forward, bringing himself just inches from her, and took a sip.
"Perfect."
She nodded, her gaze darting past him toward the hallway. Toward escape.
It almost seemed like a dream now. Last night. The fear of that very same hallway. The security she found in his presence. The pleasure.
"Okay," she said with a smile that didn't reach her dark eyes. "I'm going to go get ready for work."