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“Maxwell, I have two very important things to talk to you about the wedding.”
“I say we honeymoon in the Caribbean and we don't leave our suite for 36 hours.”
“Wow, I was thinking kishka or potato, but your way's good too.”
“Maxwell, will you get off this damn wedding! We are on a deadline for this musical. Maybe we should just cancel it.”
“Well, C.C., we have investors we have to answer to.”
“I meant the wedding.”
“You know, C.C., I am a little concerned about this whole idea of us producing an urban rap musical in the first place. I mean, we're not exactly cutting edge, are we?”
“Come on. Who's more cutting edge than you? Who is the one that thought of putting Charles Nelson Reilly and Rip Taylor in Love Letters?”
“My love.”
“Nanny Fine, we have work to do. Now, he may belong to you in every other room in this house but in this room, he is mine!”
“C.C., would you give us a minute?”
“Okay!”
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C.C. hadn’t even left the office when Maxwell wrapped his arms around Fran and kissed her softly, his hands tracing circles along her lower back. He pulled her into him tighter as she ran her hands down his biceps, their lips brushing gently against each other. She really hadn’t expected him to be so forward with the comment about the honeymoon, but couldn’t deny how turned on she was at the thought of her, Maxwell and thirty six uninterrupted hours in the presidential suite. Preferably naked. She ran her hands up his chest, tugging lightly against his tie to draw him closer, their hips connecting. She could feel the same tell-tale line beginning to form inside his slacks, the one that had made itself known for at least the past year, but which they chose to never acknowledge.
“Sweetie, I think we’re gonna need more than a minute for what I wanna do to ya.”
Her hand slid slowly down his abs, nails scratching casually against his dress shirt as she heard his sharp intake of breath.
Maxwell gasped against her. “My love…it’s going to be a lot harder to wait until the wedding if you keep doing things like that.”
She tucked her head into the angle of his jaw, softly sucking against the skin there as her hand travelled lower, slipping between their embrace. Before he realised what was happening, she cupped him gingerly over his trousers, her fingers closing around his length and offering a single gentle tug. Maxwell pushed into her grasp, groaning involuntarily, before catching himself and pulling back from her in one sudden, startled motion.
“Fran! What on earth are you doing?” He stared at her in wide-eyed horror, a blatant juxtaposition from the obvious bulge now outlined in his pants. “You’ve never tried to touch…that…before.”
“Well, what do you expect? Ya got me all hot and bothered. Who needs to wait for thirty six hours in the honeymoon suite when you can have me right here, right now, in your office.”
“Fran, darling. I thought we agreed to wait until the honeymoon before we…you know…make love.”
She scrunched her nose in disgust. “Can ya not call in that?”
“I was trying to be a gentleman.”
“You said you didn’t want us to sleep together until the honeymoon. You didn’t say anything about not using my hands…or my mouth.” She pulled close against him again, her hands closing firmly over his hardness with a single stroke upwards. The low growl in his throat gave him away, betraying just how badly he wanted her, as he reversed back out of her reach.
“No, Fran, really, we can’t.”
She glanced down pointedly, his pants stretched tight against him.
“Sure seems like you want me to.”
“It’s not about want. We have to…we have to exercise some self control.” Even he didn’t sound like he believed his words.
“You sure about that?” The large sparkly question mark glinting across the front of her dress stared back at him tauntingly as she reached out again to subtly massage against his pants. “It doesn’t feel like you’re sure…”
“Please, darling. If you keep asking, I won’t be able to keep saying no. And I’m afraid I have to say no.” He gently guided her hand away from his groin, instead bringing it up to his lips to place a soft kiss in her palm. “We said we would wait, remember?”
Disappointment flashed briefly across her face, before brightening into a hopeful smile. “Well, we’ve waited five years already, what’s another three months, right? At least now you don’t have to imagine how my hands feel on you.” She ran her free hand along the edge of his waistband teasingly, but didn’t attempt to dip any lower.
“Three uh…months?” Maxwell stammered, the weight of realisation hitting him.
Three months? He may as well have added another three years onto his self-imposed sentence. But it was too late to back down.
“Yes, right”, he swallowed hard, less than convincing, as the now throbbing length between his legs twitched in protest. “Well, actually, I suppose if you were comfortable with it, we cou—“
She cut him off, holding her hands up in surrender. “Don’t worry honey, I wouldn’t do anything to make you think that I don’t respect your wishes. If the wedding night is what you want”, she leaned in against his ear, letting out a low, sultry growl, “then baby, that’s what. you’re. gonna. get.”
She tapped playfully against his chest as she enunciated each word, before straightening up, kissing the tip of his nose lovingly and sauntering out of the office.
He stood there, hard and horrified, hating himself more by the second and wondering how exactly he could undo…well, whatever it was that he just did.
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Maxwell sat at his desk, casually absorbing his own stupidity, as he wondered exactly what he could do to get Fran’s hands back where they had been earlier.
They had been kissing on occasion for over two years now and regularly for the past year and she had never once tried to touch him so intimately. It wasn’t until Niles was in the hospital after his heart attack that Maxwell got the courage to take things to “second base”, as Fran had called it. It had all happened so fast. They were sad and emotional and when she looked at him with her puppy dog eyes and leant in, pushing her back on the hospital bed and then climbing on top of her seemed like a great idea. He had always been careful to conceal his excitement from her during their make-out sessions, but this time he’d been too overtaken by lust to realise, until her hips had aligned with his and she had let out a surprised Oh, Mr. Sheffield!
Instead of chiding him for his lack of self control like he’d expected, she pulled him against her tightly and before he knew it, he had one hand on her breast and the other one halfway up her thigh. Only C.C’s piercing screams had managed to stop them.
Just the memory of that day was enough to undo him. He had never wanted anyone so badly in his life. It has been nine years since Sara and five years of resisting Fran-waiting until the wedding night to set a proper example for the children had seemed like a good idea. Until Fran had touched him right where he needed her most. Now, he was pretty sure it was the dumbest idea he’d ever had in his entire life. Including turning down Cats. His only option, he decided, was to get her somewhere alone, drop a few teasing hints, wait for her to get handsy and this time he’d let her.
Perfect.
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He found her in the kitchen later that afternoon, sipping tea and deep in conversation with Niles.
“Nah, I don’t think I wanna be Mrs. Sheffield.”
Max jumped in, horrified. “Wait, darling, is this about what happened this morning? Because actually, I was thinking that–”
Fran waved him off as she and Niles dissolved into fits of laughter. “Oh sorry, sweetie, Niles and I were just discussing what he should call me after the wedding. I won’t be ‘Miss Fine’ anymore–and may I say, thank God.” She turned back to Niles, paying him little attention. “What about just…Fran?”
“Fran?”
“Yeah. We’re friends, right? I call you Niles, you’ll call me Fran.”
“Oh, Miss Fine, I…” Maxwell watched his butler smile softly at her, eyes glimmering, clearly taken aback by the gesture as he leant in to hug her tightly.
“Oy Niles, don’t go soft on me now! I just did my makeup!” She poked him teasingly in the ribs as he dabbed at his eyes.
She suddenly seemed to remember Maxwell’s presence, turning her attention back to him. “Sorry honey, did you need something?”
“Ah yes, Fran. Well you see, I have a problem. A very big problem.” He tried for his most convincing ‘troubled’ face.
“Oh?”
“Well, I’ve just been thinking about my closets and your uh…expansive…wardrobe and I’m not sure there’ll be enough room.”
Fran waved her hand carelessly. “Oh, don’t worry about that. I’ll just keep my stuff in my old room. You don’t have to move anything for me.”
If she hadn't been absolutely ruining his grand plan, he would’ve found it adorable how considerate she was.
“Nonsense, my darling. I insist you take at least half. Now if only there was a way we could know how much half of the space is…” he tapped his foot, feigning being deep in thought, before suddenly clicking his fingers, as though a brilliant solution had just popped into his head. “I know! What if you dropped by my room tonight and we could measure the space together! Say…9pm?”
“Max…are you really trying to schedule us…measuring shelves in your room? Because it's really not necessary. I’m happy for you to do it without me.” She smiled at him warmly as he stood there looking far too jovial for a man with his insides unravelling.
“I’d be happy to lend a hand, Sir?” Niles offered.
“No thank you, Niles.” He said through gritted teeth. “I don’t need your hand or my own hand. What I really want is Fran’s hand to help me. Uh, measure.”
Niles’ eyes grew wide in sudden understanding, spluttering over the sip of tea he had just taken. “Sir, I’d like to retract the offer of my hand. But I’m sure Miss Fine’s personal assistance would be much appreciated.”
Maxwell shot a glare at him as Fran looked between them in complete confusion.
“And they say it’s women who are too reliant on men.”
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“Pssst. Niles. NILES!” Maxwell was leaning out the doorway of his bedroom, beckoning Niles closer from down the hall. “If you’re going to pretend to dust, at least have a bloody duster in your hands!”
“Sorry Sir, I appear to have misplaced it in my travels. Did you need something? A certain Jewish brunette, perhaps?”
“I need you to make sure the children don’t come past my room for the rest of the night.”
Niles raised one carefully calculated eyebrow, before smirking at him. “I understand, Sir. Measuring wardrobes is a highly secretive event. Shall I assign you a code name? Perhaps I can fetch the old walkie talkies from the attic.”
“Oh do shut up, old man. Just make sure I’m left alone, will you?”
“Absolutely, Sir...and I’ll be sure to let Miss Fine know to bring her measuring tape to measure the size of your…closet.”
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At 8:58pm, Maxwell was hovering awkwardly in his doorway, wearing his finest silk pyjamas and robe.
At 8:59pm, he was leaning against the doorframe, trying out which poses gave off the most ‘casual’ air.
At exactly 9pm, he had changed tact and was lounging casually on the chaise, peeling the plastic wrapping off of the measuring tape that he’d sent Niles out to get that afternoon.
And by 9:02pm, he was pacing the room, staring intently at his watch every fifteen seconds, willing time to move faster.
Niles popped his head back in, ever the helpful servant. “You know, Sir. She did manage to save your professional reputation today yet again, even after you yelled at her. Maybe she's decided that she isn’t coming.”
“Nonsense, Niles. I even let her be in the office when the contract was signed. Do you really think that she’d hold a grudge like that?”
Niles smirked to himself as he watched his boss’ expression transition from indignant to slightly terrified in a matter of seconds.
“Oh God. She’s not coming, is she?”
“Not if you keep turning her down.”
Maxwell shot him a look that could wither daisies. He took that as his cue to make a swift exit.
“Well, if you don’t need me then I’ll just be getting off for the night…unlike someone”, he added under his breath. “Good night, Sir!”
Fran showed up at 9:06pm, right around the time that Maxwell was seriously considering that perhaps she had left him for another man, one who was more adept at fulfilling her needs and letting her fulfil theirs.
“Fran, you’re late. I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.”
“It's measuring closets. I didn’t realise I had a deadline.”
His eyes locked in on her change of her outfit, a soft red negligee nightdress with a matching robe overtop. She caught him staring and bit her lip apologetically.
“Oh sorry, I hope this is okay, I was getting ready for bed when I remembered our plans. But don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten our little talk, I’m not gonna try to seduce ya!” She laughed at her own joke as he tried not to look disappointed, brightening his voice to match her own jovial tone.
“Oh, don’t worry about that darling, I know you wouldn’t! Unless...well unless of course you wanted to ha ha ha…”
Fran’s face turned earnest. “Max, I need you to know that I wouldn’t try anything you didn’t want to do.”
“Oh, don’t be silly, darling! Who knows, I might even let you.” He offered her a dramatic wink, but she simply laughed in her usual nasal way, brushing past him into his room.
“Okay, what are ya gonna give me? Because I think you know how much I want.”
Oh. This was a pleasant change of events.
He stepped towards her, closing the distance between them. He tried for seductive, running a lone finger gingerly up her arm. “How much you want…what, my love? Because I can give you anything you need….”
“Great! Because I’m gonna need at least half and maybe a bedside drawer?”
“Oh. Right. Yes of course.” Swallowing his disappointment, he stepped behind her, letting his arms gently encircle her waist. “Actually, while you’re here, I thought we could revisit that honeymoon conversation.”
“Lemme guess, you decided on the potato?”
“Very funny. Actually, I was thinking more about the part where we don’t leave the suite for seventy two hours…”
“I thought you said thirty six?”
“Yes, but that was before I foolishly turned down your advances earlier. Now I think I’m going to need twice as long to make up for it.”
“Ooooh, Mr. Sheffield! I like the sound of that.” She turned around to swat him playfully, moving towards the closet doors. “Now which side can I have?”
Something primal inside him jolted awake at the use of his professional name. How many times over the past five years had she said his name in that same tone, when they had found themselves in situations that they had no business being in? By this point, it had almost turned into a Pavlovian response. She said his name like that and he would’ve dressed up like a clown and stripped for her, had she asked him.
“Uhh…either is fine, darling.”
He decided to switch gears. Perhaps a spot of seductive music would make his intentions clear. Maxwell sauntered as casually as he could over to the stereo, where the tape had already been set up in advance. He pressed play, the low thrum of rhythmic bass quietly filling the room.
Been spendin' most their lives
Livin' in a gangsta's paradise
Keep spendin' most our lives
Livin' in a gangsta's paradise
Fran turned to look at him, eyes widening as she fought to suppress a laugh. “Uh, Max? Watcha playin?”
“I believe his name is ‘Coolio’”
“Okay…why?”
“Well darling, you did such a great job today with Irwin, and you looked so very sexy dancing along to his music…I thought it might help set the mood.”
He walked back over to her, attempting to swagger his hips vaguely in time to the music, but his British awkwardness instead turned it into an awkward shuffle. He aborted mission halfway, pausing a few feet in front of her, where she was watching him with a mixture of confusion and amusement.
“The mood…to measure closets?”
“And anything else that might happen while you’re here with me.” He covered her hand with his, guiding it slowly down his stomach, to just above the waistband of his pants. She looked down between them, watching as he trailed a path just shy of where his arousal was beginning to make itself known. Fran looked at him, her mouth parted in surprise.
“If you keep tempting me like this, then it’s going to be very difficult to not give in.” Her fingers fidgeted restlessly against the waistband, as if itching to complete their path downwards.
He guided her hand lower, gliding sleekly over the silk of his pyjama bottoms. She could feel him stirring beneath her palm as he hardened under touch. His eyes met hers, his previous joking demeanour replaced by something needier, more intense.
“I wish you would.”
Despite herself, Fran could feel the butterflies beginning to awaken inside of her, fluttering up before swooping low in her stomach. She swallowed down the sensation, keeping her tone light and mocking, attempting to maintain a semblance of calm.
“Oooh has someone changed his mind?”
She pressed her palm flat against him tentatively, his hand still atop of hers as she watched his face for a reaction. When his voice caught on a groan, she felt as if all air had been sucked out of the room.
“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about your hands on me earlier. I was hoping I could entice you to a do-over.” His words came out more breathless than he intended them to.
Emboldened, she brushed his hand from hers, letting her fingers tease carelessly up and down his shaft through the silky material. She was unravelling quickly, determined to keep the mood lighthearted in case he changed his mind again.
“Wait, does this mean you’re not giving me half your closet?”
He huffed a laugh, low and warm as he dropped his head against her shoulder. “If you keep your hands where they are right now, I’ll give you one of my kidneys.”
“Ooh, Mr. Sheffield, I love it when you talk dirty to me!”
Her fingers pulled tighter, hand encasing him as he thickened under her grip. She weaved her other arm around his back, beckoning him closer to gain more traction as her hand worked him up and down. She could feel him exhale unsteadily against her ear, as he curled his face in and began to nibble gently against her earlobe.
“God, Fran, the things you do to me…”
“You’re not going to say no this time?”
“Nuh-uh.” His mouth moved lower, sucking against her collarbone as his hips rocked into her in time with her strokes. She could feel the heat pooling between her legs, her centre burning for the kind of contact that he’d consistently denied her for so long.
“Ya know, I wanted to do this to you all those times we were making out and I could feel you pressing against me.”
He stilled momentarily against her. “You could feel it?”
“Max, you’re not exactly a little lamb, if you know what I mean.” His erection twitched against her as she said it, as though responding in pride.
“Well now, that’s a bit unfair, isn’t it?” He murmured against her skin, his lips brushing against her shoulder.
“What is?”
“You said you got to feel me all those times and I didn’t get to feel anything.”
“Pretty sure you copped a feel in the hospital bed.” She guided his hand over her chest, settling it on the red lace of the negligee that just barely concealed her breasts. “Remember this?”
“Mmm…vaguely…but I think I need to refresh my memory.” He slipped his hand under the lace and grazed over her nipple as it pebbled under his touch. His other hand found its way to her hip, pulling her closer as he nudged his pelvis into her hand. She closed over him in firm upward strokes as his hand moved from her hip to her ass, squeezing it in time with her movements.
“Perhaps it’s time we moved this to the bed? I think we're about ready for the main course.”
It sounded more seductive in his head.
Fran slowed her ministrations, her voice admonishing. “Nuh uh, oh no you don’t, Mister. All you’re getting tonight is hands. If you recall, it was you that said no extramarital relations in this room. You said it was important to you to set a good example for the kids.”
“Well whose idea was that?”
“Uh, yours?”
His hands dropped to his sides as he backed up. “Since when do you follow anything I say?”
“Well, since we booked the Plaza, for starters? There’s a bridal suite waiting for me three months from now, you think I’m gonna do anything to mess this up?”
Maxwell relented, despite the insistent presence between his legs screaming in protest. “Okay, fine, we can wait. I’ve gone this long, haven’t I? It’s not that important.”
He scrunched his face up as he heard the words out loud. Unfortunately, Fran heard them at the same time.
“Well what’s that supposed to mean?” She rested her hands on her hips defensively. “A minute ago you were begging me!”
“Come now, darling. I didn’t mean it that way. You’re a beautiful, sexy woman and I–I was not begging!”
“Boy, this is just London all over again. Are you sure you even wanna sleep with me after the wedding?”
“I’m trying to sleep with you now!” He ran his hands through his hair in frustration, mostly at his own penchant for idiocy.
“Well you sure have a funny way of showing it! If you wanted me that badly, you’d be fighting to get between my legs.” She gestured exaggeratedly to herself, her robe slipping off her shoulders from the momentum. She shrugged it off in annoyance, letting it drop to the floor.
His eyes followed the movement, halting in place as he realised just how high the night dress rode up on her thighs and how see-through the bodice actually was. When he spoke again, his voice was filled with reverence, all annoyance gone.
“Fran-you don’t know how many nights I spent awake wanting to feel you, to taste you, to be inside of you. I wanted you in my bed, in the jacuzzi, on my office desk.” He stepped back into her space, his eyes still fixated on her breasts. “I imagined taking you in almost every room of the house.”
“I think I recall you wanting to do me in the dining room?” She raised an eyebrow at him, smiling wryly as he flushed at the memory of his faux pas. He watched her shoulders drop, defensiveness dissipating and he took the opportunity to draw her close to him. He wrapped his arms back around her waist, one hand cupping her backside once more.
“Francine. I would do you anywhere.”
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He walked her backwards until her legs hit the edge of the bed, shoving her down gently so that she lay splayed, her calves still dangling over the edge of the mattress. In one swift movement, he dropped to his knees between her, parting her thighs with his hands and wiggling his body between them.
“But I want to taste you first.”
He ran his hands up her thighs in unison, pushing the nightdress up with it. The red satin gave way to the black cotton of her panties, already damp with desire. His eyes clouded over at the sight of them.
“Miss Fine. I do believe you might want me more than you’re letting on.”
He pulled them to one side, too impatient to remove them completely, before manoeuvring his head between her legs and licking up her centre. She gasped at the sudden contact, arching her hips up off the bed as his mouth closed over her clit. His tongue flicked in even beats against her, dropping down to taste her entrance before coming back up to suck softly against her swollen tip. She writhed beneath him, alternating between soft gasps and progressively louder moans that she tried to muffle by holding her hand over her mouth. His hand parted her folds, exploring every inch of her as he nibbled softly against her clit, before bracing on each side of her thighs as his mouth suctioned harder against her. She could feel the pressure building, the realisation that the very action she craved for so long was finally happening and that he himself had been thinking about it for just as long as she had. The tension grew unyielding in her most sensitive spot, as he held her right there on the edge of climax, just shy of tumbling over. And then, his own moan escaped his mouth and echoed against her, the weight of his arousal hitting her like a freight train.
He was going down on her and loving it.
It was enough to tip her over, her orgasm peaking at her core and ricocheting through the rest of her body as his mouth worked her through it. He curled his tongue against her until she was twitching from overstimulation, before placing a last soft kiss between her legs and moving her underwear back to cover her.
He sank down on the bed beside her, the both of them attempting to catch their breath. The bulge in his pants stood at attention, an open confession of his unmet need and she couldn’t resist the urge to reach over and palm him hungrily.
“Darling?”
“Yeah?”
“Remember when I suggested that we should wait until the wedding?”
“Yeah…?”
“Any chance we could move the ceremony forward to tomorrow?”
Fran laughed, rolling onto her side to face him. She propped herself up on one elbow, studying his face carefully. Then, seemingly having made her decision, she swung her thigh across his body and pulled herself up to straddle him, settling herself directly over him. His hands flew to her hips automatically, holding her in place above him. She offered a devilish grin, before lowering herself onto him and dragging her centre painstakingly slowly up his shaft.
“Okay, but if you want it, you’re gonna have to tell me what you want. It’s been so long that I can’t remember what to do.” She pouted dramatically, grating against him in rhythmic circles. “How else did you wanna do me?”
For a moment, Maxwell couldn’t answer. His eyes rolled back from the sensation, his cock throbbing from the intimate contact. Truthfully, he had imagined taking her in almost every possible scenario, but having her actually on top of him, dragging herself up and down his hardness, was almost too much to bear. He fought to get the words out, his fingers curling on the underside of her ass cheeks as he held her in place against him.
“Just like this. I imagined you on top of me on my bed, grinding against me. You’d take your dress off...”
“Like this?” She raised her arms as she spoke, peeling the red satin and lace off over her head and throwing it beside him. Maxwell stared up at her, breasts exposed, his mouth agape.
“No, this is definitely better.”
“Then what?”
“Then you’d press down against me, teasing me, seeing how much I could take…”
She followed the image in his mind, sinking down onto him with a breathy sigh as he bucked up into her. She set a sensual rhythm, drawing herself up towards his tip, before circling her hips and sliding back down again. His eyes fluttered shut, knuckles white against her, every groan and growl uttered slicing low and deep inside her.
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He sat pressed against her, rigid and unforgiving, the fullness of him between her legs causing an inconsolable ache. The teasing was starting to take its toll, already sensitive from her first orgasm, her panties no longer concealing the evidence of her desire.
“What would happen next, Max?”
His breath stuttered as he reached forward to tease against her panties, his index finger gently massaging her clit. “You’d lift up off me, just enough for me to drag your panties to the side.”
She raised up and he hooked his thumb into her underwear, pulling it off to the side so that she was raw and exposed above him. He coaxed her back down again, her wetness dragging mercilessly along the length of him.
“Oh God, you feel so good.” His head dropped back against the duvet, eyes struggling to stay open. He could feel her hot and wanting and it was all for him. A sudden tantalising thought entered his brain, enough to cause him to shudder in place.
“Did you react like this in the hospital?”
“Huh?”
“Did you react like this when you felt me pressed against you? If I slid my hands up between your legs, would I have felt it? Would it have felt like this?”
“Mmm maybe, but it was more like…” She lifted her hips up again, taking his finger and inserting it gently inside herself, allowing it to be enveloped by her warmth. He groaned, deep and needy, his hips rocking up helplessly against her. She encouraged his finger in several gentle swirls inside of her, moaning softly at the sensation, before guiding him back out to circle her entrance.
“More like that.”
He angled up and pushed his finger back inside unassisted, pulsing in and out several times as she bounced against him, before he withdrew again to circle her clit with her own warmth. She ground down against him more insistently and he watched her eyes change, the same dark smoulder settling in them as he’d seen earlier.
“You’re close again, aren’t you?”
She nodded helplessly, her hips beginning to rock back and forth along him as the pad of his thumb vibrated in tight, compressed circles against her clit. She bore down harder against him, chasing the friction, riding his length so close that only the material of his pyjamas prevented him from being inside of her. The unrelenting pressure was simultaneously too much and not nearly enough, an ache that could only be filled by having him inside of her…
He spoke at just the right moment. “That’s it baby, pretend we’re in that hospital bed and I’m pushing myself deep inside of you.”
Her walls suddenly drew tight at the mental image and she shattered on top of him with a sharp cry, her thighs clamping pressing down hard enough that he could feel her clenching and releasing against him as she came forceful and uninhibited above him.
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He hadn’t meant it to happen. It had never happened before.
But the sight of her falling apart, the sensation of her coming against him, her swollen lips pressed firmly around him as she dragged herself back and forth. His thumb flicked slick against her clit, her breasts bounced with the movement and he had wanted her for so long….
He saw her face change before he felt it, the heat, the wetness, the feeling of her clamping down against him. The shared image of him dragging down his zipper, pushing her panties aside and sliding inside her warmth as he took her in that hospital bed all those months ago. The way he had desperately wanted to at the time. The way he had fantasised about ever since.
His release snuck up on him powerful and without warning, his whole body tensing as he unloaded against her, the heat of it leaking through his flimsy bottoms and spreading hot between them. Fran looked down between them, still riding out her own release, eyes wide in disbelief. Just as Maxwell was wondering how he would ever explain away this one, she leant down and kissed him, deep and passionate, her tongue tangling with his as she continued rolling her hips gently against him until she’d worked him of every last drop. She continued moving languidly on top of him, arms wrapped around his neck and lips locked, progressively slower until they stilled together.
Eventually rolling off of him, she flopped onto the bed, completely spent, staring at the ceiling in a daze. Maxwell laid there, fighting the humiliation creeping up his neck, when he heard the giggle escape before she could suppress it.
“Fran, that’s never happened before, I—“
“All that and we STILL didn’t sleep together!” She cut him off, her giggle spreading to full-blown laughter as she buried her face into his neck, trying to control herself.
“Are you mad?” His brows furrowed in concern. She didn’t sound mad.
“Of course not, that was amazing.” She lifted her head and looked at him, eyes shining with adoration. “But I didn’t actually mean it when I said I wasn’t going to sleep with you, I just wanted to see you sweat. You didn’t have to try and finish first.”
She dissolved into another fit of giggles as he watched her, equal parts embarrassed and amused. He had just completely ruined their first time together and all she could do was laugh about it.
He adored her.
Her giggles slowed as they drifted back into companionable silence, before she sat up and looked down between them. “We should…probably clean ourselves up.”
He nodded, taking stock of the sticky mess spread across the front of his pants. “I agree. You can take the first shower, if you want?”
She turned to face him, a mischievous smile spreading slowly across her features.
“Or….I don’t suppose you've ever thought about doing me in the jacuzzi?”
Maxwell didn’t answer. He was too busy racing ahead of her into the bathroom to turn on the taps.