“What’s the rush?” I ask, walking backward toward my sofa as he stalks toward me.
“The rush is that I had to take an ice-cold shower after our little garage moment so that I could be a semi-decent father and put my kid to bed. Now she’s asleep, the security camera is on, and I don’t want to be a semi-decent father anymore.”
My lips purse together with a poorly concealed smirk as I perch on the arm of the couch. “Do you want to be a Zaddy?”
Max stops in front of me, the heated look in his eyes replaced with genuine confusion. “What is this Zaddy obsession you have?”
I giggle and shake my head. “It helps if you wrinkle your nose when you say it.”
He stares at me like I’m an idiot. I totally am.
“Come on…try it.” I nod my head toward him and know there is no way in a million fucking years that millionaire Max Fletcher will concede to me on this.
He licks his lips and tilts his head before lowering both hands onto the arm of the sofa, caging me in. He inhales deeply, dragging his nose along my neckline before locking his eyes on mine. His nose scrunches up, and he growls, “Zaddy.”
I fall backward onto the couch in a fit of giggles, curling my legs up into my chest. “I can’t believe you actually did it.”
He watches me with a smile and it’s quite possibly the hottest he’s ever looked. “You’re seriously weird.”
“I know.” I sigh happily. Jesus, I am happy. And we haven’t even had sex yet.
Max pulls his phone out of his jeans and checks it briefly before setting it on the end table. “Now are you going to be a good girl and take your clothes off like I told you to?”
He begins removing his jeans, so I eagerly scramble up off the couch and ditch my cotton robe and the pajamas that I took way too long to pick out. It’s a matching satin short set that makes my tits look good, and Max barely even notices it.
However, once I’m completely naked, the look in his gaze is a thousand times better.
Honestly, the past week, I had been fighting with my inner self that all those wonderful things he said about my body were just to get me into bed. A man like Max Fletcher couldn’t possibly be that attracted to a girl who shops in the plus-sized section of a department store.
Not that I hate my body. I don’t! Yes, I have stretch marks around my hips and breasts, and yes, my tummy is soft and jiggles when I move, and lord knows my ass and thighs have a plethora of dimples.
But for the most part, I can look in the mirror and like what I see. I see someone who has learned how to enjoy life outside the confines of society’s standard of beauty. I see someone who enjoys eating healthy and indulging when she wants to. I see curves and balance. I see a body that bounced back from a horrific experience that nearly killed her.
This is my body, and I love it.
And when Max stands gloriously naked before me and drags his fingers up my arms to cup my face and kiss me reverently, swirling away any shred of doubt left inside me, I decide right then and there to allow myself to believe that a man like Max could love my body too.
“See that?” Max turns me in his arms to press his warmth to my back as he points at the mirror mounted on the far wall. His body is tall and sculpted behind mine that’s rounded and soft.
“Yes,” I gasp as his hand reaches around to tug gently on the bud of my nipple.
His whiskers tease the shell of my ear as he murmurs, “You’re going to watch me fuck you from behind and I want you to never take your eyes off me, got it?”
I inhale a shaky breath and nod a bit too enthusiastically as my dark hair falls into my face. I demurely tuck it behind my ears and watch him over my shoulder as he pulls a condom out of his wallet and sheathes himself.
Big, long, beautiful dick.
He grips my waist and positions me over the arm of the sofa, giving my ass a playful smack before greedily palming it as he bends me over.
“I thought you weren’t Christian Grey,” I tease jokingly, staring at his sexy body in the mirror.
“I’m not,” he growls, gripping his cock and sliding his tip along my dripping wet center. It’s been wet since I left the workshop, and I swear it grows wetter every time he looks at me. “I’m Max Fletcher, and you can feel very free to scream that whenever you want, sweet cheeks.”
Without warning, he plunges deep inside me, and I cry out, my eyes struggling to stay open as I watch his abs contract as he pushes in to the hilt.
“Fuuuuck,” he groans and flinches as he pulls out and thrusts back in. “Every time, you’re so wet for me, Cassandra.”