A Bad Boy in my life

Fourty seven

You set fire to my world, couldn't handle the heat
Now I'm sleeping alone and I'm starting to freeze
Baby, come bring me hell
Let it rain over me
Baby, come back to me

Ruin my life — Zara Larsson

At first, Maxon remains motionless, basking in the sweetness of each lingering peck I place on his lips, a slow smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

I pepper his lips with a series of playful kisses, each one igniting a tiny spark between us. Gradually, he reciprocates, his fingers finding their place on my waist as our lips mold together. My hands naturally find their way to his chest, the reassuring thud of his heart beneath my touch slowly calming the tension in his frame. Encouraged by his response, I let my tongue venture out to meet his in a gentle, exploratory dance.

My fingers trace over his temples, and I feel his grip on me tighten. Taking this as a silent invitation, I move with a newfound confidence, shifting onto his lap. As I settle there, our closeness ignites a gentle warmth, a mingling of body heat that envelopes us, turning the chilly breeze into a distant memory.

I begin to sway my hips gently, back and forth, and Maxon's hands start moving up the sides of my body. Their journey begins at my thigh and trails up to the back of my waist, causing the skirt of my uniform to rise in a way that blends the sensual with the provocative. Under his guidance, my movements synchronize with his, each brush of skin intensifying the contact between the bulge pressing against his jeans and a specific part of my anatomy. The merging of our rhythms creates a silent symphony, laden with anticipation and a growing fire that threatens to consume all senses.

My hands trail down from his neck to the button of his pants. With a deft motion, I undo it and glide down the zipper. Maxon captures one of my hands and guides it inside his boxer briefs. As I grasp what he desires me to, a sharp intake of breath escapes his lips, followed by an uttered curse that hangs in the air.

I'm uncertain if I'm getting it right, though Maxon's constant grip on my buttocks and the hushed curses that escape his lips against mine suggest I must be. Feeling him grow more aroused only fuels my own excitement. Between me and my underwear, an ocean seems to have surged.

Just as I was starting to get the hang of things, he removes my hand from his intimacy and begins to slide his hand beneath my skirt, lowering the piece of fabric that had been preventing our bodies from merging completely.

With his guidance, I ease one leg at a time out of my panties, creating a clear path. As soon as I sense the way is open, he lowers his pants to mid-thigh. At this moment, there's nothing impeding the intimate connection between our bodies.

"Are you on birth control?" he inquires, his voice taking shape against my mouth.

I sway my head from side to side, nibbling on my lower lip.

"Shit..." he swears, his eyes shutting as he throws his head back.

"You don't have...?" I was about to say 'a condom', but he answers before I finish the sentence.

"No. Damn it" he gasps.

I swallow hard and shake my head.

"It's alright," I say, pausing between breaths. "I can take the morning-after pill."

Our foreheads meet, and I cradle his face in my hands, a reminder that I still hold the reins.

Gathering my courage, I sway my hips, daringly finding my place against him, our bodies fitting together seamlessly. The moment I feel him within me, a moan escapes my lips, releasing a rush of dopamine that blurs the edges of my thoughts and momentarily sweeps away what lies ahead.