Page 60 of WASP

“That,” she started, fingers running lazily through Annie’s hair, “was fucking amazing.”

Annie laughed. One that came from a place deep inside her as it bubbled over. She intertwined her fingers with Max’s. “Yeah, that was pretty fucking good,” she whispered in agreement, bringing Max’s hand to her lips, taking care to kiss each knuckle before taking her middle and pointer fingers into her mouth, sucking gently.

Max groaned. “Are you trying to turn me on again? My underwear is already ruined.”

Heat raced through her, the mental image of Max’s soaked panties on the floor and Annie moving on top of her flooding her brain.

“I don’t hate the idea of that.” She took a deep breath, sure of what she wanted next. “But first, I want you to touch me again, like you did in Michigan.”

Max stilled beneath her, but Annie continued.

“I want you to show me how you would have made me come the night that I, uh—chickened out,” she finished sheepishly, heat rising in her cheeks.

“I don’t remember any chickening out,” Max said matter-of-factly, only making Annie’s heart melt even more, but Max was already grabbing at her arm, so once again, Annie was straddling her thigh. “But I do remember you being like this—less lingerie, although I’ll happily accept the addition.” One of Max’s hands rested on her hip, the other rubbing her leisurely over her underwear. Annie’s eyes fluttered closed, chasing the touch with her hips, utterly frustrated every time Max sped up or slowed down when she thought she had figured out the pattern of her movements. “And then if I’m remembering correctly,” she purred, voice a low hum as she dipped her hand into Annie’s underwear, a satisfied hiss escaping her, “then I started touching you, like this.”

Like that night in Michigan, Annie moaned and gasped as Max worked fingers over her clit, Annie’s own trust contributing to the incredible feeling as she ground hard against Max’s hand.

“Please—Max.” Her voice was embarrassingly high-pitched, eyes slammed shut as she tried to prolong the inevitable, but it proved an impossible task as her orgasm began to build, threatening to take over, hips frantically gyrating against Max beneath her. “Please, more. More,” she begged.

“And then, when I had you on the edge,” Max panted in her ear, nails digging into Annie’s hip as she moved repeatedly against her. “Just when I had you so, so, so close,” she continued, drawing out each and every word as she flicked repeatedly over Annie’s clit. “I’d put my fingers in you, so I could feel you come around them.” Her tone was mischievous as she slid two fingers deep inside Annie, who could barely take the added sensation.

“Fuck,” Annie let out through parted lips as Max moved her fingers with purpose, encouraging her through wave after wave of every feeling known to womankind. “Fuck. Oh fuck, yes, oh my god—shit, I’m coming. Oh god, I’m coming, don’t you dare fucking stop,” she chanted, body still bent over Max’s as she thrust into the palm of her hand where it rested against her thigh. With one final long groan of pleasure, Annie stilled as her body drifted down from its high, relaxing into Max’s comforting embrace.

“You should stay the night,” Max whispered, pressing a tender kiss to Annie’s sweaty temple. “You can borrow my toothbrush and some pajamas, but you should stay. I’d have such a hard time watching you get up and leave after that,” she said, a gentle hand rubbing arcs over her back.

Annie propped herself up on her forearms, holding her weight above Max. “Staying the night was part of how I wanted to spend my birthday, and I think you’ll find that one way or another, I always get what I want.”

FOURTEEN

MAX

Max pushed a finger to the cool plastic doorbell outside the large home at the end of Jacob’s Lane. Low chimes rang on the other side of the door as she waited in the warm, gentle breeze only the end of May could deliver, the one that said summer was almost here. The weather was already a little toasty for the season, but the heat was expected to break by the end of the week.

She stepped back from the door, smoothing out the sheer black linen button-up she was wearing paired with high-waisted vintage blue jean shorts. A moment later, Annie opened the door, looking absolutely adorable in a long, flowing, pale pink pleated skirt and tight white baby tee.

“Hey, come on in,” Annie said. Her smile was radiant as she held the door open, inviting Max into the air-conditioned foyer of the Dillinger house.

Max stepped inside, eyes trailing over Annie, taking in the way her shirt clung to her body perfectly, accentuating every curve Max had spent the last almost six weeks acquainting herself with. She had always quietly admired Annie’s style, how she came across so put together and intentional. She had been excited to see Annie’s wardrobe shift as they entered the warmer months, pleased by the reveal of a love for skirts and dresses of various lengths.

“Another skirt,” Max commented, a flash of heat rising in her cheeks at the memory that surfaced at the forefront of her mind.

A rosy tint bloomed across Annie’s cheeks as she closed the door behind them.

“My collection is vast.” Annie gave her a look that clearly said, don’t even go there. But it was her smug smile that made Max positive her mind had gone to the same place hers did—to the memory of the other night, the one where Annie had come over to her place with one thing on her mind. They hadn’t even made it out of the kitchen, but that didn’t stop Max from taking Annie right there against the counter, slipping a hand under her skirt as Annie’s filthy words filled the tiny space.

“They’re as colorful as your words the other night.”

That earned her a playful shove, but Max grabbed Annie’s arm, smiling into the kiss. “For the record, I love all the skirts and dresses.”

Annie deepened the kiss, snaking her arms around Max’s neck. She couldn’t help her gasp as Annie drew her bottom lip into her mouth, nibbling gently as perfectly manicured nails raked through her hair.

“Hi, by the way,” Max said softly, surfacing for air.

Annie grinned, stepping back from her, wiping away smeared lip gloss from her upper lip. “Hi. Thanks for coming over.” She turned, her skirt twirling as she motioned for Max to follow her deeper into the house through a door that opened up into the large kitchen, but Max’s mind was still in the foyer on their kiss.

There had been a lot of that since Annie’s birthday too—hot, heated moments that left Max so blissfully satiated. But what surprised her the most about the last few weeks wasn’t the sex and how amazing it was. No, it was the way all of it was intertwined with an intentionality and care unlike anything Max had experienced before. Being with Annie electrified her, intensifying even the smallest details of her life.

It showed up in little ways here and there. Like in her style. Max was never one to care too much about clothes beyond their function. She usually wore gym clothes, or work clothes, rarely putting in effort outside those two areas of her life, because what was the point? She was either working or at the gym. But now, she couldn’t help but want to dress up a little bit more than usual around Annie.