I laughed out loud at his cock emoticon and tried to focus on the pile of admin I needed to work through before I could crack on with my thesis, but last night and this morning was playing through my head like a video on repeat. I liked sex; I could enjoy it without having to have an emotional connection with the guy involved, although it was usually better if there was something there, and there was with Max. My fears about a relationship had been subsided by how we’d been in bed and out of it. There wasn’t time for me to develop something serious with anyone if I was considering moving to the States, but Max had made it easy last night and this morning to think that having a little fun would be okay. A stress reliever while I was finishing my PhD and for him from his work.

The rest of the day dragged in between messages from Max. I hit a snag with my schoolwork, which set me back a couple of days as I’d need to supplement what I’d researched already with a bit more. By the time Max was at my office I was cross and annoyed and in need of a glass of something strong and red.

“Your packhorse is here,” he said, looking at me over my computer screen. “Victoria?”

I looked up, pushing my glasses higher up my nose and semi-scowled at him. “I need to finish bookmarking this…” My gaze went back to the computer screen.

“Victoria, if you want the chance to have a glass of wine and get ready without rushing then we need to get your stuff over.”

I looked at the clock on my computer screen and saw that it was nearing five-thirty. He’d probably finished early to come here and help me carry my stuff, although Uber might be a better idea. “Sure,” I said, clicking on the last link I needed to save and jotting three words down on my notepad. “Sorry, I know you were probably in the middle of something too.”

“It’s fine. It can always wait. Where’s your stuff?”

I pointed to the corridor off reception where Carol’s office was. “I took a cab here. There is quite a bit. I can shift it to Jacob’s though—he’s been offering me one of his spare rooms for six months.”

“I’m not surprised, given the state of where you’ve been living. Don’t go back: the place is a health hazard and it’s not safe,” he said, heading through to collect some of my stuff. “Though looking at this, you’re not planning on going back,” he followed it with a chuckle, the deep, short laugh that suited him so much.

“I know, I’m sorry. I can leave most of it there over the weekend as no one will be in tomorrow—everyone will be hungover and Sunday really is a day of rest around here unless you’re a third year,” I said, switching my computer off at socket and heading to help him. “It’s really just those three bags, the dress carrier and that suitcase. The rest I’ll get to Jacob’s tomorrow.”

“We’ll see,” he said. The bags were now in in his hands. “Let me take that other bag. Your suitcase is on wheels. Is it too heavy for you to pull?”

“It’s okay,” I said. “I’m really sorry about this. I feel like I’m imposing terribly.”

“Stop apologising else I will be annoyed. You’re staying tonight and possibly tomorrow depending on whether you can put up with me for that length of time. I will need your landlord’s contact details as you’ll be due compensation for having to stay elsewhere while you’re paying him rent,” he said as we made our way outside, my suitcase wheels squeaking unhappily.

Max stopped abruptly, almost tripping me up. I managed to halt my feet and saw Peter Coffey, the ex-Cambridge student, lingering in a nearby doorway and watching me.

“Has he been hanging round a lot?” Max said, starting to walk, this time a little quicker.

“Maybe three times this week. I think he just lives nearby.” I shrugged. He did seem a little odd but odd people weren’t that unusual at a university.

“I don’t like the way he was looking at you,” Max said quietly.

It was a possessive thing to say, and although I suspected that once Max claimed a woman as his, he wasn’t for sharing, but his tone suggested that it wasn’t just possessiveness he was feeling but genuine concern.

Peter had bobbed in and out of the office all week, checking a few details of his course, looking to speak to a couple of the professors—all pretty much the norm. “He’s a little strange,” I said. “But he’s nothing to worry about. I’m not sure he’s cut out for law though.”

“You can say that again,” Max said.

We were at his apartment within ten minutes, just beating an autumn shower that began the moment he opened his door. It was a duplex and spacious, as I imagined it would be, filled with natural light. The biggest bonus was that there was no mould and no leaking roof, although the furnishings, which were a mixture of scandi-influenced dark wood and comfortable, sleepable softness, were up there on the to-be-thankful list also.

I sat down on the corner sofa, a plush grey velvet that had to have been chosen by a female. “Who picked out this?” I said. “It’s not leather, it doesn’t recline and there’s no beer holder.”

Max passed me a glass of red wine and took one for himself, sitting down near to me but allowing us some space. “Good observation. My sister, Ava. The one who’s staying.”

“The renovator?”

“The one and only. I moved in here about three years ago and had barely any furniture. I managed like that for over a year until Ava got hold of my credit card and pin number when I was drunk. My bill that month was eye-watering.”

The wine was good: smooth and full bodied. I wished we could just stay like this, maybe with a few less clothes, instead of having to head out to a ball. “She did a good job of it,” I said. “It’s gorgeous.”

I watched him look around the room as if he was assessing it for the first time. “It is,” he agreed. “But it needs bits, I suppose. I don’t have the fiddly things that girls always know to get or pictures or anything like that. I wouldn’t know where to start.”

I thought about my grandfather’s home where I had mostly grown up, the one that Francis had sold. It had been four storeys of walnut antique furniture, photos and relics from other ages that my grandfather had collected. Most of the larger items were in storage—I’d had them put away until I had somewhere more permanent to live, although my brother had auctioned some of the more valuable pieces. I’d been too upset to deal with the aftermath of his death, except to organise the funeral for which I’d held myself together. When Francis said he’d sort Grandad’s belongings I’d been grateful, thinking he was finally trying to help me out, but once again it had been to his own end.

“Where did you go just then?” Max asked gently. He’d edged closer, his arm around the back of where I was sitting, his fingers softly stroking my hair.

“I was thinking of the ornaments and knick-knacks I have in storage. There’s an old globe from the eighteen hundreds that my grandfather told me belonged to Charles Dickens at one point. I doubt it did, but I like the idea.”

“You still have lots of his stuff?”

“Plenty. I’ve nowhere to put it. We lived in a big house and you saw the size of my apartment.” I gave him a broad smile. There was no need to be down tonight. We’d had a good time last night, and tonight was all about having fun too. I leaned over and kissed him slowly, keeping it PG rated else I knew I wouldn’t have any time to get ready. “You’d better show me to the bathroom I can take over, otherwise we’ll be late. What time are we meeting everyone?”

“Eight,” he said and drew me into a kiss again, his hands holding me, thumbs caressing the skin he’d found. My body reacted automatically, wetness gathering between my legs. It had only been one night and one morning, but clearly I was already programmed with how to respond. “I’ve booked a cab for twenty to.”

“Okay.” My hands received the message that there was time for this, that it was needed and they started to undo his shirt buttons, managing not to pull any off or become impatient.

He let me have my time, let my lips leave his and kiss their way over tattooed skin and taut muscle. One of his hands combed the hair on my head, while the other clenched at his side.

His suit trousers were easier than jeans to undo, the fly slipping down effortlessly to expose his cock straining at the top of his boxer briefs. My mouth went there and between my legs got wetter, my breasts feeling heavy. I put my lips over his cock through the thin fabric and he moaned so quietly I could barely hear. Sliding his underwear down enough to release him, I began to lick the head, wrapping my mouth around the top. I sucked gently, the salty taste hitting my tongue. I liked men: I liked how I could make them respond and I enjoyed being physical. I hadn’t had a huge amount of lovers—enough to count on two hands—but all had possessed a certain quality, Max possibly more so than any of them.

Max sat up further, his hands now pushing up my top, seeking my breasts. “Been thinking about these all day,” he said. “I might have looked at your photos once or twice too.” He pulled my thin jumper over my head, forcing me to move away from his cock. “Take your bra off.”

Lounging back, he watched me, his eyes switching from mine to my tits, my nipples hard. “Take the rest off too. I want you naked in my home.”

I obeyed, enjoying his response as his dick grew harder, his hand holding the base of it. “What if I told you that you can’t touch?” I said.

Fire burned in his eyes. “I say you’d have to tie me up first. Come sit here.” He gestured to his lap.

As I stepped nearer he pulled me to him, using his knees to spread my legs so I straddled over him, spread enough so that he could clearly see between my legs. “Close your eyes.”

“Why?”

“Close your eyes. Trust me.”

I did. And then I felt fingers finally travel down my arms to my waist and then up to my breasts, pinching nipples, stroking them until they were taut, like berries about to burst.

“So fucking beautiful,” he said, and I whimpered as I felt his mouth on a nipple, sucking it while he pinched the other in tandem. His other hand moved onto my ass, moving my centre closer to his erection. I ached, feeling needy and alive.

Then his hand moved between my legs and a finger brushed my clit, moving my wetness around. He gave my nipple a soft nip and pulled away.

“Open your eyes,” he said. “I want to watch you while you come on my hand. Then I’ll give you my cock so you can ride me like that pony you mentioned.”

Electricity shot up me as he pinched my clit and nipple at the same time. I moved my hips, seeking more friction from his hand, making him laugh arrogantly. He was in control and he knew it but I didn’t care. I wanted to come and I was chasing that orgasm.

“Let me come with your fingers in me,” I said, desperate for something of his to fill my pussy.

“You can have my dick after. Then you can come again on that. And then I might fuck you again when you’ve got that dress on so everyone knows what we’ve been doing and they know you’re mine.”

I’d lost my words, incapable of anything apart from shifting my hips to heighten the pressure and watching the heated expression on his face. I came hard, gripping onto his shoulders and needing his free hand to steady my hips as I bucked against his hand. I’d barely finished the aftershocks before he had a condom in his hand from the side table. He tore it open and dressed his cock, his hands back on my hips and guiding me down onto his pelvis.

“You’re tight so don’t rush. Take it slow,” he said, watching where our bodies joined. Sweet pain fractured me with the initial breach and I cried out, stopping and giving my body a moment to adjust. Then I took more of him and his hips started to move. I knew I was making him lose some of his control. My tits began to bounce as I found my rhythm and I altered my angle so he hit that sweet spot it had taken me so long to discover.

One of his hands left my hips and went to my breasts, holding, squeezing, pinching and then his mouth was there, sucking and nibbling. Our movements became more ferocious and I felt him push deeper into me and I tightened harder around him, my second orgasm coming closer.

“I’m going to come again,” I breathed, my head going to rest on his. “Can you fuck me like this every day?”

His hands went to my hips, holding harder so he could take over the rhythm. “I’ll fuck you like this every night and every morning if you want. And lunchtimes. I can always find a desk to bend you over. Make you come on my cock from behind.” His words were said quietly, seriously. “So many things I want to do to you.”

And then I came hard, possibly harder than I ever had before. I screamed loudly as it hit, losing all control of my body. He held me to him, his cock pounding me hard.

“I’m there,” he said, giving one hard, deep thrust and groaning. He moved me up and down as he came and I managed to open my eyes to watch him, his body shuddering.

We stilled, him staying deep inside me. My chest heaved with my breathing and his hands left my hips to cup my breasts briefly then pull me towards him, nuzzling my neck with his nose.

“You good?” he said, his voice shaky.

“Yes,” I said. “More than.” He moved to be able to kiss me again, this time without the need. My body was still boneless, every muscle without stress. “You should be available on prescription.”

“Just for you,” he said. “While we’re doing this, will it just be us?”

“I thought we could ask Jacob if he wanted to join in occasionally.” I couldn’t help myself.

He stiffened beneath me. “I thought you were just friends.”

I tried to stop my smirk by biting my lips but I knew my eyes would give me away.

“Victoria Esme Davies.” He lifted me up off him and slapped my ass as my feet hit the floor. “I’m a jealous man.”

“I’ve noticed,” I said, my ass stinging slightly. If he did it again I could be up for another round, but then I’d have no chance of being ready on time. “I find it quite endearing seeing you try to control it.”

“You’re avoiding answering my question.”

“I should go and get ready.” I walked towards the room where he had put my bags, grabbing my wine on the way.

It seemed to be the master bedroom; a faint scent of his cologne lingered in the air. There was a large en suite with a walk-in shower and standalone bath which, if I’d had time, I’d have been in with a book and a glass of wine, and maybe Max to wash my back. Ignoring the rest of his belongings as time wasn’t plentiful, I grabbed my shower gel and jumped into the shower.

By the time I came out, the bathroom was foggy with steam. Music played from a speaker somewhere and for a moment I dreamed that I had a place like this instead of a hovel with a leaking roof and a pervy landlord. I found a fluffy towel that I was certain hadn’t been there before I got into the shower, having forgotten to check.

Wondering what mood Max was in since I hadn’t given him a definite answer about us being exclusive, I stepped into the bedroom with interest. He was adding product to his beard, staring intently into the mirror.

“So you’ve thought about spending some quality time with Jacob then? He’s keen on beards.” Shifting the smile on my face was impossible.

He turned around, just a white towel hanging low on his hips. “That’s a yes then. While we’re seeing each other, you won’t see anyone else?”

I let my towel drop so I could apply moisturiser. Eczema when I was younger had resulted in me having to use it every time I showered or took a bath. “I like being monogamous. It stops things from being messy. So you can return your jealous side to its cage.”

He nodded, blatantly obvious about looking me up and down as I rubbed moisturiser into my skin.

“I’d offer to help but there’s no way we’d be on time.” The towel had started to become a tent.

“I’m liking the power I have over you.”

“You’re a witch,” he said. “A beautiful, feisty witch.”

I laughed, pulling my robe from my suitcase and throwing it on so I could begin the procedure of combing and drying my hair. It was long and thick and so straight, which meant apart from washing and drying it, I didn’t need to do much more to make it stylable. If I’d have had prior warning about the ball, I’d have booked in somewhere for an up do, instead I’d have to make do with the YouTube tutorials I’d watched in the past.

Max sat on the bed and watched me get ready, peering over a book he was reading. The towel was still wrapped round him and I could make out the impression of his erection beneath it. The sight of it made my muscles clench and I was half tempted to pull the towel away and wrap my mouth around him again, but I needed to make sure I was ready first. Being late to meet his siblings would only mean receiving a lot of jokes about why and I got the impression Max wouldn’t feel entirely comfortable about that. My guess was that he stayed away from relationships and although I didn’t know why, at some point I would ask. Even if what we were had an expiration date on it, I hoped that we’d part with him able to have a longer relationship with the right person, and a family if he wanted it. I hoped the same for myself too.

I took myself into the bathroom to put my dress on, wanting him to see me finished rather than squeezing bits of flesh into what was a very form fitting gown. Lunch had been minimal because of the time, but that had done me a favour, helping to keep my stomach relatively flat.

My heels were higher than usual, keeping the fishtail just off the ground. I slipped them on and went to get a reaction from Max.

He glanced at me and then looked back at his book.

I glared. “Will I do?”

“Yeah, you look fine.” His erection was still visible although he now had trousers and a shirt on, bowtie undone around his neck.

I picked up my lipstick and aimed it at the pillow, managing to hit him square in the face.

He clutched it and laughed, sitting up. “Not the reaction you were expecting, Feisty?” he said.

No words were available.

I chucked a pillow.

He laughed again, sitting up and looking at me with heavy eyes. “You look beautiful,” he said, his words quiet, as if they would break if he said them loudly. “I think we should stay in.”

I shot him a knowing glare. “Because you don’t want any other man looking at me? Maxwell, really? Do you have to be such a Neanderthal?”

He nodded. “Although, I’ll make sure they all know you’re with me. The monogamy thing?”

“Yes?”

“We are v—monogamous? As in just us, even if it’s only casual?”

His eyes were filled with something I hadn’t seen before; an odd emotion that I couldn’t pin down. His body was relaxed on the surface, but below there was a tension that ebbed and flowed into his eyes.

“We are. The only man I’ll be thinking about touching me tonight is you. And if you play your cards right, Maxwell, it’ll be the same tomorrow as well.”

He shifted closer to the edge of the bed and put out his hands to hold my hips. “I’m glad you’re a feisty ball of argumentative sass,” he said. “And I’m glad you’re with me tonight.”

I stooped so I could kiss him. It wasn’t a kiss that would induce another round of who could have the most powerful orgasm, but instead a sweet kiss, one with a tenderness I had forgotten I could possess. “You look hot,” I said. “I need photos for future reference.”

“I’ll happily swap you later—photo for photo.” He stood up and took hold of me, his touch everything I needed to feel right then.

My world was full right now and I was going to enjoy it.