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He laughed and wrapped his arms around my waist and kissed me on the cheek. He set me down and sniffed the air.
He grinned. “Are those your famous cinnamon buns I smell?”
I giggled. “Of course! Do you want some?”
He looked at me like I was insane. “Do I want some. OF COURSE I want some!”
He set his stuff down in the living room and followed me into the kitchen. I opened the oven and reached for the tray without mitts on. Just as my hand wrapped around the pan I screamed and pulled it back. Tears streamed down my face as the searing pain spread throughout my hand. Max immediately ran over to me and pulled my hand gently to him.
“Holy shit, My, what were you thinking?!” He scolded me as he gently lead me to the sink.
He flipped on the cold water so it was streaming out slowly. He pulled me in front of him and held my hand under the water. The cold numbed some of the pain but it still hurt like hell. Max’s other hand was set on my waist. I felt him pressed up against me, his breath warm on my neck, his 6’9 body towering over my 4’2 one. Max worked out at least once a day for four hours so he was ripped. His brown blonde hair fell messily over his eyes slightly, his tan skin rippled with muscles. He readjusted so his dick was pressing into my ass. His dick was hard and even through my shorts and his sweatpants I could feel it’s huge length. My breath hitched as he noticed how close we were. He pressed closer to me, studying my hand.
“You need to get to the hospital so this doesn’t get infected.” He whispered softly.
“A-alright.” I choked out, still crying.
He nuzzled my neck with his sharp, scruffy jaw. “It’ll be alright.”
I relaxed a bit and he stayed there holding me until I stopped crying. I sighed and leaned back into him. His hand that was sitting on my waist wrapped around my stomach, pulling me closer to him. I felt his dick through his pants pressing against my ass and I didn’t want to move. Doing this seemed so right but wrong at the same time.