Against the Ropes (17 page)

“Oh, Max.” I thread my hands through his hair, and dig my fingers into his scalp. Max looks up at me and grins. He slips a finger inside me, and I rock into his palm. It can’t get much better than this.

He leans forward, and his tongue sweeps along my folds in one long, wet, delicious lick. I gasp. It
can
get better. Much better.

“You like that, baby?”

My only response is a strangled cry.

Two fingers dip inside me, deeper this time, and then out, again and again, until my hips are rocking in time to his rhythm. I tighten my grip on his hair and try to get him where I want him to go.

“My girl is so damn hot when she’s right on the edge,” he murmurs. He slides his fingers out, but before I can protest, his tongue plunges into my sex, the sensation intimate and darkly erotic. I arch my back and moan.

“Hold on, baby.” He captures my sensitive nub between his lips and sucks it gently into his mouth. I fall back against the ropes and scream as my orgasm hits me. But he doesn’t stop. His teasing tongue continues to lick and he draws out wave after wave of mind-numbing pleasure.

A slight quiver in my thighs is all the warning I get before my knees buckle. Max catches me and pulls me down to the mat on top of him.

My breath comes in short, hard pants. “Weren’t we just in this position a few weeks ago?”

“Yes. And I was thinking then exactly what I’m thinking now.” He flips over, carrying me with him until I am on my back, caged by his tight, hard body.

“So was I.”

“I’m going to make you feel so good, baby.” He presses his palm over my sweet spot, and his fingers thrust and curl inside me. My body tightens around him. Tighter. Tighter. And then his fingers disappear and his erection prods gently against my swollen folds. I breathe a sigh. Finally.

“Open for me.”

Sensation floods my body as he spreads me wide.

Finally.

I’ve waited for this for so long. Dreamed about it. Fantasized about it…

“Damn.”

“Max?” Half-dazed, my face crumples when he draws away. “What’s wrong?”

A pained look crosses his face. “I don’t have a condom.”

My tension instantly disappears and I melt into the mat. “I do.”

“Where?”

“In my purse.” I point to my evening bag long abandoned beside my dress.

Max pushes himself up and grabs my bag. “I am both pleased and displeased to know you left home tonight with a bag full of condoms.” He hands the bag to me.

I pull out a condom and hold the open purse for him to see. “Not a bag full. Only three. I like to be safe.”

He tears open the packet with his teeth and sheaths himself. “
Only
three? Drake and who else did you plan to seduce tonight?”

I grin and ruffle his hair. “I like jealous Max.”

“I like Makayla with only one condom in her purse. For me.” He settles himself between my legs, holding up his weight on his elbows. His erection presses deliciously against my entrance. I lean up and flick my tongue along his tattoos.

“I like these,” I whisper. “Do they mean something?”

“Failure.” The self-loathing in his voice startles me. I look up at him, but the pained expression on his face freezes my tongue. So many tattoos. So many failures. Why does he feel the need to ink them into his skin?

My mouth opens to ask him to explain, but Max cuts me off with a kiss. He nuzzles my neck and trails kisses down my throat and then around each of my breasts. He laves first one nipple then the other, and my arousal ratchets back up in an instant. I arch my back and whimper.

“There we go,” he rasps. And with one thrust, he’s inside me, pushing deep, deeper than fingers, deeper than his tongue.

“You feel like velvet. So hot. So wet.” He shudders and pulls back slow and easy. My body protests by tightening around him, ripping a grunt from his throat. He thrusts deep again, filling me, stretching me. Possessing me.

“Don’t stop.” I wrap my arms around him and pull him down, crushing his mouth to my own. Max groans and fills me again. I tilt my hips to take more of him. When I whimper my need, his pace changes. Faster. Harder. I am climbing again, higher and higher, until searing pleasure rips through me, and I am soaring in Max’s arms.

Max’s body tenses and he thrusts hard and deep, climaxing with a husky groan.

When I regain a semblance of consciousness, Max is staring down at me. His eyes are soft, warm, and free of shadows. His lips find mine and he kisses me long and deep.

“Hot kind. Wild kind. Sweet kind,” he whispers as he rolls to his side.

“Your kind.” My fingers brush along his jaw, prickly with a five o’clock shadow.

A smile ghosts Max’s lips. “Mine.”

Sex is not really the problem

Max, are u awake?

No

U make a very comfortable bed

Time to sleep

No sleep

No choice. You only had 3 condoms

U don’t have a single condom in ur house?

Sleep

Bad sleep. Want to go condom hunting

No

Text me a bedtime story

What story?

The story about the man who had no condoms in his house

MAKAYLA!

Did u just shout at me? **frowns**

Behave

You don’t like my hand here?

I don’t want to move. I like Makayla lying on top of me

I like Max getting up to find condoms

Max is happy like this

This part of Max is not happy

You shouldn’t text in bed

Why?

This might happen

**gasps** I’ll find condoms myself…naked

You win. I’ll go

Yessss! **pumps fist in air**

But you will pay

Yessss! **pumps fist in air**

Like this

Oh **whimpers**

***

The soft, slow glide of a tongue circling my nipple awakens me. For a moment I am totally disoriented. Dark. So dark. I take a deep breath and smell spicy cologne, wood polish, and the lingering scent of sex.

Max’s room. Max’s bed. Still night.

His tongue laves my nipple, drawing it into a hard peak. Warm, relaxed, and still half-asleep, I sift a languid hand through his hair. Desire flickers through my body. How can I be wet already?

“Bad Max. I have to work tomorrow.”

He turns his attention to my other nipple, pausing briefly to say, “It is tomorrow. Do you want to play, baby?” He rolls to his side and kneads my breast before he runs his hand down my body to the juncture of my thighs. I startle at his firm, demanding caress, so unlike the gentleness of the night’s previous encounters, but the effect is the same. My nipples harden and moisture pools between my thighs.

“Yes, Max. I want to play.”

“That’s my girl.” The deep rumble of his voice vibrates against my chest sending a wave of heat through my body.

He cups the curve of my sex and drives two fingers inside me with a hard, sharp thrust. No build up. No teasing. No warning.

“Ahhh.” I arch my back and my hips come off the bed at the intimate invasion.

“Wet and ready for me. Good girl.” His voice, warm and smooth as bourbon, slides over me like the blanket now missing from the bed.

When I moan, he leans down and slants his mouth across mine. His kiss is hard and urgent. Demanding. He thrusts his tongue between my lips and takes my mouth in long, firm, unyielding strokes.

The hair on the back of my neck prickles. Where is soft, gentle Max who whispers in my ear and nibbles at my lips? Where is playful, sensual Max who teases me to orgasm and holds me until I come back down?

He nips my bottom lip. “Do you trust me, baby?”

Um. No. Not when his manner has suddenly changed from sweet and loving to dominant and sexually demanding.

As if sensing my concern, he brushes my hair over my shoulder and nuzzles my neck. I giggle when his chin dips into a ticklish spot.

“I’m not sure which Max we’re talking about.”

His presses a soft, sweet kiss to my lips. “Same Max. Different style.”

“I liked the old style.” I wriggle my hips on the bed. “But right now I need—”

He spreads my moisture up and around my sensitive nub, while his fingers continue to stroke inside, teasing me until my thighs quiver.

“I know what you need, baby. Let me give it to you the best way I know how.”

My body aches. My nipples throb. The air around us charges with electricity. I slit my eyes closed and whisper, “Yes, Max. Okay.”

“Arms over your head.” His tone changes in a heartbeat, from a soft cajole to a brusque command. “Now.”

My breath leaves me with a sharp exhalation. He positions himself astride me, straddling my hips. His erection, hot and heavy, rests just below my breasts. As if someone else is in my body, someone carnal and wanton, I do as he commands. I raise my arms.

He gives a satisfied grunt and reaches behind the bed. Movements behind me I cannot see. He attaches a soft strap to my wrist and secures it to the bed frame. I tense and the steady rhythm of my heart quickens.

“Wait.”

He doesn’t wait. He attaches a second strap to my other wrist and secures it to the other side of the bed frame, spreading my arms wide.

My heart bangs a warning against my ribs. I yank on the straps. No give. Unlike the rope on the motorcycle I don’t for a moment think I’ll be able to wriggle myself free, and there is little chance of anyone coming to save me except Colton.

Bang. Bang. Bang. My ribs ache from the pounding of my heart. My lungs tighten and I fight for every breath. Last night was nothing like this. Last night was fun and sweet and tender. Last night was normal.

“Makayla, look at me.” Max’s deep, compelling voice draws my eyes to his. “What’s your safe word?”

Safe word? My brain clicks into gear, remembering our night at Twin Peaks. “Agusta.”

He strokes my cheek and smiles. “Trust me not to hurt you, baby. Trust me to give you what you need.”

Trust him? I don’t know him. I know cool, bossy Max the businessman. I know sexy, playful Torment the fighter. But this man—his tattoos glistening on his powerful body—ignites my deepest, most carnal desires and my most hidden fears. I am drawn to his flame, unable to resist.

“I trust you, Max.” The lie falls off my lips in the wake of overpowering need and insatiable curiosity.

Max slides down my body and kneels at the foot of the bed. “You’re okay, baby. We’ve done this before. I’m just going to take you a little further this time.”

His words speak to something dark inside me. My sex clenches, and I try to resist the pull. “It had a purpose before—to keep me on your motorcycle. I’m not about to fall off your bed.”

“It had another purpose—to see whether you liked being restrained and touched.” He slides a finger along my folds and shows me the wetness glistening on his fingers. “You do.”

My cheeks burn and I turn my head away. What the hell is wrong with me?

Max slides his hands up my inner thighs and bends my legs one at a time. He plants each heel on the bed and sits back and studies me. “Open yourself for me.”

My body flames, but I do as he asks and spread my knees wide. My thighs quiver. Cool air rushes down below but does nothing to dampen the burn of my desire. For the first time ever, I feel utterly vulnerable, exposed. The sensation is at once frightening and arousing.

“You have a pretty pussy, Makayla. I want to see it. Don’t move your legs. If you do, there will be consequences.” He smacks my thigh so smartly, I jump, and a disconcerting wave of heat rushes through me.

“If you want to stop, use your safe word.” His eyes shine fever bright in the shadows. His body thrums with energy. He is alive in a way I have seen only in the fight ring. And, alarmingly, so am I.

When I shake my head, his lips curl into a smile. He runs his hand down my body from my neck to the juncture of my thighs, and then in and out my curves and over my breasts. His strokes are firm, uninhibited, and entirely possessive. The sweep of his hand etches his ownership into my burning skin.

Unable to stand the rush of sensation, I close my eyes. Max slides one hand under my neck and lifts me into a fiery, demanding kiss. As his tongue thrusts, ravaging my mouth with firm even strokes, he slides two fingers into me hard and fast.

“Ahhh,” I moan into his mouth, arching my back, trying to get away, but his lips press against mine and his fingers dive deeper.

“Feel me,” he whispers, sliding his mouth to my ear. “Feel me everywhere.”

My body trembles. My hips buck against the steady rhythm of his fingers. Desire ratchets through me like a firestorm.

I need more. I tilt my mound into his palm seeking even the smallest bit of friction. Max jerks his hand away. “No,” he barks. “Not until I say.”

My thighs shake uncontrollably. His words, his bourbon smooth voice, his taut, lean body impaling me with pleasure, all combine to undo the threads of my control one by one. I slide my foot forward to leverage myself closer to his hand.

“Are you sure you want to do that?” Max warns. His voice is low and cool.

My heart pounds. A sharp stab of need sizzles all the way to my core and I slide my foot back.

“Better.” Max slicks a third finger inside me, stretching me as his thumb strokes over my sensitive nub. He spreads my wetness around and around the throbbing bundle of nerves, until there is no part of my body free of quivering need.

Move. I need to move. But Max holds me tight, and I get only what he wants to give.

“Max. No more. I can’t take anymore.” My vision blurs and the painful, desperate need to orgasm obliterates every thought, releasing my mind to float in the endorphin rush.

Dark. Quiet. Shadows in the corners. Where is he?

I
creep
across
the
lino
tiles
to
the
body
on
the
floor.

“Wake up,” I whisper. “He’s coming.”

Soft
hair, red and golden brown spills over a creamy shoulder. Her gold necklace, M for mother, M for Mary, dangles on the floor.

A
creak
behind
me.

“Come back. Come back to me.”

My vision clears. Brown eyes laced with gold study my face. “You okay, baby?” His soft, gentle tone chases the flashback away. Max. My Max. Not the voice in the shadows. His face is etched with concern, not anger. I am safe. I am wanting.

“I need you.”

He hesitates. “What happened?”

“Nothing. Just…lost in the moment.”

His brow furrows, and then he slides his hand under my back, arching me up toward him. He takes my mouth and plunders his way to the back of my throat. His fingers dip inside me, pounding in and out harder than I ever thought possible. His thumb circles closer and closer to where I want it to go.

“Give it up to me,” he murmurs against my lips. “Give me everything. Surrender to me.” He thrusts his fingers deep and slides his thumb over my sweet spot. Finally, I break with a shriek, falling to pieces, as a fireball of pleasure explodes inside me and wave after wave of scorching heat carries me away.

Before I have time to recover, Max has sheathed himself. He braces his forearms on either side of my head and enters me in one hard thrust. He angles himself to hit my sensitive spot, and I grow even slicker and hotter than just moments ago. Pleasure pain sears through me. Erotic. Unfamiliar. I want to get away, but his hips keep me open to him, and his weight pins me to the bed.

He pulls back and then moves inside me, in and out with gentle thrusts. My sex pulses and throbs, and I build again. Max presses deeper, filling me, taking my breath away. I close my eyes and give myself up to him with a moan.

“That’s it, baby.” He changes to a hammering pace and catches my nub gently between his fingers. One stroke and I am undone. My sex closes around him. My body tightens and pleasure sears through me. Max loses his own control. He roars his climax, the sound drowning out the echoes of my release.

Moments later, Max releases my hands and lies on the bed, pulling me across his chest. For the longest time I can’t move, a combination of exhaustion, confusion, and shock. My mind churns, trying to make sense of the hottest and most disconcerting sex I’ve ever had.

Max strokes his hand up and down my back. “You did well.”

His words squeeze my heart and relieve the ache, but now there is something new. A sense of disquiet. He has awakened something in me, deep and dark, and it wants to rock my world.

“You’re so quiet.” Max chuckles. “No jokes or smart remarks. Where is my Makayla?”

“I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “Lost, I think.”

I try to pull away but Max tightens his arms around me. “I have you, baby. I won’t let you go.”

***

“Makayla. Come back here.” The voice gets louder and louder. I tremble on the floor beside Mama. Why is she sleeping when Dad is so angry? She knows what he will do.

I
shake
her, gently at first and then harder. She doesn’t wake. Something is wrong. I kneel beside her and catch sight of the gash on her head. Blood trickles out. She needs a doctor. I don’t know how to fix her.

“Mama. Get up. He has a bat this time; the one Grandpa Joe gave me for my fifth birthday last year. And he smells of that smell. We have to run.”

Mama
doesn’t move. Something is wrong. Mama said if something bad happened to her I should call 911. Is this what she meant?

“Makayla. Where are you, girl? I would never hurt you. I just want to talk.”

I
peek
around
the
corner. His face wavers from round and bloated to square and defined. His hair darkens from auburn to brown. But his eyes remain black, hard, and cold.

***

Pulse racing, I jerk out of my nightmare and take a deep breath. My eyes slowly adjust to the dim light. The first fingers of the day creep through the blinds, gliding over the dark, cherrywood furniture in Max’s massive bedroom. Beside me, Max breathes the slow, steady rhythm of sleep.

I ease myself away from his warmth and sit on the edge of the bed, my arms wrapped around my sweat-drenched body in a tight hug. I need to get out of here. Now. I tiptoe across the floor, grabbing my clothes and my purse along the way. By the time I reach the bedroom door, I am fully dressed, purse in hand, torn panties scrunched in my fist. I take one last look at Max asleep on the bed behind me and then I close the door with a gentle click.

My heart pounds as I cross the great room toward the door.
Please
don’t let him wake up. Please don’t let him wake up.
Four weeks ago, I could never ever have imagined I would be sneaking out of a man’s house after a wild night of sex. But four weeks ago, I had not met Max.