but smile.
“That sounds serious.”
“It is.”
Max lowers his head and captures my lips in a hard, demanding
kiss. Deep in my belly, need unfurls and licks softly through my body.
I glide my hands over his chest, but when they move lower to trace the
ridges of his six-pack, he stops me.
“No, baby. My turn.” He pulls my arms behind my back, bracket-
ing my wrists with one hand.
My body arches into him, my breasts brush against his chest. His
free hand glides up my curves, and he cups my breast in his palm and
squeezes gently. I moan and wriggle in his grasp. How can hands that
are capable of such violence be so gentle and sensual on my skin?
“I’m not sure who is seducing who anymore,” I pant.
“Maybe we’re seducing each other.” He turns his attention to my
other breast, rolling my nipple between his thumb and forefinger until
it peaks. A groan rips out of my throat.
“Then one of us isn’t doing a good job, since he still has his
clothes on.” I trail a finger along the elastic of Max’s boxer shorts and
then freeze. Suddenly shy, I give him a questioning look from beneath
my lashes.
His brown eyes smolder beneath heavy lids. “Tell me what you
want, baby.”
“I want to touch you,” I whisper, dropping my gaze downward.
I want to feel his desire in my hand, taste it in my mouth, and feel it
inside me. Only then will I know it is real.
“Where?”
Heat sizzles through me. I bite my lip and press my hand over the
erection straining beneath his shorts. “Here.”
Max hisses in a breath and eases his shorts over his tight hips,
sighing audibly as his erection springs free. He kicks them aside and
I take a step back and stare at his incredible body—the lean contours
of his muscles, the deep cuts of his narrow hips, the ripples across his
abdomen, the tight, hard planes of his chest, and the trail of soft, dark
hair leading down to his thick, heavy shaft.
“Touch me, baby.”
Hand shaking, I circle my fingers around his girth and marvel at
the contrast between his hard desire and the silky softness in my palm.
I slide my hand up his length, stroking lightly. Max groans. Sweat
beads on his forehead and his hands clench and unclench by his sides.
No man has ever been so aroused by my touch. Emboldened, I sink to
my knees on the cool rubber mat. I press a kiss to his swollen head, and
then a lick. Salty. Sweet. Sensual. Everything that is Max.
“You taste good.” I open my mouth and slide my lips along his
length, taking him as far as he can go.
“Makayla, baby. Stop.” He threads his fingers through my hair and
gently eases my head back. “I won’t be able to hold out. I’ve wanted you
for so long, and seeing you like this…here,” his voice breaks. “A man
can only take so much.”
“But—” I want this. I want to taste him. I want to give him what
he gave me.
He hooks his hands under my arms and yanks me up. I groan when
his fingers slip between my legs.
“You’re so wet.” His voice deepens, thickens. “You liked having my
cock in your mouth.”
I should be shocked, maybe offended by his words. Instead, I am
incredibly aroused. “I’ve been wet since you walked onto the stage at
the gala. It seems to be my normal state around you, but yes, I especially
liked having you in my mouth.”
“My turn.” Max nudges my legs apart and drops to his knees. He
isn’t going to…he can’t—
He nuzzles my mound and my breath hitches. Oh, God. He is.
He can. I take an involuntary step back, but before I hit the ropes, Max
grabs my hips and holds me still, his thumbs sliding to the juncture of
my thighs. Fire races through my veins. He spreads me wide and his
breath, hot and moist, whispers over my aching nub.
“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
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 and scream
as my orgasm hits me. But he doesn’t stop. His teasing tongue slips back
inside 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.”
Chapter 16
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 junc-
ture 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 inti-
mate 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 busi-
nessman. 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 over-
powering 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, uninhib-
ited, and entirely possessive. The sweep of his hand etches his ownership