Against the Ropes
Page 65

“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.
I lean against the front door and slip on my shoes. Will he be angry when he wakes up and finds me gone? Disappointed? Will he care? Would he understand my confusion, the maelstrom of emotions swirling through my brain, or the black hole sucking at my chest?
“I’ll drive you home, Miss Makayla.” Colton appears in the hallway, fully dressed, coat and keys in his hand.
I gasp and stagger back, my heart pounding. Where did he come from? Why is he dressed and ready to go?
“It’s okay.” I wave him away. “I saw a bus stop down the hill. It’s almost time for the early morning bus. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
He gives me a warm smile. “I was already up. It’s no trouble at all. In fact, I insist. I am certain Mr. Huntington would terminate my employment without hesitation if he found out I had let you go home alone.”
Colton or the bus ride of shame? Not much of a choice. I swallow hard and nod.
Colton leads me to the four-car parking garage and starts up a black SUV. As we pull away from the house, a light goes on. My heart races and I silently urge Colton to put his foot on the gas. If it is Max, I’m sure I’ll find out soon enough.
We drive in comfortable silence through the empty streets. I lean my head against the window and bite my lip to fight back the tears. Why am I crying? We had wonderful, sweet, intimate sex and then we had rough, mind-blowing sex in which Max manipulated my body, my mind, and awakened something in my very soul.
A sob catches in my throat and Colton reaches over and gives my hand a quick, gentle squeeze. “Don’t give up on him.”
He says nothing else for the rest of the trip. Not even good-bye.