Against the Ropes
Page 71

“So responsive,” he murmurs.
“You forgot ice cream,” I point out. “If anything, I want to be your ice cream.”
A wicked smile curls his lips. He points to a small bar fridge in the corner. “I have ice cream in the freezer. I bought it for you.”
I lick my lips. “What are we waiting for?”
“We’re waiting for you to get your ass off the couch and bring it to me.” He pushes himself to his feet and pulls me up with him. Spinning me around, he smacks my bottom. Hard. “Go.”
“Max!”
“Now I know you like it, baby, there will be no holding back.” He tugs off his T-shirt and tosses it to the floor. I pause midstep to ogle the rippling muscles and the brush of dark hair running across his chest and down below his belt. He is a perfect canvas for the beautiful tattoos scoring his skin—not failures but works of art.
His eyes narrow. “Now.”
“Woof,” I grunt, feigning annoyance with a frown and a hand on my hip.
Max undoes his belt and shoves his jeans over his lean thighs to reveal the massive erection straining against his boxer shorts. Everything inside me turns liquid with arousal.
“If you’re fast enough, I’ll give you a bone.”
“MAX!” My cheeks burn and I race for the fridge. Behind me, Max roars with laughter.
A minute later, I return with the tub of Chunky Monkey. “Do you have a spoon?”
“We won’t need a spoon. I want my Makayla à la mode.”
My breath catches in my throat. “Which part of Makayla do you want à la mode?”
Max scoops me into his arms. “All of her.”
He carries me and the ice cream to his big oak desk. With one sweep, he knocks everything to the floor—papers, files, pens, even a coffee cup. He seats me at the edge of the desk and grabs a pair of scissors from one of the drawers.
I scramble back on the cold, wood surface. I’ve had enough of sharp objects near my intimate areas. “What are you going to do with those?”
He slides the scissors along my skin, first one hip and then the other, cutting my panties in half.
“Nice,” I huff. “You owe me so many pairs of panties it’s not even funny.”
Silence.
I look up. Max is looking…down there. He isn’t breathing. I follow his gaze and remember my Friday afternoon activity.
“Surprise,” I whisper.
“Makayla, baby, what did you do?” Max drops into his desk chair and continues to stare. I shiver and ease my legs together.
“Don’t close your legs when you’re with me,” he murmurs absently. My legs jerk open. Moisture floods my sex. Does he have a script of things to say that arouse Makayla beyond belief?
“You don’t like it? Amanda thought it would be a good experience.”
“Fuck.”He rakes his hand through his hair. “I liked you the way you were before, but this”—he exhales—“has certain advantages.”
Not really the enthusiastic reaction I had hoped for. I haven’t really checked out the situation below in any detail since yesterday. Maybe I didn’t wait long enough. Maybe I’ve still got the plucked chicken look going on. I slide my fingers down and have a little feel.
Max inhales sharply. His hands grip the arms of the chair so tight his knuckles are white. “What are you doing?” His voice is a low, husky whisper.
“Touching myself.”
The sound that erupts from his throat is a cross between a moan and a growl.
Hmmm. He likes that.
Keeping my eyes fixed on Max, I slick my fingers through my folds. My skin is so soft and smooth. I could touch myself for hours. Max had better get with the program or that’s what I’ll have to do. His body tenses and stills. He is either frozen into inactivity or he is about to pounce.
He swallows hard. “Stop, baby.”
“A little late for that now,” I groan. My finger slides over the little bundle of nerves already begging for attention. Watching Max watching me is arousing beyond belief, and I am building so fast I have no desire to stop.
“Aaaagh.” Max jumps up from his chair, grabs my wrists, and pushes me back on the desk. The cool wood soothes my burning skin, but the press of Max’s hardened length against my sensitive nub is almost unbearable. I rock my hips against him and moan.
“I need you inside you me. Now.”
“You are irresistible and uncontrollable.” Max scrapes his hand through his hair. “What are we going to do with you?”
I grit my teeth and writhe on his desk. “I’ll give you three guesses.”
He draws in a ragged breath and yanks open one of the desk drawers while still holding my wrists over my head. “I have a better idea.” He pulls out a coil of soft rope and leans over my body to tie my wrists together.
“You always seem to have a rope handy. I, myself, keep only pens and paper in my desk, but maybe I should throw in some rope in case of emergency.”
He snorts a laugh and runs his hand under the ropes to ensure they aren’t too tight. His erection is now pressed so firmly against my nub I’ll be able to get off with just a few strokes. I plant my heels on his desk and grind against him.
“Christ, Makayla. Stop. I’m going to lose control.”
“Join the club.”
“No.” He pulls away and takes a few deep breaths. “I want ice cream.” He rips open the container and swirls his finger inside.