Against the Ropes (20 page)

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.

“You don’t want ice cream,” I groan. “It’s full of sugars and unnecessary fats. You want sex. With me. Here. Now.”

Max gives me a wicked grin and paints cold, sticky circles around my breasts and over my nipples.

“Ahhh.” I arch my back and my nipples tighten into rock-hard peaks. Max leans over and draws one into his mouth, licking and sucking until I am writhing on the desk.

“Stop. Stop. Stop. Please. I don’t want to wait anymore.”

He stops his incessant licking and glances up at me. “Do you need to use your safe word?”

I narrow my eyes at the hint of challenge in his voice. If he can hold out, so can I. “No. I’m fine. Just practicing for later.”

He sucks. I wiggle. He bites. I writhe.

“Hmmm.” Max finishes his ice cream with a final lick. “I can’t enjoy my ice cream when my dish is squirming underneath me.”

“I’ll be still. I promise.”

He gives me a cheeky grin. “Yes, you will.” He uncoils more rope and dangles it above me, and then his smile fades. “Are you okay with this, baby? I went too fast with you before. I don’t want to—”

“If you don’t tie me up right now, I’m going to take care of things myself,” I snap. Seriously? What does a girl have to do around here to get a little loving?

Ten minutes later, I lie trussed on the desk like a Thanksgiving turkey. Soft ropes around my thighs, ankles, and waist are tied to hidden D-rings on the desk, which hold my legs up and open. Where does a person get a desk with D-rings embedded all over it? How many women has he trussed in his office while pretending to do the club accounts? Most importantly, when do I get my stuffing? I could ask, but I don’t want to know if the answer isn’t NOW. I squeeze my eyes shut. I can’t bear to even imagine how I look. The position is definitely not forgiving of my love of desserts.

“You don’t actually have to do this,” I whine. “I want sex. Right now. You don’t have to work for it.”

Max chuckles and sits down in his big leather chair. “I can control you better this way. I can give you more pleasure than you ever thought possible.”

“Modest, aren’t we?”

He pulls his chair right up to the desk. “Do you know how hot you look? You have such a pretty pussy.” He slicks a finger through my folds and spreads my wetness along my inner thigh. “Your body is on board. Time to free your mind.”

My eyes slit open just as he dips his finger in the ice cream. He paints a cold, sticky line down my throat, around each breast, and over my abdomen. A shiver races down my spine as the ice cream melts and trickles over my skin like the soft brush of feathers.

Max tips the ice cream container and pours creamy liquid into my belly button and down over my mound. Cool, little rivers trickle through my folds with soft, gentle, sensual tickles.

“This position is particularly good for eating ice cream.” Max peppers little kisses along the insides of my thighs. “Especially when there is nothing in the way.”

“You’re not—”

Max bends down and licks the ice cream from my throat. His tongue laves its way around my breasts, pausing only to suckle my nipples, before continuing its featherlight descent down my body. His soft lips brush over my abdomen and then press against my mound. Anticipation ratchets through me.

“My favorite part is coming next,” he whispers. “Be very still.”

As if a trussed turkey can move.

He blows a warm breath over my mound and then his five o’clock shadow scrapes over my now ultrasensitive spot. I gasp and rock my hips against him.

Max chuckles. “If you’re going to react like that before I even get where I want to go, I’ll have to restrain you further.”

More restraint? My heart won’t be able to handle it. “This is good,” I pant. “I’ll be still.”

He studies me and his eyes twinkle. “No you won’t.” He bends down and strokes his tongue through my folds and up over my throbbing bundle of nerves in one long, wet, sensuous sticky lick.

I shriek. My hips jerk but are held fast by the restraints. Bolts of white lightning shoot through my veins.

“Did you like that, baby?” He settles himself between my legs and brushes tiny kisses over my sex. I moan and pull myself closer to his tormenting tongue with my heels.

“Behave,” he whispers. His breath is hot and moist, and I whimper my need.

Max groans. “You know I can’t resist when you make those sounds.”

I giggle and whimper again.

“You do like to live dangerously,” Max rasps. His tongue slides over my folds and circles my sensitive nub. Before I can jerk up, he grabs my hips and holds me down, his palms pressing against my hip bones and his fingers brushing lightly over my abdomen. “You are mine to pleasure now.”

“Yours,” I breathe. My body melts under the gentle ministrations of his tongue.

He slides a finger deep inside my entrance. All coherent thought flees from my brain. He teases and torments, his tongue circling my sweet spot with lazy little licks, but never on the one place I want him to go.

I want to touch him. I tug on the restraints holding my wrists, but I can’t get free. Blood roars through my ears. My heart thunders in my chest. I squeeze my eyes shut and suck in a breath through frozen lungs as darkness claws at my brain.

“You had your chance, Makayla. I’m coming for you now.”

He
is
close. Just in the other room. My lungs burn from trying to keep quiet. He steps on Susie’s doll and it starts to cry. Where is Susie? Is she still hiding upstairs? Or did she get out of the house like Mama said we should?

“Mama. Pleasepleaseplease wake up.”

“There you are,” he barks. “Get away from her.”

His
big
hand
grabs
me
from
behind, jerking me into the air. I scream and kick. My foot hits something soft. He grunts and drops me. I fall on Mama’s arm and she groans.

Run. I should run. But I can’t leave Mama. She needs me.

I
crouch
beside
her
facing
him and hold up my little hands. “Don’t hurt us. Please.”

The
sound
he
makes, something between a choke and a sob gives me the courage to look up, but I don’t know that face. Dark hair, dark eyes. Familiar.

He
grabs
my
shoulders
and
shakes
me. “I would never have hurt you but…”

“Let me go.”

“You made the wrong choice.” He grabs me and throws me through the air. I am falling, falling…

Someone far away is talking. His voice is smooth and soft. Comforting. He asks me something about a safe word. What is safe? Warm arms wrap around me. Hold me. Catch me. The scent of soap and spicy citrus cologne brings me back. Max.

“You’re, okay, baby. I’ve got you.”

When I open my eyes, Max is studying me. His eyes are tight; his brow creased with concern. The ropes are gone. I am free.

“What happened?” he asks

“I need you,” I whisper. “I need you now.”

He shakes his head. “Not this time. I want to know what’s going on with you.”

I shrug. “Sometimes I get flashbacks of my childhood. It’s no big deal. I’m fine, really. Well, actually, not fine. I need to be close to you. No games. Just you.”

Max’s brow furrows in consternation. He takes a deep breath and shakes his head. “I don’t want to do anything to hurt you, baby.”

“You’re hurting me by not doing anything.” A groan tears through me. “Please, Max. I’m not going to run away this time.”

He draws in a ragged breath and kisses me softly before sheathing himself. He grips my hips and enters me in one hard thrust. I arch up my body to take more of him. I am so deliciously, completely filled.

“Ah, baby. So hot. So wet.”

I wrap my legs around him, holding him deep. My body trembles with need. With a groan, he withdraws and then pushes forward, driving into me. Faster. Harder. He gives me what I need. I build quickly, and when my body stiffens, he slicks a finger over my throbbing nub and I fall over the edge. Pleasure crashes over me, sweeping me up in a rush of sensation so intense, a shriek rips from my throat. Max stiffens, and his fingers dig into my hips. He comes with a roar, hard and fast and deep inside me.

For the longest time neither of us moves. I am sated and warm with Max lying on top of me. Finally, he pushes himself away to dispose of the condom. When he returns, he carries me to the couch, wraps me in the blanket, and holds me in his arms.

“That’s twice, baby. Tell me what happened.”

“I don’t know,” I lie.

He stares into my eyes and shakes his head. “You do know. I can see it in your eyes. Tell me. I’m here for you.”

I bury my forehead in Max’s chest and breathe in his scent of sex and musk and soap. I don’t want to scare him away with my half-formed memories or my troubled past. I don’t want to relive the nightmare. I want to move on. Forward, not back. With Max.