Against the Ropes (25 page)

“You didn’t stay in touch?”

“My father’s family were scattered all over. They weren’t close. My mother’s family blamed me for her death. I could see it in their eyes. I could hear it in their voices. They didn’t want me around.”

My heart aches for him. I wish I could do something to ease the pain I see in his eyes. I sit back and run my fingers over his chest. “Is that what your tattoos are about? Is that why you say they represent failure?”

“Not just that night,” he rasps. “I ink every failure into my skin so I remember.”

I press my lips against his chest. “What you think are failures are beautiful to me,” I whisper. “They make you who you are. They make you my Max.”

Max’s body tenses. He slides his hand to my shoulders and holds me at arm’s length. “I won’t go through it again,” he says, his voice thick. “I’ve worked hard to get to the point I know I will be able to defend the people I love.” His voice drops to a husky whisper. “I love you, Makayla. I couldn’t bear to lose you. I want to protect you and keep you safe, but you need to let me in.” He cups my face in his hands and gently tilts my head back. Tears spill over my cheeks. His eyes are filled with pain and tenderness. He slants his mouth over mine and our lips brush in a gentle, soft kiss.

He loves me.

He loves me, and I can’t say it back.

He kisses away my tears and then our lips meet once more. His tongue slides inside my mouth, stroking, searching for something I don’t have to give.

“So beautiful,” he whispers. “Heal me, Makayla.” He picks me up and carries me to his bed, rumpled and cool and smelling of Max. We undress each other, slowly, gently, and then we make sweet love surrounded by memories and sawdust in the very heart of Redemption.

***

Three hours later, we descend the stairs into chaos. The Friday night Redemption party is in full swing. Max keeps one arm around my shoulders, and we mingle with the fighters. He introduces me to his venture capitalist business partner, Jason. Taller than Max and leaner, with blue-gray eyes, dark hair and a chiseled jaw, he would send Amanda into a flirting frenzy. How does Cindy get any work done?

“So have you talked Max into fixing up this dive and making it into a proper mixed martial arts facility?” His voice is deep and low. Definitely Amanda-worthy.

“I didn’t know he was considering it.”

“I’m not,” Max interjects. “I like it the way it is.”

Jason shakes his head. “I’ve told him again and again, he could make some serious money if he fixes the place up and gets all the proper licenses. He lost a lot of guys to sanctioned clubs, and yet he still has a waiting list. He’s a great instructor and he’s hired some great people. With very little effort, this could be one of the top MMA training facilities in the state.”

Max shakes his head. “I’ve told you before, too many rules, too many regulations, and too much money.”

“Don’t you want to test yourself against the best?” I ask. “Don’t you want to train your fighters to fight against the best? And you wouldn’t have to worry about anyone shutting you down.”

“It’s not going to happen, baby.” Max gives my shoulder a squeeze. “I would have to stop the unsanctioned fights. It was my dad’s dream to run a club like this. I don’t need anything more.”

“What about your own dreams?”

Before Max can answer, Blade Saw starts a game of Shake Shake Bang Bang, and our attention is drawn to the crazy man banging a shaken beer repeatedly on his head. However, instead of the usual hole forming in the side of the can, the top pops off and beer sprays all over me. Rampage, Obsidian, Homicide, and Jackhammer try to hold Max back. They fail. Blade Saw apologizes profusely when I bandage him up in the first aid room. I promise him he will be back to fighting in a few weeks.

Jake shows up with Pinkaluscious attached to his lips. Amanda flips out. I have no idea where she has been since she let me down at the door, but from her slightly disheveled appearance, I can guess. She deals with her first experience being dumped as anyone would. She becomes totally inebriated. After leading two rounds of the Chicken Dance in the ring, she races Hammer Fist up and down the bleachers, challenges Rampage to a wrestling match, and makes it through a few rounds of beer pong and quarters before collapsing on the bed in the first aid room. Max insists we take her home together in his limo. After I’ve tucked her into bed with a jug of water and a bottle of aspirin, we go back to his house. This time we don’t make love. We have sex. Wild, wicked, passionate, soul-cleansing sex. Afterward, we cuddle. We are back to normal. There is no more talk of love. I like it better that way. I think.

I want minx

It’s Saturday morning and I have a post-party hangover. My mouth tastes like glue. My eyes feel like sandpaper. I have a pounding headache and my face is greasy with makeup. At least Max took off my dress, although if I remember correctly his reasons were totally selfish.

Max pushes a button and his electric blinds go up, letting in the evil sun.

“Bad sun. Bad Max,” I groan into the pillow. “Turn it off.”

Max chuckles and skims his hand down my bare back. “I have to be in Fontana at noon for work. One of our target companies is testing a new remote control device at a racetrack.”

“So is this the ‘wham bam thank you, ma’am, get out of my bed I have to work on a Saturday good-bye’ speech?” I groan.

“This is the ‘you wanted to know about me so now you get to see my work and you’d better get your ass out of bed and come with me or you’ll be sorry’ speech.”

“Too many words. Hangover brain overload.”

Max chortles and slaps my bottom. “Get up. We have to get you dressed, fed, and in the limo in an hour.”

“Fontana is at least a seven-hour drive,” I moan. “I’m not so good at sitting still for long periods of time while hung over and with a slapped bottom.”

Max rips the covers off the bed, exposing me to the cold air. “We’re going by plane. The flight is just over an hour. There’s more bottom slapping in your future if you don’t get up.”

I don’t budge.

“Makayla.” His warning tone makes me giggle.

“I’m thinking.”

“Don’t tempt me, baby. I’ve been waiting a long time for sufficiently bad behavior to warrant a spanking.” He caresses my bottom and my body heats up, yet again. Will it never end? Will we get to the point where I’ll come just from him looking at me? I flip over to remove the temptation of my overly round cheeks.

“Your personal plane, oh rich society dude?”

Max chuckles. “No. We chartered a plane for the trip, but Jason told me last night he can’t make it.”

“I was planning to wash my hair today, but I
suppose
I could come with you on a private
plane
to a
racetrack
, but I…uh…need underwear and clothes that aren’t covered in beer.”

“We’ll stop at Angel’s Bike Shop, just outside the airport. We’ll buy you some panties, and once we’re in the plane I’ll rip them off you.”

“How romantic.”

“I’m all about romance.” Max leans down to suckle my breast, and pleasure licks up the inside of my thighs.

“You’re all about sex.”

He raises his head and locks his dark, dangerous eyes with mine. “With you, baby, I can’t be anything else.”

***

Riding on a private plane with naughty “Biker Chick” emblazoned underwear hidden under my clothes is enough to send me into a frenzy of excitement. “Look!” I shriek and bounce in my cushy leather seat. “I can see the Golden Gate Bridge…and the ocean.” I sip my champagne and smile at the flight attendant who must be wondering how she landed a job with a drop-dead gorgeous passenger and his overexcited puppy.

“Santa Cruz…Monterey…Ventana…” I rattle off the names of the major cities and parks along the coast proudly demonstrating just why I got an A in geography.

No
, I chastise myself. Do not embarrass Max. Try to appear cultured and sophisticated. Classy.

I take a chocolate-covered strawberry from the plate and nibble at the tip. So delicious. The chocolate breaks off and falls on my new yoga pants. No problem. Biker-style polyester cleans easily. At least that’s what Angel told me this morning in her deep, gravelly voice as she detached her heavily muscled arms from around Max’s waist. For some reason, I didn’t feel jealous this time.

I dab at the chocolate and check my stretchy, pink tank top for similar disasters. Safe. As is my Harley-Davidson hoodie. I am so glad Eva was out of town. The mean-looking Tweety Bird wearing a Harley-Davidson skull cap and leather vest printed on my bra and panties, would probably have given her a heart attack.

“We’ll have some more champagne please, Linda,” Max says, his voice all smooth and mellow.

Luscious Linda, the well-endowed flight attendant giggles. She manages to tear her eyes off my man and disappears into the tiny galley.

“She has a last name. It’s on her nametag. You should really call her Miss Slutzsky. Linda is too familiar, unless you know her very well. Maybe you do. Maybe that’s why you used your sexy come hither voice when you were talking to her and gave her the ‘I’m going to devour you with my eyes’ look.”

Max laughs and then hums a few bars of the Black Crows’ “Jealous Again.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” I ram the rest of the strawberry in my mouth.

“Do you know why I sent her for more champagne?” Max tongues my earlobe and then nibbles around the shell until my body shivers with pure unadulterated lust.

“You’re thirsty?” I push him away. “Or you like leading women on?”

“Only one woman.” Max removes his napkin and tosses it over my lap.

“Linda Slutzsky?”

“You.” He slides his hand under the napkin and down the front of my yoga pants, not stopping until his fingers are secured behind Tweety Bird’s head.

“Max,” I shriek. My legs jerk up, hitting the tray table. With the kind of coordination only seen in a circus, Max saves the tray with his free hand, while simultaneously stroking behind Tweety Bird’s fluffy bottom with the other. His fingers push aside the panties and slide between my folds.

The curtain slides open with a loud rattle. Max continues to stroke. I draw in the deepest, most ragged breath and try to imagine I do not have a man’s hand down my pants in a ritzy private airplane.

Ms. Slutzsky looks at Max. Then she looks at me. My cheeks flame. My lungs burn for air. How twisted is this?

“I think we’ll pass on the champagne for now, Linda. Makayla is feeling a little lightheaded.” Max graces her with his award-winning smile. “We’ll call you if we need you.”

Linda’s smile does not reach her eyes. “I’ll be in the galley.” She yanks the curtain closed.

My breath leaves me with a whoosh. “She knew what you were doing. She’ll think I’m a—” I can’t say it. I can only call myself a slut in my head. “Minx,” I blurt out.

Max chuckles. “You are a minx.
My
little minx. And the only thing she should be thinking about is whether we need more champagne.” He presses a finger inside me and groans. “You’re so wet, baby. I think my little minx likes a bit of danger served with her sex.”

“Don’t talk like that. It does things to me.”

“What things?” Max slides a second finger through my folds and my insides melt.

“Naughty things.”

“Tell me naughty things,” Max whispers in my ear.

My hips rock in time to the gentle thrust of his fingers, rubbing my sensitive nub against the heel of his palm. The sensation is so delicious my head falls back on the seat, and I grip the armrests so hard my knuckles turn white.

“I can’t…talk…when you are doing that.”

“Then I’ll stop.”

“Nooooooo. Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

Max withdraws his fingers and pushes back our table trays. “I have to stop. Hot, wet Makayla moaning and writhing with naughty things on the tip of her tongue is more than any man could bear.” He motions me out of my seat and I follow him down the aisle to a small, partially enclosed seating area containing two leather loungers. Max settles himself on the lounger nearest the window and undoes his fly. His erection springs free—hard, heavy, and swiftly sheathed before I can even catch my breath.

“Max.” I look at him aghast and check over my shoulder for Luscious Linda. “What are you doing?”

“Guess.”

“You don’t waste any time, do you?”

“Up here, minx.” Max pats his lap. “Come and whisper naughty things in my ear.”

“But…Linda…and the pilot and copilot—”

“Are busy flying the airplane.” Max reaches over and slides my yoga pants and Biker Chick panties over my hips, then eases them down to my ankles. “I’m going to fly you.”

“Let me take them off.” I bend down to slide them over my shoes, but Max grabs my hand.

“Leave them where they are.”

“But I won’t be able to move very much.”

Max tugs me onto his lap, positioning my knees on either side of his hips. “Good. I want to be able to last out the flight.” He slides the straps of my tank top over my shoulders and undoes the clasp of my bra, sliding them both down to my waist. Cool air brushes over my skin and my nipples harden.

“I don’t feel very sophisticated right now,” I complain, while he palms my breasts. “Look how easy it was for you to get into my pants.”

He trails kisses down my throat. “I don’t want sophisticated,” he murmurs. “I want minx.”

“I want to be like the women I saw you with on the Internet—the models and society girls who know all the right things to say.”

“I don’t want to hear the right things.” He lifts my hips and positions me just over the tip of his erection. “I want to hear minx things.” He pulls me down and thrusts deep inside me. The dual sensations overload my brain.

“Oh. My. God.” He fills me so completely, so deliciously, I don’t want to move.

“That’s a start.”

Drawing me up, he laves my nipple and yanks me back down again. My tongue hits the back of my throat and I choke out an elegant, “Gah.”

“Tell me what you want and I’ll give you a present.”

“I thought you just gave me the present.” I wiggle on top of him, delighted when he groans.

Max tucks his hand into his pocket and pulls out a shiny, silver box. “This is almost as good.”

I stop wiggling. “Open it.”

His lips curve into a sinister smile and he taps his ear. “Naughty things.”

I lick my lips and then rattle off a few of the French phrases Giselle taught me on my way out of the spa. The look of shock on Max’s face is almost worth the hefty tip I gave her.

“Well, if that’s what you want, baby.”

My eyes widen. “What? What do I want?”

“These.” He flicks the lid off the box and pulls out two tweezer-like silver objects with silver chains and beads attached.

I frown. “What are they?”

“Nipple clamps.”

“I don’t like the sound of that. Some things are not meant to be squeezed too hard.”

Max bends down to draw my nipple in his mouth, licking and sucking it into a hard peak. He slides the tweezers over my nipple and tightens them with a little ring.

Mind numbing, burning, searing pain shoots through me. I cry out and Max covers my mouth in a soft kiss.

“Take it off. Take it off.” I pull away and reach for the dangly chain. Max grasps my wrists and restrains them behind me with one hand.

“Give it a chance, baby. It won’t hurt for long.” He sucks and teases my other nipple and releases my wrists to slide the other clip over the hardened peak. Another zing. Another burn.

“No, Max.” I shake my breasts, trying to dislodge his torture devices, and the little chains tug gently. The pain blurs into searing, fiery pleasure. My sex clenches around Max’s erection, and he groans.

A bell rings. The seatbelt sign flashes on. Ms. Slutzsky addresses us by name over the PA system and requests that we return to our seats and fasten our seat belts because of minor turbulence.

Max pulls out his seat belt and fastens it around both of us. He lifts my hips and slides deeper inside me. Although slightly constrained by my Tweety Bird thong foot restraints, and the seat belt around my back, I manage to gain some leverage and move up and down. Max hisses in a breath. The plane shakes and veers slightly to the left. So do my breasts. The nipple clamps tug as I sway, sending jolts of erotic pleasure straight to my core. My heart pounds. My hands fist Max’s thick, soft hair. So dangerous. So exciting. So arousing.

“You are one goddamned hot little minx,” Max rasps. He tugs the little chains and fire zings through my veins—a confusing mix of pleasure and almost pain. He slides my moisture up and around my sweet spot over and over until I am hovering over the edge of a cliff so high I can’t see the ground. My nipples throb, my sex aches, and my body is coiled tight.

“What are you doing to me?” I moan.

“Go, baby. Fly for me,” he whispers. He swipes his finger over my swollen nub. I fly apart. My orgasm crashes over me like a tidal wave. Max stiffens and groans, and I take him with me in a blaze of slutty glory.