Meeting the Step (2 page)

Chapter Three

Max

WHEN I STEPPED
out of the shower, my heart was pounding and my mind was reeling. I put on a pair of jeans that hung so low on my hips that I'd need to grab a belt. I buttoned up my favorite teal shirt then unlocked the doors to the bathroom.

My phone was going crazy with a group text message Jackson had started with the guys.

Jackson: It's ladies night at The Bay.

Mike: What time?

Chris: 7:00 p.m. SHARP.

Me: I'll be there.

I slipped on a pair of shoes, grabbed my wallet and keys and was out the door. The lights were dimmed in the house and Dad and Sandra were on the couch snuggled watching a movie.

"Be back later," I said and didn't wait for a reply. I drove down to the beach until I saw the neon sign to The Bay. It was a bar where all the older people hung out, even the Cougars. I'd fucked a few older women before and if the opportunity arose, I'd do it again. They were experienced and sexy in their own way. I was free game for the free pussy.

As soon as I stepped into the bar, my friends waved me down. They were standing by the pool tables chugging beers while beautiful women surrounded them. I nodded at them then walked to the bar. The girls that stood around looked like they had already been claimed for the night.

I ordered a beer and took a long pull from the bottle. Corona, ahh, my favorite. I ordered a shot of tequila, to keep the spirit of my Mexican beer alive, and drank it down quick, following it with Corona. I paid my bill then met my friends with my beer in hand. I needed to let loose and get laid.

For me, it was easy. I had the looks that women wanted with a strong jaw, high cheekbones, and crystal blue eyes. My ex, Tiffany, used to say I was a real-life Prince Charming. I laughed at the thought but once we broke up, I had heard it several times. I was no Prince Charming.

A few of the women turned their heads when I entered the vicinity of the group. They made eye contact with me, looked my body up and down, then smiled. One even inched away from poor Mike, but honestly he had no standards when it came to women and would stick his dick in any of them.

I sat on a barstool and watched Chris get his ass beat at pool by a girl. The thought of it made me laugh which really annoyed his arrogant ass. No one expected a pool shark to be at our party. Served him right for thinking he was the best at everything he ever did.

One of the blondes kept making small talk and flutter her eyelashes when I'd speak.

"I'm Glory," she smiled.

"Max."

"I want you," she whispered in my ear.

I took a chug of my beer and smiled at her. That was all it took. I waved bye to everyone and outside in the parking lot Glory gave me her address. I programmed it in my phone and before she walked away, I pulled her back to me.

"Ride with me," I said.

Her eyes lit up when she saw the Mustang. It was a woman pleaser and so was I. As I suspected, we didn't make it to her apartment. Instead, we drove up to Lookout Drive, a place where you could see the water until the ends of the earth. The sky was a dark purple and the sun a deep red as a small part of it sat on the horizon like a sliver of an orange. It was a beautiful sight.

I parked away from the main parking area where it was more secluded. Glory didn't take any time taking off her shirt and bra. Her supple breasts were full and her nipples were small and pink. They pointed upwards toward the heavens. I leaned in and put one of her little nipples between my teeth and pinched. She moaned in delight as she wiggled out of her blue jeans.

I glanced down at the wetness between her legs. She played with the edges of her white cotton panties, teasing me, but I wasn't having it. When I wanted something, I usually got it, even if I had to work for it.

I slipped my finger to the edge of the fabric and yanked quick and hard, snapping them from her body. She sighed and moaned with satisfaction. When she leaned over to undo my belt, her full breasts begged me to lick and suck them. My jeans were unbuttoned and unzipped and she was removed me, allowing the hardness to be free. She leaned down and placed her warm mouth around the head of my cock and sucked and licked every inch. She even softly caressed my balls. My head fell back on the seat and I ran my fingers through her blonde hair as she picked up her pace. She went from the tip all the way down my shaft. Fuck, she was a pro. After a few minutes, she came up and spit in the palm of her hand continuing to stroke my dick while she kissed my mouth. My hand trailed down her stomach until I came in contact with her hard little clit. I rubbed it softly and then added a little pressure until the smell of her sex filled the car. With my other hand, I slid a finger in her and she pushed against it hard.

"I want your dick, Max." And I knew the foreplay was over. I pulled a condom from my pocket, unwrapped and slipped it over my hard cock. Glory smiled at me then climbed across the gearshift. She rubbed her pussy on the top of it with a moan then came to me.

I placed my hands on her small waist and guided my dick in her. Her pussy was tight and wet. God, she was so fucking wet. She gasped as she took me in then became more violent with her movement. Glory ran her fingers through my hair and slammed her mouth against mine. I thumbed her clit, wanting to bring her to that place of ecstasy, wanting to feel her body release.

"Fuck Max," she panted and screamed out, not being quiet in the least bit. Then she exploded on me, riding me like a wave. She pulsed so hard that she made me come. Once the orgasm had passed, she leaned back and the horn blasted into the quiet. We laughed and her soft body pressed against me as she leaned in to kiss me.

"That was so fucking good," I said to her with satisfaction on my face. She smiled and climbed off of me. I steadied my lingering hard on to help with taking off the condom.

"Let me do that." She took me in her hand and slowly stroked as she took the condom from my raging hard on and tied it in a knot.

"Easy," she said as she manually rolled down the window and threw our fuck juice outside.

We both sat there, satisfied, unable to move staring out at the moon over the water.

"So you'll call me?" Glory asked as she leaned over and picked her clothes up from the floorboard. The white light from the moon shone against her skin.

This was the part of having a one-night stand that I hated the most. I wasn't looking for a relationship and girls that would fuck someone they didn't really know usually weren't either, but once they had the dick, they were eager to jump in.

"Yeah, sure," I said.

She gave me her number and I programmed it in my phone with the initials 1NS-4 behind it. It stood for one nightstand number 4. This was nothing more than a one-time fling, and I would stand by that. I never called them.

Glory finished dressing and I dropped her off at her car at The Bay. She leaned in and kissed me like we were lovers then whispered, "call me, Max."

I watched her sashay to her car and when she got in, I rubbed my hand over the gearshift and realized that it smelled like pussy. I'd leave it there just as a reminder of the woman I was balls deep in just moments ago.

Chapter Four

Max

THERE WAS NO
way I could roll home unannounced. The muffler to the car was like a siren telling the whole neighborhood that Max had returned. I might as well roll down the window and wave to everyone. I parked the Mustang on the street where Dad had put it earlier. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes. Silence and satisfaction, finally. Today had been jammed full of bullshit.

I leaned my head over and looked at the house I had grown up in and reminisced about my childhood. Very little had changed other than the landscaping. The color was the same light blue it had always been and the shutters a cream white. It was the typical suburban Californian home on the coast. The neighbor's houses were only inches apart and the lawns almost identical. I glanced over at the purple truck and BMW that sat in the driveway. Dad's convertible was in the garage along with the Honda he drove back and forth to work.

When I looked in the rearview mirror, I saw a lifted truck with big mud tires zooming down the street with high beams blazing and music blasting. I flicked the tab on the bottom of the rearview mirror so I wouldn't be completely blinded. The truck's deep engine revved when it pulled into my driveway and black diesel smoke filled the streets.

What the actual fuck?

The music was loud and the bass was pumping. The lights reflected against the white garage doors and shot beams of annoyance through the neighborhood. Whoever was driving killed the engine.

Silence had returned, but it was short-lived because the sound of people yelling at one another filled my ears. I placed my hand over the headrest of the passenger seat and tried to see what was going on inside of the truck. When I saw movement inside, my heart immediately started racing.

A door slammed and that was when I spotted the infamous Chelsea. She moved in front of the truck flipping off the driver with both of her hands in the air. He started the engine and rolled down the window. "You're a fucking bitch," he screamed.

She moved quickly to the driver's side window and the man jumped out of his truck. He totally had little man syndrome. I wanted to laugh seeing he stood eye to eye with her, but he was stronger, and intimidating with his broad shoulders and muscles. Quickly he grabbed her by her wrists and forced her back against the truck. She spit in his face and he wiped it off and laughed, holding her tightly against her will.

I couldn't watch the scene any longer. I opened the door to the Mustang and walked across the grass toward them. I was inches taller and stronger, minus the beer gut. I actually took care of myself and by the look of him, he cared about nothing but drinking.

"Hey," I yelled over the pounding music.

The man turned around still with Chelsea tight in his grip.

"What the fuck you looking at, bud?" His nostrils flared. I could smell the alcohol permeating from them both.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" I asked using the same tone.

He stared at me.

"Let her go." I was calm, but my anger level was quickly rising and hit a dangerous place when he laughed at me. But I continued forward, rolling up my sleeves.

"Fuck you," he said. "Make me."

So I did.

I walked toward him calmly cracking my knuckles. He let her go and smiled like he loved trouble then raised his fists for the fight. With a clumsy wobble, he swung and missed, then I punched him square in the nose with a right hook that I had been perfecting for years. He stumbled back against the truck, unstable in his stance.

"Now get the fuck out of here before I call the police on you for trespassing."

Chelsea walked away from him. Mascara and tears ran down her face in long streaks. Her hair was a mess and she had red marks on her arms from his strong grasp.

I crossed my arms and waited for the douchebag to get in his truck and leave. He backed out of the driveway recklessly and nearly smashed into the back of the Mustang on the street. I sucked in an angry breath when he rolled down the window and spoke.

"This ain't over, pretty boy." He flipped me off then slammed on the gas leaving that thick black smoke to linger in the air.

I walked over to the Mustang and locked the doors then stepped up the walkway that led to the front door. Chelsea was no longer standing there. I knew she had probably retreated out of embarrassment alone.

Most of the lights in the house were off except for a nightlight in the kitchen, which acted as a beacon in the dark. I sat my keys on the counter in case Dad needed the car this weekend and walked up the stairs two at a time. When I shut the door to my room, I could hear the water running in the shower. I waited and waited and it seemed to run forever. I wanted to talk to her. I wanted to make sure she was okay and that he didn't hurt her. But why? Why did I really give a fuck?

I think it was because I was brought up in a household where women were to be respected. No woman deserved to be treated like that by any man. Just the thought of him holding her tightly by her wrists made me want to do terrible things to him. I wanted that motherfucker to feel helpless just like he made her feel. At least that's how she acted and that's what the look on her face said. I couldn't stop thinking about that sad look. Tonight she was far from that happy girl I saw in the photos. Tonight she was defeated.

The water stopped running and I could hear her dressing. I unbuttoned my shirt and threw it in the dirty clothes hamper then slipped on a pair of jogging pants. I looked out the window of my bedroom and caught sight of the waves in the distance. The moonlight cast lines of white zigzags across the top of the water. All I could think about was Chelsea and that douchebag. She was a damsel in distress. I shook my head thinking about the Prince Charming reference then moved to my bed.

My knuckles were sore and one had split open, but I welcomed the pain. I had used all of my weight in that throw and I was feeling it.

The door leading to my room unlocked. For a moment, I thought she would open it and speak to me. Just the thought of it made my head swim. What would she say to me and what would I say to her? We had no words to exchange. Instead, the bathroom light flickered off and I heard the door opposite the bathroom click closed.

I shut my eyes ready to dose off, but all I could think about was the look on her face when I rescued her.