Chapter 29
Nika
Scalding hot water blasts my skin, steam rising in clouds that fog the glass. Closing my eyes, I turn my face up into the spray and let it drown out my thoughts.
If I stand here long enough, maybe I can burn away the confusion and angst left behind after revealing my truth to Max and hearing his. Learning how he grew up made me even more grateful to Dimitri for saving me.
Max is a broken child, just like I am. But at least I had a lifeline. He had nothing and no one until he was as old as I am now.
And then he met Roman.
The man I looked up to more than anything. The man who’s haunted my nightmares for fifteen years.
Just maybe…the man who’s been hurting all this time.
My mind replays Max’s voice as he spoke of Roman’s grief and why my father took the necklace. His wife had just died, and he needed something tangible to cling to.
He thought I was dead. Dimitri and I ensured my name never showed up anywhere, specifically so Roman would believe I didn’t leave the island.
My mind ping-pongs back and forth.
He loved Mom. He killed her. He grieved her every day. He killed her!
I scrub harder. The loofah scrapes against my ribs and thighs as I try to erase the lingering doubt.
My mind is so mixed up, I don’t know what I’m supposed to think anymore.
After getting out of bed, Max and I ate, tidied up a bit, checked the radar to confirm that the storm was basically over, and even brought in fresh firewood. But we didn’t talk. We’ve both said too much already.
So I told him I was taking a shower. I needed privacy.
My hand slides down my stomach, rinsing away the soap. The memory of Max’s stubble scratching over my skin gives me goosebumps.
I want to stop thinking.
Need to stop thinking.
The answer—so obvious now—bubbles up from my chest like champagne as I laugh and shut off the water.
Not bothering with a towel, I step out. Max gives me the privacy I’d requested, and the bedroom door remains closed. Steam billows around me, and condensation runs down my skin. My hair, silvery gray from the water, hangs in wet strands over my shoulders.
When I open the bedroom door, I find him pacing across the living room.
Max freezes like a wolf catching scent. His eyes settle on mine first, then drop. A wave of heat crawls along my skin as he practically devours every inch of my naked form.
His arousal’s blatant in the loose pants hanging low on his hips.
A rush of power surges through me. I know with absolute certainty that, regardless of whatever else is happening, this thing between us is real.
I lounge against the side of the doorframe, arching my back so my breasts are on display. My nipples pebble as he savors the sight of me.
I slide my hand down my stomach. “I need to not think for a while.”
He nods once, which seems to require all his control. “Fight or fuck?”
The question jolts straight through me. He gets me, and he’s offering exactly what I need. “Why not both?”
His eyes darken, his pupils expanding until there’s nothing but a thin ring of blue around black.
Adrenaline spikes in my system, all my senses on high alert.
Crossing the room in three long strides, Max doesn’t stop when he reaches me. His hands grab at my waist. Mine tangle in his shirt and pull.
Buttons go flying as Max hoists me into the air. His beard scrapes over my skin nanoseconds before he nips down my left breast, to my chest, then my belly. Cloth tears in my hands as Max shifts his grip. With a yank, I rip his shirt so it starts to flutter down.
With one hand on my waist and the other on my thigh, Max continues lifting me before tossing me across the room.
I’m falling, flying, and he’s shedding his ruined shirt even as he takes the next step.
My back and side hit the mattress, bouncing on impact. Before I can recover, before I even catch my breath, he’s leaping on top of me, his hands grasping for mine.
I twist, managing to keep one arm free. He snags the other and pins it in place above my head. His knees force my legs apart.
Instinct tells me to move, but it also tells me to appreciate this man. His eyes are wild, his hair falling forward, every line of his body coiled with tension.
I buck against him, shifting my hips and dragging myself over his rigid cock. My free hand digs into his arm, nails biting as I push. He doesn’t budge.
His scent wafts over me, clean soap and earthy wood.
I’m totally trapped. A thrill pings through me, all the way down to my toes.
His hand tightens on my wrist. I revel in his strength, in the hard length of him pressing against me through his pants.
“Fighting me, as always.” His throaty reply vibrates through my chest. He tries to grab my other wrist, but I snatch it away. “Why am I not surprised?”
I raise an eyebrow. “Is there any other way?”
Hunger that perfectly matches the need burning through my veins glows in his eyes. His hand moves faster than I can follow, settling between my legs.
He thrusts two fingers inside me without any foreplay. None necessary. I’ve been wet since I opened my bedroom door.
His fingers stretching and filling me only has me squirming. I arch against him, running the nails of my free hand down his chest, leaving red welts in their wake. Then I reach up to grip his hair and yank, feeling a few strands pull free.
He releases a grunt. “You want it rough?”
“Only if you can handle it, old man.”
With a devilish grin that could melt my panties if I were wearing any, he pulls back just enough to shift my legs. His arm is knocked to the side as I twist, positioning for a leg lock on his throat and using my flexibility against his size.
For a moment, I have him. Only my shoulders touch the bed, my ass against his chest, one leg straight and strong with the other around his neck, ready to choke him out.
He grabs the leg behind his head, holds it in place, and adjusts, placing his face between my thighs.
Then his hot, demanding mouth descends on me. His tongue presses between my lips before his teeth graze over my sensitive flesh in a way that’s punishment and ecstasy mingled so thoroughly, I can’t separate them. My hips buck as his tongue delves deeper into my pussy.
I try to open my legs to escape the intensity, but his hands clutch my thighs, holding them still and forcing me to take everything he gives. His tongue inside me, stubble dragging along my thighs, and occasionally his teeth on my clit.
His relentless assault circulates shockwaves through me.
The orgasm builds fast. Too fast. My thighs start to tremble. Propped up the way I am, I can barely breathe as my body convulses with the sharp euphoria.
I’m going to shatter. He’s going to win this round, and I don’t even care. Nothing matters other than the white-hot bliss consuming me from the inside out.
He sucks, then gently bites down. I scream, my hands fisting in his hair as I come so hard that I see stars, riding his face while the waves crash over me.
As it fades, I’m gasping and defenseless.
Aftershocks ripple through me, leaving me trembling. Before the surges of bliss stop crashing through me, Max resumes.
Using my legs, he flips me onto my stomach, pressing my face into sheets that smell like us. Sweat, sex, and an unmistakable musk that reminds me of his skin.
I’m still catching my breath when his hands clamp onto my hips. His fingers dig in and he yanks me upward, turning me on even more. His knee comes forward, spreading my legs, positioning me the way he wants.
Ass up and face down, vulnerable in a way that should terrify me but instead unleashes fresh heat between my legs.
I love how he handles me, how he knows just what I can take. How he pushes my limits in a way no one ever has.
My body begs for something to touch me and fill the emptiness that’s settled in my pussy at the loss of his mouth. Fabric rustles as he shoves his pants down. The blunt head of his cock rests against me.
Just like his fingers, his dick pushes inside me with a single thrust that draws a cry from my throat. The sound is muffled by the mattress and the sheets I’m gripping with white-knuckled hands, by the roaring in my ears as he fills me completely.
It burns with little pinches and stretches. I’m still tight, still new to sex, but the discomfort just sharpens the pleasure.
He doesn’t wait for me to adjust. Just pulls back and drives in, right where I need it.
Again.
And again.
With each thrust, he sets a punishing pace that jolts me forward. My breath hitches, and my nerves light up like he’s sparked a live wire inside me. The headboard slams against the wall forceful enough to rebound.
This isn’t gentle or sweet. Isn’t safe or cautious. Nothing like what he did on the couch. This is fucking. Raw and primitive and exactly what we both need.
To take our bodies to their limits and shut our minds off. To stop making decisions or thinking about Roman or the Kozlovs or the necklace.
I push up in an attempt to get my arms under me so I can gain leverage, even if all I manage is the ability to meet his thrusts.
He responds immediately. His hands shoot out, grabbing my elbows. I fall onto my face, and the incoming thrust hits even harder, drawing a tormented cry of pleasure from my lips.
My breasts crush against the sheets, the friction against my nipples another layer of sensation. With the different angle hitting that spot deep inside me, white light explodes behind my eyes. My toes curl, and I clench around him.
Even as he manipulates my arms behind me, twisting and folding them over the small of my back, Max never loses his pace. He pins them there with an inescapable iron grip.
This new position leaves my face buried, though I tilted my head to the side so I can breathe. My arms are immobilized, one big hand holding each elbow so I can’t inch away.
I don’t want to inch away. I want to lie right here and take whatever he offers, drown in this euphoria and the feel of him in me, on me. I never want to give this up.
He pounds away at my pussy, shaking my brain, dizzying my thoughts in all the best ways. I peek up at him. His chest heaves, and his jaw’s tight with focus, his eyes burning as they meet mine. A lock of hair falls across his rugged face.
I struggle against his embrace, not seriously fighting, but testing his strength. I’m completely at his mercy, and Mad Max is known for having none.
Right now, that’s exactly what I need.
His thrusts are brutal as he uses my upper arms like a handle, pulling me back onto his cock as he slams forward. We meet in the middle with an intensity that distributes shockwaves through me. Another orgasm builds, coiling in my core.
He must be able to tell from the way I tense because, unbelievably, he speeds up. He shunts into me with so much momentum, my legs slide and spread. Suddenly, he’s hitting even deeper. He leans away, using my arms as leverage, yanking me back onto his cock with a force that borders on painful.
I feel incredible, like I could bottle this sensation and conquer the world.
“Yes. Please, Max!” The orgasm rips through me, leaving me mindless and boneless as I bounce against him. Every nerve shatters and drifts away on the wind.
Still, he doesn’t stop or even slow. He just keeps fucking me through it. Past it. The pleasure spirals as I take more than I thought possible.
Max makes it clear that my body isn’t my own right now. It’s his to break apart and put back together however he sees fit.
Oddly, I love this.
Love the freedom of not being in control. Of not having to think, of escaping the role I’ve played for so long.
This is sheer bliss. Existing in this moment where nothing matters except the next crashing wave of ecstasy that steals every breath.
Just when I think I’m adjusting to his punishing pace, he lets go of my arms. His massive hand tangles in my hair at the back of my head. Then he pulls me up before yanking me back.
Sparks shoot across my scalp in a way that trickles down my chest, through my breasts, and makes me clench around him.
My back arches as my weight shifts, my center of gravity all over the place. I can’t focus as his cock continues to drive me insane with every thrust and pull. The relentless ecstasy has me pressing my ass back, trying to take him deeper despite the sting in my scalp and the stretch across me.
The training I’ve devoted my life to reminds me of my exposed throat. My entire body extends in a taut line of surrender. I’m offering myself to him, and I don’t even care.
Max uses that to his advantage.
His other hand slides around and finds my breast. He pinches my nipple, twisting in an almost torturous fashion. He holds it as his thrusts make me bob and shake, pulling against his grasp.
I’m sobbing, pleading, spilling out words that I don’t recognize. “Harder. More. Please. Break me. Use me. Take me until I can’t remember my name.”
He gifts me what I’m asking for, what I’m pleading for. His quickening pace becomes punishing and brutal. I clutch at his arm, my nails digging into his skin.
I can’t breathe, can’t think. I’m nothing but the euphoria thrumming through me.
Then his rhythm falters. His cock goes rigid, and I can tell he’s close. He’s about to leave his mark inside me the way his hands have left their marks on my skin.
“Max…” I don’t even know what I’m begging for, if I want him to come or to keep going forever. All I really know is this all-consuming need. “Please…”
The pleasure builds to heights I didn’t know existed.
The orgasm hits me like a freight train ripping out of my soul. My muscles lock as every nerve fires at once. All thought scatters to white noise and static.
When he comes, hot pulses fill my pussy. His hand in my hair keeps me still, forcing me to submit, to take everything, unable to do anything but accept this final claiming.
I sob on a moan.
Again and again, until he’s done with me.
Finally, his fingers mercifully release my hair and trail down to my neck in a gentle, almost tender gesture. I collapse, every limb heavy as he lets me slide to the mattress. All my muscles ache in the most delicious way.
I’m marked. Claimed.
My pussy throbs from his pounding. My breasts sting from his rough handling. My scalp tingles where he pulled my hair.
I’ve never felt more alive.
I’m free from the prison of my own making.
“Thank you,” I whisper against the pillows, my voice ragged. The words seem ridiculous, given what just happened, but I won’t take them back. I want him to know. “That was exactly what I needed.”
He grunts in sleepy satisfaction and collapses on the mattress beside me.
Then his arms encircle me and drag me to his chest, positioning me so my head rests on his shoulder.
“I should be thanking you.” His lips brush my forehead, softer than should be possible from the man who just used me so thoroughly.
We’ve now been honest with our bodies, if not yet with our words.