Chapter 19 My Max #2
As soon as we get off the bike, he lifts me up and I cup his jaw.
We kiss passionately, moaning into each other's mouths.
His hands massage up and down my back as he walks us through the villa and to the wicker lounge beside the pool.
He sits down with me wrapped around him and I kneel, straddling his thighs.
We pet and fondle each other. His lips and tongue move around my face and neck as if he wants to taste me, so I lift my chin up to let him explore.
I moan. He moves to my shoulder and chest, then bites my breast through the fabric of my dress.
The sudden opening of the door cuts through my whimpers of pleasure.
With my nipple tightly pinched between his teeth, Max grumbles. "Fuck."
Stacey walks outside, stilling when she sees us. "Oh. My bad."
I giggle and cover Max's scowling face with my palm. "All good. Come sit with us. Where's Flick?"
"She's in bed," she says, sitting on the single chair.
Max pulls my hand from his face, his expression tight. "Stacey. We're in the middle of something!"
Stacey turns. "Okay. I'll leav—"
"No, don't go," I plead. "Are you two okay?"
She smiles tightly. "We will be. It's okay. Honeymoon period's over, but we—"
As I slide off Max's lap, he groans and drops his head back onto the rest. "For fuck's sake. Boner's gone anyway."
I try not to giggle at him again. "Would you mind getting me a nightcap then?"
His brows draw together, and he's either going to scold me, throw me onto his mattress, or kill me. He chews back a comment and talks through a tight jaw. "What would you like, Your Highness?"
I curl my lips together to squash a smile. "A port, please. Stacey?"
The whites of Stacey's eyes are glowing. "Nothing," she squeaks.
Max walks off toward the kitchen, muttering, "You're in so much fucking trouble."
"Cassidy!" Stacey leans toward me. "I've seen girls get dragged out by the arm for less than that."
"I asked nicely. I think it's good for him."
She sits back. "Never do that in front of his dad... Oh my God, or Jimmy."
I shuffle back. "I wouldn't."
She shakes her head in disbelief. "I'm not even sure what I just saw."
"What? Can’t I ask my boyfriend to get me a drink?"
She coughs. "Your boyfriend?"
I glance around nervously. "I didn't mean boyfriend."
Footsteps approach and Stacey's face becomes ashen.
"What did you mean then?" Max asks, taking long casual steps toward us.
I cover my face. "Oh my God. Stop it, Max."
"There are so many better things you could call me," he says. I peek out from behind my fingers and gaze up into his smirking face. "Your Highness." He hands me the port glass, but retracts it inches from my outstretched fingers. "Don't push it," he warns.
I stare at him with sultry eyes. "What should I call you? Like, a menace? Master?"
He presses his teeth together like he's imagining me between them. "Like, Oh My Max."
Stacey shoots up. "If this is your version of foreplay, I should go." Stacey smiles nervously and walks towards the door.
Max glowers at her, his eyes narrowed into slits. "Stacey!" His tone is authoritarian, and she stops mid-step. "Who the fuck do you think you are? Huh? Let me make myself perfectly clear, when I'm with Cassidy, you pretend you're deaf and blind."
Stacey swallows hard. "Sorry." It's meek, submissive, and so not like her. I wince on her behalf. Eyes downcast, Stacey hurries through the sliding door and disappears into the villa.
My back hits the cushion, and I crane my head as I frown up at Max. "What was that about? She made a joke."
He slides down beside me and lifts my thighs onto his lap. "She thought she could make a remark about our conversation."
"It was... a joke."
"So?" He runs his tongue across his teeth and shrugs once. "I don't appreciate the commentary."
"Friends tease each other; that's what they do."
"She isn't my friend."
I touch his cheek. "Max."
He drapes his arm over the headrest. "How did you get into ballet?"
"Master of the—"
"Subtle Transition."
We smile at each other.
"Well, how's my transition?" I hesitate, choking on my own words for a moment before I can build up the strength to say them. "I'm going to go on the pill when I get home." I swallow. "Have you been tested lately?" I'm so nervous asking this question that I'm literally trembling.
He just grins. "I never go bare. I get tested all the time. I'm so proud you had the guts to ask though."
My heart fills with him. "Cool."
"Now, how did you get into ballet?"
"I went to the ballet with my dad and Konnor when I was six. We saw The Nutcracker. The District Academy has performed that ballet at Christmas every year for decades. From the moment I saw it, I wanted to be Clara."
He strokes my thigh. "But you're not this year."
"No. But I have been her for the past four years. This year I wanted to show my diversity. And a really great ballerina named Ana got the part of Clara."
He chuckles. "You hate her."
"I don't. She's lovely."
"You want her killed."
I laugh. "No. I didn't audition for Clara this year. She's best suited to a younger ballerina." I stare at him as he gazes at me. The both of us are entwined on the lounge while the sounds of mountainous Ubud echo in the distance.
It's past midnight. It's just him and me. Sometimes I feel as if there is a Max and Cassidy world... and then there's the complicated dark world we share with everyone else.
He caresses my face with his eyes. "I'm kinda pissed I'd never gone with Jimmy to see a performance now."
I cuddle my knees and gaze at him. "Why?"
"I would've had some great wank material."
"Crude."
"I might have met you sooner."
I lean in to kiss him. "Sweet."
"To taste your pussy sooner."
"Max!"
We drink a lot of port as we talk throughout the night and into the early morning. Well, I talk. He mostly listens. I admit I saw him play rugby against Konnor a few years ago and couldn't keep my eyes off him because he was... oh my gawd, so hot. He laughs.
I learn that Clay has a business degree. Xander is going to study law next year and Max is in his final semester of his Master of Architecture, which means he doesn’t have to attend lectures anymore or go to campus as much.
I get the feeling rugby is his real passion, but he brushes over sentimentalities and offers me short, curt answers to my questions. As such is Max Butcher's way. That doesn't take away from the information offered because, for once, he is actually answering me.
I wonder how he fits being a normal twenty-four-year-old in with the other side of his life.
When we finally crawl into bed, we share a pillow and Max spoons me.
"Max?"
"Hmm?" He nuzzles my hair and tightens his arms around me. We lie above the white sheets. The ceiling fan above us is on high. The air is thick. My skin is flushed and my mind is fuzzy.
I stroke his arm. "When was the first time you knew you wanted to sleep with me?"
"Oh fuck, Cassidy, I'm trying to sleep."
"Please." I wriggle around in front of him, knowing quite well my bum is brushing against his groin. My heart is beating so fast, I can't relax, and I think I may have drank way too much.
"No," he mumbles. "Another time... sleeping."
"Please? I can't sleep."
"That's because you drank half a bottle of port."
"Please."
"Fuck. Fine." He exhales against my shoulder, the heat of his breath cascading down my back. "I was in the alleyway next to Gyspy's—"
"What? We first spoke at my birthday?"
"Yeah. But I noticed you before your birthday.
Don't interrupt. You were picking up Flick or something, and you must have come straight from ballet because you were in this pink leotard.
You were leaning against your car with your ankles crossed and wearing these clunky red sneakers that were way too big for your feet. "
"Momma said my shoes would take me anywhere.
Momma said they're my magic shoes." I begin to laugh deep from my belly.
His silence makes my cheeks burn though, so I stop.
"Seriously? Forrest Gump?" I giggle nervously.
I imagine him wrestling with a smile now.
"Don't stop. You know I'm weird. Tell me the rest. What did you think of me? "
He clears his throat. "I just wanted to stick my tongue in you that night. I thought that if pink had a taste, that's what you’d taste like. Why wear anything? Those leotards are like spray paint."
I grin into the pillow. "You remember what I was wearing?”
"When a hot girl is half-naked on the street, I usually remember that.”
I giggle. "Whatever. You like me."
He pulls me in tighter and rests his chin on my head. "Yes, Cassidy. Let me sleep now."