17. Max
CHAPTER 17
MAX
M otherfucking asshole. Son of a bitch. Piece of shit, leaving me here tied up with his cum dripping out of me… I could kill him. I’m going to kill him. Who the fuck does he think he is breaking into my house, tying me up, and doing whatever he wants with me.
Agh.
But why did I like it?
It only makes me hate myself even more. After finally managing to get his belt off, my thoughts have been a jumbled mess, which just matches how I feel on the outside too. I’m sore, wet, and aching. I force myself into my bathroom, and turn the shower to scalding, shedding the rest of my clothes before getting in and scrubbing myself of the desire I had for Caine’s hands on me. And his mouth, and his dick.
I want to forget this night ever happened and every feeling that has come with it. Especially the ones that tell me this was the hottest experience I’ve ever had, because those thoughts are traitorous and wrong. Right?
Yet, when I think about how he took control of me, and how I wanted him to, heat washes through me again. The way he played my body perfectly, commanded it, really. Just remembering it has my hand sliding lower, almost like it’s out of my control. I throw my head back when the tip of my finger grazes my clit, still sensitive from Caine’s touch.
The bite of pain from being overstimulated has me pressing even harder as I circle the throbbing bud. I can still hear the way his voice sounded as he spoke to me. The weight of him on top of me. The feel of him inside me. I moan, pressing a finger inside my wet heat and groan out my frustration that it’s not enough. Not compared to him.
I can hear his voice talking me through what I’m doing now, “ I knew you liked it, killer. Show me how much.”
That’s what sends me over the edge once again, and I’m immediately irritated with myself at how it was so easy to get aroused, and even more annoyed how easily I came. The need to deny what he does to my body has me quickly finishing my shower, making sure to scrub extra hard like I can erase the evidence of my own betrayal.
By the time I’m done, my skin is raw and red. I’m sure I’ve taken a layer off, but I don’t care. The feeling of him touching me, and the memory of touching myself after, is now replaced with the burn from the water and washcloth I used. The frustration with myself still remains.
Part of me wonders if I’m going to find him standing in my room when I return, but I’m only met with silence. I pull on one of my oversized T-shirts and underwear because I’m not trying to make it easy if he does decide to come back. The exhaustion hits me all at once as I climb into bed, which now will always be tainted with the thoughts of him.
I should be worried about Caine coming back while I’m sleeping like he talked about. Just like I should be worried that he was so easily able to take advantage of me, to render me helpless and take what he wanted. I should be a lot of things, but somehow, all I am is tired, and unlike most other nights, sleep pulls me in easily. The weirdest part of it all is that I’m not even plagued by the nightmares that usually haunt me.
When I walk into Uncaged for my first boxing lesson, I’m doing so well with my head held high and my eyes trained forward. I don’t seek out Caine to see if he’s here. I hardly look at any of the guys that are around. I just take a place on the mat and start stretching while I wait for class to begin.
The room fills with other people, but I don’t look at any of them or pay any attention. The only thing that I look at is Coach Adam, when his voice announces the start to class. This is different than BJJ in many ways, but especially because we don’t have to pair up constantly. The best part about this class is when we get to start actually punching the bag and I get to imagine it’s Caine’s face as I drive my fist into the leather.
“Focus on your form, not the power behind the punch,” Coach instructs. I want to scoff and ignore him because right now, the strength behind the punches is what’s going to keep me going. Especially when it comes to the possibility of breaking a nose.
When I don’t say anything, he comes up behind me. Strong hands land on my hips suddenly, and the flex of his grip has me shifting slightly at the way he’s directing me. Then, he’s touching my shoulders, pushing them down from where they were bunched up by my ears. My breathing is heavy, but I still don’t acknowledge him yet.
“Now try.” His breath caresses my ear and to my surprise it’s not completely unwelcome. At the two-word command, I take in a deep breath before attempting the combination we were taught once again. It feels better than what I was doing; there isn’t as much of a strain on my muscles, and I feel myself not twisting my back as much.
“Better,” Adam says quietly as his hands slowly slide off me before he moves on to the next person.
My vow not to look at any of the guys diminishes as I follow him with my eyes noticing that he doesn’t do the same with anyone else. Doesn’t touch them, doesn’t say anything into their ears with his lips so close they almost touch. No, that was just for me. I refuse to think too much into it, but I also don’t know why I wouldn’t mind it happening again.
Shaking the thoughts away, I get back to practicing. Clearly, the mixed signals around here and my conflicting feelings about Caine are confusing my mind and body. This isn’t my fault, it’s theirs. Letting the fury lead me, I go back to practicing, only this time when I drive my fist into the bag, it’s Carson’s face I see.
As class wraps up, I’m gulping down water from my water bottle when Drew steps up in front of me. I narrow my eyes while my mouth stays on the bottle, continuing to drink because my throat is burning, and this water feels like it’s sweet nectar from the Gods.
“Hey, how was class?” he asks, far too lighthearted for my liking.
Instead of answering verbally I give him a thumbs up. He huffs out a small laugh and I finish the bottle of water, twisting the cap on preparing to toss it. Picking up the towel, I wipe the sweat from my forehead while he continues to watch me.
“Okay, bye.” I turn to walk away, but he grabs my wrist, and I whirl around. I’m not sure what it is with everyone touching me without my permission lately, but it’s starting to get old.
“What are you doing later?” he asks.
“Working.”
“You ever have a night off?”
“Nope.”
“Well, maybe I’ll just meet up with you after work then, that’s what Caine does, isn’t it?”
I yank my wrist from his hold, stepping up to this large man, having to crane my neck to look up at him as he towers over me. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“No? So, there’s nothing going on there?” He smirks down at me like he knows something. I’m about to use what Adam just taught me today about throwing a good punch on the man in front of me.
“I don’t know what you’ve heard in your weird little gossip sessions that you guys are clearly having, but just know that your friend is fucking insane. And you probably are, too.”
His smirk turns into a full-blown smile, it’s almost sinister and reminds me of the comment Caine made that I didn’t exactly have time to dwell on.
“You know he practically killed his dad.”
With the way he’s looking at me, I can almost see how that may actually be possible. Although, just like with Caine, instead of running away, I raise my chin to look him right in his green eyes that are burning with something resembling a threat.
“It’s cute that you think we sit around and talk about you.”
“Then why would you think something is going on between us?”
“It’s also cute you think he’s the only one that’s watching you.”
I don’t get a chance to say anything because he’s turning around and walking in the other direction. I want to call after him. To yell at him to stay the fuck away from me, but I feel like the more I say that to anyone here, the worse it gets. So instead, I gather my stuff to leave. Just as I turn to head out, I catch Coach Adam looking at me and I have a feeling that he just watched that entire interaction.
I’m almost tempted to ask him if he’s following me, too, but pissing off my coach is probably a terrible idea. Instead, I duck my head and walk out the door right in time to run into a wall of muscle. When I look up, I can’t help the groan that comes from my throat.
“That’s not the greeting I’d expect from you, killer,” Caine taunts.
“Oh my God, will you all just leave me the fuck alone,” I say, exasperated.
I push past him, and he actually lets me this time. Taking advantage of the clean getaway, I head home. I have this feeling everything is only going to get so much worse. It’s like I’ve woken up some sort of monster. Or a couple of them. And it’s only a matter of time before they come after me.