Chapter Twenty-Eight
Ember
Max walks into the bedroom as I’m getting dressed, irritation still buzzing beneath my skin.
Irritation compelled me to see if I could give myself an orgasm, and the result of failure is infuriating.
I tried for the better part of an hour, attempting to mimic the way his fingers glided over my clit, and the result was a buildup but no crest. I ended up denying myself.
“Ember,” Max says with a charming grin. “You took quite a long shower.”
“How would you know?”
“I have my ways.” He tips his chin up. “Anything in particular that kept you under the spray for nearly an hour?”
How the fuck does he know that? Wait… cameras. Does he have this place bugged? I’d be amazed if he didn’t, and I was dumb not to consider it beforehand.
“Were you watching me?” I demand.
“Didn’t get to watch as long as I would’ve liked, but I saw enough.” His grin widens. “How was your little self-care session? Successful?”
“Yes,” I lie. “And, for your information, I discovered that your ability to deliver orgasms is sub-par. I did way better.”
In a flash, Maximus’s eyes darken. He steps forward, crowding my space, and slowly wraps his hand around my neck.
I could move—I could smash my fist into his elbow, dislocating it, or kick him in the balls, or break his foot with a well-aimed heel.
But I don’t. The force of his gaze keeps me frozen in place, like the mouse who’s been hunted by the cat for years, and is finally trapped in its sight.
“Did you?” he arches an eyebrow, seeming partially amused, and partially pissed.
“Well, Flame, I’m going to give you a little lesson right now.
” His hand cups my pussy, and I gasp, startled at the heat.
God, my core aches, I’m desperate for him to finish what I started, but I won’t say as much. I can’t give him the satisfaction.
He walks me back towards the bed, eyes glittering, jaw clenched. I tip over backwards onto it, hands wrapping around the hand holding my neck captive.
“You’re allowed to have cravings and needs.
But, when you do, you come to me to satisfy them.
You do not do it yourself unless I’ve given you permission.
” He wedges his hand into my pants and panties, and my eyes roll into the back of my head.
My lips part on a silent moan as his fingers find my slit, gathering the wetness leaking out of me and gliding them expertly over my clit.
“You want an orgasm? Fine, come to me. I’ll probably give it to you—and, even if I deny you, you’ll always get it in the end.
But doing it yourself means I’ll get mean.
I’ll give you this one for free, since you didn’t know, but the next time you try to get yourself off, I’m going to edge you until you’re screaming for mercy. Got that, Flame?”
“Yes,” I moan.
“Good. Now ask me to come, and make it good. Begging wouldn’t be amiss.
” My eyes fix on him and I part my lips to tell him to go fuck himself, but he tightens his hand around my throat.
Perversely, the lack of oxygen actually makes my pussy clench, and my eyes widen in surprise.
“If you tell me off, you don’t get to come.
So, if you really want an orgasm, swallow your pride and beg me for it. ”
Asshole. His fingers slide inside of me and his thumb traps my clit. “Beg.”
He eases his hold on my neck just enough for me to squeak. I’m so desperate I do exactly as he advised. I rasp, “Please.”
“Please what?”
I’ll get him back for this. I swear I will, but first, I have to come. “Please make me come.”
“With pleasure.” His fingers inside me thrust in and out, each forward surge made extra harsh by the constricting fabric of my pants. His thumb swirls my clit once, twice, and on the third time, I explode with a cry.
He tightens his hand on my neck, cutting my breath off, which only serves to prolong my orgasm. Fortunately, he doesn’t make it go on and on like he did last night; he lets me off easy this time around.
“Good girl. In the future, begging is very effective with me.”
“In the future, go fuck yourself,” I wheeze.
He chuckles, pressing a kiss to my nose. “Alright, Flame. Come on.”
He slips his fingers out from my pants, sucks my cum from them, and smiles when a shiver courses through me.
“Greg’s back,” he says, switching gears. “I missed him, and I think you’re ready for him to be around. He’s extremely well-trained; he will not hurt you.”
I mask my discomfort with a nonchalant shrug. “Alright.”
“Ember. It’s okay to have fears.”
I’d say something to the effect of I’m not human enough to have fears, but he already knows that’s bullshit, and I’d prefer not to undermine myself. So, I opt for staying silent.
He takes my hand in his and gently draws me out of the room.
There, in the main room, is Greg. He’s seated in front of the couch, and his tail starts to sweep against the floor as we enter.
His nose crinkles as he sniffs the air, and then he taps his front paws on the floor in excitement, but he stays in place.
He is well-trained. And, even though old fears quicken my heartbeat, I can’t deny he’s kind of cute. He looks at Max and lets out a whimper. Max tightens his hold on my hand, and says quietly, “Patience.”
Greg lets out a small chuff but stays in place.
“Go say hi to him,” Max encourages. “He likes you. He’s excited to see you.”
I kind of want to, but then he licks his lips and shows off a flash of those sharp canines, and I have to force myself to keep still and not run from the room. “No, thank you.”
“He won’t hurt you,” Max reminds me. “He likes you. Come on, Ember. Let him say hi.”
“Do I have to?”
“No, but I think it would help you. I’m not sending him away again.”
Fuck.
I take in a deep breath, steeling myself, and slowly start to inch toward Greg, one step at a time. The dog whines as I approach, licking his lips again, ears perking up. Ears up is a good sign, right? Ears pinned back is when I should be prepared to defend myself.
“Alright, then,” I say quietly, reaching out a hand. “Hello, Creature.”
He releases a chuff, and as soon as my hand is close enough, starts covering it in sloppy licks. I grimace, but it feels kind of nice. I’ll definitely need to wash my hands after this, but I don’t mind it as much as I thought I would. “Thank you, Creature.”
“His name is Greg.” Max’s tone is amused.
“I refuse to call him that. It’s a ridiculous name.”
Max only chuckles in response. “Is it okay if he stands and smells you now? He’ll circle you, lick you, maybe paw at you, but he won’t bite you.”
I swallow. “Yeah, okay.”
“Go ahead,” Max tells Greg. The dog lets out a yip of excitement that makes me flinch… and then, he does exactly what Max warned. Runs circles around me, butting his head into me and panting, licking my pants, my fingers, my hands; basically, any part of me he can reach.
It’s a little bit endearing. I slowly sink to my knees and bury my fingers in his fur—he licks my cheek, my nose, my forehead. My lips pull up into a smile. “You’re not so bad, huh?” He lets out another chuff in response.
Max releases a whistle. “Come here, buddy.” Creature abandons me and runs to Max, barreling into him.
I stand back up, wiping my hand against my pants. Max spends a few minutes petting Creature before directing him over to a doggy bed in the corner of the room. I tilt my head as I watch him spin around a few times, then settle in.
“Okay, he’s sort of cute,” I declare.
“I know,” Max says. “Go clean yourself up and change panties; we’re going to grab breakfast, and then go on a walk.”
Creature is absolutely delighted as soon as Max lets him outside. He doesn’t wear a leash, and Max doesn’t seem anywhere near as concerned about that as he ought to be.
“He’s trained to be safe off-leash,” Max explains.
“He’ll come when I call. Greg!” he calls out.
The German Shepherd comes lopping over, tongue lolling, chocolate eyes filled with joy.
He sniffs Max, sniffs me, then looks to Max for direction.
“Go ahead,” Max allows, and he launches forward, running through the wilted grass, occasionally pausing to roll around in it.
Max grins, bumping his shoulder against mine. “Very cute, indeed.”
“Why are we out here?” I ask. He hasn’t exactly been thrilled to let me out of the buildings thus far, and for a good reason. If I’m out here, my odds of running away increase—though it would still be one hell of a task.
“Because fresh air and sun will be good for you. You have a Vitamin D deficiency—you need to get out and enjoy the world.”
Enjoy the world. I’m not sure if that’s possible. Case the world, maybe, but I forgot what enjoyment was a long time ago. Now, it’s just survival, and doing what has to be done.
“Besides, you’re not going to run,” Max goes on.
I arch an eyebrow. “I’m not?”
“Nope,” he says brightly. “Because you know I’m going to save your sister, which will bind you to me forever.”
A chord of worry strikes in my soul, and my thoughts return to Alina. Max has another day until our deal is up.
That’s all the time he has—I can’t afford to give him any more. If he doesn’t come through, I have to find a way out. But, for some reason… I think he just might. Dagon is well-connected, but so are the Nighthawks, and the organization holding me captive is better organized.
Dagon rules by fear alone; the Nighthawk’s leadership rules by respect and fear.
Everyone seems appropriately afraid of Cain, but I’ve also sensed that the people beneath him are in awe of him.
Greyson is respected, feared, and regarded very highly, which bodes well for him.
And Max is respected, feared, and I think he may be loved.
He has the persona of a nice guy who will laugh and make jokes with you, but if you push him, he’ll break you in half without flinching.
“What are you going to do to protect her?” I ask. “What’s the plan?”
Max’s eyes shadow, so briefly that I think I may have imagined it. Then, his expression smooths out, and he dons a bright smile. “What’s your plan, hmm?”
My brows furrow. “Pardon?”
“Your plan,” he repeats. “You must have one for getting out of here in case I don’t succeed.”
I keep my expression blank, but a harsh realization slams into me, forcing my stomach to churn.
I don’t have a plan—not really. And not because I’m unable to make one; this place might have great security, but I’ve escaped from better-guarded places before.
I’m the animal that’ll chew off its own leg to shed its shackles.
No, I don’t have a plan because deep down, I trust that Max will save Alina. There’s no rhyme or reason to it—consciously, I trust him about as far as I can throw him, which isn’t very far. But subconsciously, I must trust him a whole lot.
And the only reason I can see for that is some hidden part of me remembers him, and we must’ve been very close.
Which begs the question; why did I forget him?
I remember bits and pieces of my childhood—the important ones, certainly.
I remember the good and bad times with my father.
I remember Alina, who I only knew for a few months.
I remember when I first met Dagon. I remember some of my friends and enemies at school.
But I don’t remember Maximus. It makes no sense.
“How long did we know each other?” I ask suddenly.
Max raises his eyebrows. “We met when you were ten years old. We were close friends until you were 14 and I went off to college—and we stayed friends then, too. Why do you ask?”
I lift a shoulder. “Curiosity.” Confusion. If we knew each other for that long, I should remember him, especially if we were as close as he says we were. Maybe he’s exaggerating?
But I don’t see any hints of deception on his features, and I’m generally pretty good at sniffing out lies. It comes with the territory of being who I am and doing what I do.
“What’s your plan for Alina?” I repeat, changing tracks.
“What’s your plan for escape?” Max challenges.
My nostrils flare. “I asked first.”
Max gives me a look that tells me just how ridiculous he finds my diversion. “And I asked second. You know what they say; first is the worst, second is the best.”
“How does anyone put up with you? You’re so… fucking… annoying.”
Max doesn’t flinch. “I’m a super good fuck.”
“Are you?” I snap. “Because the orgasm I gave myself this morning was much better—”
His arm hooks around my waist, and he yanks me to his chest. “Don’t go there, Flame, or I’ll have to fuck you right here and right now just to prove a point.
We both know that if you got yourself off, it was a shitty release.
I’m the one who gives you A-grade orgasms with my fingers and tongue.
” His mouth dips. “Imagine how much better they’ll be with my cock,” he whispers in my ear.
I nearly whimper in response, only just managing to hold back.
The visual he paints, of him laying me out right here and fucking me, is enough to make my mouth water, even if it’s so perversely wrong.
Maybe I have deviant sexual tastes, too—otherwise, why would being bound and spanked make me leak like a sieve?
“Your ego is truly astounding. If you ever had the good sense to relieve this world of your insufferable presence, you could climb it and jump to your IQ.”
Max chuckles. “Mm.” he steps back. “I’m going to put guards on Alina. They will kill the men Dagon sent to stalk and potentially execute her. My guys will stay on her, out of sight, until Dagon’s dead.”
“When will they get there?”
“In a couple hours. I’ll mobilize the unit after our walk. They’ll get to her soon. She’ll be in good hands.”
My jaw clenches. “If anyone lays a hand on her, they better be prepared to fucking lose it.”
Max’s eyes flash. My chest tightens. “I know,” he says. “C’mon. I have shit to do—and you have shopping to do. And if you break my laptop or destroy our apartment while I’m gone, I’m gonna fuck you right over the wreckage when I get back, sans the foreplay.”
“You’re insane.”
“For you, Flame? Yeah. Yes, I am.”