Chapter 29 #2
“What are these?” she asks, her curiosity piqued as she leans in for a closer look. She can’t make sense of the mess of wires and components before her.
“Just side projects,” Max replies casually, his attention still fixed on the monitors, fingers moving deftly across the keyboard.
“Am I bothering you?”
“No.” He finally turns to face her.
“Are you building these yourself?”
“Sort of,” he answers, his tone nonchalant, with a hint of amusement.
“What do you mean by ‘sort of’?”
“That’s strictly confidential.”
“Did you, um, build those model airplanes in the other room?”
“Yeah. When I was, like, nine. Apparently, my mother kept them all these years. She gave them to me a while back.”
“Oh, that’s sweet of her.”
“Hm.” His tone is dismissive. He doubts it, knowing his mother well enough to suspect she kept them because they happened to match the room’s décor.
Lila glances back at him. His face, freshly shaven, looks sharper today. His dark eyes, framed by long lashes, remain locked on the screens. He sits confidently behind his imposing desk, posture perfect—shoulders squared, back straight. He exudes control even in the simplest tasks.
She comes to stand awkwardly in front of the desk, fighting the urge to turn and retreat. His expression remains stern, brows slightly furrowed as he types.
After a moment, his eyes flick away from the screens and lock onto hers. The intensity of his gaze up close is unsettling, yet undeniably thrilling.
“What do you need, Lila?” he asks. His deep voice ripples through her, sending a tingle down her spine.
She straightens her posture. Every instinct tells her to shrink back, to not ask him, but she forces herself to speak.
“Max, can I have a portion of the money you promised me up front? I need some of it sooner and can’t wait until the end of the week.”
His expression darkens. He doesn’t like being reminded that the end of their arrangement is approaching. He’s been enjoying her company far too much.
“I need to send some back to my grandmother.”
“Is something going on with her?”
Shame creeps in as she answers. “I don’t want to go into details… but it’s pretty urgent.”
“Of course, Lila.” His expression softens. “How much?”
“Ten grand.”
“All right,” he says, eyes darting back to the screen.
She almost lets herself breathe a sigh of relief.
“Thank you so much.”
It was easier than she’d anticipated. Her heart, pounding moments ago, begins to settle. She’d expected resistance or maybe probing questions, but there was none.
She turns, eager to leave and call her grandmother with the good news.
“Lila…”
Max’s voice drifts after her, taking on an unnerving singsong quality that makes her freeze.
Slowly, she turns. He pushes away from his desk and stands.
His looming figure suddenly feels too tall, too big, even for this spacious room.
She swallows as his towering form moves closer, closing the distance between them.
She feels the warmth of his breath as he leans in. Reaching out, he gently tucks her hair behind her ear, his touch sending a chill down her spine. She realizes she’s holding her breath.
“You’re such a good granddaughter,” he murmurs. “So caring.”
“Thank… you?” Her voice barely rises above a whisper. The air between them feels charged, thick with unspoken tension. She fights the urge to step back, forcing herself to stay rooted.
“Did that make you happy?” he asks, a faint smile playing on his lips, his gaze fixed on her mouth. “I told you I’d take care of everything, didn’t I?”
She hesitates, then nods, uncertain where this is leading. “Um, yes?”
Looking at her, he feels a peculiar warmth stir inside him. Her caring nature and strong family values stir something in him. He assumes it’s because he’s never known anything like it.
“You’re so lovely,” he says softly. “So caring.” Lowering himself until his mouth is near her ear, he whispers, “Can you take care of me?”
“How?” Her voice sounds hollow as her brows knit in confusion.
He straightens, tilting his head as he looks down at her. “Lila. On your knees.”
“What?” The word falls from her lips, empty.
“On your knees.”
Tears sting the corners of her eyes as she drops her gaze, fixing on her feet, clad in soft white slippers.
She should have known better than to expect him to be sympathetic toward her plight without getting something in return.
Expecting decency from him was na?ve. She’s been playing the role of his girlfriend so convincingly that she momentarily forgot the truth: this is nothing more than a contractual relationship.
With Max, everything is reduced to a transaction.
She presses her lips together, humiliation burning at the back of her throat. Trading her body for a favor that benefits someone she doesn’t even care about feels like a new, crueler level of demoralization.
“I need you to handle this for me, baby.”
The sound of him undoing his zipper comes next. She finally looks up to see him stepping out of his dropped trousers and underwear, the sight of his hardened cock jutting upright greeting her.
She tentatively drops to her knees in front of him, besieged by anger. A small smile—one that doesn’t quite reach her eyes—spreads across her face. It takes effort to suppress the string of expletives she wants to hurl at him as he points his cock toward her.
Gross fucking bastard.
Immediately, she engulfs his member, wanting to get this done and over with. If all he wants is a blowjob, then she can give him that.
He tastes salty in her mouth, his natural musk filling her nose as she slowly bobs her head, searching for a comfortable pace.
Despite herself, she can’t help but relish the feeling of a thick cock growing harder in her small mouth, his length gliding over her tongue and pressing toward the back of her throat.
“What a talented mouth.”
He lets out a guttural groan, eyes sliding shut as he savors the sensation of her hot, wet mouth coating his cock with a copious amount of saliva.
“What a good girl,” he murmurs.
His fingers clamp around the back of her head, pushing her down and forcing her to take more of him. She gags as the tremendous pressure presses uncomfortably against her throat, her hands flying up to brace against his thighs.
“Ooh, baby. You’re a natural little cock sucker,” he coos, loosening his grip slightly.
Her cheeks burn crimson beneath the weight of his vulgar praise. She can feel herself getting wet, her pussy tingling and throbbing as he guides her head along his length.
She peers up at him, studying his face as he loses himself in ecstasy. His head tilts back, eyes closed, mouth slack, soft moans and heavy sighs spilling from him.
Then, with a quick motion, he withdraws from her mouth, his cock making a wet, obscene sound as it pops free. A string of saliva drips from the base of his coated cock to the floor.
Reaching forward, he caresses her damp cheeks and swollen lower lip before sinking his thumb into her mouth. “Can I fuck your mouth, sweetheart?” he asks, his eyes glinting with excitement.
She tears her gaze away from his, attention drifting to the thick length hovering in front of her.
A shaky breath slips out before she can stop it.
She knows from experience just how brutal he can be when he loses himself…
Yet she also knows that in his hands, even pain will eventually blur into pleasure.
After the briefest moment of contemplation, she looks back up at him and gives a small nod.
He groans, satisfied by her submission. Raking his fingers through her hair until her thick mane is locked in a tight fist, he guides his cock past her swollen, reddened lips.
The light suction, combined with the heat of her hot, wet mouth, makes his head spin. He begins by thrusting gently in and out, savoring the uncertainty in her expression as she gives him complete control.
It doesn’t take long for him to lose it.
He plunges deeper and deeper, driving down her throat with a force that borders on violent. His grip in her hair is unyielding, punishing. She pushes, scratches, and shoves at his muscular thighs, desperate for release, but every attempt to free herself proves futile.
She tries to calm herself, focusing on breathing through her nose instead of the brutal assault at the back of her throat. Her jaw aches. Her vision blurs. Hot tears spill down her cheeks, mixing with saliva and slick as her face bears the evidence of his use.
When he feels himself nearing release, he finally withdraws.
Relief floods her aching jaw as she clutches her throat, a coughing fit wracking her body.
“You’re such a good granddaughter,” he murmurs, looming over her as the last coughs fade. “I can tell you care so much about her.”
The sudden mention of her grandmother turns her stomach. She forces a smile through tear-streaked cheeks, though he still catches the faint flicker of wariness in her eyes.
“Stand up,” he orders.
She rises slowly, her knees tingling as she struggles to stay steady.
“Max… you’re talking to me like I’m a dog,” she says, brows furrowed as she glares up at him.
He hushes her, reaching out to stroke her hair gently before wiping the trail of drool from her chin with an almost tender swipe. “I’m sorry, sweet girl,” he says.
Bending down, he kisses her deeply—wet and possessive—before lifting her sheer dress up and off her body. “Get on the desk, princess,” he instructs more gently, nodding toward the black marble desk beside them. “Facing me.”
She climbs onto the desk carefully, avoiding his papers and computer setup. The cold marble feels soothing against her overheated skin as she watches him shove the clutter aside.
Pressing a hand to her shoulder, he gently guides her to lie flat on her back, urging her to spread her legs for him.
He drops to his knees, beginning her next round of torture.