Chapter 35 #7
“It’s because you’re so small,” he rasps. He flexes his hips beneath her, and she groans at the added pressure inside her. Her nails dig into his shoulders as she struggles to catch her breath and tries again.
“So bad,” he groans. “It seems your little pussy needs a reminder that it should always be ready to take my big, fat cock.”
He runs his fingers through her hair, gathering it into his fist and pulling her face close to his.
Leaning in, he whispers in her ear, his voice low and deliberate, “But don’t worry.
I just need to stretch you out again.” He lifts her by the waist, guiding her movements up and down as he repeats softly, “And again…”
He settles them into a hypnotic rhythm, lowering her a little more each time until she has captured most of him. “As many times as you need,” he murmurs, “so your tight little pussy can always be mindful of who owns it.”
34
Max sprints on the treadmill, chasing a new record: a five-minute mile.
Sweat gathers along his hairline, soaking through the dark gray headband.
The nightmare that woke him still clings to him, refusing to retreat to the back of his mind.
His tongue brushes his bottom lip as if tasting the salt of old tears, recalling the summer when he had gripped the steel bars, sniffling, quietly praying for the universe to send his mother home soon to release him.
In his dream, the great beast’s honey-colored eyes glowed from outside the metal bars, filled with warmth.
During those nights when his mother was in England, willfully unaware of what was happening back home, only his father’s prized dog had listened.
The Great Dane had sat quietly by his occupied crate, as if it knew the boy was alone and frightened of the tall shadows that stretched across the walls in the dark.
With its soft expression and low whimpers, the dog offered what comfort it could.
At first, he found comfort in the dog’s company, its gaze carrying a strange, almost human understanding that something was wrong.
But later, that comfort turned to resentment.
The realization that his father treated a dog better than his own son was a hard truth to swallow.
It was pathetic, he knew, to be jealous of an old dog, yet fourteen-year-old Max couldn’t bring himself to direct his anger at his father.
He had already learned what happened when he tried.
Instead, that very summer, he wished each day that his father would hurry back to the apartment in Manhattan and take the dog with him, never realizing it would be his last school break at home.
The following year, he was sent away to military school year-round.
His father’s problematic son had finally become someone else’s responsibility to manage.
In the dream, the shadows twist and crawl, swarming and shrouding him in their dark grips, pulling him into the void.
Each time the memory threatens to take over, Max drives his legs harder until his lungs burn and his chest aches from the effort.
In another room, Lila wakes from her own nightmare. It’s always disorienting to open her eyes and have no sense of time, the heavy blackout curtains sealing away every trace of light. She glances at the digital clock on the table beside Max’s empty side of the bed.
Saturday morning. Still early. Way too early.
She groans in annoyance. She can’t even recall what she had been dreaming, only that it startled her awake at the very end.
Her mouth feels dry, her throat scratchy and parched.
Slowly, she rolls out of bed, rubbing her eyes as she slips on her house slippers and pads softly downstairs toward the kitchen.
The air in the apartment is always a few degrees too cold.
She wishes she had grabbed her robe on the way out, aware that her sheer nightgown offers little protection from the chill or from wandering eyes.
Thankfully, the chef scheduled to come today must have already finished delivering the prepped meals and left, and Mason has taken off for the weekend.
The faint aroma of breakfast lingers in the air, warm and savory, pulling her in a little faster. She usually skips breakfast, but she’s sure Max won’t mind if she steals a few bites.
In the kitchen, she pours herself a glass of water, savoring the sharp coldness as it slides down her throat. Lifting the cover on a nearby plate, she finds a spread of breakfast food still warm to the touch. Excitedly, she plucks a piece of bacon and takes a bite, only to frown.
Turkey bacon.
Of course.
She rolls her eyes and begins to pick through her other options, plopping a slice of strawberry into her mouth.
As she cuts into the tomato-and-feta crustless quiche, a faint rhythmic sound draws her attention.
Curious, she picks up her half-empty glass of water and follows the sound through the otherwise quiet apartment until it leads her to the home gym.
Peeking around the doorframe, she sees him.
Max is sprinting on the treadmill, his body moving with a fierce, almost inhuman intensity.
His legs pump in rapid succession, each stride faster than the last, while beads of sweat slide down his bare torso.
Under the soft rays of dawn filtering through the windows, his muscles flex and tighten with every movement.
Lila’s breath catches as she watches, momentarily spellbound by the sheer force of his focus and athleticism.
“Insane,” she whispers to herself, transfixed by the sight of him pushing his body to the limit. Lila pivots, intent on slipping back to the kitchen unnoticed.
But she isn’t fast enough.
Before she reaches the end of the hallway, she feels his presence behind her. Strong arms wrap around her waist, pulling her firmly against his slick, sweat-covered chest. She gasps at the sudden contact, the heat of his body enveloping her completely.
“Good morning, princess.” Max’s deep voice resonates in her ear as he leans over her. The sound sends a shiver through her, and she can feel the rapid beat of his heart against her back. “You’re up early,” he adds, his tone both teasing and possessive.
“I was thirsty,” she replies, trying to sound casual. She feels every defined muscle pressed into her, the scent of his sweat oddly intoxicating.
“Thirsty, huh?” His voice drops lower, amusement lacing his words. “Did watching me for ten seconds quench it?”
“I wasn’t—” she starts, but he cuts her off.
“You don’t have to hide it,” he murmurs, brushing a quick kiss against her temple. “I hope it was enough to please you.”
She rolls her eyes. “You know that’s not what I meant,” she snaps, cheeks burning with embarrassment. She presses the nearly empty glass against his chest.
Max smirks and takes a quick gulp to finish the rest before handing the glass back to her. “That’s too bad,” he whispers, his breath hot against her skin.
Her heart pounds against her ribcage as she meets his gaze. There’s a predatory glint in his eyes that holds her still. She watches as his tongue drags slowly across his bottom lip, catching the last drop of water.
“Hey,” he murmurs, reaching out to tilt her chin up. “Still curious about the glass panel?”
“No,” she replies quickly, trying to pull away. In all honesty, she has forgotten about it, having decided it was nothing more than a decorative feature. His hand shifts, tightening as it moves to grip her jaw.
“Being good to me means caring about my interests,” he says, his voice low and smooth.
“Your interests…?” Lila asks softly, uncertainty flickering in her tone.
“That, or you can join me for a workout. You’ve been a bit of a couch potato lately.”
She scowls, unwilling to point out that he’s the sole reason she hasn’t been as active lately.
It’s not as if she can stroll down to a bodega for something to eat or enjoy the fresh air at a nearby park.
Mason had stopped her a few times to remind her he could order whatever she needed, his tone calm but edged with warning.
Except for the cold, windy rooftop terrace, she isn’t allowed to step outside—not even for a single breath of fresh air.
“Okay,” she sighs. “Secret floor it is.”
With his strong hand resting lightly on her back, he guides her through the penthouse until they reach the elevator.
After they step inside, she watches him place his palm on the glass panel. Though nothing seems to happen—no sound, no light, no response to the press of his hand. The extra step makes her uneasy.
Is there really a secret floor in this skyscraper?
The doors gently close, and the elevator emits a low hum as it begins its descent.
She swallows hard as the memory of Tony’s battered face and Jake’s bound body creeps back, the image of the sack over his head burned into her mind.
Maybe she shouldn’t have binged so many slashers, but regret still twists in her gut.
“Is this like… your red room or something?” she asks cautiously, thinking of those dark web horror stories about torture chambers that people swear are real.
After everything, she can’t shake the truth: Max is a dangerous man drawn to forbidden things.
“It’s my personal playground,” he says with a quick wink, making her heart do crazy flips in her chest.
Like… a BDSM dungeon?
She blushes, her face growing warm. She hasn’t really explored that path before. Would she even enjoy it?
When the doors part, a dimly lit expanse comes into view, springing to life as Max flicks on a series of switches. Overhead lights flare to brightness, flooding the space. Lila’s eyes widen in disbelief. For a moment, she stands frozen, taking in the incredible sight before her.
She finds herself in what appears to be a state-of-the-art tech lab. Sleek machines and blinking consoles line the walls, each emitting faint hums that blend into a strange mechanical symphony. It feels unreal to think she has been living above this all along.
Max guides her forward with a gentle nudge.