105. Summer #2
And then his lips brush over mine, and time stops.
No. Not now. I will not think of him and that brief contact of his lips.
Max pulls back. “Upstairs.”
Say no. Say no. This is dangerous, but I need to feel alive.
I really should listen to that internal voice.
I know it. This is dangerous for both of us, but I desperately want to feel.
I want to remind myself that I am still alive.
Taking a deep breath, I slide my hand into his and lead him back to the party.
It has really kicked off since we escaped to the kitchen, and the music is thumping.
Without pausing, I lead Max through the crowd and up the stairs.
He squeezes my hand, almost reassuringly, and I glance at him over my shoulder as we ascend the steps.
Max pauses outside my door, and I turn to face him. “You okay?” I ask.
Maybe he’s changed his mind. I wouldn’t blame him. Last time, he got mutilated simply for kissing me. Let alone what we’re about to do.
“Just never been in your room before,” Max says with a chuckle.
My lips twitch, and I reach behind me to open the door, pulling him with me into my bedroom.
Again, the second the door closes, the music from outside becomes nothing but a thumping echo.
Max wastes no time. Reaching for me, he pulls me close and kisses me again.
He backs me into the room until the back of my legs hit the bed, breaking the kiss only long enough to pull the dress off my body and discard it on the floor.
I make quick work of the buttons on Max’s shirt and push it from his shoulders. He lowers me back onto the bed, his lips moving against mine. I close my eyes, losing myself in him as his hands glide over my body.
I reach between us and open his pants. When I can’t get them past his hips, he helps me, groaning into my mouth.
He rolls on the condom he pulled from his pocket and shoves down my panties.
Swiping his fingers through my folds to make sure I am ready for him, he buries himself deep inside me.
It seems Max needs this as much as I do.
“Need to let you adjust,” he says on a low, deep moan as I roll my hips beneath him. I can feel the way his every muscle is locked in place as he fights for control, but I want the pain. I need the pain.
“Max. Fuck me. Hard. Now,” I growl, something inside me snapping.
Max pants. “You’re so tight. I’ll hurt you. It feels like it’s been a while?—”
“Hurt me,” I demand, grabbing his hips and pushing against them before pulling him back to me. Max’s face is contorted with discomfort, and he is physically shaking, trying to hold back. “Don’t hold back. I want it. I need it,” I growl, bracing my hand against the headboard.
“It’s been a while,” he grates out, his muscles rippling with the strain.
“Don’t be a pussy,” I moan. “Fuck me. Hard.” I grab his face and slam my mouth against his, biting his bottom lip so hard that the coppery taste of his blood bursts against my tongue.
Max rears back, staring down at me for a long moment as he runs his tongue along his lip.
His eyes flood with green, and I see the moment he lets himself off the chain.
His body enlarges, and he bucks his hips against me.
There is no finesse in the first few thrusts.
They are violently hard, and my pussy throbs with pleasure and the deep burning bite of pain.
My eyes roll back as I clench around him.
Oh, gods, how I need this. I need to be unable to think. I need to feel only this.
Max moans into my lips as he kisses me again, and the bed groans beneath us as he sets a punishing rhythm.
My cries are muffled by the thudding music coming from downstairs, but even if everyone at the party could hear me, I wouldn’t care.
With him fucking me like this, I can forget everything else. I can pretend.
I lift my hips beneath him greedily, and Max pulls back.
He braces his weight on one elbow and grips my thigh with his free hand.
His eyes glow green as he pushes my leg to the side and up, opening me to him further.
His next thrust sends an aching throb through me, and I come completely undone beneath him.
My cry is piercing, my orgasm barreling through me and leaving me a trembling mess.
Max reaches his release a moment after I do, his roar loud enough to shake the bed.
Max pants, looking down at me, both of us slowly coming down from our orgasm.
“Happy I came?” he asks.
The words are like being doused with icy water, the reality of what I’ve done slamming into me. “Fuck,” I curse, pushing him off me.
“What?” Max asks, frowning as he complies and rolls off me.
I stare at the ceiling, regret seeping into my bones. “We shouldn’t have?.?.?. I shouldn’t have?—”
Max grips my chin and turns my head to face him. “We should have,” he interrupts. “You should have.” He leans in, kissing me again. “Whatever it is. We should have.”
“Why?” I ask, quirking a brow.
“Because it’s fun,” he says with a careless shrug, and with that short statement, I relax a little.
He’s so dependably a fuckboy that it’s easy to do this with him.
The regret eases, because it was never about regretting being with Max.
It’s that I put him in danger. I regret him and what I did. Did I do anything? I am still not sure.
“You’re thinking very loudly,” Max says.
“I don’t know that it’s safe,” I say honestly, exhaling and looking back up at the ceiling. I’ve not done what I promised. Yet. I haven’t spilled his blood, and with every day that passes, my anger diminishes a little more, replaced by something softer, weaker.
“Who cares?” Max says, shrugging again.
“Max?.?.?.” I turn over onto my front, leaning up on my forearms.
“What?”
“Your arm?—”
“It healed in a week,” Max says. “And again”—he kisses me—“worth it.”
My lips twitch, and Max’s smile grows.
“What?” I ask.
“I just missed having fun with you,” he says, kissing me again, but this time, when his hand wanders up my back, the stranger appears in my mind, and I remember how his hands and lips felt on me.
I pull back, my cheeks flushing like I’ve been caught fantasizing. Shaking my head, I lean in to kiss him. The taste of the stranger’s kiss fills my mouth, and this time I can’t banish him from my mind. Why am I thinking about him? Why now?
“What time is it?” Max asks.
“Like eleven,” I say, looking at my phone.