Sparks Fly (Davis Brothers Book 1)
Page 6
Yes. Yes it is.
He gets to work without preamble, opening his laptop and typing away. Amy flips another page in her book. Ed Shereen’s voice flows from the speakers positioned at each corner of the room, set to a pleasant decibel that could hardly be heard when we got busy.
Staring a burning hole into Max’s forehead does nothing to bring his attention to me.
Is it possible I misread all his signals over the last two days? Was he just helping me because he was a nice guy? Now that I was no longer a damsel in distress his attention had politely shifted away from me? Seemed like that was the case.
I huff softly under my breath, earning a curious glance from Amy. She looks between me and Max before going back to her book.
“Sir.” I call out with fake sweetness. “You can’t use the WiFi without ordering something.”
He looks up from his laptop screen and smirks at me as if he knows why I’m prodding him. He knows his indifferent behavior is bothering me and he thinks it’s funny.
Asshole.
“Ok.” He rises slowly from his seat, goes to Amy’s register and orders a blueberry muffin. On his way back to his seat he takes a bite of the muffin and winks at me. Fucking winks.
Now I’m fuming.
At least an hour passes. Several customers come and go, none lingering for long. Except Max who is still sitting at his table, gaze intently focused on his laptop. I can’t stand the fact that he won’t even spare me a glance. I don’t know what it says about me but I decide enough is enough.
I take my phone to the back room and fumble with the office computer that plays music for the shop. I search my playlist for what I want, increase the volume just enough to make it noticeable and press play. Leaving my phone plugged into the USB I make my way back to the register. By the time I get there Kid Ink is already loud and clear.
“You can try hard but you can’t ignore me.”
I innocently sing along to the opening line. The edges of his lips lift but he decisively keeps his eyes trained on his laptop screen.
✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧
The next day is a repeat.
Max sitting quietly at his table.
Max ordering a cranberry muffin from Amy.
Max pointedly ignoring my presence.
I try to ignore him too but it proves to be much harder than he makes it look. When he packs up his backpack and gets in my line after a couple hours of studying I try not to act like I care.
“Can I help you?” I ask when he gets to the front of the line.
“I forgot something yesterday.”
“Oh?” I think back to what he could have forgotten. Maybe he left his laptop charger or one of his notebooks on the table. He had still been sitting there when my shift ended so I wouldn’t know. I turn to Amy to ask her when he starts talking again.
“Your number. I forgot to get your number.”
I stare back at him dumbfounded. Was he fucking serious?
“No.”
His eyebrow lifts. “No?”
I shake my head. “No.”
He stares back at me with his piercing gaze, not phased in the slightest by my rejection. A customer behind him clears his throat and shifts his weight impatiently, ready to order his coffee and get back to his day. Max ignores him just as effectively as he’s ignored me the past two days.
“Is there anything else I can get you?” I ask sharply. My pride is still wounded from yesterday if I’m being honest with myself and I would rather he just leave. I thought he liked me. Clearly I had overestimated how much. The last thing I needed was to be strung along.
Could I just lick my wounds in peace and be left alone? I still had the shit with David to try to cope with so maybe I was just being overly sensitive. In all honesty I really didn’t have the time or mind space to deal with Max.
He stares back another long moment before ordering. “Peach tea to go.”
“What size?”
“Large.”
I punch in the order as he stands in front of the register watching my movements.
He pulls out his wallet. “How much?”
“Free.” I state simply, gesturing for him to move down the line so I can help the next customer.
He doesn’t budge.
“How much?”
“Free. I told you I was going to pay you back for the other night.”
He continues to stand in front of me, not caring at all about the line forming behind him. I give him a look that says what the fuck do you not understand?
Still, no reaction.
“Large peach tea.” Amy calls out his order at the end of the counter and slides the clear plastic to-go cup across before turning back to make the next drink.
The customer behind him finally loses his patience.
“Excuse me.” He rudely bumps Max out of his way and orders his coffee. He lingers behind the line for a while but I focus on taking customers’ orders and swiping cards.
By the time my line is empty Max is long gone.
He shows up every day that week. Calm. Steady. Predictable. Just like the crashing ocean waves we watched together.
He chooses Amy’s line to order, no doubt avoiding my forced paybacks, but stops by at least once each day to ask for my number again. It’s become somewhat of a game and he gets creative with how he asks.
I still tell him no every time.
On Saturday he comes by early in the morning to order a breakfast sandwich. He doesn’t have his backpack so I assume he doesn’t plan to stay long. I’m surprised when he gets in my line first instead of Amy’s.
“What can I get for you?”
“Your number?”
“Anything from the menu?”
He sighs in defeat. “Bacon egg and cheese bagel.”
“Coming right up.”
I know I’m off work tomorrow and make a spontaneous decision. I turn my back to him as I heat up his sandwich and wrap it in wax paper. Grabbing a pen from the counter, I write my number across the top along with a winking smiley face and shove it in a bag.
I ring up the purchase and swipe the card he hands me, noting that his knuckles seem to have healed nicely. You can hardly tell they were ever cracked and bruised.
Max takes his bag from my outstretched hand and leaves the coffee shop. Within minutes of his departure I feel my phone vibrating in my apron. My heart races in anticipation as I swipe my finger across the screen to find a text from a strange number.
Max: Hey.
Lacey: Who is this?
Max: You giving your number out to all the customers today?
Lacey: Maybe I am. *shrugging emoji*
Max: Well let me give you a hint...
A selfie of Max covers my screen and I can’t help but laugh out loud at the goofy pose. Crossing his eyes and making the stupidest expression imaginable.
Lacey: Looking better than ever.
Max: Better than when you were checking me out at the beach?
So he had seen me looking at him that night.
Lacey: Absolutely.
Lacey: Shirtless Max was pretty sexy, but cross eyed Max? Making me wet.
It was a bold thing to say. But there was something about him that made me want to push the boundaries just to see how he responded. I stare down at my phone waiting for an incoming text. The little dots appear indicating he’s typing. Then they disappear.
The text doesn’t come.
Looks like I effectively shut him up. I smile to myself and slide the phone into my back pocket, busying myself with wiping down the counters and cleaning up discarded cups and spoons. I don’t feel my phone vibrate for the rest of my shift and am surprised to see a new text waiting to be opened when I get in my car to head home. I take a deep breath, inhaling the new car air freshener scent that reminds me of him, and open the message.
Max: Wet? Like from skinny dipping at the beach? *wink emoji*
I laugh out loud and send him LOL before driving straight home.
We text every day too and our flirting grows from harmless to heated. He deflects most of my sexy texts at first, turning them into jokes. Sending funny memes to cut the sexual tension or outright changing the subject.
I assume it’s because he knows what happened to me and thinks I’m damaged. Maybe that’s a correct assessment. Still I find myself wanting him, immersing myself in the desire I feel for him to distract from the trauma underneath the surface. I know if I ignore it that it’s bound to boil over eventually like volcanic lava.
But I can’t seem to bring myself to think about it.
I never went to the doctor like Max hinted I should. I never reported it to the police either. Within a few days I couldn’t feel the pain or aching anymore. If I didn’t think about it, it was almost like it never happened.
I knew I needed to get tested soon to make sure I didn’t contract anything after seeing the type of women David had been screwing behind my back. I decided to schedule an appointment to ease my mind of that nagging worry and just received the results back yesterday letting me know I have a clean bill of health.
I didn’t even talk to Reina about what happened, distancing myself from her to the point of nearly no contact when she started asking too many questions about my breakup. I didn’t want to talk about it. Assuming it was because I was heartbroken, she backed off to let me sulk alone. Little did she know it was my body and not my heart that had been battered.
On Friday night Max texts me during the closing credits of my third episode of The Walking Dead.
Max: Hey. What’s up angel? *angel emoji*
Lacey: Binging The Walking Dead.
Max: Without me?
Lacey: All by my lonesome.
Lacey: What’re you doing? Hot date?
Max: Nope.
Lacey: You’re not the kind of guy to be alone on a Friday night.
There’s a slight pause before he replies.
Max: What kind of guy am I?
Lacey: Sexy and mysterious.
Max: Mysterious huh?
Max: You drinking?
Lacey: Come on. You’re definitely mysterious.
Lacey: As hard as I try… I can’t quite figure you out.
Max: What if there’s nothing to figure out?
Lacey: Not buying it.
A picture comes through of a pizza box sitting on his coffee table with his TV screen in the background. The DVR is up, showing he has fifty-four episodes of The Walking Dead recorded.
Max: Come help me eat this.
Lacey: What kind of pizza is that?
Max: Pepperoni and mushrooms.
Lacey: Send me your address.
The fact that I shaved-everywhere- and changed into my sexiest matching bra and panty set before driving to his apartment spoke volumes of my intentions.
I wanted him.
Bad.
We had been building up to this moment for the past few days and I was ready to seal the deal. I didn’t want my last time to be with David. Forced. I hadn’t slept with him for a couple weeks before the worst night of my life. I needed to cleanse myself of him and the filthiness he made me feel.
Max made me want to get filthy with him. Electricity shot through my nerve endings.
I knock on the door and when he opens I throw my arms around his neck and press my lips to his, letting out all the passion that had built up inside of me. He freezes at first, shocked by the turn of events. But it doesn’t take long before he’s gripping my hips and kissing me back right here in the doorway.
I feel Max shift me inside the apartment. I’m too drunk from his lips to be of any assistance. He reaches behind me to shove the door shut, not breaking from the kiss.
He grinds into me and presses me against the front door. His tongue seeks entry to my mouth and I eagerly open for him. I brush my tongue against his, wrapping my left leg around his hip, grinding myself up against his hardness. I’ve lost all control of myself. It’s as if I’m Jane and he’s Tarzan, both of us reduced to uncivilized, animalistic urges. He grips my ass and lifts me in the air as I wrap my legs tightly around him to hold myself up.
All our texts over the last few weeks have led up to this. I moan in his mouth as I rub against his hard dick again. I’m desperate to feel the firmness against my center even though layers of clothes separate us, dulling the sensation.
We’re on the move but I can’t tear my mouth from his to look at where he’s taking us. I tighten my arms around his neck as he leans me back. Plush pillows hit the back of my head as he plops me down on the couch, covering my body with his immediately. His dick grinds into me at a new angle. A deep moan escapes my mouth. He kisses his way down my jaw. Strokes his tongue across my neck, flooding me in wetness.
I want him so bad it’s starting to physically hurt.
Out of nowhere Max’s warmth disappears from above me. I crack open my eyes to find him sitting on the couch, hands rubbing through his hair anxiously as if he just made a huge mistake.
“We shouldn’t be doing this.” His voice is husky from suppressed desire.
“Why not?”
I sit up sideways on the couch and face him, trying not to let my sexual frustration get the best of me. We were so close to diving in headfirst and now he was pumping the breaks.
“I’m not good for you.”
“I don’t care.”
He doesn’t respond or look at me and I don’t like it. I swing a leg over him and settle onto his lap, grinding against him again suggestively. Less talking and more touching was in order.
“I can’t be your rebound.”
“You’re not. You’re more than that.”
It’s an honest answer. Maybe too honest.
“I can’t be your boyfriend either.”
“I didn’t ask you to be.”
I was drawn to him on a molecular level. There’s an invisible magnet almost dragging me in his direction. I can’t stop touching him and I can’t quite explain why. It was more than just a sexual pull. But the lust was there too and I chose to focus on that for now.
I press my mouth to his throat softly and lick the smooth skin underneath his jaw, feeling his pulse pumping underneath my tongue. It proves he’s just as turned on as I am and it gives me the confidence to keep going. He sucks in a sharp breath of pleasure and I smile to myself as I continue licking and tasting.
“Lacey.”
I ignore his halfhearted tone of warning and pull my shirt off. It ends up on the floor exposing my maroon laced bra with demi cups. I stand and seductively remove my pants without breaking the intense eye contact with Max. I step out of each pant leg and waste no time climbing back on his lap in nothing but my low-cut bra and matching maroon thong. It leaves little to the imagination.
“I don’t have a condom.” His hands trail up my thighs, cupping each bare ass cheek and squeezing gently.
Biting my bottom lip I reach into my bra and pull out a foil packet I had stuffed there before leaving the house. This was thoroughly planned on my part. Max groans and I feel him swell and harden even more.
“Lacey...” His voice is strained and I know he’s close to giving in.
I lean forward, pressing my tits against his chest and whisper against his ear. “Shut up and fuck me, Max.”
His resistance fully breaks underneath me. His strong hands cup my face as he pulls me to him, kissing me with complete abandon that hadn’t quite been there before. Our tongues dance in choreographed movements that ebb and flow. Perfectly in sync. He tangles both hands in my hair and holds me securely in place as he ravishes my lips.
His hands trail to my tits and I lean back to give him a better view as he cups one over my bra. His lips are red from our intense round of kisses. It’s sexy as fuck. I rock
my hips against his length, slow and torturous. His eyes hood with lust and I take the opportunity to reach down, unfastening his pants with lightning speed.
His dick rises from the confines of his jeans, happy to finally be freed. A satisfied smile spreads on my face as I hand him the condom and lift my hips enough for him to slide it on.
Instead of taking the condom and putting us both out of our lusty misery he gently squeezes my breasts before pulling them both from my bra. He takes the left in his mouth. I close my eyes at the tingling sensation, enjoying the feeling of his wet tongue swirling over my peaked nipple as the straps of my bra cut into my skin deliciously.
It feels just dirty enough to be mind numbingly sexy.
I grip his dick, not wanting it to stay neglected as it pulses with need between us. He had dropped the condom on the couch at his side when he filled his hands with my tits and I feel around frantically for it with my free hand.
I finally find the damn thing, tear it open with my teeth and roll it over his length. Hand at his base I sink down over him in one fluid motion, wet enough to seat myself fully.
A moan rumbles deep in his throat. His head leans back against the couch in ecstasy. This spurs me on and I bounce up and down with a satisfying rhythm.
“You feel so good.” He groans, his hands loosely palming my tits. He rubs my nipples with callused thumbs and makes my pussy pulse around him. He leans back and lets me take charge and ride him. Let’s me pleasure myself on his dick and control the pace for what feels like hours.
Time means nothing anymore. The only thing that matters is the primal desire coursing through me and building stronger with each stroke.
Max grips my hips tighter as his eyes rove down to where our bodies meet. He watches hungrily as my pussy lifts and lowers, impaling me.
Over and over.
Again and again.
Suddenly he stops me from lowering, holding me up so that just his tip is still inside me. He settles back comfortably in the couch and begins pounding up into me, holding me in place above him. I throw my head back as I cry out in sheer torturous pleasure. Hair tickles my lower back. My head lolls around like a rag doll with his incessant pounding up into my pussy.