I snort before I can stop myself. “It’s not you, it’s me.”
He stares back at me and I lift an eyebrow in confrontation. At least he has the decency to look flustered.
“I’m not good enough for you.”
“Cliché.”
“But true.”
“That’s pretty low self-esteem you got there. You look in any mirrors lately?”
“Yes.” A smirk transforms his face and he winks at me. There’s still tightness in his expression and I know he’s worried about my reaction. He’s using humor to soften the blow. To sweeten the soured mood. “This is more…under the surface.”
“Oh?”
“You’re a sweet girl.”
“You’re kind of a sweet guy.”
He chokes on a laugh. “No. I’m not.”
“You helped me get home the night we met.”
“You hardly know me. You wouldn’t still think I was sweet if you did.” He says the word as if it was foreign. Unbelievable. I roll my eyes but decide to let him off the hook.
“Look. I don’t want to date you either.”
“No?” If it was possible he sounded surprised, relieved and a bit disappointed all at the same time.
“Nope. I just like fucking you.”
I shoot him a smirk of my own, adjust my top and walk off down the beach toward his car without a backwards glance, feeling his gaze burning a hole in my back the whole way.
Chapter 12
Max
When I read the handwritten class canceled sign posted on the door to my calculus II class I jumped in my car and headed straight for Lacey’s apartment. She was addictive and I planned to spend the next several hours getting my fix.
When I wasn’t busy running errands for my dad I was constantly with her. She had begun to consume nearly all my free time and I didn’t mind it one bit.
We were just fucking as Lacey so delicately put it. This wasn’t a relationship and that lack of pressure put my mind at ease.
I show up to her apartment earlier than usual. She doesn’t open the door after I knock several times. I can hear her voice filtering through the door, belting out a song at full volume. I can’t make out which song she’s singing but it makes me grin regardless. I knock again a little louder and when she still doesn’t answer I jiggle the doorknob.
It’s unlocked so I push it open, chuckling to myself at the sight of her shaking her hips and finishing the chorus to Applause by Lady Gaga with her ear-buds in. That explained how she didn’t hear my incessant banging on the door when all the neighbors were probably wishing I would shut up and go home.
I watch her dance around for a moment, amused at her carefree movements. When I step forward to capture her attention she shrieks in surprise. I throw my head back and laugh, pulling the cord on her ear-bud.
“Lock your damn door, would you? Anyone could walk in here.”
She rolls her eyes playfully and wraps her arms around my waist in a tight embrace.
“What are you doing here so early?”
“Class was canceled. I thought I would come early to surprise you.”
“It was definitely a surprise.” She muses, lifting to her tiptoes for a kiss. It heats up almost instantly when our lips touch. Our bodies are well acquainted at this point and I head straight for the sweet spot under her ear. I lave my tongue across her sensitive skin and earn a moan. I work her body up, taking my time trailing my tongue down to her exposed cleavage in that beautifully revealing cotton tank. I pull the material down to reveal the nicest rack I’ve ever seen and continue to work my way down to her pebbled nipples.
Her body never ceases to turn me on no matter how many times I indulge.
She writhes beneath my tongue and clutches my shoulders to hold her wobbly legs upright. In a swift motion I grip her hips, turn her body to face the back of the couch and push her head gently into the cushions to bend her over. I reach for her panties to tug them down her legs when she screams.
“No! Please stop!”
Shit.
I freeze and release her instantly. She spins around to face me with widened eyes full of terror. Cautiously I step back, not wanting to alarm her further. I know exactly what this reaction must mean and I’m filled with burning rage. My stomach turns with sickening regret that I reminded her of such a horrifying experience.
“I’m so sorry.” She reaches for my arm and I let her pull me a step closer.
“Don’t apologize, angel.”
“But Max…”
“It’s ok.”
Tears run down her cheeks as she looks up at me in apology.
Guilt.
Embarrassment.
I don’t like the expression on her face or the emotions it conveys. I carefully wrap her tightly in my arms and stroke her hair gently in comfort. Her shoulders shake and it hits me that she’s sobbing harder, letting the floodgates of pain and fear open up in my arms.
How can I possibly make this right? I feel so helpless.
“Shh. You’re ok, Lace.” I whisper softly against her hair, shifting her in my arms to allow me to sit us both down on the couch. Her face burrows deeper into my chest as I settle into the cushions. My hand never pauses in its feeble efforts to provide her with a semblance of comfort. “You’re safe with me.”
“I know I am.” She chokes out. I don’t like the sound of her so unsure and broken.
David broke her. It brought me a shred of satisfaction to remember what Chris and I did to the fucker, the feel of his nose crunching under my fist, his ribs cracking under my foot.
“He can’t hurt you anymore. You know that right, angel?” I squeezed her closer to me, rubbing her back with my free hand. “I took care of him. He’s not going to hurt you again.”
“I know.”
She hiccups out a final sob and I feel her body begin to relax. In time her breathing slows and her shoulders stop shaking. I keep playing with her soft hair, rubbing up and down her back.
When she calms enough to speak evenly she lifts her head. “I shouldn’t have cried all over you.”
I smile softly down at her and focus on running my fingers through her silky hair. “I don’t mind.”
She snorts. “I’m your fuck buddy. I doubt this is normal.”
I shrug. “What’s normal?”
It’s a rhetorical question and she doesn’t bother coming up with an answer.
“You still want to fuck, fuck buddy?” She asks, running a hand over my lap seductively.
I sit up and reach for the remote, effectively moving her hand away from my hardening dick before she notices her move is working and I’m getting turned back on.
“Nope.”
There was no way we should be having sex right now. Not after that emotional avalanche. She needs a break from anything sex related even if she doesn’t realize it.
“No?” She bites her bottom lip and looks as if the tears are close to flowing again.
“You know what I want?”
“What?” She asks unsure as if she thinks I’m getting ready to tell her I’m leaving.
“The Walking Dead marathon. We haven’t started season seven yet. We’re getting behind.”
She lets out the breath she was holding and gives me a long look to make sure I’m not hiding anything or holding back. Several moments pass and she seems to accept what I say as the truth. She grabs the remote from my hand while I lean back, laughing and trying to hold it out of her reach.
“Not so fast. I didn’t see the last episode from season six. You started it when I was half asleep.”
She flips through the DVR and finds the episode she wants. I watched it alone a few days ago, itching to move forward with the series. I admit I felt guilty watching it without her which is why I didn’t start season seven yet. She presses play on the remote and the opening scene fills the screen. The two of us get sucked into a marathon of The Walking Dead for hours and the thought of sex is completely forgotten.
Chapter 13
Lacey
After my little meltdown I worried Max would decide to end our fling. That the sex just wasn’t worth the trouble of consoling a basket case. But the next night he showed up after class and things went right back to normal. He didn’t try to take me from behind or bend me over again. He seemed to take extra care not to sneak up behind me.
Other than that things seemed fine. He didn’t treat me like a broken toy he didn’t want to play with anymore. I was more relieved by that than I cared to admit.
I wasn’t done with him yet. And it seemed he wasn’t done with me yet either.
I got off work this evening and went straight to Max’s apartment. We spent most of our time at my place but on the rare nights I worked late we met up at his instead. He greets me at the door and it doesn’t take long before our bodies tangle in his freshly washed sheets. The scent of detergent wafts around us and I inhale deeply to take it in.
Desperate to feel him inside me I reach for his bedside table where he keeps his condoms. My hand lands on cold metal inside the top drawer and the chill spreads from my fingers throughout my body. He feels me stiffen beneath him and shifts his weight, leaning back far enough to see my face. Without conscious thought I continue to grope around blindly.
“What’s wrong?”
“Why do you have this?”
His weight shifts again as he reaches over and shoves the drawer shut.
“I’ve had it for years.”
“That’s not what I asked you.”
“It’s for...work.” He stumbles over the words.
“You don’t work, Max.”
“You know I work for my dad sometimes.”
“Doing what exactly?”
He had never told me. In fact he had been vague as fuck each time I asked. The fact that it was a financial firm of some sort was the only information I was able to pull from him.
“Drop it, Lacey.” He warns firmly. “It’s none of your business.”
I glance back at the drawer, my fingertips still chilled from where I touched the gun. Why did Max have that? Work? What the hell did that mean?
He was right that it was none of my business but I still want to know who I was sleeping with almost every night. The way he acted when we talked about his family had all kinds of red flags popping up and flapping in the wind.
Now this?
Max reaches over and pulls open the second drawer on his bedside table. The one I had been aiming for before stumbling on his mini arsenal. He pulls out a condom and tosses the foil packet to me, waiting. I stare back at him carefully considering my next move.
This is my chance to push for answers. To find out what he’s been doing on the nights we spend apart and he darts out of town without much advanced notice, returning quiet and in a shitty mood. If I don’t confront him now I know I likely won’t get another chance. He’s just going to close back up and remain a mystery.
Despite my mind racing and heart hammering I decide to drop it like he’s asking.
For now.
It’s not any of my business. He made sure to point that out. And he doesn’t snoop around in my apartment or open all my dresser drawers to see what’s inside. The only thing he could possibly find if he did was a well used vibrator from before I met him, a healthy mix of sexy thongs and granny panties and possibly a ton of tampons stuffed randomly in my sock drawer.
But that was beside the point.
I tear open the condom and lock eyes with him while I roll it down his length. The energy between us has shifted. There’s a question in both our eyes.
Where do we go from here?
He leans over me with his sheathed dick poking at my entrance as my thighs widen to accept him. I tilt my hips up and welcome him inside me. I will my mind to forget what I found in that drawer. I can worry about what it all means later. Way later. When I’m back at home.
Right now I’m dying to feel him filling me and am struggling to hold onto any thoughts that don’t center on that raw need.
A pleasurable stretch makes me grip the sheets tightly to avoid sinking my nails into his shoulders. I watch as his chest muscles and biceps ripple with exertion as he pounds into me with smooth, practiced movements. He slowly loses himself in the bliss. His thrusts grow choppier and rougher from loss of control.
I relish in his relentless passion and meet him thrust for thrust. I lift my hips to take him deeper. Several strokes later and he tenses above me, bottoms out between my thighs and groans my name into the crook of my neck as if he’s in pain. Shocks of pleasure radiate from deep inside me as I cross the finish line with him.
He stays inside me long after we both finish. I feel him slowly softening and he rests some of his weight on top of me. At one point he asks if he’s crushing me and when I shake my head no he relaxes more.
When both of our breathing evens and I start to drift off to sleep he rolls to his back. I start to think he’s asleep until I hear his deep voice.
“I work for my dad.”
“Ok…” So we were going there. “Why don’t you ever…You know, go to work?”
“I do.”
“When?”
“It’s not a nine to five, Lace. It’s…sort of contract work. And…not always legal. Never. It’s never legal.”
He covers his eyes with his forearms and lets out a low groan.
“That’s why you need a gun?”
“Yeah.”
I slowly mull this over. I don’t like what he’s saying but just like at the coffee shop when he said we needed space, at least he isn’t lying or telling me what I want to hear. Or hiding the truth blatantly and telling me to mind my own business.
“Thank you for telling me.”
“That’s it?” He sounds surprised and I imagine his expression matches. The room is too dark to tell. “You need to know I’m not good for you. You’re so sweet and pretty. You need someone like you.”
“I don’t need anyone. I want you. That’s why I’m here in your bed.”
“Where is this going though? How long can we go on like this?”
“Like what Max?”
“Just sleeping together and wasting time.”
“Wasting time? Is that what you think of me?”
“No. No, not you. You’re wasting time with me.”
“That’s not how I see my time with you.”
He’s quiet again for a stretch of time. I begin to think the conversation has ended when he speaks up. “How old were you when you lost your virginity?”
I feel whiplash from the change of course. What did that have to do with us? With his dad’s shady business?
“Seventeen.”
“I was thirteen. She was twenty.”
I’m quiet for a minute as I try to process the age difference. How did he even know a twenty year old when he was thirteen? This conversation was only creating more questions in my already muddled mind.
“You were so young.”
“I know.” I sense there’s more he wants to say. I bite my lip to force myself into silence. “She was a prostitute. She worked for my dad. He gave her to me for my birthday.” He pauses again and the breath he sucks in sounds shaky. “I was scared and didn’t have a clue what the fuck I was doing. But I didn’t want to disappoint my dad. I knew he would be pissed if I didn’t go through with it…So I did.”
My chest clenches painfully and I worry I may be going into cardiac arrest. When nothing more happens I realize it’s just grief. Grief for Max and what he went through. That day and every other day because any father that would push something so vile on their son at thirteen couldn’t have parented much better before or after that.
My heart literally aches deep in my chest for him and the little boy he once was whose father didn’t protect him when he needed it. His father was the reason he ended up in that situation to begin with.
A monster.
I reach out and rub his arm gently, fighting for my vision to adjust to the darkness enough for me to
look in his eyes. I can’t.
“I can’t be with you Lacey. I could never be your boyfriend. You need to know that. It’s not that I don’t want to. I would. I just…I’m not good for you. I don’t know the first thing about being a decent boyfriend.”
“That doesn’t mean you can’t be a good boyfriend, Max. That experience doesn’t make you who you are.”
“You have no idea…I didn’t have the childhood you had. And I don’t have the future you have either.”
“Your past doesn’t decide your future.”
“My present does though. I told you I still fucking work for my dad.”
“You don’t have to.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I grow quiet.
Frustration builds at his complete refusal to listen to anything I say to build him up. I may not know the details of Max’s life, past or present, but I know his character. He cares about other people. Cares about me. He’s proven that by looking out for me at every turn since the moment we met.
Just last week he helped my neighbor carry a couch up two flights of stairs without being asked because he saw the guy struggling by himself after his friend bailed. Max is good. Plain and simple. He just can’t see it in himself.
I plant a soft kiss on his arm, wanting to soothe him and erase these negative thoughts. They seem so out of place coming from him.
I voice my thoughts. “You’re a good guy Max.”
He stills my hand from rubbing up and down his arm in soothing motions as if he doesn’t want the comfort. Maybe it’s that he doesn’t think he deserves even that.
“Look. I know we click. But I can’t be with you.” He repeats with a note of finality.
“Ok.”
What can I do other than accept what he has to say? I can’t force him to be with me. Can’t force him to see the goodness within him that he’s too blind to see.
“If you meet someone you want to date…Just tell me ok?”
How could I possibly meet anyone else when I’m with Max twenty-four seven? The crazy thing is I don’t even want to try.
The most heartbreaking thing about this conversation is that he doesn’t even sound convicted to what he’s saying. There’s nothing I can do but listen and nod. He can’t see the tears filling my eyes through the cover of darkness in the room and I’m grateful for that semblance of privacy. The last thing I want is for him to think I’m crying for myself or that I’m hurt by his words because they mean I can’t have him.
Sparks Fly (Davis Brothers Book 1) Page 8