Against the Ropes

by Sarah Castille

  but smile.

  “That sounds serious.”

  “It is.”

  Max lowers his head and captures my lips in a hard, demanding

  kiss. Deep in my belly, need unfurls and licks softly through my body.

  I glide my hands over his chest, but when they move lower to trace the

  ridges of his six-pack, he stops me.

  “No, baby. My turn.” He pulls my arms behind my back, bracket-

  ing my wrists with one hand.

  My body arches into him, my breasts brush against his chest. His

  free hand glides up my curves, and he cups my breast in his palm and

  squeezes gently. I moan and wriggle in his grasp. How can hands that

  are capable of such violence be so gentle and sensual on my skin?

  “I’m not sure who is seducing who anymore,” I pant.

  “Maybe we’re seducing each other.” He turns his attention to my

  other breast, rolling my nipple between his thumb and forefinger until

  it peaks. A groan rips out of my throat.

  “Then one of us isn’t doing a good job, since he still has his

  clothes on.” I trail a finger along the elastic of Max’s boxer shorts and

  then freeze. Suddenly shy, I give him a questioning look from beneath

  my lashes.

  His brown eyes smolder beneath heavy lids. “Tell me what you

  want, baby.”

  “I want to touch you,” I whisper, dropping my gaze downward.

  I want to feel his desire in my hand, taste it in my mouth, and feel it

  inside me. Only then will I know it is real.

  “Where?”

  Heat sizzles through me. I bite my lip and press my hand over the

  erection straining beneath his shorts. “Here.”

  Max hisses in a breath and eases his shorts over his tight hips,

  sighing audibly as his erection springs free. He kicks them aside and

  I take a step back and stare at his incredible body—the lean contours

  of his muscles, the deep cuts of his narrow hips, the ripples across his

  abdomen, the tight, hard planes of his chest, and the trail of soft, dark

  hair leading down to his thick, heavy shaft.

  “Touch me, baby.”

  Hand shaking, I circle my fingers around his girth and marvel at

  the contrast between his hard desire and the silky softness in my palm.

  I slide my hand up his length, stroking lightly. Max groans. Sweat

  beads on his forehead and his hands clench and unclench by his sides.

  No man has ever been so aroused by my touch. Emboldened, I sink to

  my knees on the cool rubber mat. I press a kiss to his swollen head, and

  then a lick. Salty. Sweet. Sensual. Everything that is Max.

  “You taste good.” I open my mouth and slide my lips along his

  length, taking him as far as he can go.

  “Makayla, baby. Stop.” He threads his fingers through my hair and

  gently eases my head back. “I won’t be able to hold out. I’ve wanted you

  for so long, and seeing you like this…here,” his voice breaks. “A man

  can only take so much.”

  “But—” I want this. I want to taste him. I want to give him what

  he gave me.

  He hooks his hands under my arms and yanks me up. I groan when

  his fingers slip between my legs.

  “You’re so wet.” His voice deepens, thickens. “You liked having my

  cock in your mouth.”

  I should be shocked, maybe offended by his words. Instead, I am

  incredibly aroused. “I’ve been wet since you walked onto the stage at

  the gala. It seems to be my normal state around you, but yes, I especially

  liked having you in my mouth.”

  “My turn.” Max nudges my legs apart and drops to his knees. He

  isn’t going to…he can’t—

  He nuzzles my mound and my breath hitches. Oh, God. He is.

  He can. I take an involuntary step back, but before I hit the ropes, Max

  grabs my hips and holds me still, his thumbs sliding to the juncture of

  my thighs. Fire races through my veins. He spreads me wide and his

  breath, hot and moist, whispers over my aching nub.

  “Oh, Max.” I thread my hands through his hair, and dig my fingers

  into his scalp. Max looks up at me and grins. He slips a finger inside me,

  and I rock into his palm. It can’t get much better than this.

  He leans forward, and his tongue sweeps along my folds in one

  long, wet, delicious lick. I gasp. It can get better. Much better.

  “You like that, baby?”

  My only response is a strangled cry.

  Two fingers dip inside me, deeper this time, and then out, again

  and again, until my hips are rocking in time to his rhythm. I tighten my

  grip on his hair and try to get him where I want him to go.

  “My girl is so damn hot when she’s right on the edge,” he murmurs.

  He slides his fingers out, but before I can protest, his tongue plunges

  into my sex, the sensation intimate and darkly erotic. I arch my back

  and moan.

  “Hold on, baby.” He captures my sensitive nub between his lips and

  sucks it gently into his mouth. I fall back and scream

  as my orgasm hits me. But he doesn’t stop. His teasing tongue slips back

  inside and he draws out wave after wave of mind-numbing pleasure.

  A slight quiver in my thighs is all the warning I get before my knees

  buckle. Max catches me and pulls me down to the mat on top of him.

  My breath comes in short, hard pants. “Weren’t we just in this

  position a few weeks ago?”

  “Yes. And I was thinking then exactly what I’m thinking now.” He

  flips over, carrying me with him until I am on my back, caged by his

  tight, hard body.

  “So was I.”

  “I’m going to make you feel so good, baby.” He presses his palm

  over my sweet spot, and his fingers thrust and curl inside me. My

  body tightens around him. Tighter. Tighter. And then his fingers

  disappear and his erection prods gently against my swollen folds. I

  breathe a sigh. Finally.

  “Open for me.”

  Sensation floods my body as he spreads me wide.

  Finally.

  I’ve waited for this for so long. Dreamed about it. Fantasized

  about it.

  “Damn.”

  “Max?” Half-dazed, my face crumples when he draws away.

  “What’s wrong?”

  A pained look crosses his face. “I don’t have a condom.”

  My tension instantly disappears and I melt into the mat. “I do.”

  “Where?”

  “In my purse.” I point to my evening bag long abandoned beside

  my dress.

  Max pushes himself up and grabs my bag. “I am both pleased and

  displeased to know you left home tonight with a bag full of condoms.”

  He hands the bag to me.

  I pull out a condom and hold the open purse for him to see. “Not

  a bag full. Only three. I like to be safe.”

  He tears open the packet with his teeth and sheaths himself. “Only

  three? Drake and who else did you plan to seduce tonight?”

  I grin and ruffle his hair. “I like jealous Max.”

  “I like Makayla with only one condom in her purse. For me.” He

  settles himself between my legs, holding up his weight on his elbows.

  His erection presses deliciously against my entrance. I lean up and flick

  my tongue along his tattoos.


  “I like these,” I whisper. “Do they mean something?”

  “Failure.” The self-loathing in his voice startles me. I look up at

  him, but the pained expression on his face freezes my tongue. So many

  tattoos. So many failures. Why does he feel the need to ink them into

  his skin?

  My mouth opens to ask him to explain but Max cuts me off with

  a kiss. He nuzzles my neck and trails kisses down my throat and then

  around each of my breasts. He laves first one nipple then the other, and

  my arousal ratchets back up in an instant. I arch my back and whimper.

  “There we go,” he rasps. And with one thrust, he’s inside me,

  pushing deep, deeper than fingers, deeper than his tongue.

  “You feel like velvet. So hot. So wet.” He shudders and pulls back

  slow and easy. My body protests by tightening around him, ripping a

  grunt from his throat. He thrusts deep again, filling me, stretching me.

  Possessing me.

  “Don’t stop.” I wrap my arms around him and pull him down,

  crushing his mouth to my own. Max groans and fills me again. I tilt my

  hips to take more of him. When I whimper my need, his pace changes.

  Faster. Harder. I am climbing again, higher and higher, until searing

  pleasure rips through me, and I am soaring in Max’s arms.

  Max’s body tenses and he thrusts hard and deep, climaxing with a

  husky groan.

  When I regain a semblance of consciousness, Max is staring down

  at me. His eyes are soft, warm, and free of shadows. His lips find mine

  and he kisses me long and deep.

  “Hot kind. Wild kind. Sweet kind,” he whispers as he rolls to

  his side.

  “Your kind.” My fingers brush along his jaw, prickly with a five

  o’clock shadow.

  A smile ghosts Max’s lips. “Mine.”

  Chapter 16

  Sex Is Not Really the Problem

  .....

  Max, are u awake?

  No

  U make a very comfortable bed

  Time to sleep

  No sleep

  No choice. You only had 3 condoms

  U don’t have a single condom in ur house?

  Sleep

  Bad sleep. Want to go condom hunting

  No

  Text me a bedtime story

  What story?

  The story about the man who had no condoms in his house

  MAKAYLA!

  Did u just shout at me? **frowns**

  Behave

  You don’t like my hand here?

  I don’t want to move. I like Makayla lying on top of me

  I like Max getting up to find condoms

  Max is happy like this

  This part of Max is not happy

  You shouldn’t text in bed

  Why?

  This might happen

  **gasps** I’ll find condoms myself…naked

  You win. I’ll go

  Yessss! **pumps fist in air**

  But you will pay

  Yessss! **pumps fist in air**

  Like this

  Oh **whimpers**

  ....

  The soft, slow glide of a tongue circling my nipple awakens me. For a

  moment I am totally disoriented. Dark. So dark. I take a deep breath

  and smell spicy cologne, wood polish, and the lingering scent of sex.

  Max’s room. Max’s bed. Still night.

  His tongue laves my nipple, drawing it into a hard peak. Warm,

  relaxed, and still half asleep, I sift a languid hand through his hair.

  Desire flickers through my body. How can I be wet already?

  “Bad Max. I have to work tomorrow.”

  He turns his attention to my other nipple, pausing briefly to say,

  “It is tomorrow. Do you want to play, baby?” He rolls to his side and

  kneads my breast before he runs his hand down my body to the junc-

  ture of my thighs. I startle at his firm, demanding caress, so unlike the

  gentleness of the night’s previous encounters, but the effect is the same.

  My nipples harden and moisture pools between my thighs.

  “Yes, Max. I want to play.”

  “That’s my girl.” The deep rumble of his voice vibrates against my

  chest sending a wave of heat through my body.

  He cups the curve of my sex and drives two fingers inside me with

  a hard, sharp thrust. No build up. No teasing. No warning.

  “Ahhh.” I arch my back and my hips come off the bed at the inti-

  mate invasion.

  “Wet and ready for me. Good girl.” His voice, warm and smooth

  as bourbon, slides over me like the blanket now missing from the bed.

  When I moan, he leans down and slants his mouth across mine. His

  kiss is hard and urgent. Demanding. He thrusts his tongue between my

  lips and takes my mouth in long, firm, unyielding strokes.

  The hair on the back of my neck prickles. Where is soft, gentle

  Max who whispers in my ear and nibbles at my lips? Where is playful,

  sensual Max who teases me to orgasm and holds me until I come

  back down?

  He nips my bottom lip. “Do you trust me, baby?”

  Um. No. Not when his manner has suddenly changed from sweet

  and loving to dominant and sexually demanding.

  As if sensing my concern, he brushes my hair over my shoulder and

  nuzzles my neck. I giggle when his chin dips into a ticklish spot.

  “I’m not sure which Max we’re talking about.”

  His presses a soft, sweet kiss to my lips. “Same Max. Different style.”

  “I liked the old style.” I wriggle my hips on the bed. “But right now

  I need—”

  He spreads my moisture up and around my sensitive nub, while

  his fingers continue to stroke inside, teasing me until my thighs quiver.

  “I know what you need, baby. Let me give it to you the best way I

  know how.”

  My body aches. My nipples throb. The air around us charges with

  electricity. I slit my eyes closed and whisper, “Yes, Max. Okay.”

  “Arms over your head.” His tone changes in a heartbeat, from a soft

  cajole to a brusque command. “Now.”

  My breath leaves me with a sharp exhalation. He positions himself

  astride me, straddling my hips. His erection, hot and heavy, rests just

  below my breasts. As if someone else is in my body, someone carnal and

  wanton, I do as he commands. I raise my arms.

  He gives a satisfied grunt and reaches behind the bed. Movements

  behind me I cannot see. He attaches a soft strap to my wrist and

  secures it to the bed frame. I tense and the steady rhythm of my

  heart quickens.

  “Wait.”

  He doesn’t wait. He attaches a second strap to my other wrist and

  secures it to the other side of the bed frame, spreading my arms wide.

  My heart bangs a warning against my ribs. I yank on the straps.

  No give. Unlike the rope on the motorcycle I don’t for a moment think

  I’ll be able to wriggle myself free, and there is little chance of anyone

  coming to save me except Colton.

  Bang. Bang. Bang. My ribs ache from the pounding of my heart.

  My lungs tighten and I fight for every breath. Last night was nothing like

  this. Last night was fun and sweet and tender. Last night was normal.

  “Makayla, look at me.” Max’s deep, compelling voice draws my

  eyes to his. “What’s your safe word?”

  Safe word? My brain clicks into gear, remembering
our night at

  Twin Peaks. “Agusta.”

  He strokes my cheek and smiles. “Trust me not to hurt you, baby.

  Trust me to give you what you need.”

  Trust him? I don’t know him. I know cool, bossy Max the busi-

  nessman. I know sexy, playful Torment the fighter. But this man—

  his tattoos glistening on his powerful body—ignites my deepest, most

  carnal desires and my most hidden fears. I am drawn to his flame,

  unable to resist.

  “I trust you, Max.” The lie falls off my lips in the wake of over-

  powering need and insatiable curiosity.

  Max slides down my body and kneels at the foot of the bed. “You’re

  okay, baby. We’ve done this before. I’m just going to take you a little

  further this time.”

  His words speak to something dark inside me. My sex clenches, and

  I try to resist the pull. “It had a purpose before—to keep me on your

  motorcycle. I’m not about to fall off your bed.”

  “It had another purpose—to see whether you liked being restrained

  and touched.” He slides a finger along my folds and shows me the

  wetness glistening on his fingers. “You do.”

  My cheeks burn and I turn my head away. What the hell is wrong

  with me?

  Max slides his hands up my inner thighs and bends my legs one

  at a time. He plants each heel on the bed and sits back and studies me.

  “Open yourself for me.”

  My body flames, but I do as he asks and spread my knees wide. My

  thighs quiver. Cool air rushes down below but does nothing to dampen

  the burn of my desire. For the first time ever, I feel utterly vulnerable,

  exposed. The sensation is at once frightening and arousing.

  “You have a pretty pussy, Makayla. I want to see it. Don’t move

  your legs. If you do, there will be consequences.” He smacks my

  thigh so smartly, I jump, and a disconcerting wave of heat rushes

  through me.

  “If you want to stop, use your safe word.” His eyes shine fever

  bright in the shadows. His body thrums with energy. He is alive in a

  way I have seen only in the fight ring. And, alarmingly, so am I.

  When I shake my head, his lips curl into a smile. He runs his hand

  down my body from my neck to the juncture of my thighs, and then in

  and out my curves and over my breasts. His strokes are firm, uninhib-

  ited, and entirely possessive. The sweep of his hand etches his ownership