Against the Ropes
Page 52
Oh God, I want him. Bad. I tighten my grip on his neck and mold my body to his.
And then he pulls away.
“No.” My voice rises almost to a whine.
Max’s eyes glitter fever bright, and his chest rises and falls so quickly I worry for a second he might hyperventilate. “I gave you my word. One kiss and we would go.”
“I don’t want to go.”
“Then tell me the truth,” he rasps. “Admit it made you hot. It made you wet. You are coiled so tight I could slide my hand down your panties and make you come before you could tell me to stop.”
Sexy words. Dirty words. Cocky words. They burst the dam holding back my desire. With a low groan I lean up and press my lips against his. “Yes,” I whisper.
Max gives a self-satisfied grunt. He slips his hand down my panties, pressing the heel of his palm against my sensitive spot. His fingers slide through my folds, and then dip inside.
Oh. My. God. My breathing stops and fire shoots through me. I whimper and rock myself against him, needing more.
“I’ve got you, baby.” His breath is warm and moist in my ear. “I know what you need.”
Max pulls his finger out and thrusts two fingers in, ripping a cry from my lips. His fingers plunge in and out while his thumb rubs the sides of my sweet spot until my legs buckle. Max’s arm tightens around me, holding me up.
So close. So damn close. I need release so badly, I groan.
“Let it go.” Max brushes his thumb over my throbbing center. Once. Twice. Three times is all it takes. “Come for me, baby.”
His deeply erotic words catapult me to orgasm. It hits with such force, I scream. My first-ever orgasm scream. Thunder roars through my ears, and my sex spasms around his fingers, each contraction sending lightning bolts of pleasure through my body. But he doesn’t stop. His fingers continue to work their magic, drawing out my orgasm until I go limp, and only his arm keeps me from slumping to the ground.
When he finally withdraws his fingers, I am seized by uncontrollable shivers. Max wraps his arms around me and holds me tight. This is not how I ever imagined my first non-Makayla-induced orgasm would be. No soft bed. No gentle touching. No slight quiver and a tiny burst of pleasure. This was wild. Uncontrolled. There were ropes and metal and cold and fear.
My blood chills. Fear has no place in the bedroom or even on Twin Peaks. I stiffen in Max’s arms and pull away. God, I’m a mess. “Can we go now?”
Max’s brow creases. “What’s wrong?”
Stomach churning, I scoop up my clothes and tug them on. “Nothing. I’m good. Just…cold.” Damn. I forgot my skirt. I ball it in my fist and stuff it down the front of my pants.
“Come here, baby.”
“Okay. All ready to go.” I plaster a fake smile across my face.
Max stalks over to me and cups my face in his hands. “It’s okay to be afraid.”
“I’m not afraid of you.”
His eyes soften. “Maybe not, but you are afraid of you.”
Chapter 13
I’m not that kind of girl
I am awakened by the jarring buzz of my phone. I fumble around until I locate the offending device and hold it to my ear.
“Good morning, Ms. Delaney.”
At the sound of Sergio’s voice, I come fully awake. My alarm clock reads ten a.m. Sun streams through the crack in my curtains. I am naked in bed. Alone.
“It’s Sunday. Why are you calling me on a Sunday? There must be laws against harassing people on the weekend.”
“I am permitted to call you between eight a.m. and nine p.m. seven days a week, as many times as I wish so long as you do not feel harassed. Do you feel harassed Ms. Delaney?”
“Yes. I have two days to sleep in every week and you have just ruined one of them. I most definitely feel harassed.”
Sergio chuckles. “I didn’t want you to sleep the day away. The sun is shining. The birds are singing. The debts are growing.”
“How thoughtful.”
“I am thoughtful,” he croons. “My thoughtfulness has motivated me to call you this morning to remind you about the payment due tomorrow.”
“I’m glad you called. Just give me a minute.” I scramble around the room looking for my notes from the calls I made to various government agencies about student loan debt collection.
“Take all the time you need, Ms. Delaney. You are my only call of the day.”
After retrieving the papers from the bottom of my backpack, I make myself comfortable on my bed.
“I understand if I am on the rehabilitation program, I have twenty days to make each payment from the day it is due. So, in fact, I have twenty-one days to make the payment due tomorrow.”
Sergio huffs into the phone. “I do so hate debtors who think they know the law. That provision kicks in only AFTER you make the first payment. You aren’t getting out of it so easily.”
“No way. I researched it.”
“Not well enough.”
My heart sinks. “I can’t pay it all. Only some of it.”
“Beg, borrow, and steal, Ms. Delaney. I can assure you the last thing you want is for me to run down to court and get an order to seize your parents’ home and your paycheck.”
“What about the Education Commission? Did they contact you about my complaint? Are the payments frozen yet?”
I hear a familiar rattle on Sergio’s end of the phone—like a hospital gurney. More rattles. It is a hospital gurney. Maybe he’s visiting a friend. Do debt collectors have friends?
And then he pulls away.
“No.” My voice rises almost to a whine.
Max’s eyes glitter fever bright, and his chest rises and falls so quickly I worry for a second he might hyperventilate. “I gave you my word. One kiss and we would go.”
“I don’t want to go.”
“Then tell me the truth,” he rasps. “Admit it made you hot. It made you wet. You are coiled so tight I could slide my hand down your panties and make you come before you could tell me to stop.”
Sexy words. Dirty words. Cocky words. They burst the dam holding back my desire. With a low groan I lean up and press my lips against his. “Yes,” I whisper.
Max gives a self-satisfied grunt. He slips his hand down my panties, pressing the heel of his palm against my sensitive spot. His fingers slide through my folds, and then dip inside.
Oh. My. God. My breathing stops and fire shoots through me. I whimper and rock myself against him, needing more.
“I’ve got you, baby.” His breath is warm and moist in my ear. “I know what you need.”
Max pulls his finger out and thrusts two fingers in, ripping a cry from my lips. His fingers plunge in and out while his thumb rubs the sides of my sweet spot until my legs buckle. Max’s arm tightens around me, holding me up.
So close. So damn close. I need release so badly, I groan.
“Let it go.” Max brushes his thumb over my throbbing center. Once. Twice. Three times is all it takes. “Come for me, baby.”
His deeply erotic words catapult me to orgasm. It hits with such force, I scream. My first-ever orgasm scream. Thunder roars through my ears, and my sex spasms around his fingers, each contraction sending lightning bolts of pleasure through my body. But he doesn’t stop. His fingers continue to work their magic, drawing out my orgasm until I go limp, and only his arm keeps me from slumping to the ground.
When he finally withdraws his fingers, I am seized by uncontrollable shivers. Max wraps his arms around me and holds me tight. This is not how I ever imagined my first non-Makayla-induced orgasm would be. No soft bed. No gentle touching. No slight quiver and a tiny burst of pleasure. This was wild. Uncontrolled. There were ropes and metal and cold and fear.
My blood chills. Fear has no place in the bedroom or even on Twin Peaks. I stiffen in Max’s arms and pull away. God, I’m a mess. “Can we go now?”
Max’s brow creases. “What’s wrong?”
Stomach churning, I scoop up my clothes and tug them on. “Nothing. I’m good. Just…cold.” Damn. I forgot my skirt. I ball it in my fist and stuff it down the front of my pants.
“Come here, baby.”
“Okay. All ready to go.” I plaster a fake smile across my face.
Max stalks over to me and cups my face in his hands. “It’s okay to be afraid.”
“I’m not afraid of you.”
His eyes soften. “Maybe not, but you are afraid of you.”
Chapter 13
I’m not that kind of girl
I am awakened by the jarring buzz of my phone. I fumble around until I locate the offending device and hold it to my ear.
“Good morning, Ms. Delaney.”
At the sound of Sergio’s voice, I come fully awake. My alarm clock reads ten a.m. Sun streams through the crack in my curtains. I am naked in bed. Alone.
“It’s Sunday. Why are you calling me on a Sunday? There must be laws against harassing people on the weekend.”
“I am permitted to call you between eight a.m. and nine p.m. seven days a week, as many times as I wish so long as you do not feel harassed. Do you feel harassed Ms. Delaney?”
“Yes. I have two days to sleep in every week and you have just ruined one of them. I most definitely feel harassed.”
Sergio chuckles. “I didn’t want you to sleep the day away. The sun is shining. The birds are singing. The debts are growing.”
“How thoughtful.”
“I am thoughtful,” he croons. “My thoughtfulness has motivated me to call you this morning to remind you about the payment due tomorrow.”
“I’m glad you called. Just give me a minute.” I scramble around the room looking for my notes from the calls I made to various government agencies about student loan debt collection.
“Take all the time you need, Ms. Delaney. You are my only call of the day.”
After retrieving the papers from the bottom of my backpack, I make myself comfortable on my bed.
“I understand if I am on the rehabilitation program, I have twenty days to make each payment from the day it is due. So, in fact, I have twenty-one days to make the payment due tomorrow.”
Sergio huffs into the phone. “I do so hate debtors who think they know the law. That provision kicks in only AFTER you make the first payment. You aren’t getting out of it so easily.”
“No way. I researched it.”
“Not well enough.”
My heart sinks. “I can’t pay it all. Only some of it.”
“Beg, borrow, and steal, Ms. Delaney. I can assure you the last thing you want is for me to run down to court and get an order to seize your parents’ home and your paycheck.”
“What about the Education Commission? Did they contact you about my complaint? Are the payments frozen yet?”
I hear a familiar rattle on Sergio’s end of the phone—like a hospital gurney. More rattles. It is a hospital gurney. Maybe he’s visiting a friend. Do debt collectors have friends?
