Chapter Five
Present
Max was the kind of man that was determined to get his way. Con had a similar trait, but usually for many different reasons.
And there I went again. Why was he on my mind so heavily? That’s not to say I didn’t think about him often, but it was getting to the point where that’s all I did.
Obsession was so fucking hard to cure.
“I've never seen you in Black Pine before," Max pointed out, pulling me out of my thoughts. He dropped his elbows on the table and clasped his hands together beneath his chin.
"I've only been here about three months. I'm still learning my way around."
"Here with family?"
"My sister, Molly. What about you?"
I glanced over at his friends.
They were still laughing and conversing, but, every few seconds, one of them would look over at us.
"I have one brother and one sister. My parents don’t live around here,” he answered, seemingly pleased when my full attention went back to him. Picking my new drink up, I took a nice swig and tried to stop my face from screwing up.
"I've been staring at you since you walked in the door," he confessed with a sheepish grin.
"Well, that doesn’t surprise me,” I partially teased.
Our conversation flowed around nothing all that important. A few more drinks may have been added in somewhere. It felt natural to sit and talk with him. In fact, one could even say it felt like I knew him from somewhere.
That didn’t last long, though.
He leaned back, running his thumb over his bitable lips, looking at me in a studious way.
"What is it?" I asked, feeling the effects of the alcohol buzzing around in my head.
"You're a gorgeous woman, Rose. But you're sad. I feel it, and I can see it in those eyes of yours. Did something happen to you? Is that why you moved to Black Pine?"
Suddenly, I wasn't tipsy enough. I couldn’t be that obvious. Were my problems stamped on my forehead? Maybe they were written across my breasts—his eyes had gone to them more than once when he thought I was distracted.
I always pulled off happy-go-lucky. It's what I did. The world could be burning down around me and I'd have a cocktail in my hand with a smile on my face.
Never crack your façade.
Con had drilled that into my head.
The ways he used to hurt me became more and more creative when I became immune to something he was doing. Being read so easily made me uncomfortable. I almost started looking around, expecting Justin to appear. I felt like I was being tested, and that was never a good feeling.
"Well, Maxwell—"
"Max," he interjected.
"Well, Max. That's a bit presumptuous, don’t you think? I promise you, I'm fine."
At my bitterly spoken words, his whole demeanor seemed to change before my eyes.
"Careful. Some people make promises they don’t mean." His voice went low, the drawl a little deeper. I found it oddly seductive, which was completely inappropriate, given the context. Maybe the drinks were doing something, after all.
“I think it’s time for me to go.”
Looking away from him, I began digging through my purse for money, tossing enough down to cover my drinks and a tip.
“It was nice to meet you, Max,” I called over my shoulder on my way to the door, feeling his eyes on me as I stepped outside.
A few steps away from my car, I heard his voice from across the parking lot. I knew he would follow me. He was so predictable.
“What about your booty-call?”
Turning around, I faced him head-on, raising both my brows.
“I thought you wanted to be friends?”
“You don’t seem like you want that.”
He walked towards me slowly. The way he moved was almost predatory, and his dark eyes never left mine. He was throwing me off my game a little bit. I wasn’t sure if I particularly liked that or not.
I crossed my arms over my chest, watching him move in a little closer.
If I told him to throw me down and fuck me in the dirt, would he do it?
Sadly, he didn’t look the type.
Why was it so hard to find a guy that would boss me around? I had this insane fantasy of being dominated, pinned down helplessly as a man fucked and fought me.
I sank my teeth into my lower lip, picturing Max doing just that. I wasn’t a whore, but I would love for a man to treat me like one. Especially a man that looked like him—a stranger that looked like him.
“Do you want to fuck me, Max?” I cocked my head to the side and studied him.
“I want to do a lot of things to you,” he responded flippantly, coming close enough that I could reach out and barely touch him, but not any farther. We stood there, staring at one another, the sexual tension rising by the second. The attraction we so clearly had for one another was unexplainable.
Two people that didn’t know each other shouldn’t look at one other the way we were. Stepping forward, bringing us chest to chest, I looked up at him and grinned.
“So, what are you waiting for?”
The question had barely fallen from my lips before he was lifting me up and forcing my legs around his waist, walking us backward.
His mouth found mine right as my ass landed on the cool, smooth metal of the Toyota’s hood. The liquor on his lips made me want him so much more. The sweet taste urged me on, adding fuel to an already dangerous fire.
I opened my mouth, letting his tongue slip inside, feeling it tangle with mine. He shoved my dress up around my hips. His large hands squeezed my thighs, travelling down to my underwear. When his fingers glided over the scar on my inner thigh, he paused momentarily.
Before he could ruin the moment and ask what it was, I grabbed hold of his shirt, pulling him flush against me. Someone could walk outside and see us at any minute, and I couldn’t care less. There wasn’t anything wrong with being an exhibitionist.
Max pulled slightly away from me, making quick work of his slacks, letting me see he was commando underneath. I swear on everything unholy, I almost wept tears of joy at the sight of his cock. Thank the gene gods he wasn’t a short dick man. Though I already knew he wouldn’t be, it didn’t hurt to have the proof.
He gave me a predatory grin, surprising me by grabbing hold of my ankles and flipping me onto my stomach, causing a soft ‘oomph’ to leave my mouth. I quickly spread my legs, bracing my palms on the car.
“Is this okay?” he checked, pulling my underwear to the side, already pressing the bulbous head of his cock against me.
Instead of giving him a response, I reached between my legs and used two fingers to spread my pussy open for him.
“I’m ready for you,” I damn near purred like a porn star. It didn’t take much foreplay to make me wet when all I’d been doing was fantasizing about sex the last few months.
“You’re a dirty girl, Rose,” he murmured. There was the crinkle of a foil wrapper, and then he was gripping my hips, easing himself inside me.
A soft hiss slipped through my lips from the burn of his intrusion, morphing into a moan when he pulled out and thrust back in.
“Damn,” he sighed, squeezing my hips a little tighter.
“Harder,” I breathed, pushing back as he came forward.
Something was muttered beneath his breath, and then my face was pushed into the Toyota’s hood.