He kissed me again, taking my tongue into his mouth and then sucking on it. The intensity of his fucking increased and I started making little noises into his mouth, which only made him move his hips with more force.
I felt his cock throbbing, pulsating, getting closer to coming. My hands were tightly clenching his upper arms and I felt his muscles grow tighter. I looked up and saw him tilt his head back. Then he faced me again, took my lips in a wild kiss and said, “I’m going to come inside you, Olivia.”
I’d never been fucked like this before. Never had a man so determined to fuck me like this. Never had a guy talk to me so sweetly and so dirty at the same time. I’d never been turned on this much and it made me want to give Max whatever he wanted.
“Do you want it?” he breathed.
“Yes, come. I want you to come so bad.”
It was hard to get the words out. He was taking my breath away, literally. I gasped and shook as I began to feel another orgasm rising within me from the point where Max’s thick cock was rubbing against me in perfect rhythm.
“Fuck…” His voice was low and breathy.
I felt him tense up. His thrusts slowed almost to a stop. Then he plunged back into me, deep, and moved his hips vigorously as he pumped into the condom.
“Jesus, Olivia,” he was saying as he came.
He lowered his body onto me and held me tight. I loved the weight of his body on mine, his exhaustion a result of his harsh lust for me.
We lay like that for a few moments, and then Max repositioned us both so that I was lying next to him on the big, wide couch, with my arms crossed on his chest and my head resting on them, looking at the face of this man who wanted me so badly.
EIGHT
We must have stayed there on the couch for about thirty minutes, basking the glow of what we’d just done.
“That was amazing,” Max said.
“The best.”
I wasn’t lying. It was indeed the best sex I’d ever had, no doubt due to him being the hottest guy I’d ever been with, and the way he did it—taking control, taking me.
I didn’t know what was going to come next. I really had no expectations, but what did end up happening was a shock.
“Are you ready?” he said.
I looked at him with a smile on my face. “That depends. I’m wiped out from what we just did.” I laughed, and in a few seconds, I would regret it.
“You can rest on the way. I’ll make sure you get inside okay.”
What? He was taking me home. I didn’t want to ask why, and feeling more than overwhelmed by the development, I probably wasn’t in the right frame of mind to have the conversation. On top of that, what was I going to do? Beg him to let me stay there?
We barely spoke on the drive back to LA. The longer we were in the car, the more I felt hurt, used, and cheap. I wondered where my name would be on the roster of other women he’d brought home, fucked so passionately, and then dismissed.
When we got to my place he said, “I’ll walk you to the door.”
“No, you don’t have to. Really.” I gathered my purse and reached for the door handle.
“Olivia, hang on a second.” He grabbed my hand and brought it to his face. He kissed the back of it and said, “Thank you for an incredible evening.”
I produced the best fake smile I could and quickly got out of the car without saying anything. I made my way up the walkway, got to the door, put the key in the lock…all without turning around to look at him sitting there in his car. It took an amount of willpower I didn’t know I possessed to do that.
I stepped inside and immediately went to the bathroom. I looked at myself in the mirror and the tears started flowing.
How could I have been so stupid? So gullible? Why had I let my guard down? Why had I let a man use and control me like that?Fuck! I knew better!
All the negative thoughts I used to have, after Chris, came thundering back into my mind. I blamed myself for everything that had happened that night, just as I’d blamed myself for letting myself become so vulnerable to Chris Cooper.
What Chris had done was a far cry from what Max had just done to me, but it was all about letting myself be vulnerable—something that’s always fraught with danger, which is what makes it such a powerful act, but something I just wasn’t ready to do again, and look what happened.
I got myself together emotionally and left the bathroom. Maybe Krystal was still up, and she’d let me vent my frustrations. There’d probably be a big “I told you so” to deal with, but at that moment I didn’t care. I just didn’t want to be alone.
When I got to her room, I found that she wasn’t there.
Great. I was alone.
I thought of calling Grace, but it was getting close to one o’clock in the morning here in LA, so it was really late in Ohio. There was no way I could call her. Maybe it was for the best that I couldn’t talk to my sister right now.
Physical and emotional exhaustion brought sleep. Quickly, thank God. I needed the rest.
What I didn’t need, though, was the dream: I’m standing with my back to the wall, and he has me trapped. He’s backlit, and all I can see is his silhouette, standing about two feet in front of me. I have no escape. My body shakes with fear. Adrenaline is coursing through my veins. I could try to run, but I know he’d catch me. I see the silhouette’s right shoulder dip and pull back. Then the more frightening thing I’d ever seen: he has made a fist and he’s cocking his arm back for the punch, level with my face.
I woke up, thankful that it was only a dream, that I haven’t been hit, and the only damage done was to my sheets as I lay there soaking in a cold sweat.
Damn Max. No, damn me for letting my guard down and letting another into my safety zone.
People say I have put up a wall after the incident with Chris. But what they don’t know is that it’s more than a wall. It’s a fortress. There’s a moat around it, and the water below is filled with alligators. There’s a drawbridge with tripwires that will flare up with great bursts of fire if a man tries to cross it.
So how the hell had Max Dalton gotten inside the fortress?
I stripped the bed of the soaked sheets, and took off my clothes. I laid back down, naked, on the naked bed, and thankfully sleep came once again…this time without a dream.
When I woke in the morning, there was still no sign of Krystal, but my car was there. I’d been hoping she would let me unload on her.
I ended up not seeing her for the rest of the weekend. I texted her a few times, but got no response. I knew I couldn’t call Grace and tell her everything. And when Sunday rolled around—the day I always called my parents and checked in—I didn’t feel like talking to them. I sent an email instead, feigning a cold with a sore throat, and apologizing for not being able to talk. My dad wrote back within thirty minutes, relaying my mom’s best home remedy for a sore throat. I felt bad for lying to them, but I just couldn’t talk to them right then. I had no choice.