by Fields, MJ
“Totally get that. So, we work together on how to work toward changing that.”
“I’m having a really hard time being around you.”
Ouch, I think as I hit the onramp.
“Love the honesty, even though it kind of stings, but we can work on that, too.”
“What if she’s not yours, Max? Then all this is just a lot of unnecessary angst.”
I shift the car in gear and pull away from the curb. “She’s mine already, Mila. So are you. Ya just gotta let me in.”
“And what if she’s not? What if she’s …?” She stops and shakes her head. “You said you tolerated him. And the minute you found out the other guy might be him, you flipped out.”
Pissed that she’s not getting it, I give her some real. “Straight-up, you want her to be mine, too, because we fucked on a sailboat. You named her Saylor, not Marriott, so do me a favor and stop acting like I’m feeling this alone, be here with me.”
“I liked the name.”
“And you loved my dick.”
“My mother’s name was Sally.”
“Yeah? And did she love sailboats?”
“See? You’re acting irrational and conceited and just straight stupid now. I’ve never felt regret when it comes to her, and you’ll make me.”
“Fuck I will.”
“You already are, Max!”
“That’s because you’re holding guilt you shouldn’t be.”
“I slept with two men within weeks of each other.”
“Yeah, well, let’s not compare numbers, because I don’t wanna go there and make you more pissed off at me than you already are.”
“I’m sure you don’t, but let me be completely honest here; I’ve been with two in my entire life, so I’m not some whore who slept around and lost track of who might be her daddy.”
“Never said I thought you were a ho, Blue.”
“Are you even listening to me?”
“I am.”
“Did you miss the part that I basically called you the ho, Max? You’re the one who’s slept with half the Shore and God knows how many women around the world. I don’t want a man who, when he’s bored of me, moves on that quickly. I don’t want a man like you.”
Brutal.
Road Rage
Mila
Twenty minutes of silence. Twenty minutes that I would love nothing more than to crawl out of my skin after I yelled at him. Twenty minutes where I am so thankful that he’s so damn conceited that he missed my slip-up that exposed the fact that I knew that he knew Marcello was the other guy, which would have made Bella hate me even more than I know she will if Max isn’t Saylor’s father.
When he pulls off at a rest stop, I close my eyes as he gets out of the car and shuts the door.
When mine opens and he holds out his hand, I hesitate, because mine are shaking so badly.
“Come on, Blue,” he whispers, and it sounds almost like a prayer.
I focus on stopping my hand from shaking as I take his, but when I stand, I worry more about my knees.
One step at a time, I think as I follow him up the path toward the bathrooms.
When he bypasses them and walks us around the back of the building, my heart begins to pound against my chest.
He turns and walks backward until he sits on the edge of the picnic table. “You’re it, Blue. You’re the only one of”—he pauses and shakes his head—“many who I have ever felt like this about. Swear it on Saylor and our future Crew. I know you’re feeling it, too, and if I’m wrong and it’s not just the fear of me fucking you up, which I won’t, not ever again, or that if by some chance he’s …”—he shrugs and shakes his head—“we deal with it together. And I promise you here and now, on sailboats and blue hearts, that I will choose you every day until there are no tomorrows.”
I stand frozen because what he just said doesn’t feel like something that’s real.
“Say something.”
“What happened to the other girl? The one Amias was talking about.”
He smiles all white and dimpled. “She’s older, married, has three kids, four grandkids, and is my aunt Bekah, Amias’s mom. Had the biggest crush on her growing up.”
“Shut up.” I try not to laugh and fail.
“Seriously, she had a wagon on her, and you know how I like a wagon.”
“Okay, I think I’ve heard enough.”
He pulls me closer. “You jealous of my aunt, Blue?”
I shake my head.
“You get that I’m yours, and I’m just waiting on you to claim me as yours?”
“But you don’t have to, and—”
His exaggerated sigh cuts me off.
He looks at the ground in the space between us. “I’m going to be vulnerable right now.”
“Oh, yeah? Is this a first for you?”
He holds up two fingers. “Second. But the first time, I fucked it up.”
“Your aunt again?” I joke, tugging on his hand.
He looks up, blue eyes beneath long black lashes. He actually manages to pull off vulnerable. “You. Asking you on a date. First time and last time.”
“Well, then …” I shrug.
He lets go, stands up, grabs my hips, and then surprises me by lifting me up and spinning me around, then setting me on the table. My hands still on his shoulders, he steps forward, somehow ending up between my legs that are now spread.
“Over two years ago, you were the only girl who I wanted to be with again, the only one I laughed with, wrote with, and felt like you saw me and not my name. Seeing you again, as a man and not a boy, I see myself with you and only you.” He steps forward and leans over me as he lifts my chin. “I want these lips, and then I want inside you.”
I have never been high, have never even been drunk; but right now, I think I’m both.
He brings his lips down on mine softly, but they don’t stay that way, and neither do mine.
His lips are hot, his taste sweet, his touch possessive in a way that makes me want to be possessed. All my reservations evaporate into the air as he pushes up the hem of my sundress.
I release my grip on his shoulders and give my hands permission to run down his strong, bulging biceps, his rock-hard forearms, and then down to his insanely chiseled hips.
Pulling away from our kiss, he groans and nudges me with his nose. His eyes heavy and filled with ice-blue heat, he whispers, “Don’t ever stop touching me, Blue. Nothing has ever felt so fucking good.”
Lost in his words—his eyes, hands still traveling mindlessly, a hot sweet burst of his breath hits my face, and he hisses through clenched teeth.
“Fuck, Blue, don’t stop doing that, either.”
When I realize where exactly my greedy hands have wandered, I pull back.
He sees it, of course he does, and smiles and shakes his head. “You got to just let those hands keep leading you.”
He runs his hands up my thighs, pushing my dress up with them. “Tell me to stop, Blue.”
I lean forward and take his face, pulling it toward me, wanting those lips on mine.
Warmth pools between my legs as he prods my lips apart with his tongue, touching mine softly again, and then harsher, deeper. My less skilled tongue tangles with his as he hooks his thumbs under the waistband of my underwear and begins to pull them down.
I should stop him, but I don’t want to. I want him. I always have.
Leaning against me, he kisses me with more passion than I could have imagined. Breathless, I lie against the wooden table as he pulls my panties farther down my legs.
He growls as he breaks our kiss and stands, quickly removing my panties.
“Have to make you come, Blue.” He pushes his hand up beneath my dress, skates over my waist, and comes to rest on my breast. Squeezing it gently, he mutters, “Your tits are the best.” He pops it out of my bra, one and then the next. He cups my pussy with his other hand, causing me to startle and gasp. “So hot, Blue.” He licks his lips as he slips a finger inside me.
“So fucking wet. So tight.”
When he heaves my boob and his finger leaves my pussy, I open my eyes as he kneels in front of me, grabs my legs, and places them on his shoulders.
“Don’t you think we should slow down?” I pant out.
“Not a chance,” he says as he bows his head and swirls his tongue around my clit, just like he did that night on the boat.
His rhythm is slow, teasingly so. I should be thankful because, if he went any faster, I would come in the matter of seconds. I could feel that build, the heat in my belly, the electrical pulses shooting between my legs, the tension building inside of me, the shaking of my thighs as they clamp around his head, and then … lightning.
He nibbles, licks, bites, and sucks at my core, his thumb circling my clit. I cry out my pleasure as my hips buck in an attempt to reach the next level, one I remember he could provide.
My hands, that found his thick, silky hair, grab desperately at the sides of the table as the intensity of my orgasm peaks, and then everything goes white.
“Oh, Max. Oh, yes. Right there. Don’t stop. Yes. Yes. Yes!”
I feel fingers push inside me, one and then two, as he stands.
“Your pussy tastes amazing.” He leans over me and presses his lips to mine. Against them, he says, “So good.”
I push my hands between us and pop the button on his jeans. “I want you inside me.”
“Blue, you sure—”
“Yes. Now.”
He stands back and pushes down his jeans and designer boxers.
Eyes heavy, I look down and see the piercing, his huge—seriously, it’s bigger than before, I think—cock as he strokes himself, stepping closer.
“Spread wider, Mila. You’re fucking a man now.” He taps the tip of his cock against my pussy, and the piercing hits my extremely sensitive clit.
I’m soaked, embarrassingly so, but Max looks … pleased as he rubs his dick all around my wetness.
“Max,” I whisper in attempt to pull his attention from my most private part.
“It’s heaven down here. I’m almost afraid to give you all this hell.”
Before I can say a word, he pushes inside of me, throws his head back, eyes rolling, jaw clenched as he growls my name, right before pushing fully inside of me.
Unable to breathe, or move, he leans over me and kisses me. Against my lips, he groans, “So fucking good, Blue. So damn good.”
When he pulls away, he grabs my tits, rubbing his thumbs across my achingly erect nipples and begins to fuck me harder, grinding against me each time he fills me completely. Another piercing on the base of his dick hits my clit, causing blinding pleasure.
His rhythm hastens as every muscle in my body tenses and he continues to pound into me over and over again until I can’t take it anymore.
“Oh, Max … Max … Max.”
I feel him twitch inside of me when his head falls back, and his grip on my tits tightens as he cries out my name while his cock pumps liquid heat, coating my insides, taking my breath away … again.
Lying against me, arm under me, pulling me tighter to him I feel his heart pounding as we both fight to catch our breaths.
Then I hear gravel crunching and a car engine cutting off.
“Shit.” I push him up. “Someone’s here.”
“Fuck.” He jumps back, pulling me up and straightening my dress.
I watch as he pulls up his boxers and his jeans.
“Did you …?” I ask, pointing to the crotch of his pants. “Did you …?” I repeat, unable to even ask the question.
“No.” He leans down and kisses me. “Go clean up. I’ll meet you outside the ladies’ room door.”
“Max, I’m not …” I shake my head.
“Not what? On the pill?”
“No,” I whisper loudly.
He kisses the top of my head then steps back before saying, “I’m not opposed to another one.”
“You did this on purpose?” My voice squeaks.
He scrubs a hand over his face and smiles. Yes, fucking smiles. “I wasn’t really alone in this, was I?”
Standing in shock, I watch him turn and walk away.
Motherfucker.
Walking out of the bathroom minutes later, I’m pissed.
“You seriously not going to talk to me?” He chuckles as I walk past him and pull my hand away when he tries to take it.
Probably Gonna Need a Sign
Max
Whistling the tune of “Love You Like The Movies” as she walks out of the bathroom gained me a glare. Singing softly behind her has her shaking her head as she walks toward the car, so I sing louder and grab her hand, keeping it in mine as she tries to jerk it away.
“I’ll never let go, Miller. I’ll never let go.”
“Yeah, well, you just may have sealed both our fates.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” I sing.
“Okay, just stop,” she hisses.
“Like Townley loves homework. Like Seashore loves drama. Like Jase loves Carly.”
“Would you shut up?” she says loudly.
“Like Max loves Saylor’s momma.”
She about trips over air as she scolds me. “Oh my God, there are people, Max.”
I keep singing, and she keeps acting all annoyed and shit, but her ass—that ass I am gonna make a meal out of—starts swaying a little bit as she hurries to get to the car, while I remind her, in song of course, “In case you forget what we just did, I’ll write it all down—”
“For real, Max, just …” She starts laughing. “Stop!”
At the car, I cut her off and sing at the top of my lungs, “I’ll grab your hand, ask you to dance—”
She spins around to give me hell, I suppose, but I turn her like a top, making it a dance.
“—in the middle of the street.” I pull her against me, and she buries her face in my shirt as I continue, “Learn to sign, cheesy lines, like baby you complete me.”
“You’re doing great, man!” someone yells, and a horn honks, then a bunch of other vehicles are doing the same.
“You are such a jackass.” She laughs as she peeks up at me.
“If you ever forget, where we’ve been and what we did, I’ll write it all down, sing it out load again and again. I promise, if you let me, I’ll love you like a movie.” I stop singing and tip my head down. “I love you, Mila. Didn’t plan on what happened up there, just needed those lips and a taste.”
She says nothing, but she looks a little scared.
“Nothing and no one will ever hurt you, Blue, I promise.”
She fists my shirt and pulls me closer, and yeah, I kiss her.
Against her lips, I ask a burning question, “Which one of them got to you?”
She looks at me curiously.
Lips still on hers, I reach behind her and open the passenger door, kissing her quickly before stepping away. “My mom and dad are the only two people I told about Saylor, Blue. Kiki was eavesdropping too, but I made them promise to stay out of it so you and I can tackle the issue together. So, tell me which one told you I knew about Marriott Marc?”
She slides into the car and huffs, “Way to ruin a moment.”
“Legit question.” I lean in and buckle her up, kissing her cheek on the way out.
“Neither,” she answers, and then I step back and close the door.
Sliding into the driver’s seat, I buckle up and take her hand. “See, how this works is, it’s me and you against the world.”
“So, you’re a relationship expert now?” she asks.
“Got my Doctorate. Fucking pro status. Level 10. Just follow my lead, and we’ll be celebrating seventy-five years while still getting it on daily.”
“What if I don’t want to get it on daily?”
My jaw legit drops, and she turns away so I don’t see her trying not to laugh.
Turning on the car, I ask, “You Maxed Out already after round one?”
“We’re going to have to work on your
confidence, because it’s clearly lacking.”
“Raised with it, Blue. Been beat up a couple times, bruised pretty badly, but didn’t break.”
She gives my hand a squeeze, rests her head back against the headrest and, in a condescending as fuck tone, says, “Please make us mere mortals feel better about ourselves and tell us what happened that bruised a god.”
“Appreciate the whole god thing, but I’m not one. I prefer legend,” I correct her.
“If only in your own mind.”
“Not gonna lie, Blue, I love it when you give it back as good as you get, but I’d prefer it be when I like”—I scratch my head, as if in thought—“fuck you doggy. You know, slam that ass up against me, meeting me thrust for—”
She smacks me. “Shut up.”
I take her hand, kiss it, and then hold it against my heart. “You want vulnerable, I guess I can give it to you. But then you gotta give me something, too.”
I shift the car in drive and get us back on the road. “Growing up close to my crew, being the youngest, I compared myself to them and our fathers. Took forever to get big like them. It sucked.”
“Well, I think you’re at least average now with the jewelry.” She laughs at her own burn.
I kiss her hand. “You got jokes when I’m being all vulnerable and shit.”
“So, you weren’t big. I’m sorry that I can’t relate, because I was.”
“Same feeling, Blue, that comparison of self to others. Doing that to yourself is like repeatedly stabbing your self-esteem, and instead of building yourself up and becoming who you’re supposed to be, it just bloodies the reflection pool so it’s just a ghost of you staring back. I know you got pissed I ditched Stanford, but I needed to get the hell away from everything for a bit.”
“I’m sorry. My joke was distasteful.”
“Well, Blue, be thankful your pussy isn’t. Fucking delicious.”
“See? I was trying to be serious, and you make a joke. You’re giving me whiplash, Max—”
“See? I wasn’t joking. Your pussy is—”
“Favorite color?” she interrupts me.
“Blue. Yours?”
“Yellow.”
