by Layla Hagen
Emilia
The rest of the day passes by in a haze, and by the time I leave the clinic and head to the hotel downtown where the seminar is taking place, I have butterflies in my stomach. On the way, I call my neighbor Mrs. Wilson, thanking her again for agreeing to look after Grams tonight. She offered to sleep at our house, insisting that I stay out for as long as I want.
As I step inside the seminar room, the clock hanging on the wall in the front catches my attention. There are fifty-nine minutes left until Max picks me up. But who’s counting?
I force myself to focus on the seminar, taking notes and already making a mental list of the patients who would benefit from the techniques presented. The second it’s over I burst out the door and walk to the elevator, heading to the underground parking lot of the hotel, where Max texted me that he’s waiting for me.
Just before the elevator doors close, John steps inside.
“Emilia! Just the woman I was looking for.”
“Hi,” I say tiredly.
“How about that third date? It’s Friday night, we can stay up late.” He stands with his feet planted wide, and I have to move around him to push the button for the underground level. After pressing the button, I decide that bluntness is needed, since the man seems incapable of taking a hint.
“Look, John. No offense, but we weren’t on any date. It was just two colleagues grabbing a quick bite.”
His usually friendly expression morphs into a grimace of disbelief.
“Didn’t occur to you to say that before I paid?” he bellows.
“It was cheap pizza. And you were the one who pretended to go to the bathroom but instead paid the bill. Both times.” I can barely contain my anger now.
“Because I thought you were fucking coming home with me. You weaseled out every time.”
“You’re a jerk.”
“I thought you were playing hard to get, or had some stupid three-date rule before sex. But you were just a tease, weren’t you?”
The doors of the elevator open, and I quickly step out. John follows me. Damn it, Max is inside the garage. I don’t want him to see John and get the wrong idea.
Swirling on my heels, I confront him in the small space between the elevator and the open door leading to the garage.
“You read into it whatever you wanted. It was just pizza.” My hands are curled into fists at my sides, and I’m shaking with anger.
“Women like you are unbelievable. You lead guys on, and then blame us.” He shakes his head, spitting at my feet. “You’re a fucking tease.”
Right. I’ve had enough. “You’re delusional, and if I were you, I’d shut up. I might be small, but I have a mean right hook.”
Turning around, I step forward, wishing to put as much distance as possible between him and me. In my haste, I catch my heel in a small hole. Losing my balance, I hurtle toward the ground on one side. My right elbow and knee hurt like hell when they make contact with the pavement. Unfortunately I’m wearing a red, sleeveless shirt, and a pencil skirt short enough to leave my knees exposed. My left side is spared, but I’m in blinding pain for a split second. I think I just left a layer of skin on the pavement.
“Emilia!” Max calls. My eyes are blurry with tears of pain, but I see Max a few feet away, striding toward John and me. I push myself up as fast as I can, wobbling on my feet.
“Are you okay?” Max asks me in a gentle voice, and all I can do is nod in relief. The muscles in his arms tense as he brings his fingers to the side of my face in a slight caress.
John, who truly is an idiot, says, “So that’s who you’re teasing tonight. One word of advice. Don’t waste any money on her. She’s not worth it. Just a fucking tease, this one.”
Despite being in pain, I raise my fist. Max, who was already shaking with restrained anger, is quicker than I am. He turns to John. I blink once, and then Max’s fist collides with the side of John’s face. Since Max is at least a foot taller, the impact knocks John off balance. He barrels back a few steps, holding the side of his face with both hands.
“What the fuck?” he bellows.
“If a woman says no, she means it. Be a man and accept it.” Max stalks toward him, and as he raises his hand—curled into a fist, again—John has the good sense to scurry away. Max turns to me, inspecting my right knee and arm. I have scratches on both, and they sting like hell.
“Emilia,” he says softly. “I’m so sorry.”
“For what?” I’m startled.
“For not stepping in earlier. I was distracted in my car, e-mailing my assistant, and then I saw the two of you arguing. Got here as fast as I could. That idiot—”
“He didn’t do this,” I explain. “I was in a hurry to get away from him and didn’t look where I was stepping.”
“I saw you stumble. It was the only reason that idiot still has teeth. He deserved that punch, though. For talking to you like that.”
His words warm me on the inside, as does the half hug he pulls me in, careful not to touch my injured side. I sure could’ve punched John myself, but I’ll be damned if it doesn’t feel nice to have someone defend me and care about me.
“Thank you for defending my honor, knight in shining armor.”
“Give me your phone,” he says into my ear, pulling away.
“Why?”
“Phone,” he insists.
“Jeez, you’re such a caveman.”
I push the phone in his hands. “What are you doing?”
“Putting myself on speed dial. When you need something, you call me. You want me to pick up food because you’re sick? Call me. You want a quickie? You’d better call me. Shit hits the fan and or an idiot annoys you? You fucking call me.”
“Are you mad at me right now?” I don’t know if I should be pissed at him, or hug him. I wish I could do both at the same time.
“No, I’m worried. Seeing you on the floor scared the hell out of me. And now you have a bloody elbow and knee. Come on, I’ll take you home.”
I nod. “Sorry for tonight, about our plans.”
“It can wait. I can wait.”
Holding his big, warm arm around my shoulders, he leads me to his car.
“Do you have anything I can clean your wounds off with at home?” he asks after we’re out of the garage.
“Yeah.” As he veers into the street, I suddenly change my mind. “I don’t want to go home. Grams will worry if she sees the scratches.”
“Okay. Do you want to go to my place?”
“Sure.” I inspect the wound on my leg, which runs pretty deep, blood marring half of my knee. I can’t see my elbow properly, but it burns.
We enter Max’s apartment a short while later. After we both kick off our shoes, he leads me toward the enormous couch in the living room, gesturing for me to sit on it. If I weren’t so focused on my wounds, I’d be busy inspecting my surroundings. As it is, I’m working hard not to whimper the entire time.
“Wait here, I’ll bring something to clean off your wounds.”
He returns almost immediately, holding a bottle in one hand and cotton pads in the other.
“This will sting,” he warns, kneeling in front of me.
“I can do it.” I attempt to snatch the cotton pads from his hand, but he shakes his head.
“Let me do this for you, Emilia. I want to.”
Gritting my teeth, I brace myself as Max pours peroxide on the pad. He starts with my knee, and holy fuck.
“Agh. Damn it,” I exclaim. “Stings so much.”
“It’s not deep,” Max says, inspecting my wound. He repeats the process with my elbow, which stings even more than my knee did. As soon as he’s done, I pull my arm back.
Max chuckles. “Show me your elbow. I want to check if there’s any dirt left.”
Stubbornly, I keep my arm back.
“Should I bribe you with sweets? Or more adult bribes? Vodka? My kind of mattress exercises?” His expression instantly changes to serious. “Sorry! That last part just slipped out.
”
“You’ve been throwing innuendos and flirting shamelessly for four weeks, but now you’re sorry?” This downright mystifies me, considering he’s been relentless until now.
“Yeah, but I’m cleaning off the wounds you got while trying to get away from a jerk. Innuendos are the last thing you need.”
“What do you need?” I ask.
“Doesn’t matter. You’re the important one now. Not just now, as a matter of fact. Always.”
For long moments, I’m too stunned to speak. His dark gaze holds mine, warm and reassuring.
“Wow,” I say eventually. “You’re something.”
“What do you mean?”
“Let’s just say I’m not used to men being this considerate.” Sure, I’ve never settled for anything less than respect, but it seemed like I always had to demand it. None of the men I’ve been with put me first out of their own initiative, as if doing that somehow undermined their masculinity. Max is man enough to not only make me feel like he’s putting me first, but also say it out loud with a sense of pride.
After placing the bottle of peroxide and the pads on the coffee table in front of us, Max sits next to me on the couch, placing his hand at the small of my back.
“Told you! You’ve been around the wrong men. All the more points for me.”
“Can’t believe you’re awarding them to yourself.” Throwing back my head, I giggle heartily.
“You’re so beautiful when you laugh.”
The air between us charges instantly, as I become acutely aware of how close to me he is. Three inches, possibly less, separate us. He rests his forehead against mine, rubbing the pad of his thumb against my bare shoulder. The skin-on-skin contact sends a jolt scissoring through me until I intimately yearn for Max. I inhale his scent, desperate for more. I need to touch him… everywhere. I can’t resist this man any longer. I want to be his. I want to know what it’s like to be loved by him. It feels right, being here with him, and I can’t be scared because something feels right.
“I can take you home,” he says in a low voice.
“No.” The small word has an atomic effect. Both our breaths grow heavier. His hand tightens on my shoulder, while my hand fists his shirt, pulling him closer to me.
“Are you sure you want this?” he asks.
“Are you trying to buy your way out of this?”
“No, just don’t want you to do something you might regret tomorrow.” As he moves the pad of his thumb from my shoulder down my arm, all the way to my wrist, I’m unable to hold back a moan.
“I knew you’d be all talk and no play,” I say playfully.
“Those are dangerous words to throw around.”
“I like challenging you.”
“Sweet Emilia.” He drops his head to my neck, resting his lips just above my collarbone. “I’m going to make you come hard tonight.”
Cupping my face in his hands, he pulls me in for a kiss. It starts out tender, just a brush of his lips, but it’s enough to set my nerve endings on fire. I sigh against his expert lips, hungry for more. He swipes his tongue over my lips in slow motion, making me ache everywhere for him.
“Max,” I whisper, and I feel his lips curving into a smile against mine. I open my mouth, and he dips his tongue inside, exploring me. I relish the sweet torture, sighing in his mouth. Deepening the kiss, Max pushes me on my back on the couch, frantically undoing the buttons of my shirt. He unhitches his lips from mine, descending on my jaw and then the column of my neck. After he pushes my shirt off my shoulders and down my arms, being extra careful with my hurt elbow, he cups my breasts over my bra. My nipples pucker under the fabric, eager for skin-on-skin contact. Max moves one hand to the small of my back, searching for my zipper. In a matter of seconds, he pushes my skirt down, and then I’m in front of Max Bennett in my lingerie only.
“What are you thinking?” I ask as his eyes rake over my body. “You look like you’re analyzing something.”
“I am. Thinking which part of you I should start with. I want to devour every single inch of you.”
“You have big goals for tonight, mister.”
Max pushes a strand of hair behind my ear, putting his lips to my forehead. “You have no idea.”
“Show me.”
“I want you to tell me what you like, and what you need. No holding back.”
I swallow hard, nodding. Suddenly, I feel bare in front of him. “Same goes for you.”
Max leads me to his bedroom, holding my hand on the way. A shiver runs through me when I step inside, aware that another limit is blurring between us. This is his personal space. I’d inspect it more closely if I wasn’t so taken with the man in front of me, who is still fully clothed. I must remedy that immediately.
“You have too many clothes on,” I say.
“You’re welcome to start taking them off.” His eyes hold a challenge, as they always do. But the more time I spend with Max, the more I like every challenge he throws my way.
I start by removing his jacket, and then undoing the buttons of his shirt. I don’t rush through the motions, instead taking my time with each button, knowing I’m driving him crazy. When his chest is finally bare, I inhale sharply, appreciating the view in front of me. This is a fine, fine man. His torso looks sculpted. I can’t take my eyes off him, or my hands. I have a compulsive need to touch every inch of his skin, every ridge and every line. He is ripped, and feeling his chest rising up and down with frantic breaths does wicked things to me.
“I wouldn’t mind if you hurried up, love.”
“I’m taking my time,” I tease him, but I undo his belt, pushing his pants and his boxers down. Now that is a sight to behold. I sit on the bed as Max stands in front of me. I palm his erection, moving my hand up and down, dragging my thumb across the tip.
“Fuck.” Max tilts his head, and I watch his Adam’s apple dip as he swallows hard. I’ve barely moved my hand a few more times when Max pushes me to my back on the bed, climbing over me.
He kisses along my collarbone, then drags his lips across the upper slope of my breasts just where the fabric of the bra meets my skin. At the same time, he drags his fingers across my thong-covered center.
“You soaked through your panties,” he groans, intensifying the movement of his fingers. “That’s so fucking sexy. You’re sexy.”
Abruptly, he pulls his fingers away, leaving me writhing. He undoes my bra next, the desire in his gaze intensifying as my breasts spill free. My nipples turn to hard nubs under his intense gaze, and a new wave of heat pools low in my body. Max feathers his palm over one of my nipples, while his mouth covers the other. Oh God… the heat of his lips is too much. I need him now. All of him. I push my hips against him wantonly, and his lips curve in a smile against my breasts.
“I need you.”
“I want to make sure you’re ready,” Max murmurs.
“I am ready, I promise.” If I get any readier than this, I might explode just by having his mouth on my skin.
Moving back, Max hooks his thumbs at the sides of my thong, pulling it down my legs and then discarding the fabric next to the bed.
My intimate spot pulses for him. As he leans forward, dragging his fingers through my glistening heat, coating my folds with it, he trains his eyes on me. They are hooded with desire, but I spot a glimpse of something else behind them too: kindness and gentleness, two things that are indisputably Max.
He drags his thumb from my entrance up to my clit, circling the sweet spot until my back arches off the bed.
“I need you inside me. Now,” I say.
Max nods, leaning across to the nightstand and procuring a condom from it. Pushing myself up on my elbows, I watch him put the condom over his erection. Oh, my. Seeing him touch himself arouses me to no end.
Max positions himself between my legs, spreading my thighs even wider apart. He slides just the tip of him inside me at first, thick and teasing. He moves back and forth ever so slowly, not giving me more than the tip, offering to
rture and pleasure at the same time.
Then he enters me to the hilt, stretching and filling me until I feel like I’m about to break out of my skin.
“This is so good,” he groans, levering himself over me, propping himself on his forearms. His lips find mine as he loves me faster, deeper, driving me crazy. “You like this, don’t you? Feeling me inside you?”
“Yes, yes. I do.”
His balls slap against the crack of my ass with every move, and the sound turns me on. Heat radiates from the spot where we are connected, spreading through my body, making my toes curl and my heart beat lightning quick.
Levering himself on one forearm, he slips one hand between us. When I feel Max’s thumb circling my clit, I nearly lose it. I fist the bedsheet with one hand, meeting his feverish thrusts. My other hand roams on his shoulders and his back, caressing and grazing.
The pressure he applies on my bundle of nerves is damn near perfection. Tension builds in every cell in my body, fueled by his thrusts and grunts. Watching him come undone is almost as much a turn-on as his finger circling my clit. Before long my inner muscles clench around his length, a sign that I will succumb to an orgasm soon.
“You’re so tight, Emilia.” Max intensifies the rhythm of his thrusts, and I move my own hips in a frantic pace, seeking my release.
“So good.” I dig my nails into his back as a wave of pleasure sears me. Max seals his lips over mine, claiming me, and I cry my release in his mouth. The next few minutes are an excruciating pleasure. Max grips my ass cheek with his palm, driving inside me like a man possessed until he widens inside me, and he rasps out my name over and over again.
Still lost in the throes of bliss, I barely register that he moves away, probably to discard the condom. When he returns to my side, pressing his warm body against mine, I feel safer and happier than I ever have.
Chapter Fifteen
Emilia
When I wake up next morning, I don’t open my eyes right away. For a few blissful minutes, I just replay last night’s events in my mind, hoping I haven’t been dreaming again. I ache everywhere though. Content that I have been visiting Smutland for real this time, I blink my eyes open, only to find Max next to me. His head is propped on an elbow. My breath stops for a split second as I remember how he made me feel. And then my haze-filled morning brain comes up with the reaction Yum.
