Max had a change of clothes in the trunk of the limo, so I’d worn his oversized shirt into the hospital.
They almost hadn’t let him stay with me. When they’d seen the black eye and bruises, they’d immediately thought he’d done it. That I was a victim of domestic violence. The way he held my elbow and scowled at everyone like a dog being backed into a corner hadn’t helped. But he wasn’t going to take no for an answer.
We had told them I’d been in a car crash, but the finger marks on my thighs and breasts exposed that lie. Eventually I’d told them that I was attacked. Almost raped, but that I’d fought him off. They’d sutured my arm, taken a blood test, and put a cannula into my hand to administer fluids. Apparently, I was severely dehydrated.
Now all the tests are done, and Max and I are finally alone in my hospital room. I’ve barely been able to look at him; it’s an effort at the best of times, he’s so tall. But tonight, he’s hard. Stone.
We move into the bathroom and I keep my eyes downcast. Max turns the shower on hot. Steam fills the white clinical room. There is a rail for safety in the large shower bay. It’s big enough to get a wheelchair in; I suppose that’s the point. Max kneels in front of me to slide my knickers down and I grip his shoulders, stepping out of them. I feel smaller than normal. Like I’ve somehow shrunk.
After rising to his feet, he begins to underdress himself. Clothes drop to the ground, reminding me of our first intimate time. Floors always look better when Max Butcher’s clothes are all over them. I look up at him. The sight of his powerful, muscular body brings me a new kind of comfort. I know how strong he is. How fiercely he’ll protect me as long as I’m by his side. A place I don’t plan on leaving.
His penis is erect, thick, straight, and solid, and knocking at his navel. I want him. Want him to take away the feeling of another man’s fingers on me. Touch inside me. I’m his. All my parts. The ones that are tangible and all the invisible contradictory pieces that make up me.
They are all his.
We step into the shower together and I rest my cheek on his chest as he begins to wash my back and arms. Our naked bodies touch. That beautiful long ridge is squashed between my stomach and his hips. His fingers move around my body with gentle possessiveness, lathering me with soap and water. The hot water has brought a pink glow to my skin, especially around the mound of my breasts. Max probably can’t see them; they are squished against him, but I’m sure he can feel my nipples. Hard. Aching. In any other situation. On any other day. He’d have taken me by now. But tonight his touch is like a feature. His hesitation makes me feel like a broken bird. A broken pigeon.
Not a falcon.
The sorrow I’d felt in the car is replaced with a frantic need to feel normal again. As quickly as possible. I want to run a marathon to normality. To have every emotional state settle into their rightful places and not change the perfect world Max and I have created for ourselves.
I want him to look at me. In the eyes. I lift my head, resting my chin on hot, smooth tattooed skin. ‘Look at me, Max.’
He peers down at me, his gaze vacant – like something is missing. ‘I am.’
‘Properly,’ I say as I drag my fingers up his back and down again. ‘Like you used to.’
His brows draw together. ‘I am, little one.’
‘You’re not. You’re looking right through me,’ I say, my voice faltering. ‘It’s like you can’t stand the sight of me.’
Shaking his head, he narrows his eyes. ‘That isn’t what this look is.’
‘I want you to touch me.’ I reach for his hand and bring his fingers down to the delta between my thighs. As desire builds through me, I become desperate for him. He clenches his jaw, trying to stifle his groan as I use his fingers to stroke my lips. ‘I’m wet for you already, Max.’
‘No, Cassidy. Not tonight.’
Sinking like a boulder into the pit of my belly is fear. Fear he’s going to leave me. Fear he doesn’t want me anymore. Need me anymore. ‘Please, Max. I’m not ruined.’
‘What?’ He pulls his hand away from mine and grabs the side of my neck, finally staring into my eyes like he used to. Penetrative. Intense. ‘Don’t ever say shit like that to me!’ he growls, low and deep, and I love the angry undertone.
Wanting him to channel that energy and release it between my thighs, I whisper, ‘He didn’t touch me that much. Just a litt-‘
‘Stop trying to downplay what just happened to you, goddamn it! You don’t need to do that.’ Stroking the bruise below my eyes with his thumb, he winces as if it causes him physical discomfort.
I put my hand over his. ‘I want to.’
‘Well, if you want to, then fine. But don’t you fucking dare do it for me. This can play out however you want it to. No one is going to tell you how to feel.’
‘Please touch me then. That’s what I want,’ I beg. ‘Please. I want to feel your fingers. Your tongue. Your penis. Anything. Everything. Please.’
He leans into my ear. ‘Do you want me to fuck you with my tongue, little one?’
Relief fills my chest when he kneels in front of me. His hands adore my legs and thighs, tracing the curves, squeezing the soft flesh. I shouldn’t want this after what happened. This is shameful. But it’s normal. For us. This is normal and that’s what I crave. Our world. Our thing.
He pushes me back until I’m wedged between him and the shower screen before lifting my leg onto his shoulder. His tongue dives between my lips. I buck immediately at the feeling of his penetrative, greedy kiss.
‘Max. More,’ I moan and his tongue assaults me from every angle. ‘More.’
His mouth closes around my clit like a vice, sucking hard. Arching on the wave of pleasure he’s summoning, my thigh twitches on his shoulder. His hand slides up between my legs, a thumb pushes between my lips, rubbing the muscles inside me as they knead back in want. In desire. The intensity of his strokes and the heat of the shower is consuming.
‘Fuck, little one,’ he groans against my skin. ‘I’ll always want you. I go insane for you.’
God, he’s so good at this. Squeezing my eyes shut, my head drops back onto the shower wall. I purr into his face, rubbing myself against the rough stumble on his jawline. His lips and tongue are hot on my clit. Fingers stimulating every nerve ending inside me. Steam blankets us. That sweaty, wet lethargy of our world settles into my soul. He’s greedy tonight, insatiable, unrestrained. It’s dizzying.
Weakening. . .
‘Women were created so weak. Small. Fragile. And with this little part of your body, we can control you. Max controls you with it, too. Doesn’t he? We literally enter you. Like the devil himself. We enter you.’
I freeze.
No breath.
Max gets wilder between my legs, but now it makes me cower.
I want it to stop.
I start to sob, loud and unsoundly. Pushing him away, I fall onto my bum.
Max is staring at me now. ‘Cassidy?’
I pant, taking shallow breaths. I’m not sure how much time goes by while I try to swallow air, but it’s long enough for Max to scoop me up and into his arms. Pressing his back to the shower wall, he holds me between his outstretched legs. My face presses against his hot warm chest. His arms wrap around me, rocking me.
Pulling wet hair from my face, he whispers in my ear, ‘I got you. We’ll go as slow as you want. For as long as you want.’
‘Tell me something good,’ I sniffle, staring at the spray of water hitting the tiles around our bodies. Tears sting my eyes, but nothing falls. I’ve run out of tears. I didn’t know that was possible. When I recall the feeling of Erik’s breath on me, his fingers between my legs, my pulse quickens further, and I clutch my stomach as it rolls with nausea. But I’ve already emptied it. Now it’s just pulsing to no avail.
I really have been A-less for such a long time. But now, Action, Angst, and Anguish are a part of my being. If I was to dance Nikiya tonight, the audience would weep. . .
Wrapping my hand around his bicep, I say, ‘Tell me something so I can stop thinking about his words.’ Words that have changed acts exclusive to an intimate and trusting world with Max alone, into something that makes me feel weak – used.
‘Okay, think about mine,’ Max says. ‘Do you want to know how I feel about you?’
I nod against his chest.
‘I never knew how good it would feel to have someone in this simple way. Someone to hold, like this.’ He squeezes me closer. ‘If I knew, I would have come looking for you the second I could think for myself. . . But I never knew how much I’d want it. I had no idea how good it would feel to make you smile. Fuck me, I’d do just about anything to make you smile. When you smile at me and I’m the reason. . . it feels better than being inside you. I’d give up sex to make you smile.’
I think I giggle, but it’s strange. Choked. Half a sound.
‘The weirdest things start to happen when I’m with you. I wanna talk to you. Fuck, yeah, we do that a lot. I didn’t know I had anything to say. . . but when I’m with you, I wanna tell you about my day. . . and I wanna hear about yours.’ He gently pushes me from him and cups my cheeks as if they were made of glass. He tilts my head up to see the intensity in his eyes. ‘I will never let anything like this happen to you again. Never. Do you hear me? Never.’ His hands shake on my face. ‘Say it. Say, ‘Max will never let anyone hurt me again’.’
As saliva builds up in my throat, I swallow hard.
‘I let you down,’ he continues. ‘I won’t do it again. I’ll never forgive myself for what happened tonight. I thought I was impenetrable and I am, but then you came along – fuck . . . Just say it for me.’
‘Max will never let anyone hurt me again,’ I whisper because I know he needs to hear it. . . Not because I believe anyone – not even Max Butcher – can promise such a thing in the face of the world we now share. Either way, I know he’ll try. And at this point, there is no going back. If he leaves me, I’ll hurt. If I stay with him, I may get hurt.
Enveloping me in his body, his arms around me tighten. ‘I failed you, Cassidy.’
I shake my head against his chest. ‘No.’
‘I should have known better. . . What happened tonight – Fuck.’ He pauses and the silence isn’t nice. It’s rich in guilt and anger. ‘I’m going to kill him, Cassidy. I’m going to kill him for you.’
