Chapter 15

Fifteen

MAXIMILLIAN

In the next few days, I don’t hear from Livia, as to be expected. It really is better that way because Derichs and I have been on a reconnaissance mission to find the collector in Appleton. The fox made her point loud and clear about her mother’s ring, so I knew immediately I’d go on the quest to find the alternative. Sans Livia. It would be my gift to her for her connections. Maybe, secretly, I was hoping it would finally get her to open up to me.

Cruising down the main strip, I look for a decent hotel that’s somewhere between the Waldorf and the roach motel we almost stayed at during the last visit. Derichs’s long legs are bent wide in the passenger seat next to me while his voice rings out in the cabin, talking to his girl, Hannah, on the phone. “I told you she was jealous of you, baby. Don’t pay any attention to her.”

Using a loose fist, I punch his upper arm and point to a respectable-looking establishment. He nods in agreement with my decision and continues to chat up his girl. Pulling into the parking lot, I find a spot in the back, away from everyone else. It’s dark, but at least no one will hit my car.

“Baby, I love you so much. I miss you. I’ll see you soon, okay? Yeah, Max wants to meet you, too. We’ll all go to play pool or bowling or something. Love you. No, I love you more… Bye.” He hangs up and sighs heavily, happily. “Hannah says hi and to take care of me.”

“How exactly does she want me to take care of you? ’Cause I’m not really into dudes. Sorry.” I grab our bags from the trunk and shove his into his arms. Part of me is annoyed at missing something I’ve never had. Something I can’t even put my finger on. Safety? Security? Love…

A short chuckle interrupts my jealousy. “Me either, but a beer tonight before we scope out the joint would be nice.”

“You want me to get you liquored up first? No problem, I can do that.” Once inside, I get us a room with two doubles, and after dropping our bags in the room, we head back to the bar area for some grub. Before I exit the elevator, though, a familiar voice calls out, causing my heart to stop beating.

“Million-dollar Maximillian. How is my Maximum East?”

Fuck. Slowly, I turn around to face the man who ran my life for most of my early 20s. “Hey, Buddy.” Buddy Dapper. My handler from my fighting days, known associate of Tony “Two Fingers.” And he’s using my old stage names. This cannot be good.

“The Buddy Dapper?” Derichs’s jaw drops as he whispers the name in reverence.

“Hey, Max. Good to see you! It’s been a long while. What are you up to?” Buddy grabs me into a half hug, his pudgy middle poking me more than it did in years past. The scraggles of his thin gray comb-over tickle my nose before he pulls away.

Clearing my throat, I attempt to sound resolved. “Went back home and am working on setting everything up.”

“Like you always said you’d do. Good for you, kid.” His fat fingers pat me on the back as he eyes Derichs.

Shoving a finger toward him, I say, “Oh, this is my friend Derichs.”

“Hello. Looks like you know your way around a ring, too.”

Derichs nods, but keeps his mouth shut and eyes wide, staring at Buddy like he’s a god.

“What’re you doing around Appleton tonight, Bud?” I ask with some trepidation.

“I’m glad I ran into you. We have a fight going on in a bit, and I need that money you owe me.”

Damn. I thought I’d never run into Buddy again. At least I was planning on it. There was one fight I was supposed to throw back in the day that lost him twenty grand when I just couldn’t. Pride costs a lot. “Sorry, man. Can I get it to you soon?”

“Ha. No can do, Max-a-million. If not me, then you know Greedy, or Kinks, or Falsies will pay you a visit. I said I would be the one to tell you. As a friend, you know.” So, they’ve been watching me since I got back into town… Can’t say I blame them. Maybe recognized the Barracuda. I know the other guys won’t hesitate to start breaking bones or taking off body parts, so at least it was Buddy who found me first.

The money I had earned from our gun trade was going into renovations and East Side’s hands. Rebuilding the community was expensive. Our earnings belonged to the workers, the ones risking their lives to sell those weapons daily, the ones on the front lines of facing Strauss’s men. I didn’t want to pay off this debt. I also didn’t want Tony Two Fingers to send his goons after me. If I owed Buddy for a fight, that meant I owed my old boss. And he always got paid either with a pound of cash or a pound of flesh.

Buddy’s shoulders slump. “Ah, son. You don’t have it, do you?”

Swallowing the tight lump in my throat, I tell him flatly, “Not right now, but I can get it.”

“How about you earn it? Tonight.” Above his heavily sunken sockets, his light brown eyes sparkle with his proposition.

Pinching the bridge of my nose between my finger and thumb, I allow a heavy breath to escape my lungs. “I’m not fighting anymore. I’m done with that. In the ring anyway.” It’s not that I couldn’t throw a fight for them, it’s that I was master of the east side. If anything happened to me, what would happen to Arianna? To my employees?

“We’re gonna need something, Max.”

“I know—” Just as I think about giving in and taking a few hits, my right-hand jumps in.

“I’ll do it,” Derichs says quietly behind me. My body snaps to his, almost protectively.

Tightening my lips, my voice grits out, “No, Derichs—” He doesn’t need to take this fight for me.

“Oh? Sure, kid. Can you throw a fight?” Buddy ignores my protests.

“Yes. I can.” Derichs stares me down with his serious eyes.

Turning my body to face him, I grab both his shoulders in a firm grip. He winces, but quickly schools his face. “Your shoulder,” I say quietly, pointing out his weakness with a dig of my thumb.

“Max, I got this. For you. For East Side.” It’s quick, but I catch a flick of his jaw muscle as he tenses.

“You’ll get hurt, and I need you.”

“I can do this.” His face is resolved.

“Kid says he can do it, Million. Let him.”

Shaking my head, I say, “He’s got a hurt shoulder. Can your guy⁠—”

“No worries. We’ll tell him to back off. Which one is it, kid?” Buddy asks Derichs.

Derichs shrugs off my hold and tells him, “The right, sir.”

Buddy nods, then leads us to the parking lot. I silently try to argue with my tank the entire time. Derichs keeps his face sternly locked and ignores me completely the entire walk two blocks over to the hidden location where the match will take place. The cool winter wind whips around the corners of the brick buildings, slapping me in the face with loud whines, making my arguments even less heard.

When we all arrive at the warehouse where the ring is set up, Buddy leads us to the back entrance. I’m familiar with the joint, having fought here in several matches eight years ago. This time, however, I’m less angry than my young twenties self was having just lost his parents, but the same drive to succeed drifts over me when we enter the stands. My hands involuntarily twitch from rote memory, and I stretch my fingers at my sides to ease some tension building there.

Derichs doesn’t appear nervous at all. We discussed his previous fight history while sparring in the manor basement, and I know he’s good. His technique is on point, and if I were in a lower weight class, I’d be nervous. But it takes an exceptional fighter to throw the match without getting caught. As I stand with Buddy ring side, my eyes size up the other fighter who’s somewhat familiar to me. Briefly, I recall that he works for a different family based in Appleton.

My tank is set to drop in the second and Buddy informed the rival to avoid Derichs’s right shoulder. I’m not letting my eyes leave the match to make sure the guy follows the rules. We came to get Zayne, not have Derichs wounded in a cage match.

When the round starts, Derichs hits him with some fantastic hooks right off the bat, proving he knows exactly what he’s doing. The guy wastes no time trying to wrestle him to the ground, which is a smart play since Derichs was beating him with the punches. Derichs doesn’t fall for the move and gets the opponent in a leg lock right away. The two are evenly matched until the end of the first round, but my man proved himself well. If it went for three rounds, he may be declared the winner.

“Atta boy. You gave it to him straight away, no punches held back. Great job.” Shoving a water bottle in front of his face, I spray some water down his throat, droplets splashing everywhere, as he wipes down with a towel. “He thought he’d lock you on the floor, but you did good. Proved yourself out there.”

Derichs nods once, huffing out breaths. “I got this.” Given everything we’ve already been through, I know I can add Derichs to the small pool of people I trust. He knows what he has to do to end things, and as soon as the break is over, he heads back inside the cage, dancing on his feet. The referee signals for the start of the round.

Right away, the opponent grips Derichs’s bad shoulder in a lock and twists his arm behind him. The scream that comes from his chest spikes my adrenaline until I feel my body moving inside the cage at a predator’s pace before Buddy can stop me. The crowd noises fade as my entire focus narrows to destroying the thug that has Derichs’s arm in a hold.

The referee doesn’t notice when I sprint up behind them, Derichs now pinned to the ground in agony. His legs flail, trying to get any footing he can while he taps repeatedly on the mat with his free hand, gasping wails breaking my concentration. Once the ref calls the match, I shove the opponent off Derichs and grab my boy up into a bear hug. Dragging him over to the sidelines, he falls into Buddy’s arms with a few stumbles.

Swinging around, I charge across the ring and hit the fighter in the back of the head with a full fist while he’s watching his coach. Spinning, he spots me with an evil eye, but I grip his arms and almost pick him up to throw his body. He starts to laugh, blood spewing from his nose.

“The fuck! You knew to avoid the shoulder,” I yell at him, standing over his body now on the ground.

With a taped hand, he rubs the back of his head, before checking his palm for blood, still chuckling. “That was for working with The Ear. Boss’s orders.” His men surround him and shove me back with a hand to my chest. When the referee points to the other side of the cage, instructing me to leave, I’m already returning to Derichs. Buddy has him up and my tank holds his own elbow delicately.

Shaking my head, guilt fills my belly. “Fuck! He shouldn’t have⁠—”

“Max, it’s okay. Thank you. I’ll be fine. It’s okay. No permanent damage.” We head toward the back hall, Buddy beside us.

“I thought he was going to rip your arm off.” I swallow. “It looked like he was going to kill you.” I don’t think I could forgive myself if he’d gotten seriously injured, especially since all he was doing was for me.

“It felt like it.” Derichs rotates his arm a few times with a slight grimace on his wide lips. “I got you, man. I can still back you up anytime. I’m not going anywhere. Even if I only have one arm, I’m there for you.”

As we walk, I grab a clean towel and toss it over his shoulders, then hand him an ice-cold bottle of water. Everything better be copacetic. I never want to hear of Two Fingers again. “We square now, Buddy?”

“Yeah, Million. We’re square.” Before we make our way to the hotel, Bud grabs my arm, turning me to face him, his comb-over flopping in the freezing winter breeze, only blocked by the closeness of the buildings nearby. “I don’t think the boss will like hearing about you taking up with Lavinio, though. I miss you, son, but please avoid this city.” He sneaks a glance at Derichs. “For your own safety.”

Nodding, I let him know the plan. “I have one more job that I came for. Then we’ll be out of here.”

“Better make it quick. If word gets around town, especially after tonight’s antics…”

“We’ll be gone shortly.” Just another reason I wished no one had known I had come back. Now that word had gotten around I was working with Lavinio and had caused a problem in the ring tonight, it could be bad for me. Somehow, Gnarled Pine Hollow is safer for me now more than ever, and that’s a strange feeling. Comfort in the uncomfortable.

Once we get changed back in the hotel room and Derichs takes some anti-inflammatories, we ride over to the building we need in the Barracuda. Zayne lives in a penthouse at the top of a ritzy glass building in the middle of downtown. After circling the block a few times, scoping out escape routes, I park down the street, but make sure there’s a clear way out if we need to leave in a hurry.

Fortunately, Zayne’s housekeeper is broke. She’s also an unwilling sex slave at times. The guy likes whips, chains, and cigarette lighters and she doesn’t seem to appreciate the burns.

It was easy to give her cash, promise her safety, and get her to locate the purple sapphire for us. Zayne keeps most of his jewels locked in a bedroom safe; she told my spy Gemini over the dinner date he wooed her with. My hackers located the plans for the building and the codes to get inside. Wearing all black with ski masks stuffed in our pockets, Derichs and I enter through the glass doors of the building, prepared for our midnight trek.

We’re able to waltz right past the sleepy security guard and into the gleaming silver elevators without any issues. The trick is to always appear like you’re supposed to be where you are, or maybe having Derichs look as busted as he does is enough to scare off any questions. We don’t look friendly.

Riding up to the top floor, I tap a quick message on my phone to Skipper, my lead hacker. Before the doors open, he’s already disabled the security cameras and says he’s working on Zayne’s electronic lock on the penthouse. Derichs and I tug on our masks, then head out onto the top floor. The solid white hallway holds only a single plain door, modern and sleek, where we wait for only a minute before a loud click, then a buzz echoes through the barren hall. I enter the apartment with Derichs close behind my back.

Derichs nods at me when I point to the entryway. He’ll take the six and monitor for anyone trying to come in without warning. Sneaking toward the hall, I find the main bedroom from the floorplan I was given. Everything is laid out just as Gemini drew for me.

Placing my hand on the cold handle, I ease it down as slowly as my muscles will allow to open the door without a sound. Curtains block all light inside the room, but as my eyes adjust to the blackness, I can make out a heap of a figure lying under puffy blankets on the large bed near the center. Gently placing one foot in front of the other, my boots curl up in a creep to the open door of the closet on my left.

Edging inside while steadying my breathing, my hands grab a handful of his freshly dry-cleaned shirts to slide them aside, but as I do, their plastic covers rustle louder than I anticipate. I freeze, but don’t hear any movement after waiting for at least one full minute. A green glow of digital zeros lights up a metal box sitting on the wall, the safe right where the housekeeper said it would be. She gave up the code willingly, and I press the buttons one at a time, pausing between each loud beep to monitor for any sound coming from the bedroom. Everything is still.

A creak interrupts the calm as the metal door finally clicks and swings open, causing my heart rate to spike. I ruffle through the contents using my phone as a flashlight, but there’re only papers and file folders and a book. No jewels. Fuck! It’s not here. Maybe I missed it or maybe there’s another safe. I go through it again, but there’s no purple sapphire. Blood rushes in my ears, making hearing anything behind me difficult. Did the housekeeper lie?

“Zayne?” A high-pitched female voice breaks my panic, my arteries rioting as all the blood rushes into my extremities, ready for a fight. Fumbling with my phone, I turn off the flashlight and quiet my breathing, but my heart is pounding so hard, I fear whoever it is may hear it. “Zayne? Is that you?”

Holding my breath, I glance around the closet. There’s nowhere for me to hide without making noise. Footsteps slap the ground assuredly in my direction before a shadowy figure of a woman peers around the corner. She flips on the closet light, momentarily blinding both of us. When our eyes adjust, she gasps, but my body is already in motion from years of experience.

My arms surround her, wrapping one hand around her neck and the other over her mouth. She kicks in the air with her feet, but given she’s so much smaller, I lift her body until her flails meet open space. Squeezing my hold, I feel the breath collapse from her lungs as a cough escapes around my palm. Her body calms in my grasp. Some of her long, blonde hair catches on my tongue, and I spit it out as her bony, cold fingers grip the hand on her mouth, trying to pull me off. The metal of her rings cuts into my skin.

“Don’t make a fucking sound. Nod if you understand.” Rapidly, she nods while moaning a whimper.

Placing her feet back on the ground, I forcefully march her body back into the bedroom, but I can’t make out anyone else in the dark space. Releasing the palm over her lips, she inhales deeply with a gasping breath.

“Let me see your hands,” I command. Dropping the arm around her neck, I maintain a hold on her waist. Now that she can move, her body shakes violently with desperate sobs.

“Please, please, don’t hurt me. Just take anything.”

“Let me see your fucking hands.” I give her waist a squeeze with my bicep to let her know how serious I am, and she holds them up in front of us. There it is, sparkling in the light of the closet on her perfectly polished ring finger. Dropping her, I pull out my phone, and flash the light on it to be sure. “Give me that ring.”

She hesitates, staring at her outstretched hands. The dumb bitch actually hesitates. Snatching her wrist, I almost crush it, attempting to rip the ring off along with a finger. Wails of pain rip from her mouth, but I twist it off, then shove it deep in the pocket of my jeans. Just as quickly, I gather her back into my arms and reach for my Glock sitting in its holster on my belt. Holding the barrel to her temple, I shove it into the skin as she cries in frantic, muffled pleas.

“Where’s Zayne?” I ask, my voice gruff, my finger with steady pressure on the trigger. She only whines and shakes her head in reply. “Where the fuck is Zayne? Is he here?”

Arms wrap around my biceps, and the sudden jarring causes me to drop my gun. Tight hands grip my throat in a chokehold from behind. My mask works its way off my face as I kick with my legs to try to gain a hold, but the guy is just as talented as me. He’s got training. With a small torque of my waist, I’m able to bend over and flip his heavy body off me, but he maintains a hold on my head until we end up on the ground in a wrestling match.

Eventually, I gain a lock with my legs on his while those large hands maintain their grasp around me. I’m losing air and can’t yell for Derichs, the world fading in and out from black to deadly. Leveraging him with my thighs, I flip us and finally get in guard, despite his continued squeeze on my neck. Using my elbows, I beat in his face, then dig my thumbs into his eye sockets, building up the pressure there and not letting go.

His fingers loosen their clutch on my life, and my breath comes back in small pants as he relaxes. The blood rushing through my ears slows, replaced in pulsating sonic waves by shrill screams of terror from the lady standing over us. Derichs busts in with his gun raised. Grasping the guy’s brown hair with one hand, and his jaw with the other, I push up quickly until I feel each bone in his neck pop in a neck crank. His tongue lolls out of his mouth as he groans, giving up resistance, paralyzed. Fingers threading around his windpipe, I squeeze until his eyes gouge out of their sockets, and his last breath exits his chest with a haunting, rattling gurgle.

Haven’t had to do that in a long time, but I’ve still got it. And my shoulders relax some as I realize I at least got out of that match alive.

Derichs quickly runs to the woman and clasps a hand over her mouth. “Shut the fuck up, lady.”

Standing, I look around the area for my gun. “I’ve got the ring.”

“What do we do about her?” Derichs tries to contain her floundering body, the silk negligee she wore working its way up to her waist, exposing her lacy thong.

Scanning her up and down, I take a deep breath to try to gather some brain cells back. I need to think. I’ve never had to kill a woman before. Not that I am opposed, but something doesn’t sit right with me about it. “Can you keep quiet?” I ask her.

Derichs lowers his palm enough so she can talk. “Yes, yes, I’ll be quiet.” What little light the hallway afforded makes the tears on her cheeks glisten like a road on a rainy night.

From behind her, Derichs shakes his head at me. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, boss.”

“Please, no. Just let me go. You can have the ring. I won’t tell anyone.”

I consider my options. A gun will be heard at this hour, and I have no silencer. Perhaps a pillow could work… But I don’t want to strangle a lady to death unless it’s Livia.

“Let’s go.” Making up my mind, I give the command. Derichs reluctantly releases her body from his arms as he cocks one eyebrow at me, as if he is still unsure, but willing to follow anything I say. We shove our guns back in their holsters and dart toward the front door. Now that my adrenaline is wearing off, dull pain invades every muscle. My vision is cloudy from the lack of oxygen I sustained in the dead man’s vice grip.

I reach for my mask but shove it in my pocket instead of wearing it. It was too late to put it back on once the woman saw me. Hopefully, she didn’t get a good look at my face in the dim lights.

My voice comes out hoarse when I tell Derichs, “You gotta drive. I don’t know if I can even see right now. Go straight to Tony’s place. I don’t want this ring on me any longer than it has to be.”

We jump inside, and Derichs revs the engine before darting out into the city streets. He’s a good driver. If anyone is allowed to drive my baby, it’s him. My eyes slowly regain their focus as I wipe up blood from my nose and take some deep breaths, each swallow of air into my lungs restoring my sight. Resting my head back on the seat, I try to relax my body. The drive will be several hours, but Derichs doesn’t let off the gas.

He pulls over at a few rest areas for us along the journey, but we never stop for long. We pause twice for gas, switching out drivers, but motor toward Cliff Harbor as fast as possible, one of us trying to catch some naps in the passenger seat while the other finds their way to Nikolai. The jewel feels like a homing beacon in my pocket, and the less time I have it on me, the better.

Mid-morning, a guard opens the gate for us once we reach the mansion. Ovid greets us at the door and shuffles us to the office. The silk dressing robe Tony wears rides up his arm as he waves us inside with a rotating motion of his hand. Before he can lounge back in his leather desk chair, I take two long strides and drop the ring in his open palm. “Will that do?”

As if I just created new matter from nothing, he gawks at the object, his intense eyes never leaving it as he says, “Please, please sit.”

“Excuse me, sir, but we’ve been driving a long way.” I glance at my tank, who’s shifting from foot to foot behind my left shoulder. “I don’t think either of us wants to sit right now.” My back aches. I’m only twenty-eight, but between the years of fighting and now driving for hours, there’s no way I’m going to ease back in one of his awkward puffy chairs. Not only that, but the guy is creepy. The way he looked at my foxy was enough for me to itch to see his blood pouring from some orifice. Best not to trust myself to stay around him for very long.

Nikolai rummages in the drawers behind his desk before he produces a jeweler’s loupe. Prominent white teeth crawl out from behind his wide lips as he mutters to himself, “Yes. This is perfect.” He takes a deep breath and sighs longingly. “How did you ever convince the little fox?”

I grab my crotch pointedly. “You know how women are.”

With an opening smack of his lips, Tony busts out a loud laugh as Derichs’s jaw drops. Poor guy looks appalled.

“Whatever works, my man. I dig it. Good luck to you. You’ll be hearing from Tiny Jim out there to set things up in Gnarled Pine Hollow. He’ll take good care of you. Enjoy.” Standing, he sticks out his hand, and I shake it briefly. Business done, I turn to head out the door, Derichs’s deep eyes scanning my face, still stunned by my confession.

Tiny Jim is anything but small. Ovid has us wait in the foyer when the big guy ambles out from a back hallway. His T-shirt clad arms can barely bend to hold his phone when we exchange numbers, veiny biceps twitching as he does.

Ovid opens the front door for us and leads us back to my car. Derichs follows closely behind with his stare still palpable on my back. Once inside, I start the engine for the long drive home, fully recovered from the night’s activities. Derichs’s head turns, as if he’s waiting patiently for me to speak.

Amused, I take off out of the drive and ask, “What?”

“‘You know how women are?’”

“Yeah, sometimes I can read people well. It’ll keep him from trying to get with Livia and stealing her family’s heirloom. Hopefully, he nor anyone else knows what went down with Zayne and we never hear about that ring again.”

Derichs snorts dramatically as we head onto the main road. “Since when do you care about a Von Dovish heirloom?” His face smirks so hard, I want to smack the expression off. Instead, I reach over and slap the back of the head while his mouth broadens into a wide grin as he laughs, the sound so joyfully contagious, I join in.

A few days later, I’m training in the basement alone. Derichs got time off to see his woman while Jakob has been busy keeping an eye on my sister, making sure that kid Wyatt doesn’t even breathe near her. So far, I’m told it’s working.

Fritz pops his head downstairs and announces formally, “A Miss Livia Von Dovish to see you, sir.”

Snagging a rough white towel from the bench, I rake it over my neck and face. “Okay, send her down.” Despite just working out, my pulse spikes higher as the excitement of seeing her washes over me, and I chug a bottle of water to cleanse my dry mouth.

Long, sculpted legs are the first thing I notice, covered with some type of leather thigh-high boots. Hips, covered with a barely-there skirt, gently curve up to her taut abs. As my eyes drink up her body, all I see is smooth tattooed skin, ripe for cutting with my blade. She’s only wearing a tiny sports bra looking top, causing the blood that was pounding in my ears to rush into my groin when I get to her full, round tits, which try to jump out of her shirt and into my mouth. Hmm, this raven is certainly dressed for an occasion, but what kind?

“Hey,” she says, and the sound is like auditory porn for my dick.

“Hey,” I respond as casually as I can, but I’m unable to stop from roving over her body like I’m looking for water on Mars. “What’s up?”

She stands about five feet away from me, cautiously fidgeting with her fingers as if she doesn’t know what to do with herself. Swallowing, she ever-so slowly takes a step in my direction, her hips swaying with each one until she is directly in front of me. “I-I heard about the ring.”

My breathing slows to almost non-existent. Some hair falls in my face as I nod my reply, unable to form words. That signature amber scent fills my nostrils, and desire overtakes me, filling me with primal need. If I inhale, I’ll taste her, and I won’t be stopping this time. My cock jumps in my shorts.

Batting her lashes, she says softly, “Thank you, Max. You didn’t have to do that.”

The urge to touch her face makes my fingertips tingle, but I hold back. “I did. I didn’t want—I wouldn’t let him take your memories from you.”

Her long fingers reach out and smooth over my bare chest. Everywhere she touches feels like wildfire spreading along the skin. My heart stops beating. Crawling up my neck until her hands thread through my hair, her voluptuous breasts mold into me, soft against my hardness. Dare I use my arms to circle her back?

Livia’s face rests inches from my own once I lean down to her, maybe to embrace her fully or just the hope that I could. She tugs on the back of my head and lightly brushes her pert pink lips to mine, and I savor her flavor with a swallow. All the traumas that have been locked deep inside me begin to feel like they happened to someone else as she deepens her connection with my mouth, the taste of her intoxicating me until I can’t hold back any longer.

Snatching her by the waist, I thrust my tongue inside her, desperate to have her saliva mix with mine. I need our mouths to blend into one. It’s vital that we collide. I can’t live without this, the unadulterated hunger for her causing a frenzied panic in my lungs. One hand runs through her silky dark hair, the other gripping her firm ass as she pulls me closer. When my tongue meets hers again, a whimper sounds in her throat, divulging how much she needs me.

Lifting her by her thighs, I push her against the nearest wall as those long legs surround my waist with a tight grip. Only thin athletic shorts shield my cock, and it’s dying to escape deep inside her cave, to fucking maul her. Nails embed in each other’s skin. Our tongues slow from their raging battle and begin soothing each other’s wounds with gentle caresses.

Pulling back from me, she places her forehead against mine as we pant heavy breaths onto the other’s lips. “I want you,” she whispers in between huffs.

“I want you,” I repeat back to her. Removing one hand from her leg, I start to tug down my shorts and expose myself.

Her little hand touches mine to stop its movement. “But you shouldn’t, Max. I can’t—” She bites her lip and her voice cracks with strain. Those golden eyes fill with tears until they sparkle like rain on a sunny day. “I can’t. You shouldn’t want me.”

Straightening up, my burning skin turns ice cold. All the heat I built up morphs into rage. As I take a step back, I drop her to the ground, and she stills, leaning against the wall, barely able to look me in the eye. “What in the actual fuck, Livia? Do you enjoy torturing me? Torturing my dick?” Grasping my full erection, I give it a shake. Those bleary champagne eyes glance at it, then flinch away as her cheeks flame pink.

“No, I wanted to thank you for what you did for me,” she cries out, tears now freely streaming down her face. “Nothing more.” Wiping her nose with the back of her hand, she tries to hide her face by looking down, but I tip her chin up, so she has to meet my fierce gaze.

“Nothing?”

She shakes her head rapidly, but keeps her lips tightly sealed. Her reluctance to open up to me after everything pisses me off more than anything.

“Why in the fuck are you crying? Why shouldn’t I want you, Livia? Answer me.”

Swiping her wet cheeks with her thumbs, she sticks her chin up and glares at me. “You’d just get attached to my pussy, and I don’t have time for your clinginess, Freidenberg.” The weepy damsel in distress tone is gone from her voice, replaced by bratty bitchiness.

With my hands on my hips, I stare her down for a full minute, contemplating any sort of reply. God, it fucking hurts, whatever kind of game she’s playing with me. I can’t take this rejection anymore. My chest is tight from the pain as I manage to squeeze out, “Get the fuck out of my house.” Snapping my thumb and finger together forcefully, I point to the stairs, my hand shaking with fury. “I’ll just go to the Crimson Angel. They don’t have cockteasers there.”

She gasps with an audible click in the back of her throat, the harpy having the audacity to look hurt. Then she spins on her heel and leaves.