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CHAPTER 15

MAX

“ F ucking prick,” I mutter as soon as Caine’s body leaves mine. I don’t look up to watch what he’s doing; I take my sweet time running the credit card and getting the receipt. By the time I’m done, he’s gone, and I let out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

“You okay?” David asks hesitantly.

I shake it off just like I’m used to doing. “Yeah, fine.”

Throwing myself back into work I eventually get back to Drew, “Need another one?”

He looks at the glass on the counter and shakes his head. His green eyes lock on mine. I can’t exactly read him, but he looks serious. Deadly so. “If Caine ever bugs you too much, let me know and I’ll take care of it.”

I roll my eyes, waving him off. “I can handle it, that’s why I’m taking more classes. I’m an independent woman and don’t need any of you muscle heads standing up for me.”

I mean that more than he could ever know. I’ve never had the chance to be independent, and now that I am there’s no going back. It doesn’t matter if I have to deal with some psycho that thinks he has some right over me and my body. At the end of the day, I’m the one that gets a say in what happens to me now. I don’t belong to anyone anymore.

I was my parents’. Then I was Carson’s. I’m not about to be Caine’s, or Drew’s, or anyone else’s. I’ll never allow myself to belong to anyone else. The only person I belong to now is me.

After closing up and forcing Drew out of the bar yet again, I’m glad to see there aren’t any random MMA fighters waiting outside for me and let out a sigh of relief. The air is cold and there’s an extra chill from the light mist of rain that’s coming down. I pull on the hoodie I bring with me but never wear inside since the air in the building can be stifling.

It doesn’t do much to help my practically exposed legs since I’m just wearing fishnets and shorts with my black Doc Martens on my feet. Luckily, the walk isn’t far, and I’ve endured worse. I keep a quick pace as I make my way down the dark streets that are barely lit by the streetlights. Everything is closed and there’s an eeriness around here with the brightly painted buildings that contrast the darkness around them.

I make it to the sidewalk that runs parallel to the beach and notice that the lights here are dimmer than the ones on the main road as I make my way back home. Once on my street, I pick up my pace as the uneasy feeling of being watched runs down my spine.

As soon as I reach my house, I quickly unlock the door, rush in, and lock it behind me. My chest heaves slightly with deep breaths and the feeling I was having of being watched still doesn’t dissipate, even now.

My house is quiet, and dark, but I’m not alone. I know it, for some reason, even knowing that, I don’t turn on the lights that could potentially reveal whoever is here. Because it’s the same feeling I had the other night. The hint of fear, but the intrigue and embarrassing arousal dripping between my thighs.

Stepping further inside, I try to find the figure I know is hiding in the dark, but I don’t see or hear him. I start to think that I may just be going insane, my paranoia finally taking over. Probably from the mix of exhaustion, cold air, and history of trauma.

With a sigh, I go into my bedroom and flip on the light, except nothing happens. I flick the light switch a couple more times with the same result—nothing. The panic comes rushing back, and my heart starts beating so fast I feel like I can hear it. I turn to go find the breaker box, but instead of walking out of the doorway I run into a large hard chest.

The scream I let out is immediately muffled by the rough hand closing over my mouth, and my chance of escape is stopped by the other arm wrapping around my waist, holding me tightly against the muscled body. I refuse to have a repeat performance of the other night and start fighting.

Somehow, I manage to catch him off guard by shoving my knee into his groin and after making contact, his grip loosens enough that I’m able to break free, pushing past him and rushing out of my bedroom. I don’t know where I’m trying to go. I don’t even know where I could go, but the only thing my mind is telling me is to run.

So that’s what I do. Stumbling slightly in the dark as I try to find the front door, the dim glow shining through the small window at the top is my guiding light. When I think I’m about to get to it, still unsure of what my plan is other than running down the street like a madman, a body crashes into my back, crushing me against the front door and I let out another scream.

Bucking back against him, I try to get him off me, but he’s like a wall with his entire body pressing me against the door. From the side of my face stuck against the wood, all the way down to my legs that are immobile from the weight pressed against me.

As Caine leans down to speak, I try to throw my head back to connect with his face, but he holds me still with a fist wound tightly around my ponytail. “Every time you run, I’m going to catch you. And when I do, I’m going to do whatever I want with you.”

“Get off me,” I mumble, my teeth grazing the inside of my cheek as I talk from how tightly he has me shoved against the door.

He chuckles, deep and menacing in response. His feet kick my legs apart and I whimper at how helpless I feel against him. I want to be strong. I want to fight back, and I want to be able to feel like I can handle myself no matter who I’m going up against. But he always makes me feel helpless against him and that I really am at his mercy.

The voice at the back of my mind reminds me just how badly I want this. How I told Carson I would like to try this in the bedroom—have my control taken away in a way that I want. He did not understand, and it was never how I wanted. He took advantage of me when I was vulnerable and it was never for my pleasure, it was only for his.

Unlike now.

No, I refuse it. I refuse to give Caine anymore of myself, especially openly when he thinks he already has me. He can’t know how badly I really want this.

“Let. Me. Go,” I grit out.

He only kicks my legs even wider apart, pressing himself harder against my back, his hand that’s not in my hair is moving between my legs, pressing against the crotch of my shorts and creating friction against my clit. I try to hide my small moan, but with the way he thrusts against my back, I know he hears it.

“If I let you go, are you going to run again, killer?” he asks, pressing against me, the seam of my shorts biting into my clit.

I whimper softly, my hips thrusting involuntarily at his touch, seeking out more, even though my mind is screaming at me to fight, to get away from him. The rest of me is reacting in a way that is begging for him to keep touching me, to touch me more.

Take from me.

“No,” I croak out softly.

He huffs out a disbelieving breath and his hold loosens slightly. The hand that was holding my ponytail is gone, running down the strands, while he backs up just barely. It’s enough space for me to push past him and run again, trying to get to my room, and lock the door.

I hear the deep groan mixed with some noise of humor that comes from him, but I take off without a second thought. Yeah, I’m a liar, but I don’t care right now, I just want to get away from him.

It doesn’t take long before he snakes an arm around my waist, hauling me up and I screech, thrashing my body in hopes of hitting or kicking him anywhere. I’m sure I’m making contact, but he acts like it doesn’t faze him at all.

“Come on, you lost your chance to make this easy.” He grunts, shifting me over his shoulder, holding my legs down with an iron grip across my knees.

It doesn’t stop me from continuing to pound my fists into his back as I attempt to swing my body off him. Doesn’t matter if I land on my head at this point, as long as I get away from him. I’m caught between needing this— needing him —and wanting to get away. That’s why I continue to fight it because I refuse to lay down and make this easy for him.

Even if my core is a wet and needy mess inside my shorts.

“Put me down!” I scream. I’m not sure where he’s taking me, and it’s not until I notice the doorframe we walk through that I realize we’re in my bedroom.

“Not happening. You’re going to see what happens when you give me complete control of your body just like I know you want to.”

I hear the clink of what I think is his belt and I freeze, anticipating what he’s planning to do next. Before I can think about it too much I’m thrown onto the bed. My back bounces at the contact and before I have the chance to get away, he descends on me, pulling my arms in front of me, keeping my wrists held together while he brings his belt around the back of my neck, and my panic surges.

I continue to try and fight him, even as he uses the leather to bind my wrists and neck together. I don’t make it easy, but he acts like my attempts to fight aren’t even the slightest inconvenience for him as he continues to do what he set out to do.

When he rises off me, I try to escape again, but I’m stopped by the fact that now when I try to move my arms, my neck goes with them.

“Wha—” I try to move again, and am completely stuck with my bound wrists.

“Look at that. Now that’s a pretty fucking sight.” I can only see his silhouette against the darkness, but it feels like his bright eyes, that are such a contrast with the darkness of his soul, are staring right through me. I have all my clothes on, but I’ve never felt so exposed.

I take that back, when he turns on the lamp on my nightstand, actually bringing more light into the room, I feel even more exposed. My chest is heaving both from nerves and anticipation as he slowly stalks around my bed while I lie trapped.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I spit at him, thrashing around to try and get free, even if there’s no chance of it helping. Especially when I feel the slickness between my thighs. The way my own body is betraying me makes me want to fight against this even more.

“So many things, but you being here makes it worse.”

I glare at him as he looms at the end of my bed, arms crossed and a crazed look in his beautiful eyes.

“Oh, I’m so sorry for offending you just by being here and literally doing fucking nothing.”

Caine reaches down, adjusting himself in his pants and I watch the movement, hardly noticing when my legs rub together slightly.

“You’ve done enough.” He looks at where I’m trying to move subtly, and I can tell he sees it. Which makes me want to kick him in the balls again. “Now, shut the fuck up or I’m going to stuff your panties into your mouth.”

“Fuck off.”

He smirks, reaching for my ankles and I start kicking at him again. He’s able to wrangle my legs easily, holding my ankles with one giant hand, despite my efforts to keep fighting him off. He’s undeterred as he manages to unbutton my shorts, pulling them down, along with my fishnets so I’m left only in a thong that’s embarrassingly soaked.

After he pulls off the clothes, I slam my legs closed to try and hide the evidence of my body’s betrayal. I’m hoping that maybe he’ll stop here and that I’ll get to keep this secret to myself.

Of course, I’m not that lucky because he pushes open my thighs easily, and I gasp, using all my strength to try and slam them closed. His calloused hands are rough on my inner thighs as he holds them open. He looks from wet fabric up to where my shirt has ridden up my stomach, to my heaving chest and eyes that I hope show the hatred for him that I’m feeling.

“So wet for me, like the slut I knew you were. I should make you choke on these.” He snaps the fabric on my hip, and I gasp.

“Do it,” I challenge. “Then you can do whatever it is you’re planning to do to my dead body, and I don’t have to endure the few seconds you can last with your tiny dick.”

That earns me a laugh. An actual, full-bodied laugh from him, and it’s worse than the blank stares I’ve gotten. “Oh killer, you’ll learn there’s nothing tiny about me soon. I’m so glad you’ve been thinking about my dick, though.”

I smile disparagingly. “Only about chopping it off.”

“Such a fucking liar.”

He grabs the side of my thong and starts to pull them down, despite me attempting to fight him off, keeping my legs glued shut as he manages to wrangle the soaked fabric off me. Bringing it up to his face he takes a deep inhale, and I grimace and squeeze my thighs tighter together.

My mind and body are clearly at war right now and I’m worried about how I’m going to make it out of this. I try to pull my arms free again, but it only pulls at my neck, and I groan in frustration.

Caine tucks my underwear into his pocket, and I open my mouth in surprise, but snap it shut quickly when I remember what he said about making me choke on them. Despite what came out of my mouth, I would rather make it out of this alive. I may not be unscathed, but honestly, I wasn’t completely unharmed at the beginning of the night either.

He pushes my legs open again and there’s no hiding what he sees, his eyes look up at me showing how pleased he is with his discovery.

“I’m going to fuck this pretty little pussy tonight, and you may tell me no, but we both know how badly you want it.”

Before I have the chance to say anything, his mouth is on me, and I cry out. It’s rough and dirty and I can’t do a fucking thing to stop him. My arms are restrained, he’s holding my legs open and I’m nothing more than a body to him as he devours me.

I don’t want to acknowledge how good this feels. I don’t want to come again like the night in the kitchen. I don’t want to give him the pleasure of knowing what he’s doing is working. But when his tongue flicks my clit rapidly before sucking it into his mouth, any attempt I have at holding off is gone because the orgasm is barreling toward me. It’s unstoppable and when it takes over, the cry I let out is both in pleasure and frustration. I don’t want to give in to him, and for him to know that this is everything I’ve wanted.

On the other hand, is it really giving into him when I’m the one benefitting in the end?

Caine rises up, his mouth and chin soaked with me, and I want to kick him in the face.

“You come so easily for me; you know that?”

“I fucking hate you.” I say the words I want to believe, but really what I hate right now is how badly I really crave him. How badly I crave this.

“Yeah.” He looks down at my core that’s still wet with my desire. “Sure seems like it.”

“Agh,” I groan, throwing my head back onto the bed in irritation, wanting more than anything to fight him off, but accepting my fate fully at this moment. He’s going to do what he wants and I’m unable to stop him.

But this is what I’ve wanted, the control being taken away in a way I’ve craved. And it is. I’ve wanted a man to use my body for pleasure, to give me the pleasure I crave while treating me like I don’t have a choice. I don’t know how this man I barely know, who’s only ever been an ass to me, is able to give me something I’ve always wanted, but he is.

“Eyes on me, killer. I want you to see what it is you were worried would be too small.”

I look over at him, glaring as he unbuttons his jeans and starts to push them down. I can’t deny that the thought of running away flashes through my mind. Curiosity also courses through me. And it’s the curiosity that’s sure to get me in trouble.

“Tell me something,” he says, shedding his jeans, but leaving his boxers on before pulling off his hoodie. Once that’s on the floor he continues. “You think Drew can give you what you need?”

He pulls off his shirt, revealing the sculpted muscles that cover his chest. It’s free of tattoos, clearly a contrast to the other guys I’ve seen at the gym who all appear covered, but Caine has nothing. Just stacked muscles covered by smooth, tan skin.

“Probably better than you can.” I tilt my chin up in defiance.

He grunts. “You think so? You have a terrible read on people then. You know he practically killed his dad.”

“What?” I rear back, but then he’s pushing down his boxers and I’m speechless in more ways than one. First of all, I don’t know why he would say something like that, but truly every thought leaves my mind as he reveals every inch of bare skin to me.

Especially the bare thick cock that’s hard and pointed right at me. The fear is back, consuming me as I take all of him in. He’s huge—like, concerningly huge. I shouldn’t want this. I shouldn’t want him. Because there’s no way that’s fitting. Maybe I’m going to die tonight after all.

“What do you think? Too small for you?” he asks, wrapping his fist around himself and pumping once, squeezing the tip.

My mouth goes dry as I open it to reply, but I don’t even know what I want to say. I don’t know what I could say right now. The only thing that comes out is, “I’m not fucking you.”

“You’re right. I’m going to fuck you.”

I’m pretty sure the next words I speak just may end up being my last, “Not a fucking chance.”