Page 40 of Sorrow & Strangers

“Hot?” Max interrupts again, narrowing his eyes. There’s something menacing about the way he’s looking at me, but as usual, I feel completely safe with him.

My brows knit together, and I blink. I’m pretty sure I do not look hot right now. I know I’m still a mess, a ghost of who I used to be, and devoid of any confidence or happiness. That night, I was nothing more than an illusion. In reality, I am a black hole, a wreck.

“Extremely so?” Max says, pushing off his desk and stalking closer to me. I track his every movement, unable to take my eyes off him. Arrogance oozes from him, and I find myself focusing on his lips. I remember how pillowy soft they are, how commanding and desperate his kiss was. Max prowls closer until his warmth is seeping into me.

“That wasn’t the word I was going to use,” I say, stepping back, trying to put some distance between us because my mind is starting to cloud. He moves closer, and I step back again, only to find myself pressed against the wall.

“If you think it came from pity and not me wanting to fuck you because you are hot . . .” His gaze slowly drifts to my mouth, and I reflexively wet my bottom lip. “I’ll just have to prove you wrong, and I can do that right now,” he growls, his words sending a shock of awareness to my core.

“Max . . . we shouldn’t,” I pant, my words barely audible.

Max leans in a little, his breath mingling with mine. There is something intoxicating about the minty scent. “You think too much,” he says, pressing his lips to mine. The kiss is insistent, but he isn’t otherwise touching me, and I know he’s giving me time to decide if I want this.

I should pull back. I’m going to pull back. I’m going to stop kissing Max. Now.

I deepen the kiss, and the second I lean in and open for him, Max pushes my pants over my hips, and I step out of them. He bends to cup the backs of my thighs and lifts me, wrapping my legs around his waist. He grinds against me, pressing his erection into my core.

Shit, when did he get so hard?

I need to stop this. I need to pull back, but the desire coursing through me is blissful. The feeling of being alive captivates me once again, and I chase it, needing the proof that I can feel anything other than sorrow and grief.

Max bites my lip hard and shoves my panties to the side. His mouth claims mine again, our tongues tangling as he pulls a condom from his pocket and shoves down his shorts. I dig my nails into his shoulders, anticipating the moment I will be full of him, but he doesn’t push into me. Instead, he breaks the kiss and pulls back with a low, filthy curse. He pants into my mouth, and when I open my eyes, I notice his are still closed. He is obviously struggling with something, and I should care, but I need what he can give me.

I take the condom from his hand, and when he opens his eyes, I see the green edging against the warm brown. I rip the small foil packet open with my teeth and reach between us, rolling it down over his straining cock. The whole time, I keep my gaze locked on his, watching as his eyes flicker, and when emerald green floods his irises, I understand he has been trying to control the berserker. The thing is, I want the berserker in control.

I slam my lips down on his, and his control snaps. Max roars into the kiss and grips my hips, pulling me down as he pushes up, taking me in one brutal thrust. The bittersweet symphony of pain and pleasure sends waves of ecstasy through my entire body. Max sets a desperate rhythm, thrusting hard and fast. I break the kiss and meet his gaze as I gasp for air, the glowing green of his eyes proving how feral he is at the moment.

“Tell me when this feels like pity,” he growls, but all I can do is moan his name as he plunges into me over and over, fucking me with abandon.

“Max—”

He snarls and yanks my sports bra down, his big, rough hand cupping my breast. He squeezes my nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and I cry out at the pinch of pain that makes my pussy spasm. I shift my knees higher against his sides, opening myself further so he can sink deeper into me. I slam my mouth to his again, and he bites my lip so hard that I feel it split, tasting the copper of my blood coating my tongue.

I arch, using the wall at my back as leverage to meet his thrusts. Digging my nails into his skin, I drag them down his arms, drawing his blood as he did mine. My orgasm is already within reach, and I know I’m not going to last. Before the other night, it had been so long, and my body has obviously been craving this, desperate to feel something other than the bone-deep pain.

Max digs his fingers into my thighs, and I know I’m going to bruise. Good. I want to bruise. I want to hurt. He keeps pounding into me, his rhythm getting more ragged. He’s close too, and the thought of his pleasure spurs me on that last bit. I plunge into my release, my whole body shattering around him. His roar against my lips undoes me again, and I feel myself roll into a second orgasm.

We just stand there for a moment, both of us spent, Max’s forehead resting against mine, the only sounds our labored breathing and thudding hearts. After a moment, he eases me back to my feet and pulls back.

What have I⁠—

“Hungry?” he asks.

I blink up at him, the unexpected question pulling me from my panic.

“Summer. Stop complicating it.”

“Shit.” I push him back and move out from between him and the wall. I’m like a newborn deer on shaky legs as I try to pull on my pants. How could I have done this again? I need to get the fuck out of here.

“Fuck,” I grumble, still struggling with my leggings. “That⁠—”

“Was it hot? Fun? Casual?” Max offers.

When I glance at him, he’s casually leaning against the wall, watching me with a somewhat amused look on his face.

“A mistake,” I throw back at him. I’m not sure if I’m saying it to be hurtful or just shitty, but Max just sighs and smirks.

“The least fun option.”