His eyes light up. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. Last night, letting you have some control over me, I liked it. More than I thought I would. I want to do it again.”
Max smiles, the dimple showing in his right cheek, but the smallest hint of concern shows through. “You sure? I don’t want you to do anything you’re uncomfortable doing.”
“Yeah, I’m sure.” I can’t say anything else because I don’t want my nervousness to show. Instead, I reach down and take his hand, threading our fingers together. I lead him into the bedroom and start stripping. “No toys, okay?”
“Okay,” Max replies.
Without a word, I climb onto his bed and lie back, watching Max as he takes his own clothes off. His cock is already hard, and it breaks through the anxiety edging into my brain. I can do this. It’s just sex. It’s not a big deal. And doing it with Max is safe. It’ll all be fine.
Max grabs some lube from the side table drawer and climbs onto the bed, settling between my legs. When he opens the tube and squeezes some of the liquid onto his fingers, my heart jumps into my throat.
“I don’t want that,” I say. “I mean, I don’t want you stretching me. Just take me.”
Max pauses, one hand on my knee as he warms the lube in his other hand by rubbing his fingers together. “Jude… How long has it been since you’ve done this?”
“Why does that matter?”
“You know why it matters.” A little exasperation leaks into his voice. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You’re not going to hurt me. I’ve done this plenty of times.” It’s not a lie. Grant fucked me over a hundred times when we were together.
Max is unconvinced. His hand stays on my knee. He makes no move to touch me anywhere else.
Desperation floods my veins. If Max won’t do this with me, who else will? I don’t trust anyone else. Maybe I’m afraid to do it with Max, but I trust him on a base level. He’s always been kind to me, always made sure I felt good when we were together.
“Max, I want to do this. Please.”
“You have to swear that you’ll tell me if it’s too much,” Max says, staring into my eyes. “I mean it.”
“I swear.” I feel a little bad saying that because I don’t have any intention of telling him to stop, even if it is too much. I just want to get it over with.
Max doesn’t stretch me, but he does apply a generous amount of lube onto his cock before positioning the head between my cheeks.
I spread my legs wider, giving him more access, and he starts sliding in.
“Fuck.” I take a breath and try to concentrate on anything other than the burning pain in my ass.
“Just breathe,” Max says softly. “Take a second.”
I don’t want to. I want him to plow into me. To take me just like Grant used to. Like Grant tried to last night. If he does it, then I don’t have anything to be afraid of.
I slide my hands up his arms to grab his biceps. “I’m fine. I’m ready.”
He hesitates for a beat before pushing in again. The pain is so intense that I clench without meaning to. I just need it to stop. I need him to stop.
When I squeeze my eyes shut, I’m back in the classroom, bent over the desk. I’m on my knees in the locker room, sucking Grant off while a football game goes on outside. I’m in Grant’s bed at his house, my face shoved in the mattress while he plows into my ass. I’m in my own kitchen, on my hands and knees, staring at blinking numbers on the microwave while Grant spills another load inside me.
“Stop.” My voice is weak and pathetic. “Stop, Grant. Stop. I can’t take it anymore. Just fucking stop.”
Twenty-four
Max
I freeze at Jude’s words. His hands are still latched onto my arms. There’s so much fear in his eyes that it scares me a little. I pull out of him and stand, grabbing my jeans from the floor.
“What’s wrong?” It’s a stupid question. It’s obvious what’s wrong. He wasn’t ready to do this, and what’s worse is, I knew it. I knew I shouldn’t have let him push himself like that. But I’d wanted to believe he’d be okay.
