Vivian Arend - Turn It Up

Her mind spun. Again, it was too much, too soon.

Max coughed. She turned to find he’d crossed the room. He stood beside the front door, holding it open. She moved slowly to join him and they made their way back to his car in silence. Her brain was far too full of chaos to be able to speak rationally, and small talk would have been inappropriate.

He drove her home, the radio providing a blur of background noise to the thirty-minute ride between her new house in Frazer and her apartment in Thompson. The lack of sleep, the alcohol and the stress wrapped together, and she gave up any attempt at being polite. She stared out the window, nothing concrete in her mind except the dire need to crawl into bed and hibernate for days.

All the way from the parking lot to the door of her apartment he paced beside her, shortening his long stride to accommodate hers. When she paused in her doorway to speak he pressed a finger to her lips.

“You’re tired and still hungover. Go to bed. Think about this when you’re fresh.”

Max placed the folder in her hand, and reached for her, and she held her breath. She didn’t know what she’d do if he kissed her again. Something in her face must have warned him she was ready to crack and he froze. He cleared his throat and took a shaky breath before heading back to the elevator silently.

It was all she could do to make it to her bed and collapse, fully clothed. She tossed the file on her bedside table where it haunted her for the two minutes it took until she fell asleep.

Maxwell leaned back in his car seat and adjusted himself again. If he hadn’t already earned sainthood status, he was well on the way. Fuck, kissing Tasha, touching her, bringing her to a climax, all of it had exceeded his expectations, and he’d had plenty. After years of sexual fantasies about the woman, this morning he’d been tempted to drag her to the floor and let her ride him.

He reached down and slid the seat farther back to wrangle more room. Shit, he was dying. He’d been hard off and on since last night when he’d discovered what he’d pictured in his brain wasn’t far off the mark. From the moment she’d shocked the hell out of him by pulling off her dress, he couldn’t look away. Her breasts overflowed the skimpy cups of her bra, and he’d thought she’d skipped wearing panties altogether. It wasn’t until she’d crawled into his arms that the tiny scrap of fabric pretending to be a thong became apparent. He’d had the warm, silky skin of her ass in his hands, her arms draped around his neck as she pressed his face between her breasts.

“Bloody hell. Fuck!” He swore a blue streak, flipped the radio to the dirtiest, raunchiest station he could find and cranked up the volume until the walls of the car pulsed around him.

Max thumped his cock hard, rubbing at the front of his jeans in an attempt to ease the pain. When she’d told him she was horny? That moment hadn’t been the worst. Struggling to untangle himself and cover her up when what he wanted more than his next breath was to rip open his zipper and slam his cock into her as deep as possible—that had been far easier than the demons he had to fight when they reached her room.

She’d told him everything. In the space of fifteen minutes between unlocking her door and carrying her nearly naked body to her bed—and didn’t that part make his nuts draw into tight little rocks at the memory—she never stopped talking. About what assholes her previous boyfriends had been. How they sucked in bed, and she got more pleasure from her fingers most of the time. How she yearned for a baby.

How incredible he smelled and did he want to make her feel good? She could go for a good, hard fuck.

Max smashed his fist into the steering wheel and ground his teeth together. Replaying in detail every second of last night wasn’t helping. He’d gone home and jerked off, frantic to get relief, and it still hadn’t worked. In the sleepless hours that followed, he’d put together his proposal.

He slammed his car into gear and headed home, careful to set the cruise control because in his current state of mind he was ripe to be pulled over for reckless driving. He’d wanted Tasha forever, and he swore they’d be good together, but would she be willing to admit it? She was almost as stubborn as he was, and she’d always, always pushed him away. Made him walk the line as a friend and nothing more.

Thank God they’d had the time over at the house. His mouth watered at the memory of her lips under his, her nails scraping down his back. He wanted to be naked, buried deep in her body and have her mark him then. He needed to listen to her moans as she approached climax.

Ahhh, shit. He needed a fucking cold shower.

Tasha would probably sleep like a log for most of the day. Then she’d stew and consider his offer from fifteen different angles before coming to a conclusion. He certainly intended on providing the guidance needed to push that decision in the right direction. Still, he couldn’t do anything more today. Maxwell turned down the long driveway to his house with a heavy heart and a raging hard-on.

Right now, he hated waiting with a vengeance.

His sister’s car sat beside his house and Max swore. He didn’t want to have to be polite and have a social visit with anyone, not even if he and his twin got along like gangbusters. He took another minute in an attempt to relax enough to walk the stairs without it being obvious he had the hard-on from hell.

He hadn’t expected to see Maxine today. She waited for him on the front steps, a wistful expression on her face.

“Hey, Maxy, what’s happening?”

She shrugged. “I’m supposed to go meet Mom and some of the aunties for a late lunch. Can I kill a little time with you?”

This was not what he’d been hoping for, with images of Tasha still filling his brain. Of course, whacking off in the shower didn’t seem to help much. After getting a taste of reality, he was sick of using his imagination to be with Tasha. But how was he supposed to put his sister off when he’d always made time for her before?

“Course you can stay for a visit. Why didn’t you wait inside?”

“It’s too nice a day.”

He forced a laugh, accepting her hug carefully, his hips twisted away so there wouldn’t be the slightest chance she noticed anything. Together they stepped into the small cottage he owned that sat at the back of one of the estate homes. Maxine went to grab drinks while he wandered over to open the French doors to the deck. Years ago the cottage had been the gardener’s living quarters. It was small, easy to keep tidy, and more than enough room for one person. It had been perfect when he’d returned from college and announced he wasn’t going to live at home anymore. He still remembered how much his parents had balked at the idea—they’d had troubles accepting that he’d finished high school at an accelerated rate. Him being back from college at seventeen? That wasn’t the norm for many kids to be done with school and wanting their independence, but Max had insisted. He had his own business; he had the money he needed. He was vocal enough and strong willed, and it wasn’t often he didn’t get his way.

Except, up to now, with Tasha.

Distraction. That’s what he needed. Maybe the fact Maxine was here would give him something else to think about other than the taste of Natasha’s lips under his, and the sounds she’d made when she climaxed.

Ah man…he needed to keep his thoughts on other things. Safe things, the kind he could talk about with his sister. He scrambled mentally for a second, then glanced over to make sure Maxine was listening. “I’ve got another client lined up for the final test drive of the new software. You interested in taking part in the presentation?”

She spun at the sink and beamed at him. “You serious?”

“Of course. I told you if you got your skills up on code I’d take you on as a partner.”

She handed him a glass of ice tea, even as she shook her head. “No, we’ve been over this before. I can’t be a partner. I’ve got nothing saved up to put into the business. I’m thrilled to work with you, but hire me, okay?”

They moved to sit outside in the old rattan chairs he’d found at a garage sale earlier in the summer. He’d pictured relaxing here with Tasha, the sun setting behind the trees. Damn it, mind on the present. “Yeah, yeah you keep saying that, but I think you’ve got tons to contribute. I loved what you did on the Turner Networking Team website. Very cool graphics on the TNT banner, by the way. How about this? I’ll set you up as a partner based on a buy-in system. As you work projects you’ll get so much in pay and so much in partnership credit. Would that make you feel better?”

Maxine nodded slowly. “Next year when we turn twenty-five, part of the Turner legacy funding will come through, and I can add in whatever the business needs as a full top-up.”

He laughed. “What? You’re actually planning on spending some of the Max money?”

“Goodness knows we deserve it. It would have been bad enough to have the same initials as all your cousins, but the same name?” She grimaced. “Although I’ve very grateful that Mom and Dad came up with decent Max names to meet the requirement of the legacy fund. Auntie Maxamule—I can’t say her name without wanting to giggle.”

“Maximilian is bad as well.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Is it terrible to admit I don’t like our cousin very much?”

Max leaned back in his chair and stretched his legs, letting the sun warm his face. Was Tasha asleep or thinking about his proposal? “He’s a fake, that’s why. You’re too sweet to like someone who’s a phony.”