Deep Trouble
Max lives in a cozy cabin out in the boonies. Max and Hunter are alike when it comes to their space. They like their privacy or maybe just isolation. Slouching on one of the big chocolate-colored leather couches, I look around in awe. Every piece of furniture and fixture is rustic with earthly tones of various shades of browns.
I convinced him to blast music on the Zen music channel on Direct TV. He slouches on the couch, smiling from ear-to-ear and watches me dance like a freakish creature from nature in the center of his living room.
“Can you imagine the world without hate and envy?” I make a peace sign with my two fingers and hold it out to Max’s face. He nods and grins. Closing my eyes, I toss my head back. “Peace in love, Max. Peace and love. That’s all the world needs. That’s all I ever wanted.”
I jump up and down. A sleek sheen of sweat coats my skin. I spin and twirl so fast I stumble backwards and trip over my own legs.
“Whoa!” I push myself up with my hands before Max can offer to help me. “The room is spinning.”
Max’s hands slide around the sides of my back, leading me to the couch. “I think you should sit down. I’m no expert on X, but you’ve been dancing for two hours straight.”
I shake my head because I see four Max’s. They’re all frowning at me. I blink a few times and then my sight adjusts as the other blurry Max’s fade away. “I’m thirsty.”
He cups my face, running his fingers down my flushed skin, causing me to shudder. He peels the sparkly confetti off my skin. “Water?”
“Do you have hot chocolate with the big marshmallows?”
“Yeah. Rest for a while. I’ll be back in a sec, okay?”
I nod, looking into his eyes. Max has the most amazing eyes. They’re a dark violet, but if you pay closer attention you can see that his eyes are also laced with some kind of striking silver color. Absolutely spectacular. Max’s father emigrated from Iraq and moved to America, settled in Cherry Creek, North Carolina and married a lucky, stunning local woman.
Max is really, extremely, ridiculously good-looking.
He’s a…dream.
He disappears from my view.
My head falls back on the leather cushion, and I sway as a familiar song comes on. My mom loved eastern music and she loved this song.
“My mama loved this song,” I confess to the air. “She loved to cook dinner every night for Daddy, Tyler and me. She played this song sometimes when she cooked. She cooked a lot. She really liked this song.”
“It’s a great song,” Max replies, pushing a warm mug against my hands.
I open my eyes and take the white mug overflowing with a mountain of puffy marshmallows. I sip steaming, rich, delicious coco from the mug and moan. My eyes squint as I read the tiny black words going around the white mug decorated with red hearts and colorful squiggly lines. “Somebody loves you.”
He sighs and uncomfortably scratches his short hair. “It was a gift from…Lily.”
I glance at him, my brows pulled together. “Lily Adams?”
His eyes shift to a fixed space somewhere behind my head. “Yeah. She got it for my twenty–third birthday.” Which was earlier this year. June sixth, I think. It’s now early December. From what I understand, he broke it off with Lily. They seemed to be very in love the last time I saw them shopping in the square in the little boutique stores. He didn’t hold her hand. He had her tucked into his side, arm curled around her waist while his free hand clutched little pink and blue bags. They were laughing about something.
“You’re not over her,” I state.
His turbulent eyes gradually come back to me. “You never really get over anyone, as time passes they just seem like a faded memory or something. I love her.”
“She’s really kind and smart. Wasn’t she voted The Nicest Person in Cherry High?”
He gives me a slight nod. Then stands abruptly, walking into the kitchen.
I stare down at the hot chocolate in my hands at a loss of words.
I think I hit a nerve.
Max saunters out the kitchen with a beer bottle in his hand and my phone in the other. He tossed off his uniform shirt revealing his white undershirt and the top button of his pants is undone. He flops down beside me, staring down at my phone and grinning. “I am having too much fun with Hunter. He is so pissed right now. The dude might have a heart attack.”
I continue to gawk him as I fold my legs underneath myself. I set the coco down on the table. The warm, fuzzy feeling has amplified by a billion. It’s like tiny vibrations are pulsing throughout my body and soft feathers caressing my skin at once. Max’s skin looks so soft. I want to touch him. I want him to touch me. He talks, but I can’t comprehend what he’s saying. It’s like everything but the sound of my frantic heart is muted. He takes a swig of his beer, laughing, still looking down at the phone in his hand.
Leaning forward, I place a hand on his knee.
His eyes suddenly flicker up to me. For a moment, we just stare at one another.
I slide my hand up his thigh and squeeze his groin that hardens instantly. “I hurt Max. You hurt, too. Love me.”
He opens his mouth and then shuts it. He does this several times.
I squeeze him again. “Max, love me.”
He grunts, low and grumbling.
I unfold my legs and straddle his lap. My hand shifts down his pants, inside his boxers. I hold his scorching hot erection in my hand, my fingers aren’t long enough to wrap fully around. He’s large and so hard.
“Fucking shit,” he groans, eyes glossing over. “Isabel, you have no idea how hot you look right now. But you’re high and you’re going to be buzzin’ for a while. I want to love you, I do, really. It’s not right, though. I’d feel guilty about it later. I like you and you’d hate me forever for taking advantage.”
His warm breath fans across my heated face. His breath smells amazing like beer and sweet cotton candy. I want to taste him. Licking my dry lips, I incline forward, pressing my body against his.
He flinches back. “You should let me go, Isabel. I already feel like shit for not fighting your advances. I was just messin’ with Hunter’s head when I said I was going to keep you nice and warm.”
“I know what I want,” I whisper, gripping him rougher and kissing his cheek. “Love me. It’s alright. You can use me. I’m a whore tonight. I can be your whore.”
He inhales sharply. Seeing an open opportunity, I make my move and slam my mouth down on his. He’s resistant at first, staying completely still and not returning my kisses, attempting very hard not to enjoy the way I caress him. This doesn’t deter me, though. I kiss him harder and squeeze his erection tighter, my hand gliding up and down his length. I feel like a sex-crazed animal, deprived of everything Max has to offer. Then, slowly, I feel his muscles unclench and go lax and his breathing quickens.
“Stop jerking me. I’m going to come. I can’t come when you’re like this. It’ll haunt me forever,” he says quietly. This is really bothering him. I feel like a rapist trying to coax him into unknown awaiting dangers.
I groan and roll off him. “I’m so horny. It feels like I’m going to die if I don’t have an orgasm.”
Conflicting emotions clash over his face as he stares at me. He shoves his hand through his short hair, releasing a long breath. “I’m sorry, Isabel. But I can’t. I really, really, really want to. I want to so bad it fucking hurts. Seriously. My dick has never been harder. But I can’t. Not while you’re in La-La Land.” He puts his beer on the wooden table and tosses my phone on the empty cushion next to him. “Stay here. Don’t leave. I need a cold shower. Feels like my skin is on fire.”
“You’re not the only one,” I mutter under my breath. “I can probably fuck the entire football team at Cherry High and still be unsatisfied.”
He eyes me suspiciously, then stands, holding out his hand. “Come on. Get up. I don’t trust you alone. Only God knows what you might do next.”
Max told me to stay seated on the sink counter as he showers. He told me to face the door so I wouldn’t be tempted to join him, but once he started showering I couldn’t help myself. If I can’t touch him, I have to see him. The glass walls of the shower don’t obscure due to the temperature of the water, which is ice-cold. His nudity isn’t covered by anything. I can watch him with absolute clarity. His body is beautifully built, all ripped muscle, a football player’s body. Not one ounce of fat anywhere. My mouth goes dry as tiny rivulets of water flow over his brown skin, taut muscle, and powerful back.
“You were humming a second ago. It sounded nice. Can you sing to me?” Max asks, rinsing the soapsuds off his body.
I nod and turn my gaze to his black fuzzy slippers on the white tiled floor.
My little moon-pie, you make me so brave
My little moon-pie, you make me so strong
My little moon-pie, I sing you this song to remember me when I am gone.
Never forget that I love you so much
Even the days when you’re crying and making a fuss
Your big green eyes always give me a rush
There is no one like my sweet little moon-pie.
I pray for my little moon-pie every morning and night
God answered back with a bundle of delight
Two of his angels from heaven took flight
And blessed me with two more little moon-pies.
Mommy loves you more than hearing the sound of her own heartbeat.
And always remember that after I die.
I love you my sweet little moon-pie.
I finish the lullaby my mother sang for me when I was younger. She was pregnant with Tyler when she first sang to me. I never noticed how sad it is until now.
“That’s kinda gloomy, Isabel.”
Max’s black, fuzzy slippers get blurry from the tears in my eyes. They burn but I don’t allow them to fall. “Life is gloomy, Max. We, humans, live, fight, love, and die. Who knows what happens after we die. Our lifespan is so short. Will I experience anything beautiful ever? There is only tragedy and pain in my life. Tyler was beautiful. No. Tyler was beyond beautiful. He was the reason I wanted to breathe.”
“I’m sorry.”
I screw my eyes shut, holding the edges of the sink countertop, my breathing heavy. The pain, it hurts to a degree I can’t withstand. I can’t survive it. I have to force myself to take big gulps of thick, moist air to calm down. “Don’t, Max. You didn’t know him. If you did, you probably would have made his life a living hell like your brother, Rex. He, Rex, was one of many people who made my Tyler, my Tyler, jump off The Suicide Bridge. The entire football team hated him…” I trail off, pressing the hysterical wail deep down inside my chest.
“I am sorry, Isabel. You’re right, I didn’t know him. But from what I saw, he was a good kid, a kind kid. He helped Mrs. Franklin go grocery shopping every Sunday after church. Everyone knows she’s an old, mean, hateful woman. But Tyler never missed one Sunday.”
I open my eyes to find his hazy lilac eyes on me. My gaze wanders over his incredible body, more than liking what I see. “You have freckles on your back. Can I count them?” I need to change the subject and quick. Thinking of Tyler is too much to bear right now.
I’m still too raw.
Maybe someday I can deal.
But not now.
He gives me a concerned glance, then snorts, squeezing a drop of shampoo in his palm and then places the dark blue bottle back on the rack. “Is that a pick up line?”
“Maybe. I don’t know, but I am actually being genuine. You have an extremely gorgeous back.”
He gives me a wary sideways glance over his shoulder. That look says so many things. There is relief, confidence, and pain. “Thanks, Pumpkin.” He closes his eyes and massages the gel into his hair, forming a thick lather. The aroma of rich, spicy musk explodes all around me.
Possessed by the masculine scent, I jump off the counter. When I try to reach him, I’m quickly snatched away. My body collides with a hard one, making a heavy thudding noise.
“Oof…” A massive hand clasps over my mouth before I can suck down some air and release a scream. In a blink of an eye, I’m hauled over a strong shoulder of a hooded person and carried out the house into the dark winter night. It’s raining again. Cold, wet drops splashes and bites at my exposed skin. Before I can process anything further, I’m thrown in a heated truck, not just any truck. It’s Hunter’s truck.
Hunter’s hooded, furious face comes into view. I scramble across the seat, over to the other side, resting my back against the cool window. He looks extremely frightening. His hands shoot out to grab my ankles, dragging me across the cab and back to him. “Stop resisting, Isabel. Before I spank you so hard you’ll never know one before it.”
I instantly go limp as he pulls me back into my seat and then straps the belt over my lap. Hunter slams my door, jogs around the hood and jumps in, shutting his door behind him. He starts the engine, glancing over his shoulder as he reverses out the driveway.
“Am I in trouble?”
“Yes.”
“Are you going to spank me?”
My father used to spank me and my brother for discipline purposes in our adolescent years. I never enjoyed them.
He looks at me as he maneuvers the truck fully out the driveway.
That odd look sends my heart soaring.
“Maybe. Depends on how I feel when we get home.”
Hunter demanded that I stay in the shower for the longest time. He said I smelled of Max and it made him sick to the core. Every word out of his mouth was an insult and it assaulted me in every way imaginable. Now I stand in his bedroom, wrapped in a fluffy yellow towel in front of Hunter. I feel like I’m presenting myself as a gift he has yet to earn.
His gaze roams over my face, searching for something and then down my body. I unwind the towel and let it drop to my feet. I am bare and vulnerable. His stares at me for a moment and his eyes become sharpen weapons, taking in every angle. Hunter lifts himself off the bed and strolls to me. Once he reaches me, he takes my face between his hands and strokes my cheeks with his thumbs. That simple touch burns into my bones.
“The night isn’t over. I’m still a whore,” I whisper, gazing helplessly into ocean blue eyes.
One hand leaves my cheek, flipping my hair over my shoulder. He runs the pads of his fingertips across the red bite mark. “He bit you?”
My lips press together in a grim line, and I remain silent.
Hunter dips his head down and places a soft kiss over my wound.
Powerful tingles surge throughout my body as I gasp. Warmth flutters in the pit of my belly as legs buckle.
Oh.
My.
God!
I’m going to fall.
Hunter is quick to catch me as my body gives way. He scoops me up in his arms and then lays me down on the bed. He wedges himself between my legs, grinding down. My breath hitches. I feel the steely hardness and scorching heat of his enormous erection through his jeans. Shutting my eyes, I force my hips to stay glued to the bed.
This cannot be real.
I hear small wisps of fabric being torn away from his body. Hunter leans down to whisper in my ear. “Do you want me, Isabel?”
“Yes,” I admit in a low breathy tone.
His fingers trail up the side of my jaw and his hot erection jabs my sex as he shifts. I pull in a sharp breath. I feel warm skin against slick warm skin. I’m already wet and he’s barely touched me.
“Open your eyes,” Hunter murmurs in the same low tone. “I want to see you, see me take you.”
My eyelids snap open. I don’t know if I’m still high off the pills but Hunter’s eyes are sparkling. They’re like glittering blue crystals looking down at me with a wide range of emotions that are all completely foreign.
This is real and impossible to believe.
His hands reach up in my thick mass of dark hair, carefully undoing the braids. He yanks on both of the white ribbons, freeing them from my hair. “Hold your wrists out to me.”
Intrigued, I do and watch in fascination as he links the satin together and then binds both my wrists, fastening them to the headboard. “Pull down.”
Testing the strength of the ribbons, I try to yank my hands downward but the restraints only get tighter. He runs his fingers down my neck, tracing the intricate henna tattoo that flows along the curves of my body.
A fierce shiver goes through me.
“Baby, you’re too innocent to be a whore. You look more like a nervous bride, giving herself away.”
“I’m not innocent or a bride. I want you to fuck me. Is that such a demanding request? I swear if you don’t, I’ll find someone, anyone, who will.”
He smiles down at me and my stupid heart clenches painfully in my chest. His smile is anything but friendly. It’s a threat. “Such a filthy mouth,” he scorns playfully. He presses searing kisses down the center of my chest, biting and flicking each nipple as he goes.
I shudder and jerk against the restraints that instantly tighten.
“Yeah, baby, I can fuck you. I just hope you understand what you’re asking for. You’re about to make a mistake with Enemy Number One.”
He flips me over so fast that I don’t have time to anticipate anything. The ribbons dig into my wrists, and I have to hold myself up on my elbows to keep the restraints from completely cutting off my circulation. The position is very uncomfortable, but I’m oddly turned-on.
“If I remember correctly, someone needed a spanking. I think you even begged me for it. Tilt your sweet ass up.”
A bundle of nerves and a queasy, uneasy feeling sinks in the pit of my stomach, causing me to get a little lightheaded and nauseous. I’ve never been intimate with Hunter, and he has a notorious reputation for getting completely out of control. He can really hurt me. “I don’t want you to spank me,” I mumble into the pillow.
“You’re a whore, are you not?”
I nod, not wanting to give in and admit my fear and concern. He wins that way.
“Well, Isabel, I take what I want from whores.” He presses a soft kiss in the center of my spine and then nips me lightly, causing my entire body to tremble. “I’m going to take what I want from you, whore.”
“Please?” I can’t stop quivering.
“No, baby. Tilt your ass up. If I ask again it’ll only be worse for you. I’m being patient. You shouldn’t test me. Be a good little whore and do as I say.” His voice has taken on a sharp, cold, unforgiving, and mocking edge that chills me. It’s depleting my state of arousal.
My breath is ragged as my heart pounds erratically inside my throat. “Hunter, I can’t…I’m not ready.”
And I don’t trust you.
He tsks and the mattress concaves as he moves a little behind me.
A moment later, I gasp and my elbows wobble until I collapse flat on the bed. An intense stinging sensation explodes and ripples across my backside. The ribbons bite into my skin. The pain is white-hot and excruciating.
He slapped my ass!
Brutally.
I quickly scurry up on my elbows to support myself and gain some relief. Tears brim my eyes and my breath comes in rapid, heavy pants.
“Did you like that, Isabel?” His voice is husky and smooth like a male sex phone operator. I’m unsure if I do, but it’s obvious that he does. Hunter is such a sadistic lunatic, an unbelievably sexy sadistic lunatic, but a sadistic lunatic nonetheless.
I press my lips together, refusing to let him win.
“All you have to do is say ‘stop’ and I’ll stop. Do you understand?”
I give a slight nod.
Without warning another slap strikes me. He doesn’t stop to make sure I’m okay this time. It’s just a current of scorching, cruelly violent smacks. I force myself to swallow the frantic wail that’s building in my chest. Despite the numerous protests I yell inside my head, the malicious spanking is ceaseless.
I lose count after fifteen.
I’m sobbing now, incapable of keeping my body from shaking.
“Is forty enough, Isabel?” his voice is harsh and raw and aroused? “I can go to a hundred if you want, maybe two.”
“Stop. Please stop,” I cry desperately, my forehead brushing the pillow below. My arms are bent in an awkward position and my muscles are twitching and cramping. It’s painful and yet there’s a strange undercurrent of calm underneath it all.
Lost in the agony of my throbbing backside and sore wrists, I didn’t realize he untied me until I feel his warm, hard body cuddle into mine. I sob in his neck as he attentively strokes my hair.
“I…hate…you…so…much,” I say throughout ugly sobbing. “You’re…so…m-mean to me.”
He dips his head down and skims his supple lips against mine. I lose my breath and train of thought with him so close. He looms above me, placing sweet kisses down my chest to my stomach. His tongue touches my navel.
I groan, squeezing my eyes shut and thrashing around like a rabid animal. Every nerve ending in my body is on fire. He drags his velvety thick tongue down my stomach.
My sobs cease only for breathy gasps to take its place. When I try to close my legs, Hunter simply places a hand on each knee, forcefully prying my thighs apart. I feel overly vulnerable to him right now and too exposed.
“Let me kiss it and make it better,” Hunter coos. “Let me make you come. I have to make you come after this. It’s only fair.” His warm breath beats against the inside of my thighs.
Keeping my eyes closed, I nod, slightly tilting my hips up.
I guess I want this too.
He gently kisses the top of my sex in a barely there peck, sending fierce tumors through me. My skin feels tingly and hot. So impossibly hot that I think I might combust into flames. Then his tongue skillfully slides between my folds, up and down, through the wetness.
My breath leaves a shuddered sigh, and I bolt upright, holding his head in place. A million pleasurable sensations pulses in that one area where he continues to lick. “Hunter,” I whisper, barely audible.
He presses a hand flat on my belly and harshly shoves me down. My head hits the feather-fi