Page 31 of Surviving the Break
A tension-filled silence descended. “Yeah. Maybe.”
I went back over my words and concluded that, while said innocently, they did hold double meaning. But so did his. Was this how it would be? Having to run through each word twice before they left my lips?
“It’s getting late. I should go.”
No shock there. Not wanting to press and run the risk of it ending badly, I said, “Okay.”
He got onto the elevator. “Oh, and Ash. In answer to your question, I’m not picky.”
I arched my eyebrows in confusion, but then got it just before the doors closed between us. “Neither am I.”
AFTERMAX LEFTI’d punished myself with a grueling workout before sitting in the sauna, then showering under scorching hot water before falling into bed. Usually, the more I wore my body out before bed, the greater chances for a dreamless good night’s sleep. That had been the case since I was fifteen, when the nightmares began.
In those bad dreams, green eyes the color of emeralds chased me relentlessly in the dark. I ran, unsure of where to but always with a sense of premonition that the eyes, although behind me, were corralling me somewhere. Leading me to something.
More often than not, I’d wake up screaming in a cold sweat and thrashing limbs, the sheets torn to shreds. My cock hard to the point of pain, hot and pulsing with a need for release. My body's natural reaction to the adrenaline rush. I wasn’t always in control of myself upon waking; I’d never fallen asleep next to anyone for that reason.
The nightmares were more prevalent these days because fucking had been removed from my regimen. The hard, uninhibited, all-night kind that aided in my deep unconsciousness.
The good news? Tonight, instead of Benjamin’s eyes haunting me, it was Max’s hot ass on my mat.
I ripped the sheet off me and angrily grabbed hold of my hardness. So long and proud, reaching for the ceiling. The vein on the underside pounding with need.
Running through my night with Max left me unbearably turned on, but jerking off to thoughts of him would surely snap the tenuous restraint I held onto when in his presence.
I dug around in the bedside drawer until my hand landed on the cold bottle it went in search of. Exhaling in defeat, I squeezed a generous amount onto my palm and closed my eyes, imagining a scenario, much like my dream, where Max changed his mind about leaving. Imagining that before I’d made it to the stairs, the elevator sounded, and the doors reopened. It was Max, and I asked, “Did you forget something?”
In my fantasy he responded, “I’d like that match after all. If you’re still up for it.”
And I replied, “Of course.”
We changed into black singlets and oiled up.
“Are you ready to get your balls handed to you?”
“In your dreams.” He stretched his neck from side to side, then shook out his limbs.
“How about we add some stakes? Winner gets the ass?” Did I go too far?
“And what constitutes a win?”
I guess not. “A tap out.”
Max considered it. “Deal.”
So much time had passed, and neither of us wanted to give in. After the constant friction of cock against cock from our bodies—slicked with oil and sweat—gliding over one another. After the moments where we pretended we were trying to shake the other one off, but really, we were humping like dogs in heat. After growing tired of pinning him face down to the mat, my lycra-sheathed cock nestling into his concealed crack, and him arching his back, begging without words to be split open. Or me on my back, one leg over his shoulder, his hips settled against my inner thigh, where his stone-hard dick tried to drill a hole through. And after the panting, moaning, cursing each other so good, feeling the wetness from his center—that had fuck-all to do with sweat.Finally, after what felt like hours, I said enough was enough.
I raised my lower body slightly off his while still keeping him pinned down. I grabbed the top of his singlet, right above his ass, and ripped it downward. I tore the front of mine as well. All nine inches of me spilled out, seeking heat. I reached over to the edge of the mat for the bottle of oil.
“Fuck, Ash. I didn’t...tap out...yet,” he said, while spreading his legs wider.
Too crazed to speak, I pulled his hips up with my free hand and made quick work of preparing him before entering him savagely.
“Fuck,” he yelled. “Fuck, fuck…shit...”
I pounded his ass mercilessly. My other arm wrapped around his neck. “Fuck, your ass feels good. So. Tight. I knew...it would...be like this.” Max scrambled at the mat, while I rode him good and hard. The violent smacking of my pelvis striking his bottom filled the air. I was an animal in heat. He would not leave this room without giving me my due.
My world spun. I found myself flat on my back, the wind knocked out of me. Max had spread me wide, his wet fingers at my hole for barely a second, and then gave me exactly what I’d given him.
