Black(13)

“Actually, I’m good right here. I think it’s time you head home. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Her soft, quiet eyes stole a glance at mine and softened my rusted edges instantly. My body relaxed as I gazed down at her, eating up her curves and creamy skin.

Cool your shit, Maxwell. She’s a woman, not a monster. Try to be softer with her, keep in mind that she’s young, impressionable, and much more innocent than you. I sighed and ran a hand through my twisted locks again before backing away. The last thing I wanted to do was scare her. “You still need to eat.” I tossed the mangled pizza box in the trash. “And I owe you a dinner.” I bit, finding sugarcoating my words much harder than I’d anticipated. I turned when she still hadn’t replied to find her eyes wide, the white cotton of her tank stretching across full tits, leaving me hungry for her skin on mine again. My dick pounded, reminding me how much I wanted her, wanted to protect her and shield her, keep her locked up in my own upstairs room to play with as I pleased. Smother with love and books.

“Really, I’m fine, Maxwell. It’s late. I’m just going to bed—”

“The hell you are.” I advanced on her and crushed the hemline of her shirt in my palms, pulling her to me and crashing my lips down on hers. My tongue twisted and invaded her delicate mouth, the hot skin of her lips and the soft scent of her hair wafting through my senses like cotton candy on a summer day. Addictive and so, so sweet.

Her palms circled my neck, her fingers threading in my hair as she pulled, causing small licks of pain to shoot through my system and add to the raw animal instinct her body drove me to.

“You look really fucking good in that tiny tank top, but I don’t want anyone else seeing what’s mine.” I pulled away and landed a swift smack on the round curve of her ass.

“You just come in here and think—”

“Enough of the feminist bit—get dressed and let me take you somewhere nice to eat.” I softened, trying to remember that I didn’t want to run her away. A soft frown fell on her lips before her eyes drifted to her own body and back to my eyes again, before settling on my lips. I hoped she was remembering the feeling of them pressed to her body. I know I was. “Let’s get going.” I leaned in then, hovering at her ear to make sure the cool touch of my breath brushed her velvet hot skin. “I want another taste of you tonight.” I hinted at my plans for the evening. She’d better be along for the ride without giving me hell, but then again, I did like the challenge of her. I smiled to myself before spinning her towards the hallway and giving her a gentle shove, watching her sexy form sway as she retreated down the hallway to her room.

I thought about telling her to bring a change of clothes, but I thought better of it. I liked her better naked anyway.





I took her to a small cafe off Main Street that had killer steaks and burgers. That was all they did—red meat—and in this vegan-loving neck of the woods, I loved them for it. We ate at a corner booth, the two of us sidled up next to each other amidst the busy small but nice dining room. Full of locals, eyes darted up when we’d walked in, casting judgment when we’d sat down. “That’s Maxwell Black,” I imagined them thinking. I probably looked older to most of them who hadn’t seen me in the four years since…then.

I pushed the anxiety aside, thinking I very well might have a phobia of public places, and clenched my hand tighter at Elle’s thigh before popping another perfectly crisped fry into my mouth.

“My age doesn’t bother you?” Her question startled me.

“Wasn’t expecting that.” I huffed and glanced at the few bodies surrounding us, hoping they hadn’t heard her. “And why would it?”

“Well, I’m younger than you…” She trailed off and her large, round eyes peered up at me.

Jesus, she was so naturally stunning—wait. Her age? “We can’t be too far apart. How old are you?”

She took a slow drink from her bottle of beer before she swallowed and spoke. “Twenty-one.”

“Twenty-one?” I seethed, nearly choking on my own swallow of beer. “You’re only twenty-one?!”

“It won’t make it any less true the more times you say it,” she teased. “How old are you anyway?”

“Geez.” I ran a palm through my locks, thinking how I’d already had my dick between her legs, tasted her on my tongue. Jesus, she’s just out of high school.

“Maxwell?” Her voice pulled me from my thoughts as I glanced at her. “How old are you?”

I sighed, the little bastard in my head telling me to lie. But I couldn't do it, not to her. “Thirty-one.”