Sean dropped his hands, arms propped on his knees, and sightlessly stared at the coffee table. Those O’s had been incredible—how many had he had? Fifteen?—but what clearly reigned supreme was what happened after that. After Max finally hung up that godforsaken phone. Mother of fuck, Sean had been so insanely horny, had been vibrating with the need to jump Max’s bones. But he knew if Max was aware of that, he never would’ve untied Sean. At least not until Sean calmed down. So, Sean kept a tight lid on it, as best as he could, till Max finally freed his limbs. As soon as he did, it was game fucking on. No holds barred. Anything goes. In Sean’s mind anyway, because at that friggin’ point, he couldn’t have cared less what Max thought. Sean had earned that man’s dick and was taking what was his.
Sean’s lids dipped lower, recollecting the moment, his hand absently squeezing his junk. After he’d all but tackled Max in his chair, things admittedly got a bit hazy. His mind had been in a whirlwind, his body a full-fledged typhoon. But he did remember shoving his tongue in Max’s mouth the second Max started to shove him off. It’d been instinctual more than tactical, a desperate Hail Mary, just the thought of Max denying him, unbearable. Thankfully, it’d worked, Max’s response beyond exhilarating. Fuck, the way he’d lunged from his chair, rumbling that heated growl against Sean’s mouth. No joke, Sean almost fucking came right then and there. Until Max threw him down on his desk. Then Sean all but combusted completely, that look in Max’s eyes straight-up devastating. Holy hell, that emerald fire blazing in his eyes, threatening to incinerate Sean on the spot.
Next thing he knew, Max was moving so deep inside him that all Sean could do was hold on. Wrap everything he was around all that was Max, and pray that it wasn’t just a dream. That Max truly was taking him, outside of the dungeon, not clad in black leather, no ticking clock.
They’d ravished each other’s mouths as Max ravished Sean’s body, thrusting so damn decadently into his body. It’d been furiously passionate. Urgent and wild. The most incredible sexual experience of his life. Not because of the intensity, though, or even the kink. But because as Max took him, face to face, chest to chest, Sean could literally feel their two souls colliding. The notion sounded crazy, even to him, but the reality of it remained all the same.
They hadn’t been merely fucking.
They’d been crossing some irrevocable line.
Sean’s heart sank, remembering what happened next, as they laid in a puddle atop Max’s desk. A long, sated kiss. Even a little bit of nuzzling. Then a brand new Irish endearment against Sean’s ear. Max had spoken it so tenderly. Like its own kind of kiss. Made Sean instantly want to know what it meant. Should’ve kept his mouth shut, but no, he’d had to ask. Who knew three simple words could wreak such havoc.
But shit, did they ever. Next thing Sean knew, Max was up and out, looking utterly shaken. Even now, he didn’t really get what had happened. According to Scott, it was Max not him. God, he hated even thinking that expression. Relationships never ended well when it was involved. He should know, he’d had to use it a few times. But some guys were clingy and just wouldn’t take “no more” for an answer.
Sean groaned and rubbed his forehead.
Should’ve held his tongue and Googled that damn name at home.
Not that he would’ve found anything, because he did Google it at home. Not five minutes after traipsing through the door. He’d been hoping it’d give him some kind of clue to help figure out why things tanked. But he hadn’t known how to spell it, so that effort failed, leaving him frustrated and, well, clueless.
He eyed his phone on the coffee table. Should he call Max? Text him? See if he was okay? Because all things aside, Max had looked pretty upset. Not mad, though, which in itself was kind of disturbing. Max always defaulted to mad when things displeased him. So very unlike him. What had rattled him so badly?
Sean frowned at his cell. Concerned curiosity did not an emergency make. And he wasn’t supposed to use Max’s number for anything else.
“Fuck,” he muttered. This shit friggin’ sucked. Had his head so confused, he didn’t know how to feel. Should he be worried? Pissed off? Busy devising another game plan?
Straight ahead, the door swung open. Jonah was home. All bright-eyed with no glasses in sight. He’d been wearing his contacts to class a lot lately. Classes that always ran later on Fridays than Sean’s.
Exhaling happily, he dumped his backpack and hung his keys. “S’up, Sean? How goes it?”