Page 103 of Ruthless Game

39

Lawson

Emma was squeezing my hand and rubbing my back as I finished my story. I felt empty again, like I had that night, but instead of it feeling horrible, it felt … freeing. Like some weight had lifted off my chest after settling there for years.

“Max,” she said. “I’m so sorry.”

“What? It wasn’t your fault. I was the dipshit⁠—”

“I know it wasn’t my fault,” she interrupted, but it was gentle. “I’m saying I’m sorry that happened to you. No,” she shook her head. “I mean, I’m sorry those girls did that to you. You didn’t ask for that, Max. They assaulted you. But when you told me you cheated that night, even though it didn’t look like it, I believed you.”

They assaulted you.

They assaulted you.

Assaulted you.

The words rang in my head, loud, clear, and unable to be ignored. For a moment, I flashed back to being in my room with Asher, and his own words.

Hell, that’s a safe thing to tell yourself, isn’t it? I tried the same thing at one point: I wanted it, I asked for it, it was my fault. Society tells women that they asked for it, no matter what. But it tells us that we fucking better have asked for it, or we aren’t men at all.

This was what he’d meant.

“Real men can’t be⁠—”

“Stop that,” Emma said, voice no longer gentle. “That’s your dead father talking. Let his bullshit stay in his grave. Real men can be assaulted. Anyone can be assaulted. You didn’t ask for them to touch you. You would’ve stopped them, if you hadn’t been so drunk. And don’t you dare try to take the blame for being drunk, either. What they did to you was inexcusable, but it was not your fault. You are not weak, you are not small. You were hurt, and you buried it for a long time, because it scared you. You don’t have to be scared anymore, Max. You have me.”

The night in question cleared in my head. The hands and lips on me had made me sick—literally. I’d never wanted any of it, just wanted to drown my sorrows in beer and liquor until I blacked out. And I had practically blacked out.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“Don’t be.”

“No.” This time, I corrected her. “I’m sorry when you guessed what happened that night, I didn’t listen. I’m sorry I never listened to you. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you, didn’t trust you.” Turning, I kneeled across from her, wrapping my hand around her waist and pulling her toward me. “I’m sorry everything got so fucked between us, Starburst, and the part I played in it.”

“I should’ve pushed harder,” she said.

“No.” I was firm on this. Had to be. “I’d just said terrible things to you, and then I said worse. Maybe I’m not to blame for what happened with those girls, but I am to blame for not trusting you when I should’ve. For not letting you love me the way you did.” I searched her eyes. “You do—you do still love me, don’t you Emma?”

She kissed me, her hand on my cheek. “Of course I do, Max. I never stopped.”

And then I was flipping her around and dropping her onto her side, pulling the blanket loose, and lying behind her, lifting her leg over my thigh to make room for my hand, for me.

“What do you need right now, Starburst?”

“I need you.”

I kissed her neck, loving the way she shivered.

“Always so responsive to me. What do you want?”

“I want you to edge me,” she whispered, her words almost swallowed by the crackling flames. “I want you to take your power back.”

“Fuck, you could not be more perfect for me, could you?” I said, working my hand between her thighs and playing with her clit, rewarded by her wetness as she soaked my hand and the rug below us.

“I’m going to make you clean that up later,” I told her, and even though I hadn’t meant it, she soaked my hand a second time.

I was quiet for a while after that, content to listen to her breathy moans and sighs and little cries as I worked her clit and nipples in small, gentle circles, stopping every time she got close, only to start back up again as she eased down. I must have done that ten, eleven times, until she was crying and begging for me to fuck her, until her whole body was jerking and writhing against mine, until I couldn’t take it anymore. Fisting my cock, I fed it into her pussy, pushing deep, hitting her at a different angle from this position. Whatever it was, it made her cry out with pleasure, and even though I hated that I couldn’t see her face, I loved that I could play with her tits and her pussy from this position, pushing a finger inside her next to my cock to make her feel fuller.