Pure passion, p.1
Pure Passion, page 1
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M.T. Stone
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Pure Passion
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2013 by M.T. Stone. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the publisher.
Steamy Nights Publishing
www.SteamyNightsPublishing.com
First Edition June 18, 2013
This book is dedicated to all my fans who made my first book My Nights With Kate a success. I love you and thank you for your support!
Also, I want to give special thanks to Megan Hershenson for all of the help and inspiration. If you need a great editor to work with, you can reach her at: megandara@aol.com
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 1
Celeste
As he thrust into me, hitting that magical spot, I began to sense the weight of my head as it slid off the side of the bed. Extending my arms to halt my descent, I simply wanted to hang upside down while Max continued his assault on my insides. Arching his back and gripping the edge of the mattress, his intentions were clear. He was determined to use that perfect cock of his to drive me mad slowly. The head rush, combined with the fire building between my thighs, made me even crazier. God, he is good at this!
“Oh, shit!” I heard from above me.
We suddenly continued our slide off the bed as he, too, lost his grip. Reaching out in a failed attempt to break our fall, we hit the floor with a dull thud. We both giggled as he repositioned between my thighs. Without missing a beat, he grabbed me by the wrists and pinned my arms over my head. His dick felt even harder than before as he resumed his passionate advance. As I looked up at his heaving chest, a wave of pleasure washed over me. The intensity with which he was stroking me began to overwhelm my senses. I pushed my head forward to give him a hickey, but he wouldn’t let me. He arched his back and pulled away from me while he increased the intensity once again.
“Oh my god!” I screamed out, as he hit my G-spot over and over again.
A wide grin came across Max’ lips as he looked down at me with that devilish look in his eyes. He tightened his grip on my wrists and began rhythmically assaulting my tender flesh. Damn, that feels so good! I don’t know how much more I can take! The quiet storm that had been building below suddenly took on the intensity of a raging hurricane. I could feel my toes flex as my legs began to shake. Oh my god, this is heaven!
He looked down at me with nothing but lust in his eyes as he continued to deliver one glorious stroke after another. He released my wrists, and his lips crashed into mine just as I reached a beautiful climax, his mouth capturing my blissful moans before they had a chance to escape. Our sweaty faces smashed against one another in a rage of overwhelming passion as he took the last few strokes that led to his own release. Collapsing by my side, he slid his arm over me, kissed me softly, and gave me that look of satisfaction I had seen so many times before.
“I’ve missed that.”
“I can tell. You were a little wild tonight,” he replied, with a smirk. “In a couple of months, I won’t have to travel as much.”
“Why? Are sales finally starting to take off?”
“Well, not really, but there won’t be any more trade shows until fall.”
“That’s actually a bad thing isn’t it?”
“It’s fine. After the last couple of summers, I know how to keep my expenses pretty lean. I’m starting to make a name for myself, but it takes time.”
Great. That means more pasta and cheap wine on Friday nights. If only he were as talented at business as he is in the sack. Then he would be the perfect man.
“Why don’t you just make up with your dad? You know he would help you out.”
Without uttering a word, Max got up and started getting dressed.
“I’m sorry, but seriously, aren’t you two ever going to talk this out?”
“Not until I go back and finish law school, and I have no intention of doing that.”
“What’s so bad about being a lawyer? At least then you wouldn’t be struggling to make it month to month.”
“Wow, have you two been talking? You sound just like him. Maybe one day I’ll come to my senses and make both of you proud. Until then, I’m going to foolishly follow my passion,” he snapped back in a sarcastic tone.
With that, Max threw on his shirt and headed toward the door. Obviously bringing up his father was a serious afterglow killer.
“Seriously? You’re leaving?”
“Yeah, I need to go back to the workshop and work on a few things.”
He may be tall, dark, and handsome, but I really hate this part about him. I try to point out an obvious solution to his problems, and he gets mad and walks away. Stubborn bastard!
~~~
Max
I love Celeste, but she drives me crazy sometimes.
We met in high school and have been together ever since. The moment we met, I knew I had found my dream girl, and we quickly became inseparable. Her gorgeous hazel-blue eyes, long blond hair, and killer body literally rocked my world. Friends teased us about being Ken and Barbie. However, she had way better curves than Barbie did, and Ken was never ripped with washboard abs like me… Besides, Ken always looked like a prissy schmuck, something no one had ever accused me of being.
After high school, she had her heart set on studying cosmetology at the Aveda Institute, and I majored in criminal justice at Florida State. The two schools were just over two miles apart, so again it seemed like destiny. In fact, I don’t even remember us having a fight in those early years.
Things began to change after my first year of law school when Mom was diagnosed with stage-four ovarian cancer. I spent most of that summer playing chauffeur, taking her back and forth to chemo and clinic appointments. Mom began talking to me about the future and encouraged me to follow my passion in life instead of simply adopting my father’s profession. She knew what it was like to live someone else’s dream, as she had given up her interior design career when she became pregnant with my older sister Natalie. By the time Natalie and I were in high school, our father made partner at the firm and expected Mom to be at his side for all the various functions. She never got the chance to go back and pursue her passions. At age 52, she found herself fighting for her life and regretting all of the things she hadn’t done.
She never came out and said it, but she knew becoming an attorney wasn’t my passion. As a young kid, I had spent almost every free afternoon over at my grandparents’ house working on custom guitars with my granddad. It was amazing to watch him turn pieces of wood into gorgeous electric guitars. Granddad was pretty famous, having worked with Leo Fender in the early days before going out on his own. His guitars were played by some of the most famous guitarists of the '70s and '80s, which he considered the Golden Age of the electric guitar. When he died during my sophomore year of college, he left all his guitar building equipment to my mother, who in turn, gave it to me. Even though I don’t share my famous grandfather’s last name, I vowed to carry on his brand. My father, however, killed that idea.
My father came from a long line of attorneys, dating back to his great-grandfather who was an English Barrister. He was determined that his only son would join him at the firm. Since he was paying my way through college, I relented and continued at Florida State. Mom passed away during semester break my second year of law school. After that, my focus and grades began to slide. The ultimatum came the day Dad found my transcript following spring semester. The message was plain and simple: get A's, or he would cut off my financial support. Considering I was 24-years-old, I couldn’t really blame him, but I spent that summer having a serious debate with myself.
Back then, when I talked to Celeste about following my passion, she actually encouraged me. After all, cosmetology was all she wanted to do. She had absolutely no interest in attending a university either. In hindsight, she may have liked the idea of me being a rich and powerful attorney like my father. We always lived in a large house, took her with us on great family vacations, and drove expensive cars. Back then, I couldn’t have imagined driving anything other than a BMW. In fact, if I went to visit Dad like Celeste wanted, he would be embarrassed if I parked my five-year-old Saturn Sky in the front driveway. Selling my BMW M6 to fund the guitar business was the ultimate insult to him, especially since he had given it to me the day I graduated from Florida State. It wasn’t enough that I betrayed my family bloodline, but I had also gone to the dark side, working with musicians. Not only did my father de test long hair and rock concerts, he even refused to try to listen to anything other than classical music. What a pompous ass!
As I unlocked the door to my workshop, I couldn’t help but think about how much Celeste had changed the past few months. She knew that it was going to take time to prove I was worthy of carrying on my grandfather’s line, the famous Maxwell Keegan electric guitars. Even if it took ten years or more, I would consider it an honor to perpetuate his legacy. Even though I was building guitars that were technically superior to most, it was going to take time to convince anyone with a top-tier rock band to take a chance. Several second tier guitarists were playing my guitars, but I just hadn’t gotten my big break yet. If I keep at it though, my day will come. If nothing else, it’s been a blast getting to know all these musicians. Most of them are crazy, especially lead guitarists!
Grabbing my cell phone, which I had forgotten at the workshop again, I saw that I had a voicemail. The message was from my only sales rep Charlie, and he had good news. Serpent 6, whose lead guitarist Tommy Lock played one of mine, was opening for Metallica in Miami on Saturday. Charlie had already talked to Kirk, Metallica’s lead, about checking out the guitar that Tommy would be playing. He also wanted me to come to the concert so I could meet Kirk in-person after the show. Wow, this could be a huge break!
Chapter 2
Saturday Morning
Celeste
“For the last time, Max, I can’t get off early to go with you to Miami. I’m booked all the way through to 5:00 p.m., and it’s over a six-hour drive to Miami.”
“Hey, but you’d get to meet the guys from Metallica.”
“Metallica? Wow. If it were OneRepublic, I’d think about it, but Metallica? Really?” I countered, with a healthy bit of sarcasm in my voice.
“Whatever, Celeste. This could be a huge break for me, and I’d like you to be there.”
“Sorry, but I can’t afford to cancel on these clients. It’s not like we have anything extra in the bank, Max.”
“Ok, Celeste, I get your point. I’m not rolling in dough like my old man. I’ll probably just crash at Charlie’s after the concert.”
“Good idea. Give me a call if you decide to come back instead.”
I can’t believe he was trying to guilt me into missing work. As if I would cancel $350 worth of business to go to a Metallica concert. I swear to god he’s losing it.
Max
I know she’s not a Metallica fan, but she could be a little supportive. It’s not every day I get to show off my line to rock legends like these guys. Oh well, screw her.
I headed out for Miami a little early to make sure I wasn’t caught in traffic. It was a gorgeous day so I put the top down and pretended I was driving my M6. The illusion worked as long as I didn’t slam on the gas. About two and a half hours into the trip, I got a call from Charlie. My pulse quickened as I picked up the phone. My gut told me it was bad news.
“Got bad news for you, bud,” Charlie confirmed.
“What’s that?”
“The lead singer for Serpent 6 woke up with a sore throat, and they’ve been pulled for tonight.”
“You’ve gotta be shittin’ me.”
“Wish I was, bud. Without Tommy playing the gig, you might as well save the trip.”
He was right. Even though we still could’ve gotten back to see Kirk, it would most likely be a waste of time. I turned the car around and headed back toward home, it was almost 3:00 p.m. I have no fucking luck! Just hit me with a lightning bolt and put me out of my misery. I’m not even going to mention this to Celeste. It’ll just give her more ammunition.
It was 5:45 p.m. when I pulled up to The Deuce, one of my favorite hangouts. The owner was not only a great chef, but also the lead vocalist for a local rock band, so it was the perfect place in my book. One of my old high school buddies bartended there as well, so if I didn’t know anyone I could sit at the bar and bullshit with him. Between trying to get my business going and keeping Celeste happy, I hadn’t had much time for any of my other friends for several months.
“Hey, stranger. What can I get you?” Derek asked, as I pulled up a stool.
“A cheeseburger, fries, and a Crown on the rocks,” I replied.
“Startin’ off with straight Crown, huh? You havin’ a rough day?”
“Yeah. Kirk from Metallica was going to be introduced to my guitars tonight, but the gig fell through.”
“Sorry, bud. You’re still workin’ on the big dream, huh?”
“You know me. I don’t give up very easily.”
Derek gave me a knowing smile as he turned to put in my order and pour my whiskey. He had known me as long as anyone, so he understood that I would see an idea through to the end. As I began to sip my whiskey, I thought back to how easy things were back in our high school days. I always had plenty of cash, new sports cars, and a lot of friends. Oh, how the mighty have fallen…. almost 26-years-old and I’ve never been so broke in my life. If things get much worse, I’ll have to go patch things up with dad and convince him to help me finish law school. Who am I kidding? I would have to be starving and living on the street…
“Do you remember Lara?” Derek asked, nodding toward a woman who had just walked in.
“I don’t think so,” I replied, as she continued in our direction.
“Hi, Derek. Well, hello, Max,” she said, with a sparkle in her big brown eyes.
“Hi, Lara,” I replied with a wink, pretending to remember her.
“Wow, you actually remember my name, or did Derek remind you?”
“Oh, of course I remember you,” I replied, lying through my teeth. I didn’t want to insult her by being honest.
“Well, it’s nice to see you again after all these years,” she said, giving me a coy smile before turning to meet her friends at a table.
“Who was that? She seems a little familiar.”
“She was a few years younger than us. She was best friends with my sister,” Derek explained.
“Oh, now I remember her. Wow, I never would’ve put that together. She’d be really cute if she ditched those glasses and let her hair down a little.”
“Yeah, Lara’s gotten that way. It’s like she’s hiding or something.”
“That’s for sure. Those glasses are like the ones my grandma wore in the '70s.”
“The '70s are back in style, you know. Especially when it comes to glasses.”
“Lord knows why,” I replied and glanced back at Lara and her friends.
I couldn't remember if Lara was cute or not back then. I guess she was pretty young, and I never really paid much attention to other girls once I started dating Celeste. Maybe she was one of those girls who got prettier with age.
With a full stomach and a few Crowns onboard, I decided it was time to get home before I couldn’t drive myself. The way my luck had been, I didn’t want to take a chance of being pulled over for DUI. As I searched for my keys, I saw Lara sitting alone at the table so I stopped to say goodbye.
“Hey, Lara! Nice seeing you again. Maybe I’ll see you around.”
“Yeah, Max, I’m usually around.”
“Honestly, I don’t remember the last time I saw you. Where did your friends go?”
“Oh, this is normal. I babysit their purses while they dance, and later I’ll make sure they all get home safely,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I’m more their designated driver than friend, I guess.”
“That sounds like fun,” I replied with a raised eyebrow, pulling up a chair.
“It beats sitting home on a Saturday night. It’s not like I had anything else going on.”
“A pretty girl like you, bored on a Saturday night?” I said as I gave her a cocky smirk.
“There’s that smirk. Now that’s the Max Hancock I remember!”
“Well, I’m not the cocky punk I used to be. After the last few years, I’m actually feeling mostly jaded and irritable.”
“Really? Why?” she asked, actually showing interest in my life.
“Well, things have been a little rough since I dropped out of law school to revive my Granddad’s guitar business.”
“Seriously? I just assumed you were a hot shot attorney, working at your father’s firm.”
