Beyond the Breaking Point: Four

She figured a good hour and a half to two hours had passed when there was a knock at her door. Who the hell would be knocking on her door? There was no way Phillip had found her this soon. She glanced through the peephole. It was Max.

She opened it. In one hand he held a large, fragrant pizza box. In the other, the type of paper bags liquor stores wrapped their packages in.

“We never did eat.” He hefted the brown bag. “Liquor for me, cola for you. I plan to get rip, roaring drunk. Care to join me for dinner?”

She stepped to the side and motioned for him to enter. Max came in and set the pizza on the small coffee table in front of the short sofa. Then he pulled out a fifth of bourbon and a two-liter cola. She read the label: George T Stagg.

“I hope you have ice. If not, I’ll get some. Just point me toward the bucket,” Max said.

Cassidy reached for the bucket and handed it to him. While he was gone, she unwrapped two plastic complimentary cups and placed them on the table along with a stack of paper towels for their hands. She’d just opened the box of pizza to check out the contents when Max came back. She took the ice from him and set it on the table with a hand towel under it to catch the moisture.

They sat on the small love seat. Max reached for the bourbon, filled his cup with ice, and poured a healthy measure into the cup. She handed him her cup. “Give me some of that.”

He frowned. “You don’t drink.”

“I do tonight.” She shook her ice-filled cup.

Max splashed a small amount of the dark liquid into it. Cassidy looked at the amount in his, compared it to hers, and rattled her cup for more.

“It’s strong,” he warned.

“The goal is to get drunk,” she reminded him.

Both his eyebrows rose. “That’s my goal.”

“It sounds like a great one to me.” She motioned again for him to give her more.

This time he filled the cup halfway. When they each had their cups in hand, Cassidy lifted hers and made a toast. “To Amber and Phillip, the skank and the prick. May they roast in hell.” She took a large gulp, grimaced and shuddered as the liquor hit her system before reaching over Max for the soda and adding some to her cup. The bourbon was strong enough to incinerate her esophagus and tear the lining from her stomach.

“Amen!” Max echoed and drained his cup. “Those two deserve each other.” As he poured himself another drink, he asked, “If he’s a prick and she’s a skank, what does that make us?”

“Their dupes,” she muttered bitterly and took a second large swallow. Like before it scorched going down, then mellowed out into a nice glow.

The smell of the pizza, combined with the burn of the alcohol, reminded Cassidy it had been hours since she’d eaten. She reached for a slice and dug in. They didn’t have plates or any other such niceties. Instead, they ate straight from the box.

Max and Cassidy sat side-by-side, isolated in individual bubbles of brooding silence. After her second cocktail, Cassidy unwound enough to start feeling chatty. “You know what pisses me off the most about this whole thing?”

He glanced at her. “What?”

“How stupid he thinks I am. Maybe I am stupid. I trusted him. Trusted them. It never even crossed my mind that something like this would happen.” She pointed at herself. “Hel-lo-oh! Wife, best-friend’s fiancé—”

“Girlfriend,” Max corrected.

Cassidy waved that off with a slice of pizza. “Whatever. The point is, I never saw it coming.”

“Me, either,” Max said as he poured himself another drink, tossed it back, and poured another one.

“But I didn’t have sex with her,” Cassidy mimicked Phillip’s voice. “What the hell does he think sex is?”

“Beats the hell out of me,” Max responded dourly.

On a roll, she continued, “Let him have walked in and found me with my mouth wrapped around another man’s dick and see how he likes it.”

Max gestured grandly with his glass, sloshing a little of the liquid over the sides. “He’d have blown a gasket, like I did.”

“I should fuck someone else, even the score. See how he likes being the one cheated on,” Cassidy muttered before taking a swig of her drink—her third.

“We both should fuck someone else. Then tell them to kiss our asses. That will teach them to screw with us,” Max said.

Their gazes met and locked as the idea settled and took root. Later, Cassidy never would be able to say who made the first move. She didn’t remember dropping the cup or the pizza. Suddenly, her hands were on his chest. She fisted them in his shirt and tugged. At the same time, Max palmed her nape with one large hand and yanked her to him.

Their lips met and there was nothing tentative about their kiss. This was a carnal explosion of lips, teeth, and tongue. They broke for air and stared at each other a moment.

Are we really going to do this? her eyes asked.

Hell, yes, his answered.

They lunged for each other again. Max used the weight of his body to force Cassidy into a reclining position on the couch, with him half over her. As he moved to cover her completely, his knee bumped the table hard, rattled the items on it, and caused the bourbon to flip onto its side. Good thing it was closed, Cassidy thought vaguely. Max cursed, propelled to his feet, stumbled a little, and then reached down and snatched Cassidy up by the arms. With a small “oomph,” she landed hard against his chest.

Their lips meshed together again as he herded her backward toward the bed. Cassidy sucked in great gulps of air as Max whipped off his shirt, and afterward hers. She cried out as he fastened his mouth to the sensitive skin of her neck and worked his way down to her breasts, tugging her bra straps down her arms. Cassidy reached behind her and undid the hooks, shrugging her shoulders so the offending item would fall to the floor.

Max’s fumbling fingers attacked the closure of her jeans. She would have come to his rescue, but she was too busy clutching the silky strands of his hair, holding his suckling mouth to her. What he was doing to her breasts felt fantastic. Finally, the button and zipper came loose. Max frantically yanked down her pants and underwear, and then gave her shoulders a hard push. Cassidy’s feet got caught up in the material and she stumbled. Reflexively, she reached for him to catch herself, but he wasn’t there. He’d already bent, grasped the waistband of her jeans, and lifted. Cassidy toppled onto the bed.

Max stripped her completely. Seconds later his nude body landed on top of hers, and she groaned at the sensation. She felt wickedly out of control. Max seized her by the jaw and slammed his mouth on hers for another raw kiss. This was Max, calm, laid back Max, going at her like he couldn’t get enough of her.

Cassidy wrapped her legs around his thighs and dug her nails into his butt, arching her slick, needy sex against his in silent demand. He reared up, cursing.

“Now, Max,” she demanded. “Do it now!”

He grabbed her under her left thigh and pushed it up and back, then impaled her with his hard length, filling her to the hilt. “Fuck!” he gritted out.

That’s exactly what he did. Fucked her with long, hard strokes. There was nothing soft and romantic about it. This was raw, primal. Cassidy went wild beneath him, scratching, clawing, and biting.

He caught her with his hand behind the right knee and held her open for his heavy thrusts. His fingers bit into her flesh with such force, she knew she’d have bruises. He took her with brutal stamina.

The climax shot through her with such intensity her spine arched and her vision went gray. She heard Max give a hoarse shout as he stiffened above her. He ground his pelvis into hers and shuddered his release.

Max collapsed on top of her, breathing heavily. Aftershocks still rippled through Cassidy’s body and every now and then he’d give a little grunt as her pussy reflexively gripped and released him. As her heart rate slowed and her body cooled, her mind swung to Phillip.

Was he fucking Amber now? Had Amber convinced Phillip to let her finish what she’d started? Was she bent over Cassidy’s husband, his beefy hands buried in her long blonde hair as she sucked his thick penis? Or maybe his handsome face was buried in Amber’s pussy while she gave him head in the classic sixty-nine position.

Damn Phillip! If he’d have had any decency about him, any sense of integrity, he’d have elbowed Amber away, reminded her he was married, and that she was living with his best friend. He knew how Max felt about Amber. Hell, Phillip was the one who’d told her Max wanted to marry the no-good hussy.

Angry all over again, Cassidy applied steady pressure to Max’s shoulders until he rolled off her and onto his back. Shimmying down his body, she kissed a trail down his lean, muscular stomach—her goal his now semi-hard penis.

Cassidy licked and suckled the tip before running her tongue around the sensitive ridge. Tonight Max was going to get a world-class blowjob and if there was any justice in the world, he’d rub it in Phillip’s face.

He quickly hardened under her ministrations. Cassidy was the maestro and she played his body like an instrument. It was only when he’d moved past curses to incoherent mutterings that she ceased her torture and gave into the need riding them both.

She flowed up and over him, mounted his cock in one smooth motion, and rode him. She was woman, hear her roar. She was an all-powerful sex goddess, and Max was her willing slave. With Max, she owned her sexuality. Cassidy was in control of the powerful body flexing beneath her, and she planned to use him until he couldn’t get it up anymore.

It took a long, long time.