3. Katie
Chapter three
Katie
After Maverick got my number, he returned to his seat at the bar, insisting that he’d intruded on my dinner with Bristol long enough already. Even though I was a little disappointed he didn’t join us for the meal, I appreciated the fact that he didn’t overshadow the short time I had with my friend.
“I can’t believe you didn’t go home with him,” Bristol said when we were back in my car. “You picked up the hottest biker I’ve ever seen in my entire life, and you just let him slip through your fingers.”
I sighed as I turned out of the parking lot and onto the main road.
“That’s because I already made plans with you.”
“Sweetie.” Bristol shot me a withering look. “You know me by now. You are not going to hurt my feelings by ditching our plans so you can stake your claim on that man before somebody else does. In fact, I’ll be cheering you on from the sidelines.”
I gripped the steering wheel and tried to keep my gaze focused straight ahead. But I still caught myself stealing a quick glance in the rear-view mirror as the Rusty Elk Tavern faded from view.
I pressed my lips together, silent. Maverick had promised to call tomorrow. Would he actually do it? Or would he ghost me like so many other men on dating apps did?
It seemed too good to be true. I was still partially convinced the whole thing had been a dream and I needed to pinch myself in order to wake up.
“Turn the car around,” Bristol declared. “I’ll get his number for you.”
I laughed, shaking my head.
“No, I’m not doing that.”
“Fine. I’ll get his number for myself.”
“Bristol!”
“What? That five o’clock shadow would leave beard burn on my thighs for days.”
Heat flushed up my neck. The laughter died in my throat, replaced by a bitter taste in my mouth.
For years, I’d heard stories about the men that flocked around Bristol like bees to honey. She was rarely single, and never for very long.
Even though I grappled with a little jealousy over it, in the end, I was happy for her. Bristol was gorgeous, charming, and accomplished. It really wasn’t surprising that men fell in love with her so easily.
Bristol and Maverick would make an incredibly attractive couple…
I shoved that thought to the back of my mind. Merging onto the highway, I headed for the airport. Under normal circumstances, I would have been eager to spill every detail to Bristol. But for some reason, I didn’t feel like sharing.
Maybe because it didn’t feel real. And I didn’t actually expect Maverick to call. So, I didn’t want to get my hopes up. If I told Bristol that he had my number, she would pester me endlessly for information. It would be humiliating to tell her that I never heard from him again.
Besides, Maverick and I weren’t dating or hooking up. Technically, we weren’t together in any sense of the word.
Use me as your practice run. So when the right guy comes along, you’ll know what to do.
He was teaching me how to flirt. That was all. Nothing more.
Bristol wouldn’t understand because she had started dating when she was fifteen years old. I was twenty-seven and I didn’t know what it was like to be kissed. I never had the guts to tell her that, even though I had a feeling she already suspected it.
“Relax, sweetie,” Bristol said. “I was kidding. I wouldn’t take your man.”
“He’s not my man,” I countered.
“I know. That’s the problem.” She sighed wistfully. “But he could have been.”
“Okay, now you’re just being dramatic.”
“At least tell me you got his number,” Bristol protested.
I winced and glanced at her. She rolled her eyes.
“Did you give him your number then?”
I directed my gaze back to the road, saying nothing.
Bristol hummed, intrigued.
“So it seems there’s a silver lining after all. When you have nasty, filthy sex, I better hear every dirty detail. Don’t leave anything out.”
“That’s not happening,” I replied, amused.
“We’ll see,” Bristol chirped, unfazed by my skepticism.
On Sunday morning, I yawned and shuffled into the kitchen, switching on my coffee maker. Running a hand through my tousled hair, I checked my phone. A few texts from Bristol came in when she finally boarded her plane last night.
As the coffee pot began to hiss and steam, my phone buzzed with a call. Probably Bristol after her flight landed, extra chatty from the jet lag. While I reached up into the cabinet to grab a mug, I answered the phone.
“Good morning, dove. Sleep well?”
I nearly dropped the phone at Maverick’s voice.
Tugging at my nightshirt self-consciously, I clutched my mug to my chest and fumbled for an answer.
“I’m—good. I didn’t—um—didn’t think you would call this early though.”
Yesterday at the bar had been…wonderful. Exhilarating. And nerve racking. The memory of his dark eyes, tattoos, and big callused hands made my skin hot and prickly all over again. I bit the inside of my cheek, set my cup down, and leaned back against the counter.
“Did I wake you?” he asked.
Dear God in heaven, his voice sounded even better than I remembered. Low and deep, with a rasp that made me feel like I’d swallowed a giant bottle of bubbly champagne in one gulp, lightheaded, dizzy, and giddy. A smile spread across my face.
“Actually, I’ve already got my coffee started.”
He grumbled, punctuated by the rustle of fabric…sheets, maybe? Was he still in bed? That thought made my stomach twist into a knot, imagining him with the covers pooled around his waist, naked chest exposed, tattoos on display…
“I had a feeling you were an early bird,” Maverick said. “Does that mean you’re still wearing your pajamas?”
I wedged the phone against my shoulder as I poured my coffee.
“Is that why you’re calling at six-thirty in the morning? To ask about my pajamas?”
“Can’t blame a man for his curiosity. Are they lacy?”
I paused with my fingers curled around the handle of the coffee pot, glancing down at my pajamas—a large t-shirt with a teddy bear holding a pink heart, and pastel pink shorts with a cupcake print.
Not exactly the sultry combo Maverick was probably hoping for.
“Um…no.”
“Silky?” he prompted. “Satin? Wait. Don’t tell me. You sleep in the buff.”
“Maverick—”
“If I brought you breakfast in bed, would you reward me with a little peek?”
I huffed a laugh and shook my head.
“I’m hanging up now.”
He snorted.
“No, you’re not. Otherwise you would have done that already.”
I sighed and set the coffee pot back, fiddling with my mug.
“Maverick, I don’t really…know how to do this. Flirting. Being sexy.”
“Just follow my lead, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”
I said nothing, comforted by his reassurance, even though we only met yesterday. What if he was simply saying what I wanted to hear so I would play into his hands? What if Maverick was toying with me?
Deep down, somehow I knew that wasn’t true.
Last night at the bar, Maverick had made it clear that he wanted to do more—kiss my neck, mark his territory . But he held back, for my sake. I don’t know why he was willing to draw me out of my shell, but at this point, I needed any help I could get.
I swallowed around the lump in my throat.
“I’m just wearing…a t-shirt and shorts,” I said. “Nothing special.”
Maverick gave a pleased hum.
“Oh, dove, you have no idea what that can do to a man in the morning. Please tell me you’re not wearing any panties.”
My breath hitched and that burn in my cheeks returned, ramping up by ten degrees.
“Maverick—I—you don’t need to know that.”
“It’s an important detail, baby.”
I gripped the edge of the counter to steady myself and lifted my gaze to the ceiling, feeling like my face was on fire.
This is what you’ve been looking for, remember?
“...yes,” I finally admitted. “I’m wearing…panties.”
“Take them off.”
The grit in Maverick’s commanding tone sent a bolt of need straight between my thighs. My knees wobbled. This was really happening…
“If I was there,” he added. “I would do it for you. But you have to take this first step yourself, dove.”
I chewed my lower lip as I deliberated. Then I set my phone on the counter. I could hang up. I could block Maverick’s number.
Or I could finally experience what it was like to feel sexy, desirable, wanted.
Without giving myself time to think, I stripped off my shorts and panties, leaving them in a pool of fabric on the floor. The hem of my shirt didn’t even cover my ass, and I desperately tugged at it, hoping I could stretch a few more inches out of it.
With trembling fingers, I picked up the phone again.
“Okay,” I said. “I—I did it.”
“Good girl,” Maverick said, practically a purr.
I pressed a hand to my mouth, swallowing the little sound that welled up in my throat. I felt shaky, exposed, like I wanted to run for my bedroom and burrow under the covers. But underneath that vulnerability was a buzz of excitement and I craved more of it.
“Have you ever touched yourself before?” Maverick asked.
My mouth went dry. I ducked my head, squeezing my thighs together against the relentless ache that continued to grow in my core.
For my twenty-first birthday, Bristol had insisted on taking me shopping for my first vibrator, so I wasn’t unfamiliar with my body.
Admitting it to a man though, especially someone like Maverick, was intimidating.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” he continued softly. “Go on, sweetheart. Can you do that for me? Slide your hand between those gorgeous thighs of yours. Tell me how wet you are because of my voice.”
As he spoke, I found myself obeying. I lowered my hand, fingers tucked between my thighs. I sucked in a sharp breath when I grazed my clit, slippery and stiff with arousal.
“That’s it,” Maverick murmured. “Fuck, you sound so goddamn perfect. Keep going.”
My eyes slid closed, losing myself in his words and the pleasure coursing through me. I imagined Maverick’s thick, callused fingers teasing my clit, gliding lower to my entrance. I imagined his hot breath on my neck, his broad body caging me against the counter, and his dark, blazing eyes roaming over me while I melted at his touch.
“Oh, baby, I bet you’re soaked by now,” Maverick said with a groan. “Those little gasps you make—get your fingers inside that sweet pussy of yours, all right? Open yourself up.”
Angling my wrist, I twisted two fingers deep into my silky walls. My lips parted with a whimper. Maverick growled on the other end of the line.
“Don’t fucking stop. Let me hear you.”
I faltered. What was I supposed to…say? Maverick made it seem easy, filthy words rolling off his tongue without hesitation. A solo session with my vibrator didn’t require any dirty talk.
“Don’t overthink it, sweetheart,” Maverick said, as if reading my thoughts. “Tell me what you want right now. My tongue? My fingers? My cock?”
Arousal surged straight to my toes, curling up my spine. My walls clenched around my fingers with a slick sound and a moan escaped me. Maverick chuckled.
“I knew it,” he said. “Do you need to be bent over the kitchen counter, dove? Are you hungry for cock first thing in the morning? Tell me what you want, dove."
“Jesus, Maverick —”
I kept pumping my fingers, faster and faster, spurred on by the images he put in my head. The thought of his strong chest against my back, with his tattooed forearm locked around my pale stomach sent my juices dripping down my knuckles.
The thought of him kneeling on the kitchen tile, stubble scraping my thighs, hot tongue stroking my clit, left me breathless.
“I wish you could taste me,” I said in a rush, surprised at how quickly it slipped out. “I wish—I wish your mouth was on me right now.”
Oh my God, did I really just say that? Out loud?
A muffled obscenity echoed on the phone.
“Where?” Maverick’s voice dropped lower, horse, with a desperate edge to it, as if maintaining his control was taking considerable effort. “I could taste those sweet lips. Or that pretty little neck. Those tits I can’t stop thinking about.”
My walls clenched around my fingers.
He’s been thinking about me?
My body felt tight, ready to snap at any moment. A haze of arousal clouded my brain. All I could think about was Maverick’s hot, wet mouth on my body.
That five o’clock shadow would leave beard burn on my thighs for days.
That’s what I wanted. To come on his tongue. To feel his sharp jawline between my thighs. To lock eyes with him as he feasted on me.
Then my orgasm hit. Distantly, I heard the low, soothing murmur of Maverick’s voice in my ear, talking me through it.
“That’s it, baby. You needed that, didn’t you? I bet you’re a fucking mess right now with your sticky thighs, and you’re probably flushed the prettiest shade of pink I’ve ever seen.”
As my orgasm faded, the reality of what I’d just done came into focus.
“Oh, God,” I exhaled.
“Don’t do that, dove,” Maverick said in a firm tone. “Don’t be embarrassed. You were incredible.”
I couldn’t believe it. I just had phone sex with a hot biker.
Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought I was capable of doing something like that. Bristol would be so proud.
“Are you busy tonight?” Maverick prompted.
I shook my head.
“No. Why?”
“What would you say to dinner and a movie?” he replied.
I considered for a moment. Sunday nights were usually spent looking over my shop to make sure everything was ready for the week. I didn’t have any other major plans, and if I was honest, I couldn’t wait to see Maverick again.
“I’d like that,” I said.
“Perfect. Text me your address. I’ll pick you up at seven.”