7. Katie
Chapter seven
Katie
The haze of arousal began to clear from my mind and awareness came back, sharp and crystal clear. Maverick’s cut against my cheek. The steady thrum of his heartbeat. The delicious friction of his thick fingers in my pussy.
I swallowed around my suddenly dry mouth as I realized what we’d just done.
Holy shit.
Self-consciousness prickled across my skin, but it was overshadowed by a thrill that zipped up my spine. I actually felt sexy . Out of breath, and a little sticky, but still sexy. When I shifted in Maverick’s lap, I felt his stiff bulge against my thigh.
And before I realized what I was doing, I slid to the floor, kneeling between his spread thighs. I reached up, gripping the outline of his cock through his jeans. My stomach flipped with anticipation, and my face grew warm at my boldness, but curiosity won out.
“Can I…?”
I trailed off, meeting Maverick’s hooded gaze.
“Whatever you want, baby.”
Biting the inside of my cheek with excitement, I unbuckled his belt and pulled down his zipper. No boxers impeded my goal. The tip of his cock emerged from his fly, the blunt, red head glistening with pre-cum.
It wasn’t the first cock I’d ever seen. Bristol made sure of that with extensive research online, but nothing could compare to the thick sexual tension in the air as I wrapped my fingers around his girth. Surprisingly hard, smooth, and hot. Seven fat inches that made me ache, wondering what it would feel like inside me.
Maverick let out a deep, guttural groan and spread his legs wider. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he tipped his head back, eyes closed. I leaned forward and dragged my tongue along the length of his cock.
“Fuck,” Maverick hissed, thrusting his hips upward into my grip.
I pulled back, uncertain.
“Did I do it wrong?” I asked.
He blew out a breath of disbelief and shook his head.
“No, dove. You—took me by surprise, that’s all. I thought you’d be too shy for this.”
I smiled to myself and shifted closer, encouraged by his praise and eager to prove I could do more. Peeling Maverick’s jeans down to mid-thigh, I kissed his hip, breathing in the musky, masculine scent of his skin. Dark hair dusted his torso, along with a few stray wisps of tattoo ink.
I twisted my fingers around his cock, tracing the thick vein until he twitched. Maverick brushed his knuckles against my cheek, and gathered my hair into his hand.
“Go ahead,” he said. “Suck on it, sweetheart. I can tell you’re thinking about it. Cup my balls, too, and give them a good squeeze.”
I did as he instructed—cradling his balls in my palm, closing my mouth around the tip of his cock, slightly salty and heavy on my tongue.
The effect was instantaneous. Maverick practically melted in his seat. Tendons strained in his neck as he swore softly under his breath. I flicked my tongue over his crown, teasing at the slit.
“ Shit —that’s perfect, sweetheart,” he rasped.
I swallowed down another inch, mesmerized by him. The way his abs flexed in sharp relief. The gravelly grit in his voice. The throb of his cock.
Because of me.
To think I’d waited so long for this moment made it even better. Less than a week ago, I’d never even been kissed. Now, I was kneeling between the legs of a hot, older biker, toying with his cock, while I wore the skimpiest lingerie.
Maverick grabbed my wrist, drawing my hand away from his balls, and planted my palm on his chest beneath his shirt.
“Mark me,” he said, his voice pitched low. “Use your claws, kitten.”
I met his dark gaze. Then I dug my nails into his skin, dragging down slowly. Maverick’s cock pulsed on my tongue, growing impossibly bigger somehow. He hissed through his teeth, eyes fluttering closed.
Something wild and ravenous took hold of me as I scratched lightly at his hip, leaving vicious red welts behind. Maverick could have any woman he wanted in a heartbeat. But I was the one marking him, and I never dreamed I would like it as much as I did.
“ Fuck, baby—”
In the next moment, Maverick pulled away, pumping his cock frantically. Then his mouth collided with mine. He came with a groan, spilling across my breasts, gasping against my lips.
When he was finished, he cupped my chin and surveyed his handiwork.
“How do you feel about your body now?” he asked.
A bashful grin spread across my face and I nuzzled into his palm with a kiss.
After getting cleaned up and dressed, Maverick stuffed the lingerie in the pocket of his cut with a wink and draped an arm around my shoulder, kissing my temple. When we emerged from the changing room, he tossed a wad of cash to Lila.
“We’re taking the pink set,” he declared.
Lila raised her eyebrows, thumbing through the bills.
“Glad to hear that, but it doesn’t cost a small fortune.”
“Keep the change. Use it to fix the lock on your dressing room,” he replied, not looking apologetic in the slightest.
Lila huffed and waved him off.
“I should have known you wouldn’t be able to keep your hands to yourself. Next time, try to rein in your enthusiasm before damaging my property.”
“Can’t promise that. You made Katie over here look like the most delicious little cupcake I’ve ever laid eyes on. What was I supposed to do?”
“Wait for two damn seconds while your girl unlocks the door, you animal,” Lila said, shoving his shoulder. “Now, get out of here, before I kick you out. And Katie, you’re welcome back any time. I have a feeling your beast of a boyfriend is going to rip that lingerie off you within a week because of his impatience. So, you can order another set online or over the phone if you can’t make it into the shop.”
She passed a glossy black business card to me. The knee-jerk protest sat on the tip of my tongue— he’s not my boyfriend . Because he wasn’t. Technically. But I thanked her instead, stowing the card in the back pocket of my jeans.
As Maverick and I left the shop, we were greeted by a line of bikers lounging on their motorcycles, parked at the curb. A few of them let out wolf whistles and cheers. Others revved their bikes with a deafening roar.
“Well, shit,” Maverick muttered. “Looks like we won’t be making a quiet getaway, dove.”
“Friends of yours?” I asked.
He nodded. “And they’ll be eager to meet you.”
I faltered, surveying the group of bikers—seven in all. They were dressed like Maverick, with heavy boots, jeans, and black leather cuts. None of them bore the Nomad patch that Maverick did. They were marked with different patches instead—President, VP, Road Captain, Member, and Prospect. Stitched across their backs read THE RECKLESS ORDER MC.
When I agreed to ditch work for the day and join Maverick, I never thought I would be meeting his friends. I tucked a lock of hair behind my ear, licking my kiss-swollen lips. Was it obvious what we’d been doing in the dressing room earlier? God, I hoped not…
An older biker with a long white beard, probably in his mid-sixties, stepped forward, clapping Maverick on the back.
“Long time no see, stranger,” he said with a thick Texas drawl.
“I should have known Lila would be a tattle-tale.”
“That’s what happens when you get caught thinkin’ with your downstairs brain. She took you by surprise and you didn’t even see it comin’. Now be a gentleman and introduce me and the boys to your little lady.”
Maverick turned and tucked me into his side.
“Katie, this is Lila’s father, Otis Parker—Hillbilly, for short. Founder and President of the Reckless Order. The scruffy mutts you see tailing him are Brass, Ironside, Pretty Boy, Trooper, Viper, and Hades. The rest of the club is probably stirring up trouble somewhere, or drinking each other under the table.”
“Pretty Boy?” I blurted.
The second biker in line raised his hand in acknowledgement.
“That would be me.”
“Oh.” I could see why—cool gray eyes, t-shirt clinging to his sculpted chest, and silky chocolate brown hair pulled back at the nape of his neck. “That can’t be your real name though.”
Hillbilly shrugged.
“On the road, on the back of a bike, we don’t play by the same rules as civilized society does. We make a name for ourselves. Whether you’re given that name, like Pretty Boy here, or you choose it of your own free will, it sticks either way.”
I looked up at Maverick. What was his real name? And how did he come to be known as Maverick instead?
“We should pick a name for your girl, Maverick,” Pretty Boy said. “She looks like she’d be the perfect Bunny.”
His gaze slowly panned over me as he swiped his thumb across his lower lip.
Maverick growled. His grip on my waist tightened until the hard pressure of his fingertips dug into me, bordering on painful.
“Call her that again and you’ll be spitting out broken teeth for a week.”
I blinked at Maverick in shock. Pretty Boy chuckled and raised his hands in surrender.
“Whoa, take it easy, tough guy. I’m yanking your chain, that’s all."
I didn’t have a clue what was going on, but judging by Maverick’s bristling, I probably wouldn’t like it.
“Ignore the wise-ass,” Hillbilly said. “When the boys and I heard you were in town, we thought we’d stop by, say hello, and maybe strong arm you into catchin’ up over a burger and a beer before you go. Your lady is welcome to join us. Pretty Boy will mind his own business, cross my heart.”
Maverick glanced down at me, gauging my reaction. Then he pulled me aside, crossed his arms, and dipped his head to look me in the eye.
“How do you feel about all this?”
I sputtered.
“Me? I’m…out of my depth, Maverick. I don’t know the first thing about motorcycle gangs. Why did you jump down Pretty Boy’s throat when he called me Bunny?”
A muscle twitched in his jaw.
“Don’t worry about that.”
“Okay, then how did you get the name Maverick? Did you choose it? Was it given to you?”
He sighed with a shrug.
“I picked it up playing cards. When I taught myself how to play poker, I started earning enough cash to get me off the streets and into a motel for the night. A few guys didn’t like some kid with a bad attitude kicking their asses, so rumors started floating around that I must be cheating. Hillbilly shut that bullshit down before it could poison my reputation. He called me Maverick—named me after an old cowboy movie about a gambler, I guess. He never watches anything else besides cheesy Westerns.”
“You and Hillbilly have known each other for a long time,” I said.
“I think he recognized that I was mostly feral and needed my space to sort myself out,” Maverick replied. “He knew I didn’t like authority figures after my father…”
He trailed off. I waited for him to continue, but he shook his head and changed the subject.
“Look, I’ll tell Hillbilly we already have plans and I’ll take you home. We can grab a bite to eat before we get back to Misty Mountain. Just the two of us, as promised.”
I curled my hand around his tattooed forearm, tracing the corded muscles that shifted and bunched when he moved.
“Didn’t you tell me that you’d teach me what to do when the right guy came along? Well, one day, I’ll need to meet his family and friends.”
A shadow flickered across Maverick’s gaze for a split second. Then it was gone again. He nodded.
“I was thinking more along the lines of meeting his parents for a tame dinner over a glass of non-alcoholic wine. Not a bunch of sweaty bikers who are about as well-behaved as a pack of hyenas.”
I shrugged.
“You never know. Maybe you’ve awakened something in me and I’ll only date bikers from here on out.”
“Hell no, you better not, dove. You’re too sweet for that.” He threaded his fingers with mine and pointed at me. “Stay right next to me at the clubhouse, got it? Don’t wander off. Pretty Boy is a sneaky little fucker. He could charm the pants off you in the blink of an eye. Literally.”
“Maybe I’ll make you jealous on purpose,” I countered. “Just to rile you up.”
He smirked and hooked a finger beneath my chin, leaning in close.
“You’re a fast learner, you know that?”
I grinned and popped up on tiptoe, delivering a quick peck to his lips.
“I can’t take all the credit. I have a very good teacher.”