Chapter 29 Maverick
CHAPTER 29
MAVERICK
I ’m not sure how to play this.
I wasn’t going to press Hendrix at the party. It’s Zere’s night and I wanted her to feel my friendship and support, but I’ll be damned if Hendrix is leaving this place without at least talking to me. So when I saw her dip out of the party, I excused myself and told Zere I’d be around. Her new guy visibly relaxed. I wanted to tell Charles there’s no need to worry. The woman I want is literally running from me.
“Leaving?” I ask once inside the coatroom. The muscles in her back stiffen as I approach. “Or just hiding from me?”
“Leave me alone, Mav,” she says, still not facing me, but turning her head enough to offer a clear view of her profile.
Full glamour tonight, her face is a vibrant palette of rose cheeks and matte red lips and long, fluttery lashes. So different from the fresh-faced woman with two damp braids tucked beneath a baseball cap, laughing with me in Waffle House. Just as beautiful, though. Just as magnetic. I imagine the long hair she wears tonight streaming over us, curtaining us as she takes the top, riding me in my bed. I have Charlotte Thomas sheets, bespoke, literally made to my specifications with twenty-two karat gold woven into the fabric, and I want to see Hendrix come all over them.
“Leave you alone?” I push the stream of long hair aside and over one shoulder to expose her back. “It’s too late for that, Hen.”
I run the knuckle of my index finger down the shallow basin of her spine. To my fascination, a shiver trembles through her shoulders and goose bumps prickle her arms. She doesn’t pull away, so I risk resting my hands at her hips.
“You look magnificent tonight.” I press closer until the curve of her ass rests in the cradle of my hips. I’ve been hard since the moment I saw her and do nothing to hide the evidence pressing insistently into her softness. She gasps and drops her head forward.
“Mav, we can’t…” She lifts her head and looks at me over her shoulder. “We can’t do this here.”
“Are you saying we can do it somewhere else?” My hands tighten around the lush roundness of her hips, move to palm her waist. “Because my apartment isn’t far away.”
She turns to face me, stepping back and out of my reach. “We can’t do this anywhere, but especially not at Zere’s birthday party.”
“You got the flowers I sent?”
She frowns, but her expression softens. “They were beautiful. I’m sorry I didn’t thank you. It just felt like I should shut everything down for a while.”
“It’s fine. I figured as much. It seemed like you needed a breath to think about things, so I backed off.”
“Thank you. I—”
“But that’s over now.”
“Mav.” She closes her eyes, the lashes long on her rose-dusted cheeks. Her face is a fresco of bold lines and beveled bones and rich pigments. I tip up her chin to get a full view. In her heels she’s my height and we look dead into each other’s eyes.
“Damn, you’re beautiful, Hen.”
A slow smile works its way onto her lips. “I thought I was Gorgeous.”
“Obviously.” I venture a hand back to the curve of her hip and tug her close in cautious inches so she doesn’t pull away again. “Zere’s new guy is here with her tonight. She invited me to the party. How much more proof do you need that she’s moved on?”
“You’re not the kind of man a woman gets over quickly,” she says, eyes fixed on the top button of my shirt and not meeting my gaze.
“You’re speaking theoretically, of course.” I tip her chin up with one finger, locking our eyes together and immediately feeling a tightness in my chest at the vulnerability I doubt she wants me to see. “Why don’t you try me for yourself?”
“So I can be where Zere is now?” She shifts to free her face from my touch. “Psssh. No, thanks.”
My brows snap together. “What does that mean?”
“Heartbroken and feeling like she wasted three years of her life.”
“I never misled her and never promised her marriage. Things started disintegrating between us long before the world knew we were done. We didn’t want the same things.”
“And what do you want from me?”
“If I lied and said I just want to fuck you, would you come home with me?”
She smirks. “Maybe.”
I lean close, letting my lips brush her ear. “Then I just want to fuck you.”
Her scent, the warmth of her skin, drugs me. I drop my head and press my mouth to the curve of her neck and across her bare shoulder.
“Mav,” she moans, leaning into my kisses.
I thread our fingers together and pull her closer. “I missed you this week, Hen.”
She nods. “Same.”
With my hand splayed at the small of her back, I kiss up the satiny column of her neck, over her chin until I reach her mouth. I expect resistance, but she’s already open for me, and our tongues meet in a starved tangle. She tastes of champagne—expensive and heady and effervescent—the kiss a swirl of decadence. I’m desperate, both hands reaching for her butt and squeezing hard.
“This ass,” I groan. “Fuck. And your legs and your…” I dip to the tops of her breasts, sucking the plumpness into my mouth and then running my tongue into her cleavage. Her scent is intense trapped between the full curves. Eyes locked with hers, I peel the bodice down a little, watching to see if she protests. My mouth is already watering for the first sight of her nipples, but instead there’s another layer of satiny fabric.
“Shapewear,” she laughs. “You think my body is naturally this smooth and tight? Sorry to disappoint.”
“I’m not disappointed. Just determined.” I reach around and find a zipper for the shapewear, pulling it down along with the dress until both pool at her waist. Her breasts are big and crowned with fat nipples the color of blackberries against her cocoa skin. I cup them, testing the weight in my palms, tracing the tips with my thumbs. She draws in a sharp breath and her head tips back, exposing the long line of her throat.
“Shit, Hen.” I don’t even sound like myself. My voice is a strangled stranger.
“You like them?” Hendrix raises her head and her eyes reflect the desperate heat of my own passion. The need to taste her steals rational thought, and I don’t care that the party is in full swing just beyond this coatroom. I don’t care that there’s no lock on the door. I dip my head and take one nipple into my mouth.
“Jesus, Mav,” Hendrix gasps. Her hands palm my head, and I don’t know if she’ll push me away or pull me in. With a broken sigh, she presses me closer, and it’s all the signal I need. I lave her nipples, discovering the velvety texture with just the tip of my tongue for a few blissful seconds.
“Don’t stop.” Hendrix’s words ride a breathy moan.
I suck one nipple into my mouth, gentle at first, but then hard enough to hollow out my cheeks. I rub the other between my thumb and forefinger, and it hardens under my touch. Sade’s “The Sweetest Taboo” seeps through the walls, and it’s in perfect tune with the first time I have her this way because she tastes forbidden on my tongue, but not wrong. So fucking right like my skin has been waiting, the most sensitive nerves dormant all my life until they felt her. Like the electrical impulses that make my heart beat were waiting for her, and she is the jolt that startles it into beating for the first time. Like nothing and no one else has been this right until now.
Until her.
I don’t even realize I’m grinding against her, but she starts rolling her hips to meet every shallow thrust. Every touch and breath drives the fire between us higher, and I’m on the edge of a cliff, my dick lengthened and hard. I slip my hand under her dress, only to encounter the shapewear again instead of flesh.
“Hen, I want to touch you.” Frustration claws at me when my fingers caress the edge of the satin around her thighs. “Need to taste you.”
“Mav.” She drops her head to mine, pressing our foreheads together. “We can’t. Not here.”
Desperate, I take her hand and pull her behind the changing screen. The privacy it affords is flimsy, but everyone is out on the dance floor. I don’t anticipate being interrupted, but honest to God couldn’t give a damn right now if we were. She looks debauched, breasts out with the dress folded down to her waist and around her hips. Hair spills over her shoulders, and her nipples peekaboo through the long strands. Her lips are pouty, swollen from rough kisses, and I can’t resist taking her mouth again. I press her into the wall, one hand above her head and one palming her breast and stroking the hardened tip.
“Oh, God,” she pants, fumbling with the dress to shove it down and over her hips. “Mav, please.”
The dress pools around her ankles and only the sexy shapewear remains. It’s black and shiny, clinging like a second skin to her hips and thighs. I tug it down over the lush curve of her ass until it joins the dress in a heap at her feet.
I wasn’t prepared to see her fully naked, but she stands before me in nothing but her stilettos, thick and firm and luminous, the overhead lights kissing her brown skin. She is statuesque glamour stacked into a brickhouse body. Smooth, supple, generous curves accessorized with complete confidence. She stands in the light letting me look my fill. No squirming and shifting. Just tall and proud. It forces me to my knees.
I pull one long leg over my shoulder and take her in for the first time. Her pussy is bare and slick, glistening. As soon as I touch the bundle of nerves, she gasps and tosses her head back to thump against the wall.
“Mav,” she moans, rolling her hips and twisting her pretty face with desperation. “Come on now. Stop playing.”
I blow across her, and chuckle when she tries to nudge my face toward her.
“You not gon’ rush me, Hendrix. I’ve wanted to do this since the moment I met you.”
She stares down at me and a frown puckers her sleek brows. “What?”
“Yes,” I affirm, running my palm down the smooth skin of her leg, squeezing the plump softness. “As soon as and ever since.”
I give us what we both crave, spreading her open and burying my face between her legs. She’s whimpering and twisting in my hands, but I hold her still so I can get it exactly the way I want it. She clutches my head, forcing me deeper in and I gladly go, thrusting my tongue inside of her. Pushing two fingers and then three inside, and never letting up.
“Ahhh. You gotta… I need…” She thrashes her head against the wall, the long hair tumbling around her shoulders. “Mav, damn.”
I feel her release before I taste it. The tremor in her leg as it almost buckles. The way her fingers tighten in my hair, tugging until it hurts. I want to taste her forever.
She pants above me, her breasts heaving like we’ve run a mile. I let her leg slide off my shoulder and stand, pressing her into the wall, wrapping my hand around her throat and crashing my mouth down on hers. She bites my lips, chases my tongue, licks my teeth and the lining inside my jaw. It’s a feral kiss, both of us drunk on the taste of her, on the taste of our mingled passion. The need to be inside of her is locomotive. A driving, churning ache that must be relieved.
I turn her to face the wall, slipping my fingers between her legs and pushing back inside. Her gasps and moans encourage me to push in another.
“I want to fuck you, Hen.”
She flattens her hands to the wall and pushes back onto my hand.
“Do it,” she chokes out. “Hurry up.”
“You want it?” I ask, releasing one finger to caress between her legs.
She drops her head to the wall and swivels into the contact, increasing the pressure of my finger on that bud of nerves.
“Yeah,” she almost slurs, sounding as drunk as I feel. “Please.”
I pull my fingers out and touch them to my lips.
“You taste so damn good,” I groan.
She presses her ass back against me restlessly. “Come on, Mav.”
I push the hair aside and over her shoulder, taking in the long expanse of her flawless back and the exaggerated jut of her ass from her waist. My hands actually shake when I get my pants open and down. I nudge her feet wider and with one hand angle her hips back so I can push up and into her. I slide in smoothly, perfectly. We both gasp when her body clenches around me.
“Fuuuuuck.” The word erupts from me and I tighten my hands at her hips. “I’m raw.”
She reaches behind us and grabs my ass, pressing me deeper inside. Her body greedily sucks me in, and a groan pushes past my lips.
“I’ve been tested,” she pants. “And I’m on birth control, but I don’t… we can’t—”
“I’ll pull out,” I cut in, breathing heavily at her neck. I don’t want her worrying about anything except how good this feels. “I’m negative, too, but I’ll still pull out.”
Every thrust drives me deeper inside, and it’s not just her body clamping around me every time I push in and withdraw. What’s happening between our bodies is only a portion of it. Something connective is growing between us. Every gasp and moan knits it. Strengthens it.
The door swings open and we both freeze. I’m still buried so deep, Hendrix whimpers when I shift the slightest bit. I curl my hand around her mouth to stifle her cries. The screen barely covers us, and one sound would alert whoever just entered of our presence.
“I hate to leave early,” a woman drawls. “But I have a flight to catch.”
“No problem,” a man answers. “You have your ticket?”
My hips are flush to Hendrix’s ass, barely a breath separating our bodies as we wait, holding our cries captive. Her pussy spasms around me and I have to move, just little thrusts that make her bite into my hand. Finally the door closes behind the two guests, and Hendrix pushes against me, reaching one hand back to grip the back of my neck.
“Get it, Mav,” she moans. “Shit.”
I pull almost all the way out and then slam inside again. Hendrix pounds her fist lightly against the wall, the movement all the more powerful for its restraint. This is not how I envisioned our first time together—a symphony of muffled cries and suppressed gasps. I wanted to hear her scream my name and see her spread open beneath me. Instead it’s this rushed act that I should have been strong enough to resist, but couldn’t.
Next time I’ll feast on her and she’ll feast on me. I don’t allow myself to think If I get a next time . After this, there’s no way I’ll go the rest of my life without having her again.
“Touch yourself,” I command, knowing how close I am. My slow, steady strokes have dissolved into an erratic, frantic rhythm. I can’t hold out much longer. She reaches between her legs and in a few touches, cries out, tensing and clenching around me. I push in deeper, harder.
“Shit, shit, shit,” I chant, losing all sense of myself for a span of seconds. We could be center stage for all I care.
I pull out just in time to spill into my hand and on her smooth skin, barely resisting the primal urge to smear myself all over her. Bare breasts flattened to the wall, Hendrix tips her head forward. She draws in harsh breaths and her shoulders tremble with the receding wave of our passion. I kiss the curve of her neck and pluck the silk handkerchief from the pocket of my suit to clean us up. I make quick work of it, but she looks over her shoulder and our eyes hold in the intimacy-charged seconds while I set us both to rights.
The first strains of “Happy Birthday” creep under the closed door, snapping us back to the party.
Hendrix turns and pulls away from my touch to gather her discarded clothes.
“I can’t believe I did that.” She clutches the dress and shapewear to her chest, hiding her luscious breasts from me.
“Regrets already?” I ask.
The answer is in her drawn brows and tight jaw and thinned lips, in the panic coloring her eyes. But I hope she won’t say it because the only thing I regret is that we didn’t have a bed.
“We can’t do this,” she says succinctly, stepping into the shapewear and wrenching the dress in place. “This was a mistake.”
Her refusal stings. At this stage of my life, I’m not used to being turned down, to not getting what I want; but that’s not what scrapes across my nerves. It’s that we both want this and neither of us is getting what we desire because Zere might not want us to?
“We are adults,” I tell her, struggling to tamp down my impatience.
“And as an adult,” she replies, twisting one arm behind her to reach the zipper, “I’m saying this can’t happen again.”
“Let me,” I grit out and turn her gently by the shoulder until her back is to me. I force myself to pull it up and tug the dress into place. She moves to step away, but I link my arm around her waist and hold her to me. She stiffens, but after a moment, sinks her back into my chest with a sigh. I caress her arm, dragging my touch down the smooth skin until I reach her hand and thread our fingers together. Her head drops back to my shoulder, and she flicks a sideways glance up to meet mine.
“You feel guilty about what we did, but do you know what’s happening when this party’s over?” I ask. “Zere’s gonna be getting hers with Charles, not thinking about me, and my ass’ll be at home in bed by myself jerking off and thinking about these.”
I slide my hands from her waist to cup her breasts. My mouth waters again and I draw a sharp breath through my nose. Her nipples tighten and go hard under my stroking fingertips.
“Mav,” Hendrix whispers.
“And will you be back at your hotel thinking about me? Thinking about how good we are together?” I kiss behind her ear and whisper. “Not just the sex, Hendrix, but how good we would be together.”
A forced-air breath whooshes across her lips. “Zere is not even fifty feet away and we fucked at her birthday party.”
“That’s none of her business anymore.”
“Easy for you to say. You don’t have to work with her. You have nothing to lose.”
She turns and walks swiftly out of my reach and around the privacy screen. I step out, too, just in time to see her snatch up her clutch from the table.
“You’re wrong. About me having nothing to lose,” I say. “I could lose you.”
She glances up at me over her shoulder and says, “You’d have to have me first.”
Before I can respond, she strides to the door, jerks it open, and is gone.