Chapter 28 Amelia #2
I cry out, clapping a hand over my mouth as his tongue slides slowly through my folds. He moans against me, the vibration shooting straight through my core. His hands hold me firm, pressing me down against his face, like he needs this more than air.
“God, Amelia,” he mumbles between licks, “you taste so fucking sweet. Gonna fuck you with my tongue until you can’t remember your name.”
Heat floods me as my hips rock helplessly against his mouth. Every flick of his tongue drags me closer to the edge, every filthy groan tearing through my defenses.
“You like that?” he says, gripping my ass and smacking lightly. “Ride me, baby. Fuck my face. Let me make you fall apart.”
I can’t stop. My thighs tighten around his head, my body rolling against him. Every nerve is on fire, every thought unraveling until there’s nothing but him, his mouth, his voice, and the way he’s worshiping me.
My orgasm hits hard, a scream ripping from my throat as I shatter against his tongue. My whole body trembles, and still he doesn’t stop, licking me through it, swallowing me down like he’ll never get enough.
When I finally collapse against him, trembling, his mouth glistening with me, he grins up at me with pure, wrecked satisfaction.
“I’m not done with you yet.”
My body is still trembling when he finally eases me back down onto the bed. His lips are swollen, glistening, and his grin is smug as hell.
“Holy fuck,” I whisper, breathless. My hands clutch at the sheets, trying to steady myself, and he laughs, licking his lips clean of me.
His chest heaves, eyes blazing. “You think I’m done? Baby, I could drown in you and never come up for air.”
I reach for him automatically, tugging at the waistband of his shorts, desperate to return the favor. “Let me—”
He stills me with a growl, grabbing my wrist and pressing it to the mattress. His forehead rests against mine. “No, not tonight.”
My brow furrows. “Maverick—”
“Uh-uh.” His lips brush mine, gentle and soft despite the edge in his voice. “Not your mouth. Not your hand. I need your pussy, Amelia. Right now. I want to be inside you when I fall apart.”
His bluntness steals my breath, heat flooding my core all over again.
“Bossy,” I manage, but my voice breaks on the word.
He smirks, grinding against me through the fabric still between us. “You like me bossy.”
And God help me, I do.
He strips off his shorts in one quick motion, kicking them aside. My eyes widen, my throat going dry as he settles between my thighs, his thick, hard cock, leaking at the tip. Every inch of him is overwhelming, and all I can think is yes.
He drags the head of his cock through my tight heat, coating himself in my slick. I moan, hips jerking up.
“Fuck, you’re soaked,” he groans, eyes fluttering shut like the feel of me is already undoing him. “Been waiting all day for this. For you.”
Slowly, inch by inch, he pushes his cock inside of me, stretching me wide until my nails dig into his back, until my mouth falls open on a broken cry.
“Jesus, Maverick,” I pant, my voice strained. “You’re—fuck—you’re huge.”
His grin is cocky but soft at the edges, like he can’t help himself. “Course I am, baby. You think they’d make a quarterback with a small dick?”
I swat his back, breathless, but he laughs, then groans as he bottoms out. “God, Amelia… you’re so tight around me. My perfect wife, taking every inch of my cock.”
He drives into me, each thrust pulling a moan out of me as he cages me beneath his body. His chest brushes mine with every thrust, as he presses his forehead to mine, sweat dripping down his temple. The bedframe bangs against the wall, but all I can hear is his wrecked voice in my ear.
“My wife,” he groans, cradling the side of my face as his thumb strokes under my eye. “God, you feel like heaven. Gonna keep you like this forever.”
My nails dig into his shoulders, my pussy clenching around him, but the words rip out of me before I can stop them. “Forever’s a long time, quarterback. You sure you can keep up?”
His laugh is broken, shaky, his thrusts stuttering. “You’re really gonna talk shit while I’m inside you?”
“Yes,” I gasp, arching up against him, biting back a grin. “And if you were really as good as you think, you’d flip me over and fuck me harder.”
His eyes flash, his grin wiped clean. “Oh, you’re gonna regret that.”
He pulls out in one rough drag, flipping me onto my stomach before I can catch my breath. A sharp smack lands on my ass, the sting making me gasp.
“Smart mouth,” he pants, yanking my hips up and slamming back into me so hard I choke on a cry. His voice breaks with a rough laugh. “God, I love it when you fight me, makes me wanna fuck you until you can’t get a word out.”
“Oh, fuck!” I scream, clutching the sheets as he pounds into me from behind, every thrust brutal. My body rocks helplessly as my hair falls into my face, my moans spilling out broken and raw.
He fists a hand in my hair, dragging me upright against his chest, his cock spearing deeper, harder. His mouth latches onto my neck. “That’s it. Ride me back, baby. Show me how my wife takes her husband’s cock.”
The orgasm tears through me violently, my scream echoing off the walls as I shatter around him. My body convulses, my vision going white as he fucks me through it, his moans feral in my ear.
“Fuckfuckfuck.” His hips slam forward one last time as he spills inside me, his roar low and guttural as his whole body shakes, locking me tight against him.
We collapse together, his chest heaving against my back, his arms locked around me. His cock is still thick inside me, twitching, leaking cum. I’m limp, but before I can catch my breath, he groans low against my ear.
“Not done,” he pants, pulling out slowly. “Fuck, baby, I’ve got more.”
Before I can argue, he flips me again, this time onto my back, then shifts down and sprawls out beneath me. His broad shoulders sink into the pillows, his blue eyes heavy-lidded and dark as he grabs my hips and pulls me up over him.
“C’mon, dollface,” he says, voice husky, lips curving into a dangerous grin. “Ride your husband. Show me how my wife takes what she wants.”
My thighs tighten around his hips, but I arch a brow, trying for defiance even though my body aches for him. “You just came,” I point out, smirking down at him. “Don’t tell me the great Maverick Hayes is already tapped out.”
He lets out a broken laugh as his cock twitches hard against my ass. “Tapped out? Baby, I could spend all night in your pussy and still beg for more. Now quit stalling and sit on it.”
I gasp when he slaps my ass lightly, urging me forward. “You’re so fucking bossy.”
“Only ‘cause you like it,” he fires back, teeth flashing as he strokes himself once, guiding his cock against my entrance. “Now, be a good girl and ride your husband.”
Something inside me snaps at that—heat, desire, and something sharp I don’t want to name. I sink down slowly, inch by inch, wrapping around him all over again. My head falls back, a moan escaping me.
“Fuck, Maverick,” I gasp, clutching at his chest.
His hands grip my thighs, steadying me, his eyes locked on mine. “Yeah, that’s it,” he groans, his voice reverent. “Damn, you look so good on my cock. My wife, riding me like she owns me.”
I lean down until my lips brush his ear, whispering through a wicked grin. “Maybe I do own you.”
His answering groan is guttural, his hips jerking up into me. “You do. Christ, baby, you fucking do.”
I start to move, rolling my hips slowly, savoring the way his eyes flutter shut, and the way his breath breaks. His big hands guide me, desperate, worshipful.
He groans as his head falls back against the pillows. “Fuck, Amelia, ride my cock, baby,” he begs, gripping my thighs tighter. “Ruin me, make me cum again, make me yours. Please, I can’t breathe without you.”
I grind down harder, rolling my hips until his head tips back, his moans wrecked. His hands grip my thighs even tighter, and the force of him just makes my pussy wetter.
“Amelia, fuck, I’m close,” he groans, jerking his hips upward, watching my rhythm. “Ride your husband, that’s it, baby.”
I stop.
His eyes snap open as he stares at me with fire dancing in his blue eyes. “What the fu—?”
Before he can finish, I slide off him in one slow drag and sink down between his legs. His cock slaps against his stomach, glistening, flushed, and aching. I curl my hand around the shaft and smirk up at him.
“I want you to cum on my face,” I purr, stroking him as my tongue darts out to lick the bead of precum at his tip. “Think you can do that for me, baby?”
He stares at me as his mouth drops open. He lets out a broken laugh, then a guttural noise escapes him, and his head jerks back against the pillows.
“Amelia, fuck,” His hands thread through my hair, holding it. “You’re a fucking goddess. My wife on her knees, begging for my cum, fuck me, I’ll worship you forever.”
I take his cock into my mouth, slow at first, my tongue swirling around the tip. He shudders violently, his grip tightening around my hair.
“That’s it, baby, you’re perfect,” he babbles. “My beautiful wife, sucking my cock like a good girl. You look so pretty taking me down your throat, fuck, I could watch you forever.”
I hollow my cheeks, taking him deeper, continually stroking his shaft with my hand. His thighs tremble, his hips stutter, and his eyes roll back as he moans wrecked praises into the air.
“Dollface, fuck, my everything—” His voice cracks, broken. “You want me to cum on that pretty face? You got it, baby. I’ll paint you in it.”
His cock throbs in my mouth, his whole body jerking, and I pull back at the last second, stroking him fast and firm. He erupts with a hoarse roar as his cum spills across my lips, my cheek, my chin. His hands clutch my hair, his chest heaving as he stares down at me like I just gave him salvation.
“Fuck,” he pants, voice gutted. “Look at you, wearing my cum like you were made for me. You’re everything, baby. Everything.”
I lick a bead of cum off my lip, smirking up at him even though my chest aches at the way he’s looking at me like I hung the moon. Like, this isn’t just sex for him.
And that’s the most dangerous part.
I’m still kneeling between his legs, my skin slick with sweat from him, my breath ragged as Maverick sits up. His chest rises and falls rapidly, his hair damp and wild, blue eyes locked on me.
For a second, I expect him to crack a joke, to let the moment fade into laughter and teasing, but he doesn’t.
He leans forward as his hands slide under my arms, then down my back and thighs. In one smooth motion, he lifts me off the mattress, cradling me against his chest.
“Maverick—” I start, but my voice catches.
“Shh,” he murmurs, his lips brushing my temple. “Let me take care of you, dollface.”
He carries me into the bathroom, the sound of the shower kicking on as he shifts me in his arms. The steam curls around us, and when he sets me down inside the stall, his big hands are still holding me steady.
The hot spray hits my shoulders, washing away sweat and cum, plastering my face. Maverick takes the soap, his palms sliding gently over my skin as his broad, callused hands move with a tenderness that guts me.
He doesn’t rush. He doesn’t joke. He just worships, even now.
“Look at you,” he says softly, rinsing me clean. “Prettiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. My wife.”
I want to roll my eyes, make a snarky comment, push him back into that easy lane where things don’t matter. But my throat burns, and my chest feels too tight.
It’s supposed to be fake.
A game.
I’m supposed to enjoy the sex, take the studio, and keep my heart locked up where no one can reach it. But here he is, washing me like I’m something fragile, kissing my shoulder like I matter more than all the noise outside this bathroom.
And the worst part? I want to believe him. I want to embrace this, to let myself be his wife in every meaningful way. But people don’t stay. Men don’t stay. So if I let this matter, if I let him matter, I’ll only have myself to blame when it all falls apart.
He tilts my chin up, blue eyes burning into mine through the steam. “You good, baby?” he asks, his voice low, rough, so full of care it makes my knees weak.
I force a smirk, masking the ache threatening to break me open. “You just like playing husband.”
He grins, boyish and wrecked, kissing the corner of my mouth. “I like being your husband.”
I laugh, because it’s easier than admitting the truth, that every time he says it, every time he treats me like this, I feel myself slipping closer to something I swore I’d never want again.