37. 37 – Maverick
T he ride home is quiet. Zella sits in the front with me, my hand gripping her knee as she dozes with her head against my shoulder. Enzo and Ryder talk quietly in the back as I pull up to the house.
When I switch off the engine, they both silence, and I clear my throat.
“She’s mine tonight,” I murmur. “No interruptions.”
Ryder snorts. “Have you got your ropes ready?”
I don’t respond. I don’t need ropes tonight.
I have everything I need in the sleeping girl that I carry from the truck.
Zella curls herself into me, so trusting as she grumbles incoherently into my chest. Her heavy breathing is the only noise as I carry her up the stairs, my feet pressing softly on the floor as I shoulder open my door and carefully lay her down in my bed and kick off my shoes.
Fuck, she looks good there. Her eyelashes cast shadows on her cheeks as I turn on the lamp next to my bed, her braid catching my eye as I pick it up and begin unraveling it.
I’m so tired. Tired of always being the one to do the right thing, tired of holding back from what I want. And I know exactly what I want.
I want her. The others have claimed her, and tonight is my turn.
Enzo warned her that he wouldn’t let her leave us. I kept my own counsel, but silence in this house is tacit agreement. Tonight, she’s going to find out exactly how true that is.
Zella continues to breathe deeply as I roll her onto her front, loosening the braid and separating it into four sections.
My hands are steady as they weave through the white-gold strands, drawing them into simple, tight braids that will work perfectly for what I have in mind.
By the time I’m done, the braids fall past her ankles. Simple. Perfect.
Tonight isn’t about showing off. Tonight is showing her what it means to be owned by us.
A smile tugs at my lips as she lets out a snuffling sound, burying her face into my pillow. I tug at the thin straps holding her dress around her neck, watching them unravel and fall away from her skin like a perfectly unwrapped gift.
“Zella.” I say her name in a low voice, sliding my finger down the delicate curve of her spine.
When she doesn’t respond, I slowly roll her over onto her back.
My fingers curl into the edges of the sequinned dress and I peel it down, until her breasts and stomach are revealed to me.
Her chest rises and falls in time with her soft breathing as I pull the dress down and past her ankles, tossing it over my shoulder.
Fuck. I never thought I’d have a somno kink, but fuck if she doesn’t make my mouth water. I change my mind about waking her up, wanting to see how instinctively comfortable she is to stay asleep as I work. Lifting her head, I work the braids free until I’m left with white-gold ropes to play with.
Holding her right ankle in my hand, I bend her knee up and lift her wrist, quickly tying a two-column tie that binds the two together with the first braid.
I follow the same movements with her left leg, until she’s bound and open to me.
Her pussy is wide open, vulnerable, and my cock’s so hard I have to take a deep breath to control myself, like I’m some fucking teenager on his first time.
I eye the final two braids. I have plans for those, but I need her awake.
Shucking the rest of my clothes, I climb onto the bed, settling my shoulders between her bound thighs. This close, I can see the slight puffiness of her slit from her adventure at the club. I stroke my finger softly down her center, and she twitches.
“Zella,” I murmur. Leaning in, I press my lips against her, savoring the tang of her and suppressing my groan in my chest. “Time to wake up.”
Final warning.
I drag my tongue through her folds, once, twice, and again. Then again, until I feel her stir under my hands. The gasping sound she makes as consciousness invades, as realization slowly sinks in, sounds like music.
Pausing, I sit up, running my hands up her legs and over the bindings. Zella’s eyes blink open, widening when she sees me.
“Maverick,” she whispers. She moves to sit up, only succeeding in rocking back and forth, and her eyes clear as she tugs at the hair tying her in place. “What… what are you doing?”
Taking my time, I climb up her body. Her breasts press against my chest as I lean in and capture her plump power lip between my teeth, tugging it softly. Her lips open under my silent demand, and I kiss her deeply, the way I’ve wanted to for fucking days.
It feels like coming home, like she was made to fit me, soft edges against jagged tears. She moans into my mouth, and I drink it down before I release her.
She takes a shuddering breath. “When you asked me to stay with you,” she whispers, “I thought you meant sleep.”
I brush my nose against hers, rewarded when she smiles. “I trust you no longer have those thoughts.”
“No,” she whispers, tugging at the bindings again. She looks down, following the trail of hair, and I have a moment of sheer, pure satisfaction as her whole body flushes, from her cheeks down to her breasts. “My hair!”
“Very useful,” I murmur, and she gapes at me. “I have a particular love for something called shibari, Zella. Have you heard of it?”
She shakes her head, and I smile. “I didn’t think so. Shibari is a form of rope play. It has many uses. Meditation. Relaxation…,” I pause, sliding my hand down her side and cupping her as her breath stutters. “Pleasure.”
“But my hair—,”
“Is perfect,” I say softly. “I knew it would be. But I’m not quite finished with it yet.”
She audibly swallows. “There’s more?”
“There is.”
She twitches when my hands slide under her armpits, letting out a breathless laugh when I pull her upright and she nearly topples over.
When I pick up the ends of the final two braids, she glances at them and then gives me a look that Enzo would be proud of, if I was of a mind to let him in here to see it.
Which I’m not. Tonight is mine.
“Did you… braid my hair while I was asleep?” she enquires. A smile lifts the corners of her lips. “I didn’t know you could braid.”
Taking the hair, I criss-cross the braids over her shoulders, looping them underneath her breasts and tugging hard enough to make her gasp. “It’s a useful skill,” I whisper in her ear. “As you’ll find out.”
I can’t do a typical chest harness when my rope is attached to Zella’s head, so I improvise.
Positioning the bight at the center of her back, I draw the working ends through and wind them around her, moving in the opposite direction.
When I reach her back again, I draw the ends up through the loop and bring them around one more time, this time above her chest, wrapping the ends underneath the rope stem I’ve created to lie vertically against her spine.
She presses her face into my chest as I work. “You smell really good.”
“Thank you.” I create the half hitch, making a loop in the ends and bringing the rope over the stem and back, tugging it to tighten and wrapping the last piece of her braid around it, making sure it’s secure.
When I sit back, I have to run a hand over my mouth. “Well,” I say roughly. “Shibari suits you, Zella.”
She smiles up at me shyly, tied up with her own fucking hair and open for my touch. “I think so, too.” She wriggles. “It’s surprisingly comfortable.”
I run a teasing finger down the arch of her foot, and she squeals, unable to move away.
“This is about pleasure for both of us,” I say quietly.
“I want you to think of a word. One you’ll use if you want me to stop.
If you say it, I’ll stop immediately, Zella.
I’ll untie you straight away. Do you understand? ”
She nods, and I can see her thinking. “Rodin,” she blurts out finally, and I blink.
The laugh catches in my chest. “An erotic sculptor for your safe word. Appropriate.”
She manages to shrug, even as that perfect blush makes its way over her face again. “It seemed appropriate.”
Her words trail into a soft moan as I press my head against her entrance, sinking in slowly as she watches our joining with hooded eyes. I slide out, slowly, keeping up the movements until she’s twisting within her bindings. “ More .”
Her mewled demand draws a smile to my lips. “As my lady commands.”
Her laugh cuts off in a choke as I thrust, hard, pinning her back to the bed and fucking her with every inch of the lust that’s consumed me ever since I saw her in that fucking dungeon.
She tries to speak, but all that comes out is jolted sounds, jagged and needy, torn from her throat as I bury myself inside her.
“Your tight little pussy feels like heaven,” I tell her roughly.
My hands land on either side of her shoulders as our hips slap together, the rough sound of our breathing and the wetness of our movements filling the room with savage desire.
She moans and I pull back, my fingers finding her clit and pinching it.
Her hips buck wildly, and I tweak her clit again, just to hear that noise pulled deep from her throat.
“Maverick,” she gasps, and the sound of my name on her lips does something to me, drives me to thrust deeper, faster, until she’s convulsing around my cock, her cries rasping as I empty myself inside her with a bellow.
My release sends white lights across my eyes, and I look down, half expecting to see her stomach swollen with all the fucking cum I’ve just pumped into her.
Also… fuck.
“Birth control,” I say hoarsely as I reluctantly pull out of her. My release trickles from her opening and I gather it up with my fingers, pushing it inside.
Tomorrow. Definitely tomorrow.
Zella twitches, and I shift to untie the makeshift ropes. Her limbs flop down to the bed as she’s released, and she watches me through half-closed eyes as I grab a pot from my bedside drawer. “What’s that?”
“Cream.” I dip my fingers in and begin massaging it into her reddened skin, drinking down the little noises she makes as my fingers knead her muscles. “You’ll be sore tomorrow.”
“Worth it,” she whispers, and I press a kiss against her lips. “When can we do it again?”
I give her a stern look. “When the marks have gone down.”
She gives me a full-blown pout that she’s clearly learned from Ryder, and I smirk. “Plenty of other things we can do.”
She stumbles sleepily to the bathroom and I quickly swap the sheets for clean ones. When she wraps her arms around me from behind, I turn, and she smiles at me.
I wrap my hand around her hair, tilting her face up to mine.
“Why don’t I have a nickname?” she asks me. “Enzo calls me little prey. Ryder calls me princess, or little thief. But you… you don’t call me anything.”
My hand slides around her throat, cupping her possessively. As I grip her throat and breathe her in, her legs buckle and I drag her closer.
“You have one,” I breathe. “Mine.”
She flushes scarlet, but a grin lights up her face as I nudge her into bed and tug the covers over us. As I settle her against me and sink my face into her neck, she turns, her lips brushing mine. “Night, Daddy Mav,” she whispers.
I choke.
I’m going to fucking murder Ryder.