Chapter 13
Loreena
Maverick kisses me deeply. His weight presses me to the wall while his tongue plunges deep into my mouth.
There’s no hesitation in him. He wants this as badly as I do, but I can feel him holding back, like he wants me to show him.
I know he’s probably afraid of hurting me, but I don’t want to be fragile.
I don’t want to be someone who could break into pieces with the slightest handling.
I want him as ravenous and wild and out of control as I feel.
It’s reckless to do this. It’s going to change everything. I know that, but I also knew it before I kissed him.
I break the kiss and guide his face down to my throat. I tilt it up, exposing the column to him. I want him to see how madly my pulse beats against my skin for him, how labored my breaths are. I want to expose that tender, unguarded part of me to his hands, his mouth, his teeth.
He doesn’t use his teeth. Just his surprisingly soft lips. He kisses just above my pulse point then licks lower, towards my ear. I gasp when he rolls his tongue along the bottom and traces it higher, over the shell of my ear.
I drop my hands to his hips, trying to tug him closer.
He’s as strong and solid as the wall at my back.
I can’t tug him into me, so instead, my hips roll into his.
Through all our clothes, I can still feel the ridge of his hard length behind his zipper.
I try to angle myself to grind against him.
I’m half afraid that he’ll pull back, but he surges forward, pinning me to the wall and letting me feel every bit of his muscular body.
My hands are trapped between us, but I manage to work one up under the hem of his black t-shirt.
His skin is silky, but the muscles beneath that are hard and ridged.
I trace the outline of his side before sweeping my hand over his ridged abs.
I can feel every single one of them. I work out, but his body is carved.
He grinds harder into me, his hips surging back and writhing forward. He hisses against my neck, then groans long and low, so feral that it sets my insides on fire.
Not that they haven’t been since the minute he showed up at my apartment. After all that time, it was almost impossible for me to believe he was real, and even if I had, what good is longing for something you can never have?
My brain wants to throw me right back to all my doubts, but I close my eyes and fight against it.
I want what Maverick made me do in the kitchen.
I want it to be just him and me. Just two people who found a connection years ago, sustained it with every word we shared, and built something concrete as soon as we could.
My brain tries to interject all the reasons this is wrong and is probably going to be a disaster, but I push back against it, grounding myself with every touch and sigh and kiss as I struggle to get closer and closer to this man.
I might not have much to offer him, but I’d give him everything I have.
My hand climbs a little higher under his shirt, tracing the top of his abs.
He flexes them and jerks back involuntarily.
My eyes shoot up and I look up at him, offering a shy smile when I realize that he’s ticklish.
He traps my hand in his, flattening my fingers against his scalding skin for a second before he guides it down and grasps the hem of his shirt. He tugs it off for me.
My mouth goes dry as my eyes rove over him. It reminds me of the first morning, when I woke up and found him fresh out of the shower wearing only that towel slung over his hips. He might not be soaking wet now, but he’s still a work of art. Every muscle is a masterpiece.
His hand lands on my hip as he leans in against me, trapping me between him and the wall again. It’s significantly better sans t-shirt. He skates his fingertips to my belly, then lets them drop to my jeans. His head shoots up, a question burning in his dark eyes.
I’m a bundle of nerves already. Everything is sensation, even when Maverick hasn’t touched my bare skin.
“I need you,” I whisper. “I want you.” I’m so far gone already. I want his hands on my body. I want him touching me in all the spots that I’ve only ever touched myself for all these years. I want him to teach me what it’s like to come alive again. “Please.”
His touch isn’t perfunctory. It won’t be just a quick working of his fingers over my clit in an almost businesslike fashion, to get me off. It won’t be without feeling, numb, mundane, and routine.
He undoes the button and zipper of my jeans and I’m already on fire. I’ve felt more pleasure in the past five minutes than I have in all those years locked in my apartment combined. It’s not just pleasure.
I feel alive. Alight.
I’m a bonfire against this wall, sparks licking over every inch of my skin.
With my jeans open, he flattens his hand and slides it beneath the waistband of my panties.
They’re basic cotton, but he sighs like they’re the softest, most exotic silk he’s ever felt.
I make a much more guttural, strangled noise when his fingers brush over my bare skin.
I might not believe in treating myself to sexy underwear, but I do like to be freshly shaved.
I part my legs as his hand slips further down.
The jeans are such a loose cut that they don’t prevent him from slicking his fingertips lower, to trace my slit.
I didn’t even realize I was half as wet as I am until his fingers skate along my overheated skin.
He explores lower and my head falls back against the wall.
My nipples practically pierce through my bra and my camisole.
I still have my sweater on. I want to shuck it so that Maverick can do the rest. I imagine him tearing down my bra and camisole and bowing his head, his hot mouth latching over my aching nipple.
His slick fingers finally head back up. He grazes my clit and my whole body goes electric with the sensation. He touches me slowly, but he doesn’t let up. He circles me with a light but determined rhythm.
I nearly choke, my mouth is so damn dry. All I can do is keep my eyes closed and roll my hips into his hand. I make nonsensical sounds until he finally takes mercy on me and claims my mouth in a kiss forceful enough to drive me back against the wall.
He’s already doing quite a bit with his hand and mouth. I slip my own hands under my sweater and pinch my nipple through my clothing. The extra pressure makes all the red hot sensation from what Maverick is doing between my legs a hundred times more intense.
I stroke his tongue with mine to just about the same rhythm that he sets as he strokes my clit.
He doesn’t go lower, doesn’t delve inside of me.
I want to beg him to fuck me with his fingers, but after years spent alone, there’s a limit to my shyness.
I don’t think I can actually bring myself to say the words, especially not right here in the hall, pressed up against a wall.
Plus, what he’s doing is amazing. I want to be filled.
I want to take his fingers and his cock.
I want him inside of me, stretching me, driving me wild with unbridled passion, but I can wait.
I can wait for him to be ready, or for us to at least get down the basement steps to the bed there, with a door separating us from the rest of the house, ensuring our privacy.
I say all of that, but if he unzipped his jeans and slammed into me up to the hilt right now and fucked me until I didn’t know my name, there’s not an ounce of me that would protest.
He works my clit a little bit harder while he kisses me breathless.
Thoughts of his long, hard cock throbbing in my hand while I take him out to fit him to my entrance, along with what he’s doing with his fingers, drive me halfway to the brink.
I roll my hips, helping Maverick find just the right amount of friction.
Right as I’m climbing straight to the pinnacle, he tears his hand away.
He also breaks the kiss, but silences me with the pad of his thumb pressed to my lips.
He works my jeans down my legs, helping me step from them.
I’ve never been a shoes-in-the-house person, so my jeans come off easy.
He picks up one foot and then the other, slipping my socks off.
He left my panties on, but I don’t hesitate to wrench them down my legs and step out of them.
“You’re sure that Scythe is coming home late tonight?” I mean, not that I couldn’t make a break down into the basement if the door opened, but still. I’d rather not have to guiltily make a hasty exit.
“I’m sure.”
Maverick grasps my hips and picks me up so fast that I choke back a scream of surprise.
It quickly turns into a sound of shocked pleasure as he glides down to his knees, strong enough to keep me supported up here in the air while he arranges my legs around his shoulders.
He bows his head and feasts between my legs without hesitation.
I cry out and grasp a handful of his hair.
His mouth is shockingly warm and wet. His tongue moving against my swollen flesh is heaven.
It scrambles my brain as he rolls it over my clit and strays lower.
He doesn’t worry about being quiet as his tongue dips into my entrance over and over.
I’d be embarrassed about the wet sloppiness of it if my brain could put a coherent thought together, but it’s so scrambled that all I am is a bundle of pleasure.
I writhe between him and the wall, pinned to it while he fucks me with his talented mouth.
“Fuck,” I moan. “Fuck, god, yes, Maverick, please.”
I imagine him stuffing his tongue all the way inside me and making me come apart all over his face, then marching me straight down to the basement and filling every single one of my holes with his cock until I’m overflowing with his cum.
I’m so empty. I try to get closer to him, writhing against his face.
He lets me take what I need and gives me everything else.
He licks my clit until it’s so sensitive and swollen that I can barely stand the pressure of his tongue there any longer, and then he goes back to darting his tongue inside of me.
He keeps going and going, giving and giving, until I explode.
I shudder and buck and ride out the waves of pleasure while the room shrinks and bursts, red hot and bright white. I’m aware of the agonized groan that rips from his throat as he licks me through the height of the climax and straight through to the aftershocks.
He lowers me slowly, letting me wrap my legs around his waist. He kisses me languidly, the spice of my climax all over his lips.
“Do you want to go downstairs?” I ask, trembling all over the place, half with nerves and half because the post orgasm bliss is starting to spread to my whole body and I can barely hold myself up.
Maverick brushes my hair out of my face, tucking the strands behind my ear. “I’d love to go downstairs, but I don’t mind taking things slow.”
He guides my sweater up over my head and then replaces it with his t-shirt.
Even though it fit him perfectly, it’s long on me.
It dips all the way down to my upper thighs, covering me completely.
The best part is that when I duck my head and inhale, all I smell is Maverick’s scent.
Cedar and spice, fresh air, a little bit of something that resembles an old car, at least I think so.
Wearing his t-shirt, it’s like I’ve been out there. He’s my connection to the world.
He tugs the bottom of the t-shirt down lower and kisses the tip of my nose.
I have no idea how he has control like that.
I just had the best orgasm of my life and I’d definitely be up for another, but I know that he’s right.
Taking things slow is good. The last thing I want to do is get on a lust filled crash course where my brain goes offline completely and I do something that I wish I hadn’t.
Maverick deserves a great life and I’m already highly doubtful that I can give him that. He doesn’t doubt me and he never will, but I need to take time and rethink this. There’s no going backwards. I don’t want to go back. I want to keep going forward—with him.
“Will you sleep on the bed beside me?” I know that sounds needy as fuck, but I just want to be close to him.
As close as I possibly can.
“Or will Scythe get upset about that? Will he think that I’ve developed Stockholm syndrome? I don’t want him to be mad at you for anything.”
“He’ll understand. He just wanted you to have the space you needed. If you don’t want to maintain that distance, he’ll respect that as your decision to make.”
It sounds like half a question. Do I still want distance? Do I still think that’s the best path?
I wrap my arms around his neck and hold him tightly. I had no idea how lonely I was until I allowed myself to get this close. Being held feels like the only thing that exists in the whole world.
“Okay,” I breathe, but I don’t lift my head from Maverick’s shoulder. I keep it tucked tightly in the crook of his neck. I don’t loosen my arms. I don’t pull back even an inch.
I cling to him.
And he holds me too, just as tight.