Chapter Four 2
“So, how does your grandma feel about you being a Stallion? Riding around on a motorcycle?”
“She wasn’t crazy about it at first, but the club gave me a family she couldn’t. She’s grateful for that much, and thanks God for the brothers I’ve got at my back.”
I stopped my fork mid-twirl, half a length of pasta wrapped around it, and glanced over at him. I then dropped my gaze to the inside of his left forearm, remembering his rosary tattoo. “Do you believe in God?”
“I like to think there’s someone out there who can cleanse the soul.” I found his eyes with my own as he continued, “Got a Gran who prays for mine daily. You?”
I shrugged. “I won’t claim to understand Him, but it’s a comfort to believe He’s there—that there’s a reason for everything; that all the good and the bad in the world isn’t just happenstance.”
He nodded, and neither of us moved to take a bite.
“Didn’t think our conversation would lead us here,” I confessed.
“Just two people gettin’ to know each other, foxy,” he said, finally dropping his focus to his plate.
As he sliced away his next bite, I realized he was right. I’d started with a bunch of questions, unconsciously digging for information, and he casually shifted us in a different direction. He wasn’t putting on a show or trying to impress me. He wasn’t hiding behind his kutte or some tough guy facade. We were just talking and enjoying each other’s company, much like we had the night we met. It felt natural and effortless.
That, all on its own, was worthy of another checked box.
We took turns leading the conversation for the rest of dinner. He made me laugh. I made him grin. It was easy, Maverick’s demeanor forcing me to relax and be in the moment. When we were finished with our food and the check arrived, he paid in cash and left a generous tip.
The tip was yet another checked box.
It wasn’t until we were headed back to his Harley that all of my apprehension came rushing back to the surface. In the span of a heartbeat, I was reminded it wasn’t just riding the bike that scared me—it was all the unknown associated with Maverick’s life as a Stallion. He’d shielded me from it for most of the night, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t still there.
I drew in a couple of deep breaths as he took my purse and handed me the helmet. I reminded myself it was only a short ride back to my place, and that we’d made it to the restaurant without incident.
I could do one more ride.
He’d promised not to let anything happen to me.
Maverick settled himself in his seat, then silently held out his hand in assistance. I mounted the Harley, scooting close as I wrapped my arms around his middle. He didn’t waste any time before starting the engine, the rumble of the beast between my legs a reminder of its power. As he pulled out of the parking lot, I paid attention to where we were going.
This was how I knew where he was supposed to turn left, he’d turned right.
He wasn’t taking me home.
“Maverick!” I shouted over the wind and the roar of the bike. “Where are you going?”
He twisted his head a fraction, not taking his eyes off the road as he yelled back, “Just enjoy the ride, foxy.”
I stared wide-eyed at his profile as he continued to speed down the road. There was no telling where we were going or how long we’d be riding—but something did tell me, he wouldn’t answer me if I asked. All I could do was hold on.
It took about ten minutes before I accepted we were doing this.
It took another five to remember I had no reason to panic.
Maverick really was in control. Sure, there were a whole lot of other moving variables around us, but he’d said it before. Either I trusted him to keep me safe, or I didn’t trust him at all. Trial by fire led me to trust him—and the longer we rode, the more I relaxed, believing he would do everything in his power to keep me safe.
As soon as I was done panicking, I became hyperaware of everything else I was too distracted to notice before.
Like the warmth of Maverick’s body down my entire front.
Like the incessant vibration between my legs.
Or the smell of birchwood and leather from his skin mingling with that of the coconut from his hair.
The longer we rode, the harder it was for me to ignore how all of my senses were begging me to kiss him—to taste the man I’d sampled three weeks ago; the man I held onto as the wind whipped through our hair.
By the time we turned into my neighborhood, I was practically buzzing with need.
I felt so desperate, I wasn’t sure I could trust myself to make smart, grown-up decisions.
When we came to a complete stop in my driveway, I didn’t even wait for Maverick to give me his hand before I maneuvered my way off the bike. My grip on his shoulders steading me, I pushed up, threw my leg over and managed to get two feet on the ground. My legs a little wobbly, it took me a second longer to let him go—but I willed myself to get it together.
Clearing my throat, I removed the helmet and shoved it at him, trying to avoid his eyes as much as the undeniable state of my swollen clit.
“Thanks—for—letting me borrow that,” I stammered.
“Anytime.”
I took another step back, giving him room to dismount and get my purse. When he handed it to me, I was quick to loop the straps over my shoulder before heading for my front stoop. I assumed there was no getting out of him walking me to my door. He’d been a gentleman all night, and I wouldn’t deny him one last chivalrous act.
But if he touched me, I was doomed, and I knew it.
When we reached the end of our short walk and I turned to face him, I didn’t even have the chance to think of how to say goodbye, let alone say it before he was descending for a kiss. Even if I had the wherewithal to stop him—and I wasn’t sure I did—I certainly didn’t have the will.
His lips met mine, applying just the right amount of insistent pressure, and the butterflies in my stomach fluttered with wings of fire. Then he reached up with one hand, skimmed his fingers up the side of my neck and into the hair at my nape before he traced his tongue along the seam of my mouth.
Just like the first time, I let him in, unable to resist.
And just like the first time, as soon as he was in, he devoured me.
Only this time, I couldn’t get enough.
I hummed into his mouth as his tongue danced with mine. Pressing up on my tiptoes, I reached to wrap my arms around his shoulders, longing for more. I wanted to crawl all over him, wrap myself around him, and never let go. It was by some miracle I merely kissed him.
The trouble was—I couldn’t stop kissing him.
I didn’t know if it was the high from our ride, or the fact that said ride seriously turned me on, or if it was just him —the taste and feel of him—that made me insatiable. All I knew was there was no man beaten bloody and unconscious in the parking lot preventing me from indulging in this kiss, and I wanted it. I wanted all of it.
When he circled an arm around my waist, hauling me as close as I could get, a whimper was squeezed out of me. His body—hard and unrelenting against mine—made it even more difficult for me to control myself.
I lost his tongue but not his lips as he mumbled, “I’d fuck you right here on your front step if you wanted me to, babe—but I’m bettin’ you’d prefer it inside.”
Even as my grip around him tightened, I pressed my eyes closed tight and whispered, “We shouldn’t.”
“Kiss says otherwise, foxy.”
I shook my head, the act causing my lips to rub against his. I tried not to let that distract me. I didn’t usually sleep with a guy after one date. It didn’t matter how many boxes he’d checked. I never wanted to be labeled as easy . Moreover, I still wasn’t convinced there would be a second date with this Wild Stallion .
“I’m—I’m not sure this will go anywhere, Maverick.”
It was torture, knowing what I’d said might have been the end of our kiss, but I forced the words out the best I could.
Should have known he wouldn’t take no for an answer.
“Thought we already had this conversation,” he muttered before pressing another kiss against my lips. “Won’t know what we’re missin’ until we try it.”
I didn’t get a chance to respond before his tongue was sweeping through my mouth again, and I breathed a sigh of relief having it. He was so good with it—each stroke tender yet insistent; deliberate and sensual. He was taking and giving at the same time, and it was unbelievably delicious. And that was saying nothing of his lips, which were smooth and warm. Even the tickle of his mustache added to the overall experience.
I’d resisted as much as I could, and I couldn’t anymore.
I didn’t want him to leave, and I didn’t want him to stop.
Just one night.
We could have just one night… right?
“Okay,” I breathed.
It was Maverick who had the strength to pull away. He took hold of my hips and spun me until I was facing the door. I dug my keys out of my purse and made quick work of the lock. No sooner had we crossed the threshold, than he had an arm around my waist, pulling me back against him.
I dropped my purse to the floor at my entryway as he shut the door behind us.
I then gulped down a loud gasp as he shoved a hand in my pants—expertly making room for himself between my belted jeans and my body. He wasn’t inside of my panties, but he didn’t need to be. His long fingers found my pulsing clit over the thin material, and just like when we were on his bike, all I could do was hold on.
One of my hands clasped around his snake-tattooed forearm, the other reaching back for anything with which I could come into contact. Lucky for me, it was the back of his head, which was dipped low enough for him to press his cheek against mine. I had a fistful of his hair in the palm of my hand as his fingers swirled. Two trips around, and pleasure was ignited at my core.
“Mav—Mav—oh, my god, Maverick ,” I panted as his fingertips kept swirling, my orgasm greeting us both.
His touch was marvelous, and as warmth rippled through me, my sex quivering in excitement, I already knew I wouldn’t regret the extent of what was about to ensue.
I reared my hips back in a pathetic attempt to escape his ministrations, which had become too much. He got the message and barely freed his hand from the confines of my jeans before I was facing him once more, seeking out his mouth. As soon as I had his lips, he was reaching for the back of my thighs. I didn’t even have to help him hoist me up off my feet before my legs were wrapped around his hips.
A man who could literally sweep me off my feet.
Check .
“Where we goin’, babe?” he muttered.
At my entryway, there was a short set of steps that led down to my guest room, spare bath, and laundry room. Up the stairs was the rest of my place—including my bedroom.
“Up,” I instructed.
A little busy relishing in the fact that I was wrapped around him, I couldn’t tell for sure if he took the steps two at a time, but we certainly reached the top faster than I usually did.
“Left, last door on the right,” I told him.
We only made it halfway down the hall.
This was because, halfway down the hall was about as long as I was willing to go without his mouth on mine. I brought my lips to his, taking what I wanted, and he stopped everything he was doing to kiss me back.
I’d never been to a rave before, but I was positive the butterflies in my stomach were in the middle of one.
When Maverick diverted his course, pressed me up against the wall, and started peeling off my jean jacket, I swear I felt the light show as a party raged inside of me.
My jacket was on its way to the floor when he started yanking my shirt out of my pants. It was up and over my head in a hurry, then Maverick’s lips sought out my collarbone as I slid my hands underneath his kutte.
I was on the verge of working it off his shoulders when he stopped, his brown eyes ablaze when he looked at me.
“Only got two rules, babe.”
“Rules?” I panted, confused why we were suddenly talking and not taking off each other’s clothes.
I was really looking forward to Maverick without a shirt.
“First on the list, kutte doesn’t hit the floor.”
I looked down at his vest then back at him.
“The kutte is sacred. Got it. And the second?”
“I don’t take it up the ass.”
A laugh bubbled out of me unexpectedly. Once I started, I couldn’t stop. I gripped either side of his vest, holding on as I pulled myself closer, until my forehead was propped against his as I let the hilarity spill out completely.
“Don’t know what’s funny,” he muttered, completely unamused.
I got control of myself, lifting my head as I assured him, “You have nothing to worry about. That’s not my thing. As for the kutte—could you deal with it? Cause if you don’t get naked, I’m not getting naked, and I kind of thought we were getting naked.”
He smirked at me, then readjusted his grip, my ass in his hands as he whirled me around and carried me to my bedroom.
“Light,” he grunted as we crossed the threshold.
I reached for the switch on the wall, and a warm glow bathed the room. I then watched him clock the bed behind me before he took me to the side of it and dumped me across my fluffy, botanical printed duvet comforter, avoiding the seven green, pink, and beige pillows I routinely kept at the top of the bed.
“Boots, babe. Lose ‘em,” he demanded as he shrugged his way out of his kutte.
I was happy to obey and sat up to do so as he folded his vest and laid it across the wooden bench I had at the foot of my bed. I was unzipping my second boot and wiggling it off my foot by the time he was back in front of me—his feet bare. I stood up just as he reached over his head in order to pull off his shirt.
My eyes wanted to see everything, but he only gave me enough time to notice two things.
On the inside of his right bicep, opposite his Stallion tattoo, spanning from his armpit to his elbow, was an eagle tat, the image depicting its head and one outstretched wing.
Remembering he had another tattoo on his outer left shoulder and bicep, I was moving my eyes to find it, but I only made it as far as his chest—which was worthy of at least three checked boxes—before he was reaching for my belt.
The next thing I knew, my jeans were at my ankles, and I didn’t have room in my brain to think about his tattoos. I was about to have sex for the first time in ages , and I couldn’t wait.
Fortunately for me, Maverick was no tease.
Seeing as I hadn’t gotten to take off any of his clothes, while he’d removed most of mine, I took the liberty of reaching for the button of his jeans as soon as he’d straightened from helping me out of mine. He didn’t object but reached for his wallet. He was extracting a condom when I hooked my thumbs into the waistband of his boxer briefs and shoved his garments out of our way.
His erection sprang free, and it was so distracting, I only managed to get his pants as far as his thighs. While I admired him, I captured my bottom lip between my teeth to keep my mouth from falling open.
I should have imagined a man his size would be well endowed, but I was not the least bit prepared for all that was him. I’d never seen one so big. And I meant that in both directions. He was wider and longer than I’d ever had inside of me.
Half of me was afraid he wouldn’t fit.
The other half of me was anxious for him to try.
“You gonna stare at it, or are you gonna get on the bed, spread those legs, and give me that pussy?”
I felt myself blush—actually blush —as I lifted my gaze in search of his.
In an effort to not completely embarrass myself, I shimmied my way out of my panties, stretched out across the bed, and spread my knees open in invitation.
He kicked his pants off, rolled on the condom, and fit himself between my legs, his length hard and heavy against my belly as he sealed his lips with mine. He then kissed me gentle and unyielding, in that way that was his, until I was dizzy with desire. When I thought I might go crazy if he didn’t fill me, he reached for the clasp of my bra at my back. We broke our kiss as we both worked the last scrap of fabric between us out of our way.
Then, with my arms wrapped around his shoulders, the warmth of his skin against mine, my pebbled nipples scraping against his chest, I lifted my head until my lips found his and mumbled, “You said we wouldn’t know what we were missing unless we tried it—I’m ready to try, Maverick.”
I didn’t have to say another word.
Before my next breath, he reached between us, lined himself up, and slid inside of me.
He took me slow the first stroke, as if testing the fit.
It was tight—but it was good. It was so, so good.
I let him know this as I swept my tongue through his mouth, buried my fingers in his hair, and sighed contentedly.
My message was received loud and clear.
I knew this when he began to move.
He rolled his hips twice exaggeratedly, then he began to pick up speed, his movements more deliberate. Soon, he was taking my breath away, thrusting in and out of me at an even, steady pace, his tongue playing with mine as we got lost in each other. This went on for an indiscernible length of time, our skin growing damp with a thin layer of sweat.
I’d never felt so full in my life, and the friction he caused sparked a flame inside of me that burned bright and grew hotter the longer he kept at it. I thought maybe, just maybe, he was going to make me come with just his dick, which was very rare for me. Except, before I could test this theory, he was reaching down between us, circling his thumb around my swollen clit. I was already so close, he barely had to touch me before I lost control.
“Yes, yes, yes,” I cried, my back arching off the bed as my sex clenched around him.
He grunted in response, and I thought maybe he was on the verge himself; but then he stopped, shoved an arm underneath me, and rolled us over until I was straddling him.
“Brace, babe,” he insisted.
Still coming down from the pleasure of my second orgasm, gravity causing him to fill me to capacity in our new position, it took me a second to comprehend what he was saying. When I did, I pressed my hands flat across his chest and stared down at him in curiosity.
Then he had hold of my waist. I felt the cool metal of his rings against my skin as he gripped me, keeping me still as he bucked his hips. He pounded into me from below, and I moaned, letting my head fall back as I surrendered to the glorious sensation.
Earlier, I’d wondered if it was him or my sexual neglect that had me so aroused.
Seeing as I’d already come twice since he’d entered my home, and I was still basking in the attention he was giving me, I was feeling pretty certain it was Maverick who deserved most of the credit.
When I felt the promise of a third orgasm, there was no doubt in my mind.
I was having the best sex of my life.
“I’m gonna come—I’m gonna come again,” I panted, my arms trembling as the warmth inside of me grew more intense.
“Fuckin’ right,” Maverick grumbled, slamming into me harder.
This time, when the sensation of ecstasy burst inside of me, my entire body convulsed, like it was too grand to be contained within.
And that’s exactly what it felt like.
“Oh, shit ,” I squeaked, my fingers curling as I dug into him and tried to hold on.
I was still coming when Maverick’s own hands gripped me tighter. He lost his steady rhythm as he freed a short groan, succumbing to his climax, filling the condom as we came together.
When we were both spent, I flopped on top of him, pressing my forehead against his shoulder as we worked to catch our breath. We stayed this way for a couple minutes. Then he sank his fingers in my hair, brushing it away from the side of my face so he could graze his teeth along my earlobe.
“Hate to lose you, babe,” he muttered softly, “but I gotta get out of this condom.”
I nodded, forcing myself up enough to ease him out of me.
Even that felt good.
When I was empty, I flopped down onto my back beside him and turned my head to look at him. I was immediately distracted by his last tattoo. It took up the entirety of his upper left arm. It was a gigantic skull and, like the rest of his ink, done entirely in black and gray. While it was menacing, as all skulls seemed to me, it was also kind of beautiful. It was covered in vines—almost like the skull was buried in overgrowth, plant life budding from the eye sockets and the hole where the nose was supposed to be.
“Bathroom?” he asked, pulling me from my musings.
“Right—uh, down the hall to the left.”
I watched as he got up and strode out of my room completely naked.
When I was alone, I stared up at the ceiling, and for one blissful moment, I remembered what it was like letting Maverick totally own my body.
But as the moment began to pass, and the post-sex haze began to dissipate from my mind, I did what I always did.
I thought things through to the bitter end.
I didn’t have to think at all to come to the conclusion that I’d just had the best sex of my life. No man had ever made me come three times in one go. I invited Maverick in because I thought we could have one night, but I’d have been a fool to call it quits on him now.
Only, great sex aside, he was more than his body. Over dinner, I’d learned he was a lot more. Yet, while I’d gone on our date with the intent of being open-minded, with the intent of trying to look at the reasons why things might work out as opposed to all the reasons why they couldn’t—there was one giant reason why I believed we’d never make it.
It was the fact that he was a Stallion that I couldn’t reconcile. As many boxes as he’d checked, I was afraid the Wild Stallions Motorcycle Club was a dark shadow casted over all the good parts of him.
I wasn’t na?ve, and I wasn’t like Tess. Not that Tess was na?ve. I saw it in her eyes at the hospital—her acceptance of who her man was. She took the good with the bad. She loved all of him. That was my girl. All or nothing. But she’d always been the wild one. I was more pragmatic.
I only noticed Maverick’s return to the room when he flopped onto the bed next to me.
Still trying to make sense of what to do or say next, I kept my gaze aimed at the ceiling.
The more I thought about what it was I wanted, the more I wondered what he wanted. I was thinking a million steps ahead, but did he even want to go a million steps? What if commitment wasn’t even what he was looking for? Guys like him were always after a good time.
I could be a good time.
If the sex was going to be like that, we could be a great time.
“Gears in your head at workin’ so hard, I can practically smell the smoke comin’ out of your ears. What seems to be the problem, babe?”
I rolled onto my side and propped my head up on my fist. My eyebrows knit together, I searched his eyes, but I found no answers. I still didn’t know him well enough to understand him. I was just going to have to ask.
“What is it you want from me? From this?”
He looked at me in confusion. “That’s the second time you’ve asked me that. You ever look in the mirror or what?”
Too distracted by my hunt for clarity, I barely absorbed his compliment.
“So, it’s just my body you want?”
He mimicked my stance, propping his head on his own fist before he asked, “What am I missin’ here? Been a while since I took a woman on a proper date, maybe I’m out of practice and I’m doin’ it all wrong, but I thought it was pretty obvious. Don’t mind your company, and by now you know I’m really fuckin’ into your body. But I’m not a dick, babe. Not playin’ games. Took what I wanted. Plan on doin’ it again. You got a problem with that?”
“I just…” I bit my lip as I hesitated.
I couldn’t tell how far apart our expectations of each other were. He’d taken my time and my body, but that didn’t necessarily mean he wanted a relationship .
“Can I be honest?”
“Prefer it.”
I nodded and confessed, “You’re the best kiss I’ve ever had. And I can’t remember the last time I had such great sex. Probably never.”
He quirked an eyebrow at me. “And this is a bad thing because?”
“Because I don’t think this is a good idea. You and me. If that’s even what you’re looking for. I’m not trying to be a self-righteous barbie, I’m really not. It's just—you and I lead very different lives. We live in different worlds. I don’t—I don’t fit into yours. But…the sex? I mean, I could definitely do that again.”
Maverick stared at me for a long moment, his brown eyes impassive. I couldn’t tell at all what he was thinking until he muttered, “You’re sayin’—you’re only interested in my dick?”
My eyes widened, suddenly aware that when you boiled down all the words I’d said , what was left was what he’d said .
“Oh, god,” I groaned, rolling onto my back. “When you put it like that, it sounds so awful.”
I clapped my hands over my eyes. It seemed so different in my head. Like, mutually beneficial. Clearly, I was wrong about that.
“I’m sorry. Forget I said it.”
Maverick sighed, and then I felt it as he got out of bed. I uncovered my eyes and looked over at him just as he began stepping into his underwear.
“Wait, Mav, I’m sorry,” I insisted as I sat up, panic twisting my stomach. “Don’t leave like this. Please.”
He was pulling up his jeans when he told me, “Don’t worry about it.”
I shook my head and did the exact opposite.
I didn’t know how it was possible, but somehow, Maverick had an uncanny way of being a mirror through which I saw the ugliest parts of myself. Watching him get dressed, I saw how what I’d proposed was essentially my asking permission to use him. I didn’t mean it. We were both in the moment. I thought we could have more moments, but I miscalculated.
I got up and hurried for my closet door. I grabbed the short, pink, cotton robe I kept on a hook there and was quick to slip it on as I begged, “Maverick, please don’t leave.”
“Thought you might have been different than all the other sheep,” he said as he pulled his shirt down over his torso. He paused and looked at me, almost contemplatively as he continued, “Guess, in a way, you are. You tried to warn me off. Like a jackass, I didn’t listen. Now I know.” He reached down to grab his boots in one hand and picked his kutte up with his other. “You might not be part of my world—but you want this Stallion dick? You’re not as different as you think you are.” Headed for the door, he concluded, “I’ll see myself out.”
He left without a backwards glance.
I should have gone after him, but I couldn’t.
Instead, I just stood there, staring at my empty doorway, feeling awful.