Chapter 25 #3
He pulls me closer to him and sets my thighs over his shoulders. “Been dyin’ to taste you.”
He licks the seam of my pussy.
I quiver.
Men have given me oral before, but it never felt like this.
He stabs his tongue inside me, and I jolt. I moan out his name.
He begins to eat me out in earnest. Licking, sucking, circling my clit.
He places a hand on my stomach to hold me still and then pushes two fingers inside of me.
I cry out.
“Look at me.”
I do. I feel like a puppet, following his instructions.
He smiles and then suckles me as I watch. “You’re delicious, Aria.”
Then, slowly, he closes his teeth around my swollen clit and…I explode.
My back curves, and a long, low cry is drawn out of me.
I shatter.
I dissipate into pleasure.
My climax feels endless. I can’t look away from him because he’s looking at me like he’s just won everything he’s ever wanted.
I feel powerful, not weak, for giving myself to him.
I push myself back on the bed, away from him. I lean against the headboard.
“Can you…undress?” I make a twirling motion with my finger.
He cocks an eyebrow.
“And…maybe you want to think that I have several one-dollar bills that I could…you know….” I bite my lower lip mischievously. I don’t know where this is coming from, this ease with intimacy, something I’ve never had before. But I feel safe with Maverick.
“Is that so?” He looks amused—and maybe a little intrigued.
He steps back a pace like he’s sizing up a bull in the chute, then slowly, dramatically, reaches for the top button of his shirt.
“But first…take that dress off. And your bra.”
I do so, not feeling shy as I usually do during sex, but feeling…like I’m in control.
I cup my breasts and squeeze.
He grins. “Darlin’, I got no bills on me under a twenty.”
I giggle. Yeah. Giggle. I wave a hand. “Get going, Mister.”
“You better be ready to make it rain dollar bills, darlin’. This show don’t come cheap.”
I snort but sit back on the bed.
He removes his shirt first. I’d already unbuttoned most of it, shrugging it off his shoulders and letting it fall to the floor like it’s a damn Oscar-worthy moment.
Then he starts to unbuckle his belt—slowly, theatrically—eyes on mine, the whole time. “Now, just a warning. Once this belt hits the floor, things might get dangerous.”
“Dangerous?” I don’t think I’ve ever had this much fun while having sex.
“I can’t be held responsible for what happens when the jeans come off,” he teases. “Might blow your boots right off.”
“I’m not even wearing boots.” I wiggle my toes.
He tosses the belt on the bed. “We’ll leave it here, in case…we need it.”
I lick my lips.
“Now, darlin’, if someone had told me that you’d be into BDSM, I would’ve said, ‘Hell no.’ But here you are, getting wetter.”
My breath catches. I’m more aroused than I’ve ever been, and that’s after having a mind-shattering orgasm.
“I’ve always wanted to try,” I confess.
His eyes soften with acknowledgement of how much I’m giving him by telling him this. Our sexual fantasies are our closest-held secrets. Sharing them is terrifyingly intimate, and yet, I did so easily with Maverick.
“We’ll break you in slow and easy.”
He pops the first button on his jeans with deliberate flair, then the second—his expression mock-serious like he’s starring in some low-budget cowboy cabaret.
“This here’s Wrangler,” he drawls. “Premium cut. Button by button, baby.”
And just like that, he lightens the moment.
“Oooh, I’m trembling.”
“You should be,” he deadpans.
He pushes his jeans down. I can see him hard beneath his boxers.
“Still got those dollar bills?”
I lean forward, bite my lip again, and whisper, “I might even have a five.”
He whistles. “Well, hell. Guess I’d better step up my game.”
And just like that, the laughter turns softer, the air charges differently between us.
He’s naked within seconds, closing the distance between us, his smile fading into something deeper.
“Only ever wanted to dance for one woman,” he murmurs as he crawls up the bed to me. “Guess I found her.”
My heart does a full-on stampede in my chest.
As soon as he’s over me, I push, and he lets me. His head falls onto the pillow.
I straddle him, my thighs spread wide.
“Let me,” I demand.
His hands grip my hips as I lower myself onto him, inch by agonizing inch.
He’s so big.
I can feel every ridge and vein as he fills me completely.
I let out a moan that’s half pleasure, half pain, and he responds with a growl that makes my toes curl.
“Ride me, darlin’.” His voice is rough and commanding.
I move my hips in slow, deliberate circles, grinding against him until I can feel the pressure building deep inside me.
His hands move to my breasts, kneading them roughly as I ride him. I can feel his cock throbbing inside me with every thrust.
“Maverick,” I moan, my voice trembling with need. “I’m so close.”
He doesn’t say a word, just grabs my hips and starts thrusting up into me with a force that makes me see stars.
“I know.” He reaches out with a hand and begins to massage my clit.
I can feel the orgasm building, coiling tight in my belly, and when it finally hits, it’s like a fucking explosion.
“Now, go over,” he orders roughly.
I scream his name as I come; my body shaking with the force of it.
He pushes inside me one more time and follows right behind me, spilling himself deep inside me with an almost animalistic groan.
We lie like that, two victims of a storm. He strokes my back, still inside of me, jerking softly with aftershocks. I move my lips over his jaw, his neck, and taste his sweat.
After I catch my breath, I raise my head and look into his blue eyes. They’re warm, and I’m captivated. “Wow.”
He grins. “Darlin’, you’ve seen nothing yet.”
“Show me,” I challenge.
And he does.
This time, when he thrusts into me, he’s on top and looking into my eyes. We come together. It’s slow and soft and deep.
After, we collapse, our bodies slick with sweat and tangled in the sheets. His arms wrap around me, pulling me close. I can feel his heart still racing against my chest.
“Aria,” he whispers, his voice soft and tender. “You’re everything.”
My heart soars.
The words I want to say catch in my throat. I’m not ready. Not since Hudson, have I said those three words…to anyone. Not even Papa. I feel love for Maverick—of that, there’s no doubt. But feeling it and saying it…. Those are two different kinds of brave.
I nuzzle his chest and kiss a pec and bite into it gently. “I want to wake up with you.”
He brushes his lips against my forehead, understanding this is all I can give right now—and accepting it without asking for more.
He strokes my cheek with a finger and holds my gaze. “The best way in the world to wake up,” he says, giving me the time I need.