Chapter 27
BOONE
Maverick struts out of the bathroom, a brilliant smile on his face. “Ready to enjoy my ass, bossy man?”
Fuck. Yes.
I lie back and cross my arms behind my head, unable to believe my incredible luck. “Come here. Now.”
He closes the distance and clambers over me, straddling me as he reaches for the lube. His hands shake as he lubes me up. Pulling aside one cheek, he’s breathing heavy as he guides me to his slicked hole, grunting as he lowers himself onto me.
“Oof, girthy,” he cracks, his face scrunched in pain. “I maybe should’ve given myself a few more minutes with that toy of yours.”
I’m picking up on the fact that Maverick is almost as stubborn as I am, so I grab his hips, pulling him off me.
“It’s fine, Boone.” Maverick sends me a scowl. “Let me fuck myself on you.”
“I will,” I say, dragging him face down across my lap. “But you need to get it into your head that I’m not ever gonna hurt you.”
Jesus, this ass. Round. Muscular. Perfect.
“Boone—" he starts, then chokes off the rest of his complaint when I press my thumb inside him, cupping his cheek as I do.
“Fuuuck, baby. Your ass is gonna be the death of me,” I moan, slow-fucking his hole as I stretch him.
His breath catches when I brush across his prostate.
“See?” In. Out. “No reason at all to hurry.”
Maverick whimpers, and I change up the angle, adding my other thumb. He truly didn’t need much more in the way preparation, though I may have taken more time than was strictly necessary to double-check.
In just a few moments his entire body relaxes under my ministrations.
“Boone. I beg you. Please.”
I carefully drag my thumbs away from his perfect—now perfectly stretched—hole. “Okay, Mav. You can ride me now.”
“Finally,” he growls, closing his eyes, concentrating as he slowly, s-l-o-w-l-y lowers himself onto me. “Now shut up and let me fuck myself on this fat cock of yours.”
I try to hold back the proud little smile but fail entirely. I guess that’s what happens when you play with someone’s nipples for the half-hour or so it takes for a drone delivery to arrive, then edge them with your thumbs for several minutes more.
Which is to say Mav is well-prepared, but still so tight it takes my breath away.
Between the sensual undulation of his hips as he controls the descent and the vice grip on my cock, it’s everything I can do to hold on.
I don’t want things to end before they’ve begun.
After a torturous eternity, he finally fully seats himself on top of me, stilling as his magnificent body adjusts.
“Thank you for reminding me about my rule,” he groans as he lifts and then reseats himself, nearly blowing the top off my head. “I would’ve been so self-conscious, and I don’t want to be that with you.”
I’m charmed by the fact that this social media god gives even one damn about how I’d perceive the cleanliness of his ass, and I can’t help but tease, “Given the way you’re shamelessly fucking yourself on my cock, I’d hate for you to be self-conscious.”
His cheeks darken, and he sends me the bird as he rolls his hips.
I arch up, angling to meet his downward push, and his pleasured breaths fill the apartment. While I love his weight and movement on top of me, I can tell this isn’t his usual position.
“Mind if I try something?” I ask on the next upward thrust.
“Please,” he moans.
Without further warning, I hike my leg and roll us over in one smooth move. Maverick’s voice pitches into a high squeak when I drive deep inside him, scooping my hips just so.
“Oh fuck,” he groans, arching his back, his chin pointed to the ceiling. “Right there, Detective.”
With one hand on his shoulder and the other on his hip, I fuck into him, mesmerized by the curve of his cheekbones, the way his full lips part and gasp, the gorgeous fan of sun-kissed spirals. Whatever got us to this point, no matter how contentious, I’m glad we’re here right now.
More importantly, he’s seen the truth of me, and I can see the truth of him. He tries so hard, never takes the easy way, and for him to relax under my body… It’s a gift. I press one of his knees to his chest, kissing his shin before splitting him open.
Pleasure and instinct tighten his beautiful muscles, his impending orgasm visible from the shiver and heat rolling off him.
Giving up on making this last, I tilt my hips in the hopes of simply making it good.
His mouth falls open as he arches one last time, spurting like a fountain.
“Jesus, so much cum,” I joke, smiling as I find his gaze. My smile falters, however, at the sight of his tears.
“Did I hurt you?”
He shakes his head, laughing as I wipe his tears. “I’m making love with my Booney, and it’s better than I could’ve imagined.”
His nickname for me, which has always seemed so silly, cracks with emotion. Again and again, I’m reminded that, whatever his reputation, he is a serious man with deep feelings, and so many more layers than I’ve imagined. I can’t wait to explore every single one.
That he’s wanted me this whole time is…crazy. And crazy good.
Before I can get too emotional about it, he clenches his hole, and I curse a blue streak, barely holding on.
Letting go of his leg, I lower myself onto him, pressing the mess between us as I kiss him, wrap my arms around him, and show him how much this means to me. He grabs my ass, pulling me in as I thrust. As sweet nothings pour out of my mouth.
“You’re so fucking beautiful, Mav.”
“Boone…”
“You feel so good,” I whisper, my voice ragged. “Letting me fuck you raw.”
The look he gives me sends me into the stratosphere, the orgasm building and building until it finally explodes.
More tears appear in his pretty brown eyes, along with a prideful look, like he knows exactly how tight and perfect his ass is.
“You could fucking milk a man dry with this thing,” I whisper, still thrusting, not wanting to leave his body.
He shakes his head. “Not any man. Just you.”
We kiss, and I lose my sense of gravity. I wonder if I’ve touched solid ground at all since Maverick entered my life.
He follows me into the tiny bathroom for some necessary clean up, and the bump and slide against each other is meaningful.
Almost as meaningful as it was to finally bury myself in him.
My mind spins out endless scenarios of rough and soft play, of taking him, of discovering exactly how much control he’s willing to give me.
Maybe we could play with—
“Is your hot water out?” he asks, running his fingers under the faucet. “It was fine when I showered before.”
“Oh, the hot and cold on the sink are reversed,” I say, remembering, belatedly, that I’m talking to someone who lives in the penthouse of an exclusive building.
With his equally gorgeous and wealthy cousins.
Who all have trust funds at the behest of their billionaire fathers.
“The manager keeps promising to send someone by to fix it, but you know how that goes.”
Actually, I’m pretty sure he has no idea how something like that goes.
Here I am, imagining all of these scenarios where I’m in charge, and I’m barely one level above student housing.
He turns on the tap, then gestures at my face. “What’s this look?”
“My bathroom is probably the size of your closet.”
He shakes his head, a devil grin on his lips. “My closet’s actually bigger. Though your bathroom is neater.”
I rub my face, at a complete loss.
“Hey,” he says, turning me to face him. “No.”
“But—”
“No.” He rinses off his face, now that the water has finally heated up. “I did nothing for my money. Like, less than nothing. I was born to rich dads, and—”
“Aren’t you a millionaire from your modeling contracts alone? Like, without the trust fund?”
He looks down. “Yeah, but no one would have looked at me if I’d been born in the suburbs.”
I snort and gesture at the ancient mirror riddled with black spots. “Have you seen you?”
Still looking down, he smiles, his jaw sharpening.
“What?” I ask, more self-conscious by the second.
“Wanna make a million bucks, easy?” he asks, snaring my gaze with sparkling eyes.
“Sure,” I answer, rolling my eyes. A million bucks isn’t what it used to be, but it’s still way out of my reach.
He steps out of the bathroom and returns with his phone.
“C’mere,” he says, putting his arm around me. “Give me that look you gave me right before you spun me around and fucked me into the mattress.”
His words pull me back to that exact moment. The click of his camera app forces me back to the present.
“Did you just take a picture of me?”
He nods, kissing my nose. “Is there anyone who shouldn’t know we’re together?”
No, fuck no, and he’s lucky I don’t pee on him to mark my territory.
Thankfully, I have enough self-control to simply say, “I’m proud to be with you, but I don’t ever post or put my personal life online—”
“Good,” he says, hitting a few buttons. “By mid-morning, one of the top five designers will be sliding into my DMs and asking what you’re doing for New York Fashion Week. Take a few days of PTO, don’t fall off the runway, and bring home the cash so we don’t have to fucking worry about the money.”
I run my hand through my hair, not knowing what the hell he’s talking about.
“Look.”
He pulls up social media and shows me the mirror selfie he took of us. The old mirror and the steam from the sink, plus whatever filter he used, give it atmosphere. But that’s not the important part.
Because holy fuck, do we look hot together.
And the expression on my face… Anyone with any knowledge of gay sex will know exactly which positions we’ve just been in. He’s taller, younger, and more handsome, but I look like I just…well.
Fucked him into the mattress.
“Now look at this.”
He refreshes the page, and the picture he took of us not thirty seconds ago has ten thousand likes.
“It’s barely five o’clock in the morning,” I say, stunned.
“It’s six o’clock in New York,” he says with a grin. “And some of those fashion influencers haven’t even gone to bed yet.”
My phone starts buzzing on my side table.