19. Carey
Carey
Maverick snaked his arm around my waist and pushed me right up against the door, his lips never lifting from mine, his hands all over me. I kissed him back just as hard and fast, pouring out every ounce of frustration, irritation, and loathing into each clash of our lips.
His hand tangled in my hair, pulling me even closer, as if there wasn’t enough room to contain the heat between us. The outside world faded to oblivion, and I no longer cared about the twisted games beyond these walls or the threat of death looming over our heads. All that mattered now was the press of Maverick’s body against mine and the way his touch sent shivers down my spine, making me ache for more.
When his fingertips started moving lower, delving into the waistband of my pants, I didn’t stop him. I kept kissing him, raking my hands through his hair as moans spilled from my lips and into his mouth.
He finally pulled back, just enough to catch his breath, and his eyes locked with mine. The dark intensity in his gaze said more than his words ever could, and I knew this was the beginning of something that neither of us could stop.
He ushered me toward the bed, hand sliding beneath my panties to skim my center. “You’re wet,” he muttered, breathing heavily against my neck. I could feel his heart pounding, echoing the rapid rhythm of mine.
“Yes,” I said breathlessly, clinging to him. “Please…”
I trailed off, not entirely sure what I was asking for with that last whispered word. Maverick seemed to know anyway, expertly rubbing the tight bundle of nerves between my legs until I felt like I was melting.
“More,” I murmured, lips ghosting over his ear. “I need more.”
Our clothes vanished in a flurry of hands, leaving a trail of black and gray fabric on the floor beside the bed. We fell onto the mattress, and I rolled onto my back and sat up on my elbows, watching Maverick devour my naked body with his gaze. The expression on his face made me weak, radiating pure lust and need.
I snaked a hand down between my legs to slowly rub my pussy, as if daring him to come and take it. He let out a low groan. “Fuck…”
With that, he was on me, wrapping a fist around his hard cock and angling it to drag the head over my clit. I held my breath, willing him to do more. Once again, it was like he read my mind, because he dragged his cock lower, wetting himself with my desire. Down, and then up to stroke my clit, and then back down. Over and over, winding me up tighter and tighter.
I let out a low, breathy moan and bit my bottom lip, legs trembling with anticipation. It felt so wrong and dirty to be doing this with the guy who’d tried his best to wreck my life over the last several weeks, but the wrongness of it only stoked my need higher.
Maverick moved his cock back down to my entrance, and I tensed as he pressed inside. He was much bigger than I’d experienced before. “It’s okay,” he murmured as the burn from the sudden intrusion made me cry out. “You trust me?”
“Yes,” I said breathlessly, winding my arms around him.
He slid out slowly before pushing back in. He did it over and over, each shift stretching me a little more until it started to feel incredible. “Oh my god,” I panted, fingernails digging into his back. “More. More.”
Maverick’s movements picked up, cock hitting some spot inside me that had my eyes rolling back in my head. At the same time, his hand slipped between us to rub my clit in fast circles until the pressure inside me was too much to handle. I arched into his chest and clung to him even tighter as I came undone on his cock, moaning loudly.
“Fuck,” he muttered in a shaky voice, his movements picking up. “I can feel you coming.”
“Oh, god,” I cried out as I spasmed around his cock once more. “Mav…”
He let out a low growl as he pumped faster, my body quivering beneath his. His breaths came faster and faster until he was panting and grunting, and then he pulled out to come on my stomach, cock twitching against the soft skin there.
He pressed a tender yet fierce kiss to my forehead before pulling away to grab a wad of tissues from the bedside table. I stayed motionless, dazedly watching the rippling muscles of his body as he gently cleaned my abdomen.
When he was done, he tossed the tissues on the table and collapsed next to me, still breathing heavily. I stared up at the ceiling with wide eyes, not knowing what to say or do.
“That was, uhh… unexpected,” I finally murmured.
“No shit,” came Maverick’s muttered response.
“I always thought you—” I faltered midsentence and began again. “You hate me. You’ve hated me ever since we met.”
He didn’t respond.
“Are you ever going to tell me why?” I went on. “Or are you just going to keep hating me?”
“Carey…”
“No, seriously.” I propped myself up on one elbow and looked at him. “I’ve been driving myself crazy for weeks wondering about this. Why do you hate me so much? Is it really just because I crashed into your car?”
Maverick averted his eyes and rubbed the side of his face. “I don’t think this is the right time for this discussion.”
“Sorry, but I think you owe me an answer,” I said hotly, sitting up straighter. “You’ve tormented me for weeks over a fucking car, and I—”
He cut me off. “It wasn’t just a fucking car!” he snapped.
My eyes widened, and I drew back. “What do you mean?”
“Long story,” he muttered.
“Well, we’ve got a while until curfew, so I’m more than happy to listen to every word,” I replied. “You know I’m right. I deserve an answer.”
“Fine.” He sighed heavily and sat up straight, eyes still not meeting mine. “You remember my question in the Truth or Die game?”
“About your brother?” I asked, brows knitting.
“Yeah. Julian.”
“You said it was your fault he died.”
His jaw tightened. “It was.”
“What do you mean?”
Maverick was silent for a long moment before he began to explain.
“He was going through some shit for a really long time,” he said. “Mental stuff, I mean. He was really down, and nothing seemed to help. I couldn’t do anything, even though I tried. We all tried.”
I nodded slowly and stayed quiet, giving him time to formulate his next words.
“One day he suddenly seemed fine again. He was in a good mood, acting all happy and friendly to everyone. It lasted a few days, so I thought he was back to his old self and everything was fine,” he said. “Then one day he came and asked me if I knew the code to my parents’ safe. He said he wanted to borrow a piece from Mom’s jewelry collection to lend to a girl he was taking to prom. Something about it matching her dress. So I told him the code. I saw it ages ago when Mom was typing it in. But he didn’t really want a piece of jewelry.”
My stomach lurched. “What did he take?”
“My dad’s gun was stored in the safe as well,” Maverick replied. “He used it to…”
His voice turned hoarse as he trailed off, and he turned his head so I could no longer see his face.
“That’s how he died?” I asked, softening my voice.
“Yeah. Turns out, when someone has severe depression and suddenly starts acting happy again, it’s not a good sign. It can mean they’ve totally given up and accepted the fact that they’re going to end it.” Maverick swallowed thickly and went on. “Apparently it’s pretty common with suicides.”
I reached over and squeezed his hand. “God, Mav, I’m so sorry. But you couldn’t have known. You were only fifteen or sixteen when it happened, right?”
“Yeah. But I think I was old enough to know better,” he said gruffly. He was gripping the edge of the blanket so hard that his knuckles had turned white. “If he really wanted to borrow a fucking necklace, why wouldn’t he just ask our parents for the safe code? I should’ve known there was a reason he was being so weird about it.”
“Maverick, come on. It wasn’t your fault.”
“Well… I’ve always felt like it was.”
“I get it. But it’s not. I promise you that,” I said softly. “And listen, if you ever want to talk more about it… I’ll be here for you, okay? I might not know all the right things to say, but talking can still help.”
“You don’t have to say stuff like that,” he said in a clipped tone. “It’s not like we’re friends.”
“I’m not just saying it. I mean it,” I replied. “Sometimes it’s easier to talk about your feelings to someone who’s basically a stranger instead of close friends and family. So the offer is there. You can talk, and I’ll listen. Whenever you want.”
“Thanks,” he muttered.
He went silent for another long moment. I waited for him to talk again, not wanting to interrupt his grief-stricken thought process.
“Anyway… to answer your original question, my car actually used to be Julian’s. He loved that thing,” he finally said. “When he was gone, I started using it because it felt like a way to be close to him again. You know what I mean?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
“Whenever I drove it, I felt okay for a while. Like I could just pretend he was right there in the passenger seat, or at home waiting for me to bring it back to him. That probably sounds fucking stupid, but—”
I lifted my hand and cut him off. “It doesn’t sound stupid at all. Believe me.”
Maverick finally looked at me. His gaze had hardened. “When you crashed into it, the whole thing got written off. Permanently fucked. And I know this might make me sound like an unhinged freak, but when it happened, it actually felt like I was losing Julian all over again.”
“I get it. And I’m so sorry,” I said, voice barely above a whisper. My stomach was twisting into knots. “You really don’t sound unhinged at all. It makes total sense. That car must’ve felt like your last real connection to your brother.”
He nodded curtly. “Yeah, it did. And then some drugged-up dumbass car thief took it away forever.”
“I’m so sorry. Really. I wish I could take that whole night back,” I said, eyes filling with tears.
“You can’t.” Maverick let out a heavy sigh and scrubbed a hand over his face. “You just can’t.”
I dabbed at my cheeks and sniffed back another wave of tears. “I know.”
He glanced at me again. “I’ve tried not to hate you, you know? I’ve tried to tell myself you had no idea what you took from me. That it was just a car. But I can’t get there. I look at you and I want you, because you’re so fucking beautiful, but then I remember who you are and what you did and I just…” He trailed off and shook his head. “It drives me fucking crazy, Carey. You drive me fucking crazy.”
“Maverick…” I squeezed my eyes shut, still trying to stem the flow of tears. “I’m not trying to excuse what I did that night. What I took from you. But can you just let me say something about it?”
“Sure,” he muttered.
I opened my eyes and dabbed at them with my sleeve. “I was at a party that night. It was the first time I ever met Hudson.”
Maverick cast a curious side-eyed glance at me. “Hudson Calloway?”
“Yes.” I paused and swallowed hard. “I was actually sober that night, but he drugged me and tried to… well, I’m sure you can guess.”
He was silent for a long moment. Then he swallowed thickly and looked at me again. “He hurt you?” he said in a low voice.
“No. But he tried.”
Maverick’s hands clenched into fists. “I knew it. I fucking knew it from the way you looked at him,” he said. “I could tell something happened between you two. Something fucking bad.”
“Yeah.” I wiped my cheeks again and went on. “Anyway, I managed to escape from him, and that’s when I stole the car. I was just trying to get the hell away from that place, but I really should’ve—”
Maverick bluntly cut me off. “Carey, stop.”
“Sorry,” I muttered. “I know it doesn’t change what I took from you.”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said. He hesitated, rubbing his jaw, before going on. “I just meant… stop blaming yourself.”
My eyes widened. “What?”
“I had no idea something like that happened to you that night. I always thought you were some strung-out idiot on a joyride. I had no idea you were drugged and attacked,” he said, head slowly shaking. “That changes everything. I mean… shit.”
“I still fucked up. I stole a car and drove it even though I knew I was too messed up to drive.”
“No. I fucked up.” Maverick put a hand on my shoulder. “If I knew the truth about all this shit from the start, I would’ve seen everything differently. I know it. I’m sorry.”
“You really don’t need to apologize.”
“No, I really do.” He pulled his hand away. “Fuck. Fuck. I’ve been a total asshole to you.”
“Well, I won’t deny that,” I said softly. “But I guess it’s water under the bridge now.”
“I should’ve talked to you. I should’ve asked for your side of things.”
I looked down at my lap, picking at a fingernail. “Yeah, maybe. But you were hurt really badly. So I get it. You didn’t want to talk to me when you saw me at Babylon. You just wanted to hurt me back.”
“I’m an asshole.”
“No. Hudson is the real asshole in this situation,” I said, shaking my head. “I didn’t need that Truth or Die game to know he’s a predator. I have firsthand experience with it.”
Maverick’s jaw twitched. “I’ll kill him,” he muttered. “I’ll fucking kill him.”
I stared at him as he spoke, forehead creasing. Before we were plunged into these nightmarish games, I would’ve taken that statement from him as a figure of speech. Something to express his intense rage toward Hudson for the things he did to me and all those other girls. But now I knew there was a very real chance that he’d actually kill Hudson. After all, he’d thrown Tate right under the bus to protect me… and that was when he still despised me.
I fell silent, not quite knowing what to say.
Maverick leaned over and put a hand on my shoulder again. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “Honestly, Carey. If I knew the whole story, I never would’ve blamed you for what happened. I’d be upset about the car, sure, but I would’ve understood.”
I lifted my chin and met his intense gaze. “I’m sorry too. About Julian.”
“Thanks,” he muttered. He hesitated for a few seconds before speaking up again. “I was totally wrong about you.”
“I guess we were both wrong about each other.”
“I wish I could make it up to you.” He rubbed his chin, slowly shaking his head. “The things I’ve said and done… I’ve been such a piece of shit.”
“Maverick.” I raised a brow, head slightly tilting. “You killed a guy because he was trying to kill me. I’d say that’s a pretty decent start at making things up to me, wouldn’t you?”
He let out a short, mirthless bark of laughter. “Jesus, we’re really in a fucked-up place, aren’t we?” he said. “We’ve only been here for two days and things have already devolved into this shit.”
“Yeah.” I pursed my lips and shook my head. “It’s crazy. People are literally dying and we’re just sitting here talking about it like it’s normal.”
“No shit,” Maverick replied. “And you’re right—this stuff already feels normal to me. I don’t even feel bad for what I did to Tate. I just saw him getting ready to kill you and I knew I had to stop him. That was all I could think. I didn’t even hesitate.”
“I forgot to thank you,” I said softly. “You saved my life.”
“You didn’t forget. You thanked me earlier.”
I raised a brow. “No, I came to your door and yelled at you about it.”
“Eh.” He shrugged. “You acknowledged that I saved you. I think that counts.”
“If you say so,” I said, a ghost of a smile playing on my lips. “But… thanks. Seriously. There was no way I could’ve defended myself against Tate. If I’d even tried to reach out to grab his string, he would’ve instantly lashed out and gotten mine first. The bigger person would win nine times out of ten in a game like that.”
A grim look appeared on Maverick’s face. “Yeah. It was a nasty game. Whoever the Game Master is, he or she is a total fucking psychopath.”
I was about to reply when our phones pinged. It was as if Maverick saying ‘Game Master’ out loud had summoned his presence into our space, like a damn demon.
“Sorry, players,” I read aloud, heart pounding. “I tricked you when I said there were no more games today. It wasn’t a total bald-faced lie, for technical reasons that you’ll understand in a second, but I’m sure you still feel a little miffed. Oops! Anyway, please get dressed and meet in the drawing room at 11:30. The next game begins at midnight.”