Page 81 of I Stop Somewhere Waiting For You

Arousal floods my core at the thought of him burying his fingers inside me. Though my body’s got a one-track mind at the moment, my head hasn’t forgotten what he did. He wants to play games? Fuck him. We can play games. Four years ago, in this very bathroom, I showed Maverick Bishop who was really in charge. Since then, he seems to have forgotten that. Maybe I have too. Once upon a time I had the power to bring the big bad gangster to his knees. Let’s see how far that pull still goes.

“Hate to disappoint you, Bishop.” I cock a brow. “This pussy doesn’t belong to you anymore, remember? It belongs to—”

Mav’s hand clamps down over my mouth. “If you say his fucking name, I’m going to hunt him down and shoot him. I bet you that boy doesn’t know the first thing about what to do with a woman like you.”

His free hand locates the buckle on my strap, undoing it in one smooth movement. He pulls his body from mine just slightly, allowing the denim to pool to the floor at my feet before his eyes drop low. I’m standing before him in my tiny little crop top and red lace panties. His hand slowly drops from my mouth as he allows himself to become distracted by my form.

Maverick may have ended things back in the day, but one thing is certain—he most definitely still wants to fuck me.

“You miss that pussy, Mav?” I angle my hips forward, sinking my top teeth into my lower lip for effect. His eyes snap up to mine. “It must drive you crazy knowing others have fucked me since you, huh?”

His lips curl back in a snarl.

“Yeah, it does. Hmmm. Must drive you even crazier considering you’re the reason it happened. You passed on this, remember? Tell me, Mav. Does Amber feel as good as me?” My hand snakes down my lower stomach, dipping into my drenched panties where I circle my clit. “Is her pussy as tight as mine?”

My fingers slide back through my slick folds, dipping inside my entrance where I start to pump them in and out of me. Mav’s breath hitches and I drop my head back, my lids heavy with lust as I reach up under my shirt to palm my breast. He stands before me hypnotized, practically salivating.

“Does she taste as good as me?” I whisper, withdrawing my hand and extending it up into the space between us. He eyes me with a predatory look, gaze shifting between my face and my glistening fingers. “Go ahead. Have a taste of what you gave up.” Mav lunges forward like a feral animal, sucking my fingers into his mouth, using his tongue to lap up every last drop. His eyes roll into the back of his head as his lids close, relishing in my taste.

I pull my hand back, momentarily drunk with power. “Remember that when you go home and fuck that poor excuse of a substitute for me. Because while you’re thinking of me, I’ll be moaning someone else’s name.”

“No!” he growls. Something inside him snaps. His hands take hold of my waist, lifting and dropping me on the large vanity between the dual sinks. Gripping my thin lace panties with one hand, he tears them from my body with a swift pull.

Fuck. I forgot what it feels like to be thrown around.

I plant my Converse in the middle of his chest, pushing him back. He stands before me, chest heaving, eyes savage. My knees drop open to the sides, exposing how drenched I am for him. “You don’t own me, Mav. Not anymore. So, you wanna fuck me? You better ask me real nice.”

“J.” I can see the strain of how hard he’s clenching his jaw, attempting to maintain control. Mav palms the massive bulge in his jeans, stroking himself overtop his pants. “Can I please bury my cock in your perfect pussy?”

“No.” My head cocks to the side, taking note of how his body slightly trembles at my rejection and damn, if that doesn’t continue to fuel my power trip. The sight of him fucks with my head, and the next words spill out before I even realize I’m saying them. “But you can have a taste if you want one.”

Mav doesn’t hesitate. He dives forward, licking his tongue up my center, causing my back to arch high from the mirror behind me.

Jesus fucking Christ, I will never admit it, but fuck I missed this. My legs start to shake, closing in on his head. Pressing his strong hands against the inside of my thighs, Mav spreads me wider. His tongue swirls around and around, massaging my sensitive spot as I shamelessly grind against his face. He licks up my center once more, before continuing straight up, dragging his tongue over my stomach, up my ribs. He briefly bites down on my nipple through my shirt before continuing up to my neck. Fisting my hair in one hand, he rips my head to the side where he plants a kiss to my tattoo.

Mav’s lips hover next to my ear, as he spears his fingers inside me. “Does he make you feel like this?”

I ignore his question, though a low moan escapes me.

“I said,” he rips my head back, forcing me to look straight into his face, “does that preppy ass looking motherfucker make your pussy this wet?”

Mav’s palm applies friction to my clit, as he continues to curl his fingers further up inside me. My mind blanks out at the sensation of pure ecstasy. Unable to form a coherent thought, the only thing I can do is shake my head.

“No,” he breathes out, almost as a sigh of relief, eyes still locked on mine. “Of course not, because this pussy knows who it belongs to. Because this pussy was made for me.” He drops back down, burying his face in between my thighs once more as he continues to finger-fuck me. “Fuck, how do you taste even sweeter than I remember? Let me remind you how a real man makes his Queen come.”

Mav continues working his fingers inside me as he laps at my clit. The sensation builds higher and higher, pushing me closer to the edge. Suddenly, Mav withdraws his hand. Pressing my thighs open once more, he suctions onto my clit and I fucking lose all control. The orgasm that slams into me suddenly serves as a vicious reminder that I haven’t truly climaxed since that day in the locker room with him.

Mav pops back up, wiping the remnants of me from his face before leaning forward. “Tell yourself whatever you want, J. That pussy still knows its place.”

I haul off and slap him, knocking his face to the right. Hoping down from the counter, I step back into my overalls before pulling them up and securing them. Shoving past him, I make my way toward the door.

My palm grips hold of the handle, pulling it open to make my escape.

“Go ahead and run, Jones,” he calls out. “We both know I’ll catch you.”

I glance back over my shoulder, my eyes locking on his. “That only worked when I was willing to wait for you.” And without another word, I’m gone.

CHAPTER 37

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