Page 15 of Maverick's Code

"My neck," I breathe, guiding his hand upward. "I like... pressure."

His eyes widen slightly, but there's no judgment there, just understanding. Gently, his large hand encircles my throat, the pressure light but present. The sensation sends a new waveof pleasure through me, the slight edge of danger making everything more intense.

The table beneath us creaks with our movements, but I barely notice, lost in the overwhelming sensations. His size, his strength, the way he fills me completely - it's everything I needed and didn't know to ask for.

"Sadie," he groans, my name on his lips sounding like a prayer.

His hand on my throat, his body moving with mine, his eyes holding me in place more effectively than any physical restraint - it's all too much and not enough at the same time.

When I finally fall over the edge, it's with his name on my lips, my body arching against his.

When I come back to myself, I realize he's still holding back, still watching me with heat in his eyes. His muscles are tense with restraint, his breathing ragged. The look on his face - a mixture of desire and something deeper - makes my heart race all over again.

"You're incredible," he murmurs, his hands gentle on my hips. "But I'm not done with you yet."

Before I can catch my breath, he turns me carefully, mindful of my bruises, positioning me over the table. The polished wood is cool against my heated skin as he presses against me from behind. His large body cages mine, not threatening but protective, making me feel sheltered rather than trapped.

"Is this okay?" he whispers against my ear, his voice rougher now, less controlled.

His hand traces the curve of my spine, a feather-light touch that makes me shiver with anticipation.

"Yes," I breathe, arching back against him. "Please."

His hands find mine, fingers intertwining as he gently guides them forward on the table. The gesture is oddly intimate - more so than our naked bodies pressed together.

Then he's there again, claiming me in this new position, and the sensation is entirely different - deeper, more primal. I bite my lip to keep from crying out too loudly, aware that we're still in the clubhouse, that anyone could walk in at any moment.

The danger of discovery only heightens everything, making each movement more intense. His chest presses against my back, careful of my bruises even now, his breath hot against my neck as he moves. One of his hands releases mine to tangle in my hair, tugging just enough to send shivers down my spine.

"You're amazing," he whispers, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. "So perfect. So strong."

The praise washes over me, as intoxicating as his touch. Men have called me beautiful before, sexy even, but never strong, never amazing. It's as if he sees parts of me that no one else has bothered to look for, and the thought makes my chest tighten with emotion.

This is nothing like the mechanical encounters I've had before, nothing like the empty physicality with club hangers-on who saw me as just John Miller's daughter, a status symbol to be claimed.

This feels like connection, like recognition of something fundamental. Something I didn't know I was missing until now.

The table keeps creaking beneath us, the sound mingling with our heavy breathing and half-swallowed moans. My fingers grip the edge of the table, knuckles white with the effort of grounding myself against the sensations threatening to sweep me away.

"Maverick," I breathe, his name a plea, though for what, I'm not entirely sure.

He seems to understand anyway. His hand slides around to where our bodies meet, finding that sweet spot that sends me spiraling into another climax, this one even more intense than the first. I barely register his ragged groan as he follows me over the edge, his body tensing against mine as he finally surrenders to his release.

His arms wrap around me, holding me close as we both tremble with the aftershocks. For a long moment, we stay like that, joined and breathless, neither of us willing to break the spell.

In this strange, suspended moment, I feel something I thought was lost forever: belonging. Not to a club or a name or an identity imposed on me, but to myself. And maybe, just maybe, to him.

Reality will come crashing back soon enough. The raid on the warehouse, Jake, Marcus, the Outlaws, the Iron & Blood - all of it waiting just outside this room. But for now, in the arms of this man who should be my enemy, I feel something else I also thought was lost forever: hope.

Chapter 7 - Maverick

I hold Sadie against me, her ass pressed against my body, our breathing gradually slowing together. Sweat cools on our skin as reality hovers at the edges of this moment we've carved out for ourselves. My fingers trace lazy patterns on her hip, unwilling to break contact, to shatter whatever this is between us.

What the hell just happened?

Twenty-four hours ago, I didn't know she existed. I was patrolling our territory, thinking about club business, about the remaining Outlaw leaders we needed to find.

Now, I've just claimed her on the reunion table, the very place where we've planned hits against her club. If anyone had told me yesterday that I'd be here, like this, with John Miller's daughter, I'd have laughed in their face before possibly punching them for the insult.

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