Page 27 of Pit Stop

“Have you been fucked since?” he asks angrily. “Has anyone been inside you? That shithead, Red?”

“What? No. Of course not. Just you.”

He lets out a relieved breath and then sets me down. My feet hit the floor, and he spins me around so that my hands press up against the wall.

I feel his fingers work my pants open and down, and when they’re spread tightly around my thighs, his fingers slide up my wet crack.

“Fuck yes. Knew it.”

Two fingers enter me, and I let out a low groan. I’m not in heat, but something about Maverick gets me going. I want him to fuck me, knot me. I want him to rut into me until I’ve forgotten my own name. I’ve missed this. Missed him.

“So tight,” he murmurs, his fingers twisting inside of me and finding that little spot that makes my eyes roll back in my head. “So wet.”

“Fuck me. Please, Mav. Please.”

But he doesn’t do as I ask, just continues to toy with my ass, making me pant in frustration. He adds a third finger, and I’m fucking back against it, wanting to be filled completely, wanting to be stretched out and gaping.

His free hand snakes around my front and grasps my cock, pumping it in his fist. My chin hits my chest as I feel him surrounding me, possessing me. The way he works me right to the edge, his grip tightening when I start to come, my entire body shaking from the force of it. And yet still, it’s not enough.

“I’m not done with you,” he says lowly, and then his fingers are pulled from my hole, and I feel him press up against the back of my thighs, his cockhead right at my entrance. He letsout a growl as he enters me, his hips meeting my ass in seconds, my entire channel stuffed full. It stings and yet it feels perfectly right.

“Yes,” he murmurs, his hand sliding up my back and pushing me down a little further, giving himself better access to fuck me. He rucks my shirt up, my bare skin now exposed to the hot, musty air and then his hips snap back before slamming into me.

I gasp, my entire body tensing from the force of it, but still, my cock hardens. Because it’s him. Maverick.

He does something to me.

Maybe that’s why I’ve always told myself I hate him. Because he makes me feel something, makes me want. And I don’t want to be weak. I want to be different.

And yet, here I am. A simp for him.

As he continues to fuck into me, I just meet each thrust with my own. Our bodies slap together, the squelch of his cock moving inside of me, the heaving breaths we expel audible around us.

“You shouldn’t have come here tonight,” he grunts, his hands tightening on me.

“Fuck you,” I moan and then reach back and grab on to his thigh, pulling him into me. “I can do what I want.”

“Looking so godsdamn fuckable, so fucking hot. You shouldn’t be around that many alphas. They’ll tear you apart. Red especially. Don’t even fucking go there with him, Skye. You’re better than him. Better than me.”

“But I want you. I want you to split me in two.”

He grunts and then palms my throat, pulling me up so my back is flush against his chest. His teeth bite down on my earlobe, and I cry out.

“Yeah, Skye-light. Only me.”

He bends his knees and fucks up into me, his cock impaling me over and over. My cock jerks between my legs, and I feelit explode once more, my eyes rolling back in my head as he continues to ruin me for anyone else.

This is so bad. So very bad, and yet I have no intention of stopping. It feels too good to stop.

“Say it,” he murmurs, his lips right against my ear. “Say it. Who owns you?”

“You. Just you.” This is all just the heat of the moment. I know he doesn’t mean it. I don’t mean it. But I say it all the same.

When he comes, filling me up but not knotting me, I feel suddenly bereft.

I want more. I want to be tied to him for a little longer.

He pulls out and lets go of me, and I stumble forward, leaning my forehead against the wall as I try to gather my bearings. But I can’t think, can’t breathe. He fucked the sense right out of me.

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