Page 6 of Maverick
The man beneath mesnarled, tightening his grip until bruises were sure to form. A hot tongue on my collarbone, and he sucked the skin into his mouth. I whimpered, feeling his teeth nearly break the skin. Heat rushed to the spot, a mark forming almost instantly—but he didn’t stop. Pain swirled with pleasure and overtook my senses. I came with a cry that morphed into a shout loud enough to rattle the walls, my cock pulsing my release into the lace panties. A satisfied hum from Diesel, and his hand was there, blanketing my dick and rubbing the mess back into the fabric. He stroked, and I shot again, riding out my orgasm between his dick and his palm.
With satisfied sighs, I came down from the high, feeling his still rigid length buried inside me. That gave me a newfound strength, and I bounced on his cock, flattening my hands on his chest for support. Contented hums turned to deep groans and growls of pleasure.
“Good girl,” he husked, pulling me further onto him with each thrust. He licked over the mark on my neck and when his pace fell uneven, sank his teeth in deep, marking me as he spilled deep inside of me. A second wave of pleasure built, and I almost felt like I’d crashed over the edge a second time. I felt each pulse of his cock, the hot rush of come settling me in a way nothing else ever had.
Deep, heavy breaths mingled in the air between us, our lungs burning as we fought for oxygen. “Keep your eyes closed,princess.” I squeezed them shut and the next thing I knew, the blindfold fell away. I buried my face in his neck, gently kissing and licking over the skin there. “Are you okay?” he panted.
I nodded, but I was quickly growing uncomfortable. My come-soiled panties were beginning to dry and with the skirt hiked up around my waist, I was getting cold. At the thought, I shivered and drew closer to Diesel. “Do you want me to clean you up?” he offered, already moving to rise with me in his arms.
“No,” I said, perhaps a little too quickly. The idea that our night was over settled in like a bucket of cold water over my head. I felt myself getting attached, and I couldn’t let that happen.
I wasn’t going to address the fact that I was already in too deep.
But Diesel chuckled, rubbing a hand up and down my back. “You need some kind of aftercare, baby. I can’t just let you walk away after all that.”
My eyes burned, and I swallowed hard. Yeah, I was fucked. But I laid my head on his shoulder, thinking I might as well get in my cuddles while I could. “Just let me sit here for a minute. I know it’s uncomfortable but… please?”
A low hum, and his chest vibrated against mine. “I can do that.”
With the highs from our orgasms fading, the nerves began to sink in and I did the one thing I did best: ramble. “I get why they call you Diesel,” I teased. “Not many people can hold me like this. At least… not many peoplewantto.”
“Well, they’re missing out. I used to get called ‘Mack’ in high school—like a Mack truck. Could hit just as hard too.” I blubbered out some sleepy noise that was supposed to be a laugh. Diesel hooked his fingers behind my soiled panties, pulling out as he tugged the material over my ass and freed me from it one leg at a time. His release trickled out of me and down my thighs, but I settled quickly with his arms around me again. “Why Teddy? Like a teddy bear?”
“Mm-hmm,” was all I could manage. My size had always beenmy downfall. People saw one thing and expected another, which resulted in little more than disappointment. Being timid and soft-spoken when you’re built like a tank tended to confuse people, and people didn’t like being confused.
However, I couldn’t voice that—not to a total stranger that I’d never see again. Keeping my eyes closed, I pushed at his shoulders. “My… I have someone who’s probably looking for me—a friend. My best friend,” I quickly added on, not wanting him to mistake that to mean “partner.” I wasn’t the most articulate of people on the best of days, but with Diesel’s thumb stroking the tender skin of my hip, I was nearly rendered speechless.
“Are you sure I can’t help you clean up?” he asked. “That was intense, and you could use the aftercare.”
Yes. Please do.But I shook my head, immediately feeling a twinge of regret in my chest. “This was all I needed, really, but I’d appreciate it if you could show me to the bathroom.”
“Sure thing.”
Diesel helped me to my feet, and I tried to hide how much my legs shook. Instinctively, I tugged the skirt down to cover myself—though it barely worked. He spun me around with his hands on my waist and guided me across the room. After placing my hand on the doorknob, Diesel took a step back and it was all I could do to not whimper at the loss. “Do you want me to be here when you’re finished?”
“No, that’s okay. I won’t keep you any longer. What should I do with the skirt?”
“Keep it.” Another tender kiss to my cheek. “Leather and lace suit you, princess.”
Before I could lose myself, I rushed into the bathroom and shut the door behind me. I peeled my eyes open, blinking to adjust to even the dim light. I powered on my phone first, letting that settle while I dampened a paper towel in the sink. Only then did I flip the switch on the wall. Once my eyes stopped burning, I took in the sight of myself in the mirror. I was awreck. My dark curlswere disheveled, sticky and sweat-drenched. My green eyes were reddened around the edges from crying, but neither of those things held a candle to the angry purple hickey settling into my neck. Absent-mindedly, my fingers came up to brush the bruise. I’d be marked for weeks, and the idea sent a jolt of pleasure south.
But I shook the thoughts away and went about cleaning myself up. Pulling on my jeans, I tucked the skirt into my back pocket. True to Diesel’s word, he was gone when I passed through the room to emerge into the club.
The performers had finished, and bodies packed the dance floor in the center of the space. My legs quivered beneath my weight, my head was foggy, and I had no desire to writhe against a sweaty stranger for the next few hours—unless it was one in particular.
Luckily, Stetson was easy to spot. He hovered near the bar, smiling at a text on his phone.
Oh, how commitment had tamed him.
When I approached, my best friend offered me nothing more than a crooked brow and that classic shit-eating grin of his. “Someone had a good time,” he snickered, though his cocky demeanor quickly faltered when I had to rely on the bar to hold me up. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I admitted honestly. “I’m just really tired. Can we go?”
“That guy didn’t do anything to you, did he?”
“No! Stetson—people are starting to stare.”
“Then tell me what happened!”
