Page 72 of Maverick
She’s a brat. But to me, that’s sweetness. I want fire. I want grit. Everything that she is. This ridiculous, dangerous virgin, who went careening into disaster, I had to rescue her from.
And who has dragged me into one disaster after another ever since.
She’s like a wildfire, all whipped up by the wind. Deadly and unpredictable and serious in her beauty.
And to me it’s perfect. And so is she.
I kiss my way down her body, to that sweet place between her thighs. I grip the edge of her panties and pull them aside, tasting her deep. She’s slick and ready for me, all that honey, all that sweetness taking me to heaven. I tongue her clit, suck it in deep, and she arches up against my mouth. She would be my last meal, I realize. If given the choice.
No question.
I push two fingers deep inside of her, relishing the feel of her tight body around me. Sending her up to the stratosphere. Ineedher to come.
And she does. Beautifully.
But that’s not enough. I need more. Before I satisfy myself in her, I need to wring every last drop of pleasure out of her body that I can.
I tease her, taste her, over and over again. Until her cries of pleasure become hoarse. Until I’ve lost track of how many times she’s come around my fingers. All that sweet, salty pleasure on my tongue an aphrodisiac that’s going to have me high forever.
I’m so hard that it hurts, but it’s worth it. The pain is worth it to get to all that pleasure.
In fact, the pain is what makes it sweeter.
I kiss my way up her body, claim her mouth, and then I reach into the nightstand and grab a condom.
Thankfully, we’ve got those everywhere.
It takes all of my self-control to wait. To roll it on and not just thrust into her.
But I can’t do that to her. I can’t do anything that might make her stuck with me. Even though the driving urge to do it is almost impossible to deny.
But I do it. I protect us both, rolling that latex on before I slam myself into that tight, wet body.
And I have to clench my teeth together as the full intensity of the sensation overtakes me. She’s like home. Home, in a way, I’ve never experienced it before. Home, in a way I didn’t believe existed.
I lower my head, press my forehead to hers as I begin to work my way in and out of her body.
She clutches my shoulders, fingernails digging into my skin. “Yes,” I growl against her lips. And she tightens her hold on me. I want her to draw blood. I want to leave scars.
God knows so many other things in my life have. Why shouldn’t this? Why shouldn’t she?
It would be the most beautiful thing. Blinding and brilliant, to be scarred from fucking Stella Lane.
I claim her over and over again.
It’s wild and sweet and dangerous.
Just like us.
And when I come, it’s on a shout. Her own cries mingling with mine as she finds another release.
And then I pull her up against my body, damn the condom and getting rid of it, and being polite about it, and hold her up against me. My heartbeat is raging.
She turns to face me, curls into my chest. I don’t want to let her go. Usually, we have sex, and we go our separate ways, but I feel like if that happens tonight, I might fall apart. It’s the wrong thing to do.
No question.
So I hold on to her.
