Page 36 of Maverick
He moves his hands away from my arms, pushes them beneath the bottom of my shirt. Shoves the soft fabric upward, his hands going to cup my breasts. His palms are rough and glorious, his thumbs skim over my nipples, and I sigh with satisfaction. Because his touch is glorious. Perfect.
Better than I ever could have imagined. He has a working man’s hands. A working man’s body.
I’ve been surrounded by athletic men my entire life. But there’s just something about a cowboy.
At least, there’s something about this cowboy.
Then I find my shirt being whipped up over my head, and he picks me up by the waist, lays me back on the bed, setting the box of condoms off to the side purposefully as he looks down atme. He has one hand braced on the mattress, his body just to the side of mine. I don’t feel exposed. I feel sexy. Pretty, as he looks at me with a kind of hunger on his face I’ve never seen before.
He’s breathing hard, labored. And I reach up and put my hand on his chest, where I can feel his heart raging there. He reaches behind his head and grips his T-shirt, pulling it off in a fluid motion, and my mouth goes dry at the sight of him. His muscular chest and the dark hair there.
I go liquid between my legs.
The fact that I can touch him like this. The fact that he is there for me. That I get to explore him. Touch him. Taste him.
I lean in and I kiss him on the shoulder.
He jerks back like my mouth is a bullet, my kiss piercing his skin.
Then I find myself pinned to the bed, that big body over mine as he leans in and kisses me. Hard. I’m getting my wish. He’s not treating me gently. Not treating me like a novice. Not treating me like a silly girl who’s being indulged by a man with real experience. No. I realize as he kisses me, deep and dizzying, that this isn’t about me.
It’s about him. About how much he wants this and doesn’t want to want it. That’s the tension. The intensity. There’s a resistance inside of him, but he’s decided not to let it win.
He’s decided to let his need win.
Which, in many ways, is letting me win.
It makes me feel powerful. Makes me feel sexy.
I’m not some lesson that he’s teaching. I’m an inevitability for him just as much as he is for me.
So, I wrap my arms around his neck, and I kiss him back. I press my breasts against his chest, revel in the feeling of the coarse hair rubbing against my nipples. Without thinking, I hook my leg over his hip, and I find the hard ridge of his arousal pressed against that soft place between my legs. I’m riding himwithout even thinking about it, rocking my hips up off the bed, looking for satisfaction as I roll my hips against his.
And he presses down against me hard, that glorious ridge taking me into the stratosphere. Making me see little starbursts behind my eyes. I haven’t come yet, but I’m close. Just from this. From kissing him topless while I can feel the intensity of his need clashing with my own.
My shaking hands move to the button on his jeans, then lower the zipper. He moves away from me, standing. I hear him kick his boots off, and he strips completely naked before me. My first time ever seeing a naked man in person, and holy shit, he’s incredible.
He’s muscular everywhere. All the hard work he puts in etched into that hard body, a testament to the glory of Maverick Quinn. His thighs are thick, lined with muscle, and his…
His cock is glorious. I had a friend once who said that it was fine, but she wouldn’t be building any shrines to penis in her house. I just might. I think it’s beautiful. I think he’s beautiful.
Impulsively, I move up to my knees and wrap my hand around his shaft. Then I lean in and taste him. A zip of need moves through me as his flavor hits my tongue. I’m consumed by him. By my desire for him. I part my lips and take him into my mouth, as deep as I can. My enthusiasm isn’t matched by my skill, and my gag reflex engages, but I don’t move away from him. I don’t want to. His hand is tight in my hair, and he thrusts his hips upward, almost reflexively, and I shift to try and accommodate him. But there’s something in the struggle that I find hot. Something about it being hard, something about showing him just how much I want it by how deep I’ll take him, even if it makes me gag.
And he seems to feel the same.
I lift my head, breathing hard, and then take him in deep again, and I push myself further this time, taking as much of him as humanly possible. He’s huge, and it’s not easy, and I love it.
He’s pulling my hair now, the intensity of it all-consuming. It takes a lot to command all of my attention. But he’s got it. His hand is in my hair, pulling, his cock is in my mouth, perfect. My heart is hammering hard, that place between my legs slick and greedy. My nipples are so tight and hard, and I’m just so aware of them, which is something I can’t usually say. Every part of my body is lit up. Every part of me. He’s got my mind, my body, my soul, all attuned to him. All absolutely engaged with every bit of him.
Maybe I’m not the best at this. But for once, I don’t feel like I need to be. I just need to be, and that is a revelation all by itself.
He slides out of my mouth, and I move down to the base of him, looking up in a straight line, and he growls, pulling me up toward his mouth, kissing me hard as he pushes me down onto my back.
“Enough,” he says.
He tears my pajama bottoms off, along with my underwear, in a smooth motion, leaving me naked in front of him. His hands are rough on my knees as he forces my legs wide, as he leans in and licks me, right where I’m greedy and wet for him, as he begins to devour me, one arm wrapped around my waist, the other holding one leg out wide as he lifts me up against him. And I’m lost. It’s the most intense, brilliant feeling I’ve ever experienced. He’s consuming me. Devouring me. Eating me like a starving man, and I love it.
I’m whimpering, my hips flexing against his mouth, and then he shifts his hand, pushing a finger deep inside of me as he continues to pleasure me with his mouth. Then he pushes in a second one, and I arch my back up off the bed, looking forsomething to grab onto. I end up holding his shoulders, my fingernails digging into his skin.
