Page 65 of Maverick
“Maybe. But I made you dinner. So I think you need to be nice to me.”
He chuckles, then reaches up and grabs the back of my hair. “Do you think you’re in charge here?”
I start to breathe faster, my heartbeat is erratic. “I…”
“Answer me,” he says. “Do you think you’re in charge?”
Something wicked overtakes me, and I shift my hips backward, bringing myself over the top of his rock-hard cock. “There’s definitely part of you that thinks I might be in charge.”
“Dangerous game, little girl,” he says.
He flips me over so that I’m on my back, he’s over the top of me. The move is so seamless that I’m shocked by it. “Who’s in charge now?”
I flex my hips upward. “Still me. Unless…” I wiggle away from him, and stand up, beginning to walk away. “If you can let me go, then maybe I’ll believe you’re still in charge, big man.”
He grabs me around the waist, pulls me up against that sweaty chest, and lifts me up off the ground. I wrap my legs around his waist, and he kisses me.
Hard.
He carries me like that, back up against the wall, presses me hard against it. It reminds me of the times we’ve been together in the shower, but there’s no spray of water washing away all the pheromones. I’ve got them all, right now. He’s feral. So am I.
And it’s pretty damn delicious.
He grabs hold of my sports bra, pulls it up over my head, and I practically dislocate my shoulder blade helping him get it off of me.
Then I’m naked, and he’s not, but I really don’t mind.
He carries me over to the weightlifting bench, and wraps his arm around my waist, peeling me away from him as he lifts me down onto the bench, my stomach across it, ass facing him, legs dangling down to the floor. “Now I like that,” he says. “You still got that condom?”
His voice is strained, hard. I can see that he’s doing his best to show some restraint. I really don’t need him to.
I reach back, arm pinned to my lower back, condom clutched between my thumb and forefinger. I can’t see what he’s doing. But I hear him tear the condom open. Then he presses his largehand over the top of my wrist, pinning it there to my spine as he gets down on his knees behind me. I feel the blunt head of his cock up against where I’m slick and ready for him. “Oh, yes,” I whimper.
“Fuck. Stella,” he groans as he thrusts deep inside of me. I see stars. I see whole planets. Everything is awash in glory.
And if I’m made and unmade a hundred times during the course of this, I’ll find a new way to be every time. Because it’ll be worth it.
It will be worth it to have been with him like this.
He claims me, over and over again, his cock going impossibly deep in this position. I’m pinned to the bench, draped over the top of it, and he is ruthless as he pounds into me. But I barely feel the edge of the bench pressing into my stomach, or the other edge caught beneath my breasts where I dangle over it. It’s all just pleasure. It’s all just wonderful.
It’s all him.
He’s over me, in me, and it’s incredible.
When I cry out his name, it’s like a prayer, as I come hard around him. As he growls and slams himself into me, my name on his lips as he finds his pleasure.
And I’m desperate. Desperate to know what about this is unique for him, because it’s completely unique for me. Completely new. Because he’s special, singular, and he always will be. But I… I won’t be for him. He’s just going to forget me. I’ll be one of however many girls he’s fucked down in his gym. I’ll be one in a long line. I guess maybe the first one he was with after all that grief, but still, it’s bound to get blurry.
That shouldn’t hurt the way that it does. It shouldn’t hurt at all. Because it’s supposed to just be sex, and that’s supposed to just be fine. But it all feels so big. It’s just…
It’s just the new thing. It’s just an obsession. Like learning to cook. Like learning to barrel race. Like dressage for a sweetminute. He’s the nose piercing that I won’t keep, and the impulsive attempt at being a show jumper that I never felt the urge to try again.
I just have to remember that. The intensity of it all will pass. This is nothing more than a moment, and I’m no stranger to these sorts of moments.
Itwillpass.
But right now, he’s still inside of me, his palm against my back, and I’m sweaty, and he’s sweaty against me.
