Page 32 of House Rules
Then I slide on the tiny excuse for a dress and go back into the bedroom, expecting Maverick to begone…somewhere back in the common area, perhaps.
Nope. He’s more patient than I gave him credit for.
He is still lying on my bed, reading something on his phone and waiting for me. As I enter the room, his gaze flicks over to me, and his tongue darts out to lick his lips. He sets the phone down and sits on the edge of the bed.
“Looks like I got your sizes right,” he says, his eyes tracking up and down my body. “But I need to make sure that you’re following the rules. You understand.”
I don’t reply. I don’t need to say anything. He’s going to do whatever he’s going to do, and there’s really nothing I can do to stop it. And a part of me that feels foreign and unleashed and free for the first time…isn’t altogether certain I would stop him even if I could.
I expect him to tell me to lift the dress to show him I’m not wearing underwear or to move the top aside to show him my breast.
Instead, he gets off the bed and stalks over to me, backing me up until my shoulders meet the wall. Hepresses me flat against it with one hand on my chest, just below my throat. His other hand coasts gently over my ribcage, then slips beneath the fabric to caress the side of my breast. Pain from the bruising there flares and dissipates swiftly.
My breath hitches in my lungs, and his gaze locks on mine, predatory and intent.
“No bra, good girl,” he purrs. His hand leaves my breast and slides further down the dress. A little sound escapes me—protest, encouragement? I’m not sure. “Am I going to be disappointed?” he growls. “We have ways of punishing little firebirds who break the rules.”
“I did as you asked, sir.” Thesiris meant to be a taunt, and maybe if my voice wasn’t so breathy, it would have come out like one.
“Hmm. We’ll see about that.” He slides his hand down my body to my outer thigh, where he grabs an experimental handful of flesh before moving back up the inside of my leg and under my dress.
I have to close my eyes, unable to sustain eye contact. Suddenly, every nerve in my body is alight with the need to feel more of him. I want him to touch me.
This.
This was the difference in my decision to essentially whore myself out to the Titans, rather than Baldy and Pedo-stash’s boss.
I want this.I’ve wanted them for years. I’ve stuffed my fascination with them and my jealousy of all the women they’ve paraded in and out of their rooms down deep, until I hardly recognized it for what it was.
Attraction. Intense, compelling, animal attraction.
Maverick’s hand moves between my legs, and I have to flex my thighs to stop them from shaking with anticipation.
I’ve dreamed of this. Dreamed of him touching me, and more…of Con encouraging it.
Maverick has the body of a warrior and jaw-dropping strength from a powerful, well-muscled build. I want to feel that power.
I want him to pick me up. I want him to brace my thighs on his shoulders as he pins me against the wall and eats me until I scream his name. I want him to flip me over onto a bed on all fours andfuckme. Hard. Fast. Furious. He is never gentle, neversubtle. Maverick is nothing but sheer power, and I want every bit of it focused on me.
Those dirty fantasies flood my mind, and having him so close to me, smelling like warm spice and sin, has my blood heating.
I can’t help the way my body responds. His hand moves between my thighs, and his fingers slide against my slit, feeling how wet I am for him.
He lets out a low growl and presses the length of his body more firmly against mine. The sensation of being trapped by him should scare me, but it doesn’t.
“Such a good girl.”
My pussy clenches around his fingers when he murmurs those words, and my cheeks burn. I know he can feel how much I want him, and I can’t believe that this is happening. I can’t believe that ridiculous phrase, whispered in his rough voice, affects me so intensely, so easily.
He runs the pad of his middle finger around my clit. Not enough to give me any satisfaction, but enough to work me up.
“Did you read the contract?” he asks, his finger lingering over my clit, making me ache for him.
“Yes.”
“And you know what we intend to do to you?”
“I know what you’re allowed to do to me,” I say. A moan falls from between my lips as his thumb begins circling me lazily. “Tell me what you want to do to me.”
