“My what?” he growls, his teeth against my shoulder.
“I’m your little slut.”
“Fuck.”His body shudders on top of mine and he slows, letting go of my hair entirely, his hand going to my shoulder as he shoves me back against him. I work with him, slamming my ass back against his hips, milking him for everything he has as he comes inside of me.
When he stills, I rest on my forearms, my brow to the cold floor.
He pulls back, slides out halfway. I can only imagine what he’s seeing; his thick cock covered in me. He pulls out further, until he’s all the way out, but he keeps the tip of his cock against me, and I know he’s seeing the cum between us, connecting us.
“Fuck, Ella,” he whispers, almost to himself.
He runs his hand over my ass. I make to sit back on my heels, but he keeps me exactly where I am.
“I want to see it,” he whispers. “I want to see me run out of you.”
I bite my lip, force myself to stay where I am, completely exposed for him.
I keep myself this way, let myself relax.
The more relaxed I am, the easier it’ll come out.
But Maverick seems desperate. He swipes his fingers inside of me, as if he’ll scoop out his cum himself.
I hear his sharp intake of breath as I try to push, helping it come along. Then I feel the warmth ofhimas it trickles down my lips.
“Fuck,” he says, gripping my ass, hard.
I say nothing but I can’t fight the small smile he can’t see.
After a moment, I sit back on my heels as his touch leaves me.
When I turn to look at him, on his knees behind me, his eyes are on mine. He smiles at me.
Then he pushes to his feet, grabs his sweatpants, every muscle in his toned body flexing. “Come shower,” he commands me, offering his hand as he pulls his sweats back on.
I take his hand. His eyes wander over my body and he smiles, but then he turns.
And I see it again.
All of his wounds.
Including my scratches.
“Maverick,” I choke out.
He stops, still not looking at me.
“Who did that to you?”
His hand squeezes mine painfully. But then he exhales, pulls me toward the bathroom. “I did it to myself, baby.”
Chapter Nine
Saturday,I go home. Mom’s car is there, but her bedroom door is shut, and I hear her bed creaking behind it.
I watch Maverick’s car back out of the driveway and I want to run outside. Tell him to take me with him. Tell him hecanstart paying me, and I’ll just be his plaything.
But no.