Chapter Fourteen
Windsor
My mother didn’t eat dinner with us and, damn, it was so delicious. Maverick is a fantastic chef. He doesn’t have to measure anything and only glanced at a recipe twice.
He was a little out of sorts when he came back from his run. I pray to any deity that will listen that my crazy ass mother won’t scare him off. It would be fitting if she did though. He has been so sweet to me since we’ve been here. He knows I need something to balance out the ugly. He brought home two bouquets of flowers when he returned. One for me and one for my mother. Obviously overkill, but who was I to deny my boyfriend motherly bonding with Krazy Kath? I have to keep reminding myself that I’m used to being an emotional bomb when I’m near the beast. Maverick has no clue this is how it is every time we’re together. I’m sure he’s catching on.
Kathy drank herself to sleep before 4 p.m. Fitting. Now Maverick and I are snuggled in my double bed, staring up at the plastic glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to my ceiling. No matter which way we lay, we’re touching. It’s only now that I feel gratitude toward number two for buying me a double bed instead of the queen that I’d asked for. This has always been my room. It feels strange now. My mother always lived in this house. Husbands came and went through the revolving door downstairs. I guess I should be grateful I didn’t have to move constantly, like some of my friends with divorced parents. I think she promised my Dad she’d give me a stable home life. I scoff at that crazy notion.
I roll to face Maverick. “I’m going to miss you so much,” I whisper, turning my head to kiss his neck. He breathes out a contented sigh. I can’t help the giggle and then kiss a little more wantonly—my tongue licking, lips brushing, and teeth trailing. He rolls on his side, one hand splayed on my ass, the other behind his head. Of course I’m insanely turned on because Maverick is in a five-mile radius. It’s so unfair, the effect he has on me.
“Where’s your accent?” Maverick asks, surprising me. He is so trying to distract me. I’ll let him…for a little while. I smile.
“Do you wish I had a southern drawl? I’ve never had an accent. I think this state has pockets of country. Does that make sense?” I ask. In the city no one has accents, but in the smaller counties you’d think we were in Kentucky or somewhere where good ole’ boys rule the world. My parents don’t have an accent, so I lucked out. Maverick shrugs.
“The women at the grocery store had thick accents. I was just wondering,” he explains. I lean over and place a dry kiss on his mouth. His hard-on pokes me in the stomach.
“Were you wooing women in my hometown grocery store, T.H.?” I ask, wiggling a little bit to let him know I feel his erection. I see his white smile in the dark. He grazes my earlobe with his teeth. “You were all sweaty and probably all mouthwatering. It’s hardly fair. These women aren’t used to men like you,” I whisper. It comes out breathy, and his gentle licks send shivers directly between my legs.
“I only care about wooing you,” he says, still too close to my ear for me to think straight. “Men like me?” he asks. Does he want reassurance? Surely a man like Maverick knows exactly how people perceive him.
“Consider me wooed. I’m gooey and pliant and completely at your disposal,” I admit, turning my head to catch his lips against mine. I speak against his mouth, “Men like you. The type that are so magnificent and perfect that women aren’t sure if we want to turn around and run for the hills, or strip off our panties and demand retribution for living in such an unfair world.” He chuckles a little. I trail my hand over the side of his neck and over his large, hard bicep. “Put me in the second category.” He groans. I haven’t stopped moving my hand on his body. I’m now grazing over his rippled stomach and further down.
Quick as lightening he rolls me over, his weight pressing me on the bed. Even in the dark his perfect hazel gaze finds mine. “I wish I was as perfect as you think I am. I wish I were good. I’m not. I want to be good enough. For you,” he says, his voice cracking a little bit.
Instead of replying, I kiss him. I was just playing around. Maverick’s words are serious. They hang in the air like an unspoken question. He’s leaving tomorrow for a week and I don’t want him to remember a serious conversation. I entwine my tongue with his. I pull on his thick bottom lip with my teeth. I keep my eyes open because he likes to watch me kiss. I like him watching me kiss him.
I don’t beg him for sex anymore. It will be obvious when he’s ready. He’ll be inside me. He always makes sure I come…at least once. His tongue and hands rival the average guy’s dick. I try not to dwell on how many women he’s practiced on, but it’s hard not to be thankful when I’m screaming his name in complete ecstasy. I do wonder what exactly he thinks will happen after we do the deed. Personally, I think I’ll be so happy that I won’t think straight for a few weeks, and then I’ll make him screw me a million more times until I can’t walk. Then I’ll have to stay in his bed forever. It will be perfect. I wish he knew that. I’m open about everything with him. But something holds me back from telling him these things. My pride wants him to come to the conclusion all by himself. I won’t beg, but I will tease him unmercifully. I get an idea. I break the kiss. I lick his neck tattoo and across his jawline.
“I have an idea,” I tell him. I jump up from my bed, click on a small light, and start digging through my old dresser. There is some seriously creepy clothing from the 80’s—ugly t-shirts with Bob Saget on them, back when he was a father to DJ and Stephanie, and not some skeevy old guy. There is also, in the very back of the bottom drawer, a lacy piece of lingerie. It was my in case of emergency item when I was a senior in high school. Of course it never got used.
“Why does that sound like a horrible idea and a bad case of blue balls?” Maverick growls from the bed. I can only laugh. He already knows what’s inside my head—what I want to do to him. Maybe along with his lie detecting he can also read minds. Nothing would surprise me at this point.
I tell him to turn away and not to look until I tell him to. I slide off my nightshirt and pull the scrap of lace over my head. It hugs me like a glove. I remove my panties because to be the ultimate tease, I plan to show him everything he’s refusing to partake in…and dance on his lap. A little dirty, but I’m sure he can handle it. A box catches my eye. It’s poking out of Maverick’s leather overnight bag. He’s not looking so I investigate further. Because it looks like a box of condoms and I know it can’t be. But it is. A 24 pack of extra large sized schlong wrappers. I feel like I just found my Christmas presents and I’m about to get busted. Shit.
“I’m ready for it. Whatever depraved act you have planned…I’m ready,” Maverick says, his head still turned away. With the knowledge of the condoms my confidence falters a little. Dancing or stripping or doing many of the sexual things with Maverick are things I never, ever did in my past. All of it comes from the need to be creative—no sexual intercourse makes for interesting, hot foreplay. Dampness creeps between my legs at the mere thought. Turning him on equals turning me on.
I yank on the bottom of the stretchy black lace. “Okay. You can look n-o-ow,” I stutter. Real freaking sexy, Windsor. Why did I have to see the box? I would be dancing with the same confidence as the pros at the Spearmint Rhino if I didn’t look in his bag. Crap.
Maverick shifts in the bed and stares at me. He continues staring at me. And he also looks like he wants to devour me…and I haven’t so much as moved an inch. I shoot him a weak smile.
“Depraved enough?” I ask, running my hands down my sides. He nods. He moves to sit on the edge of the bed, his feet planted solidly on the floor. His abs flex when he moves, and even just sitting there shirtless, they are on full display.
Mustering courage, I bite my lip and sashay up to him, using my best sexy walk. The seventeen year old me who slept a thousand nights in this room would never believe the almost-thirty year old me has this man in this bed. She’d demand photographic evidence.
He reaches both his arms out the second I get close enough to grab. I shake my pointer finger at him. “No, no, no. Touching isn’t allowed,” I say. He makes a big show of folding his hands in his lap and flashing his fucking dimples. No fair.
“You are so fucking hot, baby,” he says. I feel hot. He makes me feel it. I bring both of my hands up and run them through my hair. His eyes cut to my thighs that expose the millisecond I raise my arms. A few more centimeters and he’ll see my goods. I sway my hips back and forth, my bare feet on the wooden floor making the only noise. “Hold that thought,” he growls.
Maverick grabs his iPhone off the nightstand and turns on a classic rock song. Smiling, using both of his freaking dimples again, he sets the phone back on the nightstand. He nods at me. I never stopped moving in the first place. Now I let my hips rock back and forth, swaying and moving to the beat. Rubbing the side of my thigh, I bring my hand in between my legs and caress myself. I bite my lip, but never take my eyes of his.
He lays his hands on the top of his head and watches me in that predatory way as I move. I turn around and bend all the way over, baring myself completely. He lets out a whoosh of air. I peek at his face. It’s a firm mix of indecision and lust. His eyes are glued to my ass, while his chest works overtime to keep up with his rapid breathing. “You like?” I ask.
“You just passed depraved and moved into wicked territory,” he whispers so low I’m not even sure if I’m supposed to hear. “Come here,” he says a little more loudly.
I couldn’t tell him no if I wanted to. His voice sends a shock of wetness right between my thighs. The promise of his hands on me forces one foot in front of the other. I leave the hem of the lace riding high and straddle his lap, facing him. His hard-on is on full display, tenting his black boxer briefs, begging to be touched.
Finding one of the few appropriate places, he rests his hands on my arms. “What are you doing to me?” He lays his head against my chest, buzzing his nose and lips against my skin.
“Dancing for my boyfriend,” I reply innocently, grinding down a little further on his lap and pushing my tits into his face. “What are you doing to me?” I ask.
“Whatever the fuck I want,” he growls, pulling my hips and my exposed sex down onto his lap. I feel his dick through his underwear and it does crazy things to my head. The classic rock song finishes. Lacey black nighty is gone the next second.
He kisses me furiously, like he’s going to starve without me. He’s crazed. And I know why. This is it. He’s finally going to make love to me. He can’t hold back anymore. His mouth finds my nipple the same time he pulls my hips against him, against his cock. Creating the perfect friction his tongue flicks one nipple and then the other, before closing his mouth fully around one. Throwing my head back, a long moan escapes. He makes me feel so good. Tingling pressure spreads inside and outside of every cell in my body.
“Do whatever you want, Mav…whatever you want,” I cry. His tongue is on my neck, my ear, my jaw, and then finally back in my mouth, twisting with mine. I thread my hands around his thick neck and press my body against his. He lays down and I’m on top of him.
“What do you want?” he asks, but it’s more of a freaking growl. I’ve never seen him this turned on. His huge hands are like vice grips on my hips. I couldn’t get away if I wanted to. He twitches underneath me every few seconds, reminding me he’s there. I think I want to suck him right now. That’s what I want. I catch my bottom lip between my teeth and give him a knowing smile. I kiss down his chest, over his heart and down his abs. He stops me. “No, Windsor. What do you really want?”
“I want to suck your cock, if you’ll let me,” I say, confused. Isn’t it obvious I’m going downtown?
“Just say it,” he says. A light switch is thrown. I know what he’s asking. He wants me to beg. He wants me to tell him I want him to make love to me. I can’t be the voice for both of us.
I exhale, placing a wet kiss on his hard, lower stomach. “What do you want me to say, Mav? Do you want me to beg? Is that what you need?” The stupid questions sound pathetic coming out of my mouth. “I saw the condoms,” I admit, averting my gaze and tucking my hair behind my ear.
Maverick releases me and brings his hands up to tangle in his hair. He runs his palms down the front of his face, and heaves a huge sigh. He looks tortured and I don’t want to see him like this. Not now. Not ever. So I give him the reprieve of not having to answer me. I yank down his underwear and stick his dick in my mouth. He hisses out a breath.
“Not like this. Come here,” he orders. He grabs me by my waist and twists me so my knees are on each side of his head. Roughly, he parts my legs with one hand and pulls me down to sit on his face with the other. I cry out once, as the sensations assault my body all at once. Several long seconds pass as he licks and sucks, and thrusts his tongue before I remember I’m supposed to be doing something too. Not that he cares. Maverick is ravenous as he goes down on me. The biggest turn on is how much he enjoys it.
Leaning over, I put him in my mouth and try my best to focus, but every few seconds my eyes go a little blurry with complete lust haze. I lick around the tip and try to keep the same tempo as Maverick. He pushes his tongue into my sex; I swallow his cock as deep as I can. I close my eyes and try to picture us having sex. Spit is everywhere and his mouth is making me so wet that I’m sure he’s covered in me. I almost want to pull away and just sink myself onto his dick, just to feel it inside me as I come. Maverick’s fingers find my sex and work overtime to bring me over the edge. Slamming my eyes shut, I have to stop sucking; I’m about to come. I’m on the brink, and I know it’s going to be strong, because it always is with him.
He flips me so I’m laying on my back, his head still between my thighs. I throw my arms over my head and scrunch the comforter in my hands for something to hold on to. My thighs tingle.
Then he stops all together. I was right there, and he stops. I groan and force myself to peek at him. “Ugh. Who’s the depraved one? Please don’t stop,” I beg. I could just touch my clit and go off like a firecracker at this point. “Don’t stop, Mav. Go…go. Come on,” I say, raising my hips, like he can see how badly I need to come. His face is grim, determined, so fucking turned on that I might just come from looking at him.
“Beg for it now,” he commands. There it is again—an order because he can’t pull the damn trigger himself. God, how I want him to bury himself inside me and never leave. He wouldn’t even get all the way in before I’d start clenching around him, I know it. This is the point in our normal sexcapades that I beg him to make love to me. Every time without fail. This time is different because he’ll actually do it. I’m so horny I can’t even think straight. He’s giving all this power to me, when I’m feeling like the weakest person in the universe, only craving release.
I speak without thinking. Because I’m not. Not really. “Fuck me, Mav. Fuck me like I’m one of your bimbos. Make me come,” I plead. I can’t even believe the words that came out of my mouth. “Is that what you want to hear, baby?” The silence that fills the room is beyond deafening; it’s murderous. He punches the bed next to my thigh. The slam reverberates in my chest.
“Fuck, Win!” Obviously not what he wanted to hear. Damn. I sit up. His huge body looks even more enormous in my tiny bed, scrunched at the bottom. “You couldn’t just say what you say every other time…could you?”
I’m horny and angry. “You couldn’t just take matters into your own hands? You know I want you. You know I’m not going to leave you no matter what. I’ve promised you!” I yell, not even worried about waking up my drunkard mother. She’s slept through a hurricane before. I make up my mind about something. “When we have sex—if we ever get to that—I want you begging me.” I stab my finger into his chest and leave it there. Touching him isn’t a good idea. Now I want to throw myself into his arms. He merely smiles at my anger, his fading at the same time. I huff.
“I’m sorry about what I said about your bimbos,” I mutter. “I was just so close and you stopped,” I admit ruefully.
“You were so close and yet you couldn’t just say ‘make love to me?’” Maverick replies. The tone of his voice crushes me. It’s disappointment. I really messed this one up. But he is the one enacting cruel and unusual torture, bringing me on the brink of a mind-numbing orgasm and then requesting me to speak certain words.
I hide my face in my hands. “You have me like a ticking time bomb. There aren’t niceties anymore. Maybe after you work me over a few hundred times I’ll be down to make love. You do this to me,” I explain, groaning an embarrassed sigh. My sex drive slams into park. He pulls my hands down.
He’s right in my face. No hiding from him. “I made a decision. If you beg me one more God damn time to make love to you, I will. That’s why I bought the condoms. Because I want to make you happy. I’m willing to give up on going slow if it’s what you want, Windsor. At this point we’re just denying the inevitable anyway. I’m a fucking firework and you’re the fuse,” he says. “Denying you has been the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I’m a selfish prick. I’m no good.”
There are a couple things I picked up on, the first being telling me no sex was the hardest thing he’s ever done. He’s a freaking Navy SEAL for fuck’s sake. So that speaks volumes. So does denying the inevitable. It gives me pause. I just stare at him, willing the answer to come to me. Do I just tell him to have sex with me or do I respect what he obviously wants and hold off?
“I’m only trying to protect you,” Maverick whispers.
“I don’t want protecting, Mav,” I say, laying my palm on his chest. “I want you here.” I bring up my other hand to muss his brown hair. Then I tap him lightly on the side of his head. “I want you here, too,” I admit. I straddle his lap and feel his large, hot member nestled by my sex. Even though his boxer briefs are on, it’s the closest we’ve been to sex. “Those are the important things you should know. Everything else can wait.”
Maverick stares at me, trying to figure out exactly what I mean, even though I’ve made myself perfectly clear. He’s such a man. Both dimples and the smile that crinkles his eyes and dampens my nether regions blazes on his face.
“You sure everything else can wait?” he asks, his tone low, sarcastic. I realize I’m rubbing myself against cock, my wetness creating the perfect friction against my most sensitive spot. “I won’t do that again. I won’t deny you. I’m sorry,” he growls slipping two fingers into me, realizing just how worked up he had me.
Finding the rhythm that will take me over the edge doesn’t take long. I have his hard body underneath me, his tattoos wrapping his huge muscles like a freaking gift. His fuck me eyes and tousled hair are the icing on the Maverick cake. Everything inside the man is what makes me the most turned on. I slide up and down on his fingers like they’re his dick. I can almost pretend I’m having sex with him just by watching the look of lust and awe in his gaze. He breathes out deeply every few seconds, and his neck muscles look strained. This man is hungry.
“Come for me, Win. Come for me,” he says while watching my tits bouncing up and down. His other hand finds my clit and his thumb circles furiously. His words alone cause me to grip around his fingers and release like a wild animal, rocking up and down in time with my clenching sex. His fingers. Oh. My God.
I slump over on him. My nipples feel sensitive and hard as they brush his bare chest. I love everything about the moments after, with Maverick. I want to remember every bliss-filled second. I hear him sucking, so I look up.
“What’s that taste like?” I ask, as he licks a finger he just fucked me with. He offers his forefinger to me and I suck the salty, tangy taste off. His eyes close and his nostrils flare. He pushes his hips up, forcing his hard-on exactly where we both want it. “Mmmmm,” I hum around his large finger.
He chuckles, but there is no humor in it. His body is tense. He’s like a freaking tiger about to attack. Except he doesn’t want prey. He wants to fuck. He wants carnal. He is denying himself for crazy reasons. But they’re his reasons, so I have to respect them.
“I taste pretty delicious,” I murmur, before bending over to drive my tongue into his open mouth, and wrap both of my hands around his throat. He groans, and grinds his erection between my sex lips. He does it again. And again. His dick is so firm and he’s pushing down on my hips so hard that it almost hurts me. He’s playing rough. I tighten my grip around his neck, and kiss him harder. My mouth burns, but the pain is sweet. I want more of it. I pull his bottom lip with my teeth.
“Fuck,” he moans into my mouth. One more swift thrust and I feel him explode underneath me, warm wetness spreading all over the entrance of my sex, drenching his boxer briefs. “Fuck,” he whispers again, his voice hoarse.
I wiggle on top of him. “That was not dry humping, Mav. You don’t do anything normal, do you?” I tease.
I am so turned on that I have the ability to drive this animalistic man to orgasm without the use of normal means. I didn’t use my hands or my mouth. My sex clenches with the knowledge. It’s sultrier than sex—mind bending hotness, in every aspect. Maverick is so into me that he just creamed his panties. I could make a million jokes about it, but I don’t. Because the way he’s looking at me right now makes my heart hammer.
A sweet smile plays on his lips, and his hands caress me with the softest touch. No one has ever looked at me like this. Not even the man I was going to marry. This is new and butterflies automatically invade my stomach. I watch his throat as he swallows, his neck tattoo dancing.
He ignores my question completely. Stroking the side of my face he simply says, “You’re everything.”
If I didn’t know any better, I’d say Maverick Hart was in love.