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When Stephanie laughed, it released the last of the tension. The man was nothing if not blunt. “Guess so.”
“Can’t even eat you like I want with this fuckin’ busted lip.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, wincing when his palm encountered the bruised ring around his eye.
Stephanie swallowed and closed her eyes. Maybe with enough mental fortitude, she could will away the image of him going down on her. Hard to do with a deep, pulsing ache between her legs.
No. It was useless. She wanted him with a force that scared her.
The whole thing was so fucked up. He’d killed a man less than fifteen minutes ago and here she was, a federal agent, complicit in a murder and wanting nothing more than to be fucked stupid by the murderer.
“Woman,” Mav said on a growl. “Stop standing there and staring at me like all you’re thinking about is my mouth on your pussy. You’re making me crazy, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it tonight.” He grabbed her hand. “Come on, wildcat. Let’s take some pain pills, clean up your wrist and knuckles, then get some shut-eye.”
She blinked and shifted her gaze. Maverick wasn’t even trying to disguise the thick bulge behind his sweats, and the sight of it only made her want him more. “I could…” she said, gesturing toward his crotch as her face flamed.
“Fuuuck,” he said letting his head fall back on his shoulders. “Don’t even say it, babe. Besides, your lip’s almost as bad as mine. Ain’t how I roll. Hold that thought until I can bury my face between those gorgeous thighs and fuck you properly without needing narcotics.”
Then it would never happen. Because she was giving in to the insanity while she was there in his world and in his clubhouse. But the moment she left, all of this was going firmly in a do-not-revisit file in her mind. Never to be reexamined, never to be opened again. She’d never see him after tomorrow and never think of him if she could manage it.
Fifteen minutes later, medicated, knuckles cleaned, and a fresh bandage on her wrist, Stephanie found herself in her bed with Maverick spooned all around her. She hadn’t expected him to climb on in with her but couldn’t stop the flutter in her stomach when he had. He was solid and warm behind her, and she hoped with every fiber of her being that his presence would keep the nightmares at bay.
Probably not, considering what she’d been party to that day.
Maverick seemed to fall asleep the moment his arm curled around her, and the steady rise and fall of his chest against her back lulled her into a hypnotic state of sleep.
Sometime later, a firm pressure against her lower stomach woke her. Maverick’s open palm pressed against her bare skin spanning the distance between her belly button and her mound. Arousal hit, sharp and instantaneous, whooshing the air from her lungs. The moment his splayed fingers began a slow, southward journey, Stephanie’s heart started to pound.
When he reached her sex, he cupped his hand and left it there just resting against her cotton-covered pussy. She’d shed her pants before falling into bed and wore nothing but one of Mav’s T-shirts and un-sexy panties.
“M-Maverick?”
“Shh,” he whispered against her ear as he worked his fingers under the damp swatch of fabric concealing her. He pressed one of his digits against her opening, just holding it there, not entering, not moving, and her eyes fluttered closed.
Fuck me with those fingers. Please.
“I need to make you come,” he said. “I might not survive the night if I don’t feel this wet pussy squeezing some part of my body. You gonna let me make you come?”
Let him? She was seconds away from begging for it. “Yes,” she said. “Please.”
“Hmm,” he said, chuckling. “Like the sound of that.”
He slid a long finger into her, and she sighed in relief as her pussy tightened down on him. “Soaked,” he whispered.
No one else was around, but the moment seemed to call for hushed tones. Anything else would destroy the intimacy. Would rip through the cocoon of forbidden desire and emotion that had bound Stephanie so tightly to him.
He curled his finger and rubbed along the front wall, drawing a whimper from her.
“Feel good?”
“Uh huh.” She nodded, unable to do more than make the garbled sounds.
“Want it to feel even better?”
“Y-yes.”
Mav inserted a second finger and then, without warning, he stopped playing, stopped teasing, and fucked her in earnest with his fingers.
“Shit,” she cried out as a jolting shot of pleasure ripped through her. She gathered the sheet in the fingers of her good hand and squeezed as though it would somehow be an anchor to the bed when her body wanted to fly apart.
While he worked his fingers inside her, his thumb played with the hood of her clit, rubbing in an arch around the nub but never quite touching it. Maverick was tearing away her sanity one stroke at a time.
