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“W-what happened after you left?” She moved her body very subtly, squeezing her legs together, leaning forward so her tits pressed into his hands. Her need was just as sharp as his. His cock was so hard it could probably knock down the wall and, unused to being denied, his balls ached with the heaviness of unfulfillment. But he didn’t mind, because once he lost himself inside her, it was going to be epic. For both of them.
“I lived on the streets until I was nineteen.” So much had happened in those three years. So much had dirtied him and made him into an animal, trying to survive day-to-day. The gritty details weren’t something she needed. No, she had enough of her own nightmares. No need to add to them.
“I did…a lot of shit to survive. Things your beautiful mind wouldn’t comprehend and should never have to think about.”
She frowned. “I’m not naïve, Maverick. You might not think so, but I know how the world works. I know what people do to survive. I’ve seen plenty.”
For some reason, he believed her. Still, he wasn’t going to tell her how he’d sold himself for food, how he’d stolen, hurt people, did whatever was asked of him, until one day it became too much.
“I had a group of friends, I guess you could call them. We looked out for each other on the street.” He couldn’t look at her face and continue, so he dropped his gaze to her chest where her nipples strained against the thin fabric of her T-shirt. “One was a girl who couldn’t have been more than fifteen. I tried to shelter her from the harshest realities of living on the streets. It was only a matter of time before she started prostituting herself—it happened to every damn one of us, but I tried so hard to keep her free from that until she at least turned legal age. Like that would have somehow made it less horrifying.”
He sighed and forged on. “Anyway, I was supposed to bring her some food one night. Neither of us had eaten in at least a day and were so hungry. But I blew her off for some piece of ass. She didn’t have any money and was hungry, so she went out on the streets in search of who the hell knows what. Ended up giving herself to some piece of shit who promised to take her to McDonald's if she sucked his dick. Instead, he raped her, strangled her, and dumped her body in an alley.”
“Oh, God, Maverick.” Stephanie cupped his face in her hands and forced him to look at her. “You do realize it wasn’t your fault, right? Has anyone ever told you it wasn’t your fault?”
“Not at first. Everyone fucking blamed me, and I couldn’t live with the guilt. Couldn’t live with what I’d become. So, one night, I sat on an overpass, fully prepared to jump. A kid about my age rode up on his Harley. It was Zach. He handed me some fuckin’ beef jerky and sat next to me. For some reason, the whole story poured out of me. He didn’t feed me any bullshit. Just told me about this club his old man was part of. How it was a brotherhood, a family, and how he was going to prospect when he turned twenty-one. Told me they’d be looking for other prospects as well.
“I climbed off the ledge, learned to ride, moved to Townsend, and prospected when I turned twenty-one. Rest is history.”
“Thank you,” Stephanie whispered.
“You can thank me by getting up here and sitting on my dick.”
She shook her head and sat back on her heels. Her eyes sparkled, and she looked so hungry he groaned. “No. No jokes, no teasing, no flirty Maverick. You gave me a gift by telling me that story. Now I’m going to give you something back. Something you’ve waited way too long for.”
As she spoke, she had traced the soft pad of one finger down the lettering on his dick, and he nearly came right then and there. When she reached the tip, she flicked the piercing, making him fist the sheets of the bed in a death grip.
He could have stopped her if he wanted to, but fuck that. He wanted her hot mouth around his dick more than he wanted to eat, more than he wanted to fucking ride. Her grin grew mischievous as she lowered her head and tongued the piercing while keeping eye contact.
His eyes rolled back in his head as the warmth of her soft tongue licked over his sensitive flesh. Gripping him by the base of his cock, she ran that tongue over his tattoo, then pressed soft kisses along the length of it. If he were a man who could cry, he’d have teared up, because this was so much more than her sucking him off. This was her taking care of him, giving him pleasure, healing him.
