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12
MAVERICK
Alana’s stomach growls loudly, interrupting the silence that surrounds us.
“I should probably feed you, huh?” I whisper, not wanting to ruin the tranquility.
It took us a long time, but we eventually made it out of bed in favor of stumbling into the huge walk-in shower to wash the sweat from our skin.
Can’t say that we ever let each other go, though.
I’ve spent five years desperately trying to keep my hands to myself. And now that I’ve touched her, it’s like a switch has been flipped and I can’t let her go.
The warmth and softness of her skin is even more addictive than I feared it might be. And add in the little noises and loud cries she lets out when I thrust inside her and push her over the edge, well, safe to say that I’ve fallen in love with her all over again.
“I’m okay. I’ve got everything I need right here,” she lies, tightening her grip on my arm.
After our shower, I grabbed the comforter and dragged Alana out to the balcony attached to our bedroom. While she was in the bath and I was pacing around the cabin nervously, I found an identical swing seat out here to the one we fell asleep on downstairs this morning.
“You haven’t eaten for hours,” I argue, ignoring the other reasons why I know she’s not okay.
We’re going to need to properly talk about the men we left behind us and how she feels about it, but now is not the time. We at least need to be clothed for that situation.
“Nor have you,” she counters.
A satisfied smirk pulls at my lips as I think about exactly what I’ve eaten in the last couple of hours.
“I think you’ll find I have.” I growl into the crook of her neck, making her shudder with desire.
It doesn't matter how many times I’ve made her come—and I’ve done it a lot since she walked out of the bathroom earlier today—she still wants me.
She’s utterly insatiable. And I love it almost as much as I love learning all these new things about my wife that I refused to see or acknowledge before.
Here I was thinking it was a miracle that I managed to restrain myself all this time, when really, she must have been the one having the hardest fight with her libido.
I know that Victor didn’t give her a choice in what she ended up doing for him, but I can understand why she might have agreed, even if that wasn’t the case.
She has needs. Needs I wasn’t fulfilling.
A little of the self-hatred I felt back at Reid’s manor drips through my veins.
It doesn’t matter that I was trying to do what I thought was best, I still failed.
“Eating my pussy doesn’t count, Mav.” She laughs.
The soft sound wraps around me, making the hairs on the back of my neck lift and my cock harden against her ass.
“It really should.” I groan. “It could be the only thing I eat for the rest of my life, and I’d die a very happy man.”
“So I can tell,” she whispers, grinding her ass back against me.
“Aren’t you sore?” I ask when she shifts enough to allow me to nudge against her entrance.
“You were listening to my confession earlier, right?” Twisting around, she finds my eyes, letting me see the honesty in her words. “I love the pain,” she says, temptingly biting down on her bottom lip. “It makes me feel alive.”
“I promise you, Doll. You’re very alive right now.”
Unable to stop myself, I wrap my hand around her thigh, spread her open, and thrust my hips.
