I reach between us and guide him down to my entrance. Even when I wriggle against him in encouragement he doesn’t just ram home. He doesn’t even slip inside a single bit until his gaze meets mine. He holds it, his face so close that I can count every single dark eyelash and make out all the unique patterns in his irises.
He’s so strong above me, his body once again a shield between me and the world, that I feel almost fragile beneath him in comparison. I’m so much smaller, but I know he’ll be gentle. He’s the one who pulled me out of my cage and started to mend my torn, crippled wings. He was planting seeds in the soil of my heart long before we met, and the second he walked into my life, he brought the rain and the sun to encourage them to grow and bloom.
He’s seen me at my worst. He knows what I’m like. He knows all the things that I can’t do. He’s seen all the ugly moments, the hopeless ones, the parts of me that are just straight up terrible. He knows that I need endless improvement,but he’s still right here with me. He didn’t just give me letters. He’s still writing them. I know that he’ll never stop, even if the words aren’t written in ink on paper. Even if they’re written straight into my heart.
Maverick seemed to be waiting for something in my face. It’s only now that he pushes forward, filling me slowly. I’m so achingly wet, so eager to have him inside of me at last, that the stretch and burn is all part of the pleasure.
I have zero control left. I want to beg him to fuck me all the way. I can’t get the words out, but I do cant my hips against him, opening myself up.
“Please,” I groan, finally finding at least one word. I want him to let go. To fuck me hard. To drive into me and use me, to be as feral and unleashed as I feel.
He surges inside of me, unable to hold himself back. I love the second that the chains fall away and his restraint snaps. He fills me all the way to the hilt, groaning out at the pleasure of it. I make a sound that is equally as dark and needy, clenching my thighs tight around his hips as my pussy ripples around him.
I grind my head into the pillows as he glides back, hands warm and rough against the silk of my skin. He slips both of them under my ass, driving me up into the air and spreading my legs around him as he repositions himself. The next thrust bottoms out inside of me, hitting spots that I didn’t know existed, lighting me up. I can feel how tight I am around him, how my body begs for more, rippling around him, trying to keep him inside of me every single time he thrusts all the way in.
I open my eyes a crack just to watch Maverick straining above me. The veins on his neck and temple stand out. They pop out all along his forearms as he holds me up, bracing me forevery brutal thrust. His eyes are squeezed tightly closed, a look of pure concentration on his face. His jaw is firmly set and every muscle below his neck is tightly tensed. He’s a work of art, and every single bit of that artistry is channeled into our pleasure.
Every stroke takes me closer. I’ve never been so full.
My eyes shut and I throw my hands overhead, flattening my palms against the headboard, bracing myself. Maverick thrusts even harder and wilder, pounding into me so hard that the sound of our bodies slapping together echoes through the basement.
Silently, Maverick leaves one hand supporting my hips, but he curls over me, wrapping his fingers lightly around my throat. He doesn’t squeeze. Just pins me in place, owning me completely, inside and out.
I’ve wanted this so badly that I’ve dreamed about it and tonight it finally felt right. It doesn’t take much more than a few thrusts and I’m shattering around him. My walls ripple and spasm as I come apart. My panting, sharp breaths are loud bouncing off against the concrete, but the only other sound I can make are little whimpers, begging for more, letting Maverick know how good the pleasure is as it grips my body and wrings me out.
Maverick surges so hard inside of me and then I know he’s coming, his body trembling, muscles shaking. All I feel is heat inside of me as he groans at the pleasure. He keeps me perfectly balanced in his hand and somehow still finds my mouth, kissing me frantically, his hips still pistoning slowly, cock churning inside of me.
He kisses me for a long time, even when the frantic passion fades and cools. The kisses are sweet, his lips, his body, theweight of him pressing down on me and the thickness filling me up, even more sensitive after my climax, are all I need in the world.
“I love you.” The words unspool against my lips, hot and tender.
I was wrong. I needed that too. Always.
I want to say that I haven’t known true peace since the night of the attack, but I wonder if I ever did. I don’t think so. Not like this. Peace isn’t just the absence of struggle. It’s a deep and total sense of freedom.
It’s the life I want to build with this man.
I shift my hands, curling them around his back and shoulders and pulling him down to me so I can hold him even tighter, until there’s nothing between our sweat-slicked skin. “I love you.” I feed him the words, let them play over his lips, let our combined breath and our surging heartbeats stand as our truth.
Epilogue
Maverick
Ten Months Later
Never say never.
Up until a few months ago, I would have said that I’d never prospect for the club, but here I am, proudly sporting a leather vest with the stone angel and her bowed head on my back, and a patch that reads ‘Prospect’ on the front.
I’m still not all that interested in bikes. I don’t know if I’ll ever even want to own one. I don’t mind working on them, and on the cars and trucks owned by guys at the club, but it’s not really about that here. Scythe was right when he said that the place is a brotherhood and that’s the most important part.
And what do you know, they didn’t need another mechanic anyway. What the club needed was someone to help with accounting, which I still don’t really like doing, but found I’m pretty good at regardless, and someone to share the workload of security. I’m always going to be comfortable with the tech stuff and like it better, but everything I do for the club helps out, and at the end of the day, I’m proud that I can be even just a small part of making this a better place.
It was probably always going to happen. Everyone was right. Maverick does make for a great biker name.
I park the old truck at the entrance to the graveyard. I wanted to buy it from Scythe, but he gave it to me free and clear when Loreena and I bought our house in Hart.
There are only footpaths beyond the parking lot, but the small asphalt square is empty except for the old beater.
