Our field, our own private hideaway.
Pulling away, I place my hands on his face. “Thank you,” I whisper, nuzzling my nose against his.
I feel him laugh into me as he pulls me closer.
“You never have to thank me for giving you a kiss, baby.” His lips graze against mine again.
Cupping his face once more, I bring my lips closer to his until they connect withthe fierceness that they always meet with.
We’ve been doing this song and dance for years now, that rur tongues move in harmony together. I know all of him, and he knows every piece of me. Inside and out. And we love each part of each other.
“So, tell me again, Firefly, where are we building?” He asks, leaning back onto his hands. He asks me this all the time when we sit here.
Planning our future.
“Right in this spot,” I point my fingers to the floor.
He laughs, moving his legs into a more comfortable position as I continue to straddle him.
“Alright, and what are we building?” He asks, lifting his right brow, never taking his eyes off mine.
“I want a wooden house, all on one floor,” I start, looking around envisioning our dream home. “A white porch, with a swing, that I can read on,” I continue.
He’s looking at me, hanging on every word I say, placing his left hand around my hips, holding himself up with his right.
“I want three bedrooms… no… make that four!” I squeal.
“Four?! How many kids are we having, baby?” He gasps, pretending to be in shock like this is the first time we’ve had this conversation.
It isn’t. He humours me every time.
“Loads! I want an army of mini-Mavericks running around!” I laugh.
“Or mini-Mabel’s?” He adds.
“Aww, shit, we don’t need any mini-me’s,” I scoff.
“I mean,” he starts. “I want as many mini you’s as you’ll allow me to have,” he breathes, pulling me closer to him.
This man means everything he says to me.
He looks at me like I hung the moon in his world and Mav' has never let me down.
“We’ll need those four bedrooms then,” I snort, raising an eyebrow.
Next thing I know, he pull’s me onto the hard ground in one swift move and is hovering above me. Keeping his weight held up on his hands. Six-foot-one Maverick is heavy, but he would never hurt me on purpose. Or squash me. I have so much faith in him.
“Four bedrooms it is then, Firefly.” He smirks, lowering his body to grind mine.
I open my legs and let him lay in between them, myhands still cupping onto his face, I lift my eyes to meet his before smashing his face to mine. I welcome the passionate kiss that always starts when were in this position.
I move my hips, grinding my centre along his already thick growing shaft beneath his jeans. I feel how hard he is through the denim; I feel the slickness grow in-between my thighs.
This man does something to me.
It’s becoming harder to wait every time he grinds back at me.
He lets out my new favourite sound, a rough growl and flares his nostrils.
