I make quick work of a condom, notch myself at her entrance and run my fingers over the place where we connect. “Goddamn, Chloe," I grit through my teeth. “I thought your mouth full of my cum was enough to break me. Watching you stretch over my cock might be enough to kill me.”
“Mav,” she whines, trying to sink down lower.
I slide in another inch, and she squeezes me like she was made to do this. My jaw clenches and my molars grind together as I hold on to the last of my restraint.
“I’m fighting like hell, but if you keep arching back, I’m going to bottom out in this pussy.”
She looks over her shoulder, her wild hair falling to the side and her eyes meet mine.
“Then do it.”
I reach up, curling my fingers in her hair, and pull her up just enough to bring my lips to her ear. “What’d I say about that sassy mouth of yours?”
There’s no bite of her lip or dip of her chin. She smiles proudly, shifting herself another inch down my cock. “That you liked it.”
“Yeah.” I nip at the slope of her neck, letting her scent consume me, and just as she angles her head, and her lips are whispers against mine—I bury myself to the hilt.
Chloe’s scream is a mix of pain and pleasure, and she’s so fucking tight around me I see black spots out of the corner of my eyes. My hold on her hair drops, and I bring both hands to her hips, not holding back as I thrust in and out of her.
“Yes.” As soon as the word leaves her mouth, she props up on her elbows, driving her hips back in time, taking every thick inch of me. I thrust forward, deeper, faster, letting the slick warmth of her cunt strangle me.
“Fuck, Chloe,” I all but growl the words, dropping my teeth, grazing the curve of her neck. “You should see how perfect you look. Dripping all over my cock with my name on your back.”
“Mav!” she cries.
Fuck,just hearing her say my name like that is almost enough to drive me over the edge. She says it like a plea. She says it like she's only ever screamed my name, and the possessiveness I felt before grows tenfold. “Say you’re mine, Chloe.” I drive in and out, gritting my teeth, so I don’t finish before she says the words.
Her legs begin to tremble, and I reach around, rubbing quick circles over her clit.
“Say it. You have my name on your back, and my cum is about to fill your cunt. Say you’re mine.”
“Yes, Maverick.” The way she cries my name makes my balls tighten and sends a shiver up my spine. “Yes…” She gasps again. “I’m yours. I’m yours.” Her voice breaks as her walls clench and pulse around me.
She shutters beneath me and it pulls me over the edge with her. The last of my control leaves me as I spill deep inside her.
Before she has time to catch her breath, she sinks flat against the table. I use what little strength I have left to brace myself on my forearm beside her before giving in and dropping my face to her back and tracing my fingers over the embroidered letters there.
34
chloe
The palmof my hand grazes over the back of Maverick’s head. His buzzed hair usually feels like tiny little pin pricks against my skin, but this morning, they feel softer. I suppress a giggle when I think about the fact that I grew up lusting over guys with so much hair it covered their eyes, and now here I am, borderline obsessed with a man who purposefully shaves his head.
I rest my hand against his chest, gently pressing my fingers into the hard plains of his pecs. Waking up in his bed with him feels so natural. Domestic, even. And that’s what worries me the most. This space in between where nothing has a name and I’m left to quietly wonder what we are—or what we’re not.
I’ve waited before. I’ve been the soft, agreeable girl who thought that would be enough. I committed without requiring commitment in return, and I masked it all by calling it patience instead of fear. Now, I’m in a place where it never feels like I need to bargain or bend, and I don’t know how to trust that.
We haven’t been performing for anyone in a while, if anything we’ve been hiding it. My mind latches on to thatthought. Is this just another almost? Is he embarrassed of me? Is he getting something more out of this arrangement?
I draw in a slow breath, forcing my thoughts to settle.
His hand closes gently around my wrist, and his thumb brushes over my skin. His other hand cups the back of my hair, gently stroking the strands, and when my heart flips, I know.
I know I’ve let what I thought my heart wanted steer me wrong before, but I know that this is different. It doesn’t feel like waiting or guessing. It doesn’t feel like begging to be chosen, or begging to be seen.
With Maverick, it never feels like I have to give anything up. I feel whole, and not in a “he completes me”type of way, but in a “I don’t have to give up parts of myself”kind of way. He sees everything I am.
Some people might think less of him, but I’ve always seen him for who he is. And I know that there’s feelings there.
