He chuckles, but there is no humor in it. His body is tense. He’s like a freaking tiger about to attack. Except he doesn’t want prey. He wants to fuck. He wants carnal. He is denying himself for crazy reasons. But they’re his reasons, so I have to respect them.
“I taste pretty delicious,” I murmur, before bending over to drive my tongue into his open mouth, and wrap both of my hands around his throat. He groans, and grinds his erection between my sex lips. He does it again. And again. His dick is so firm and he’s pushing down on my hips so hard that it almost hurts me. He’s playing rough. I tighten my grip around his neck, and kiss him harder. My mouth burns, but the pain is sweet. I want more of it. I pull his bottom lip with my teeth.
“Fuck,” he moans into my mouth. One more swift thrust and I feel him explode underneath me, warm wetness spreading all over the entrance of my sex, drenching his boxer briefs. “Fuck,” he whispers again, his voice hoarse.
I wiggle on top of him. “That wasnotdry humping, Mav. You don’t do anything normal, do you?” I tease.
I am so turned on that I have the ability to drive this animalistic man to orgasm without the use of normal means. I didn’t use my hands or my mouth. My sex clenches with the knowledge. It’s sultrier than sex—mind bending hotness, in every aspect. Maverick is so into me that he just creamed his panties. I could make a million jokes about it, but I don’t. Because the way he’s looking at me right now makes my heart hammer.
A sweet smile plays on his lips, and his hands caress me with the softest touch. No one has ever looked at me like this. Not even the man I was going to marry. This is new and butterflies automatically invade my stomach. I watch his throat as he swallows, his neck tattoo dancing.
He ignores my question completely. Stroking the side of my face he simply says, “You’re everything.”
If I didn’t know any better, I’d say Maverick Hart was in love.
Chapter Fifteen
Maverick
Something happened after I left Windsor in Georgia. I watched her drive away from the Atlanta airport after she dropped me off curbside, by my request, and I knew she’d forever changed me. I sat in that crazy fucking airport and thought about everything. I started to feel a little bad for John Nash, which pissed me off. Because I know Windsor is the type of person who is hard to get over. Maybe you never get over her, actually. You’d have to push the memory of her to the back and let her live there, quietly tapping your shoulder at any given second. Forgetting her completely isn’t an option. You need the reminder of her, and of how she affects you, to feel alive. At least I do and I assume any person who is close to her needs it too. I never want to try to get over her. My ultimate weakness has been exposed, ripped open so wide that I’ll never be able to fill the fucking gap with anything or anyone except her.
Stone grunts beside me, as he shifts to a seated position on his surfboard. “Fuck, I can’t wait to get back to Virginia tomorrow,” he says. The Pacific Ocean is fucking freezing cold, even through our 3-millimeter wet suits. The waves in Pacific Beach, San Diego are worth it, though. We finished the dive training we came for, squeezed in a few skydives in Otay just for fun, and now we’re killing our last day catching some waves.
I paddle past him and stop. “Me too, dude. Me too.” I’m actually ready to get the hell out of California and this water. Not because I’m cold, but because I want to check my cell.
Windsor and I have been texting back and forth every day I’ve been gone. She tells me the crazy shit her mother says, and I tell her tiny snippets of my day. How deep I can dive. To which I responded,Just wait and find out.What type of flippers I use. What diving in black waters at night actually feels like. She asks me a lot of questions, and I secretly love it. No one has ever taken any interest in what I do. Certainly not my fucking family. The only people I care about are next to me doing the same damn thing, so that steals my thunder. Windsor wants every gory detail. Of course I can’t tell her most things about what I do, or what I’m training to do, but the fact that she cares is enough. She’s more than enough.
Stone rattles on next to me about how we’re going out to a bar tonight to meet up with the rest of the guys. The same guys that give me shit because I’m no longer bagging pussy every night I’m out. I’m not bagginganything. My cock hurts. In the beginning of my relationship with Windsor, I thought that not having sex was going to be the biggest challenge. How can I keep my dick to myself when the woman who I’m most attracted to on earth is bouncing up and down on my dick, only separated by fucking underwear? That night I thought I’d break, but I didn’t. Windsor knew something changed that night. Blue eyes told me so. The hardest thing is keeping my fucking mouth shut. If I tell her how strongly I feel about her, I know she’ll run. I should give her more credit, but I can’t. I can’t control her…I have no power over the situation. Scary fucking shit.
“You are always out in fucking space, Bro,” Stone says. I look at him. He’s not smiling. Fuck. He starts paddling for shore and shouts, “Should I grab a helmet and join you out there?”
Sometimes it blows dicks he knows me so well. I swear we live in the same mind sometimes, so alike in so many ways. Running my hand over the wax on my board, I try to come up with something to say—an excuse to placate him for the moment.
I paddle my long board behind him. It’s silent this morning. “I’m not in space. I’m just ready to get back. That’s all,” I explain, coming up next to him. He glances over and smiles that asshole fucker smile.
“You need to bang her out, Mavvy. You really fucking do. Bang her out real good. What’s going to happen if Windsor pussy is on your brain when we load out?” He splashes me. I stop paddling and sit up. It’s still too deep to touch the bottom.
“I can’t fuck her, Stone,” I say, pausing. I take a deep breath and let it fly. “I’m in love with her.” This can go one of two ways. He doesn’t start cackling, which is a good sign.
“I know you are. Usually you fuck em’ if you love em’,” he explains, a serious expression on his face. Of course he knows I’m in love. My fucked up past always makes me feel like he feels sorry for me, but I know better. He cares. In his own demented way. “Tell her you love her and bang her out a few times every day until we leave. I promise you’ll feel a million times better. Then maybe you can come back down to earth with the rest of us.”
“She’ll leave me. Look at my fucking life, man. I’m gone all the time, not to mention my shit past. If I bag her, there’ll be nothing left for her to wait for. She’ll leave,” I repeat, swallowing all my fucking pride. “I just need her man. I just fucking need her to be with me,” I say.
We’ve reached the shore. Rolling off my board I lay down in the sand. I hear Stone settle next to me.
“I’ve never wanted anything the way I want her. I’ve also never sucked at anything more,” I admit. I can’t think straight when I’m around her. I’m an intelligent man. I know a lot of things, but it’s like half my brain is missing when I’m around her. My hands start shaking, right now, on this fucking beach 2,000 miles away from Windsor, just when I think about touching her. It’s really God damned bad.
“You remember how long it took me to tame Morganna into submission? Years, man. You know that. She loves me, but I sucked so hard at dating her that I honestly thought I’d lose her a time or two. You’re also forgetting that I’m gone all the fucking time too and Morg waits. A good woman will always wait. If you love her, she’s a good woman. For as big as a fucktard as you are, you have a solid heart. You always have. I’m a little jealous someone else penetrated the cement wall you have wrapped around you,” Stone says. I feel his fat fingers brush my upper thigh. I smile and swat his hand away. Now, he cackles.
I laugh a little as I grab my backpack and fish out my cell phone from the plastic bag I put it in. Stone’s already chattering away on his own phone. It’s definitely a guy, and not Morganna by how manyfucksandpussiesI hear flying out of his mouth, to balance out our heart-to-heart conversation, no doubt. What happened to the days where we talked about work and my weekend fucks? I’ve complicated everything. It’s affecting every area of my life. I have one new text. I click on it so fast you’d think it was about to self-destruct.
It’s a long message from Windsor.I’m safely back in VB. Krazy Kath has a friend staying with her for the time being. Still no sign of #5. Can I pick you up tomorrow? I can’t wait to get my hands (and wet mouth) on every single inch of you. Mainly, the 10 inches that reside below your belt. I’ll come to your house?
I text her back.Yes. To all of the above. Especially the wet mouth part and the you at my house part.
Stone’s words rattle in my skull. I wonder if he’s right. If I should confess it all, put it out there and let her do with it what she will. Maybe she won’t be scared. Maybe the Nashhole didn’t ruin her completely. Before I lose my nerve I type another text.Stay at my house until I leave.
Like move in with you?How I wish I could interpret the tone of a text message. I’ve never wanted anything more. Fuck.
