“I have to go, Win. I don’t have a choice. You’ll be here when I get back?” My tongue slides up the center of her breasts as I lick a trail all the way up her throat to her mouth. I whisper at her lips, “Promise me.” Windsor darts her tongue out to trace my lips. She pulls my bottom lip in between her teeth.
“Like right here? In this exact same spot?” She says, her lips grazing mine as she speaks. I hate that she doesn’t get what I’m asking. My addictive personality is about to rear its head. Fuck. Fuck. “Or are you asking if I’ll still be yours when you get back?”
“Yes,” I say simply, inhaling the scent of her cherry lip gloss intermingling with her shampoo.
She pushes me back a touch, so she can look at me face on. “Isn’t that the way this works? Why would you even have to ask? Of course I’m yours. I’m yours forever. I’ll be here. I’ll be in this exact spot if that’s what you want. Say the word,” she says, pointing to the ground.
My stomach is a tangled fucking mess. This conversation just increases my inner turmoil. I’ve never had to have a talk like this. Not even with the blonde monster. But I never gave a shit about her, so I guess I wouldn’t. This is the sissy stuff that attached people deal with. Not lone wolves like me.
I view attachments with a singular view. With each person you grow close to, you increase your odds of miserable things happening—whether it’s friends or a girlfriend, or even parents having more children. With each addition of love to your life, the favor turns against you. You’re more liable to have something stripped away. Cancer. A car accident. A broken heart. The horrific scenarios of loss are endless and more plausible with each attachment you form. Because that’s the thing with attachments —you benefit from them, but they fucking destroy you. If you keep attachments to a minimum your risks stay low. I have Stone and my team. Now I have Windsor. An addition I know makes me vulnerable tenfold.
Stone told me I should talk about how I’m feeling with Windsor. I took his advice because number one, I always take his advice, and number two, he has Morganna, the impenetrable force field wrapped like a hard dick. You can’t undermine that feat.
“This is new to me, Win. I’ve never left a girlfriend behind before. I just wanted you to know that I don’t want to lose you because of my job. I don’t want to lose you for any reason. I want you to be here, in my house, in my life when I return. That said, I’ll understand if you can’t. It’s a lot to ask of anyone. You should know though, I’ll never not want you. You’re myalways. And I do think I want you in this exact spot when I get back…maybe in the bedroom instead. We can negotiate if you’re amenable.” She has this huge fucking smile on her face as she watches me spill my soul.
“You’re being dramatic. Six months is not that long to wait. Especially for the best damn sex of my life.” Now she’s teasing me. Christ, if my friends saw this pathetic show, they’d have a field day. “Also, I’d wait forever for you—you crazy man, you. You’re my always, too. I’m in, Mav.”
“All in?” I ask, pulling her waist toward the bulge in my pants. She raises her eyebrows when it bumps her stomach.
“All the way in,” she purrs. Fuck yes. I glance at the bags behind her head quickly, distractedly. She follows my gaze and then narrows her eyes at me. “I think those bags need some action. Something to remember me by?” Windsor says, her tiny hands falling to unbutton and unzip my jeans.
I shake my head. “Ineed something to remember you by. Those bags don’t deserve you.” She’s lost her skirt and her panties in the last few seconds. She gets the award for world’s quickest naked woman. I want to be the one to congratulate her. Pursing my lips together, I cross my arms over my chest. Windsor takes a step back toward the bags. I slide my boxer briefs off and step out of them.
She clears her throat. “Well maybe you can both have me at the same time,” she explains, her gaze trained on my cock. If I didn’t know better I’d think she was talking about getting tag teamed.
Placing a hand on one of my black bags as tall as her waist, she strokes it reverently. I’ll never look at that fucking bag the same again. That’s the point, I think.
Windsor turns around, giving me a grand view of her narrow waist and round ass. Her long hair falls down her back, brushing her side when she turns her head to look over her shoulder. “Fuck me. Right here. On top of these bags,” she commands, her eyes fierce.
My dick is the only thing I can think of. How hard it is. What her words do to me. I blow out a pent up breath and approach her. When I’m standing behind her, I put my fingers where my dick wants to go.
She is soaking wet and obviously ready for me. “I’ve been waiting for this all day,” she breathes, throwing her head back to rest it on my chest. I kiss her forehead, watching her eyes grow heavy as I work her with my fingers.
She moans and my dick twitches. My mind is clear for the first time since I last touched her.
*****
Windsor
I love my back being pressed against his front. I feel every hard muscle bulging, controlling me, and owning me. Being in his arms makes me delirious with lust and passion. I say things I wouldn’t normally say; I just asked him to fuck me on bags. I’m pretty sure that never would have come out of my mouth before having sex with Maverick. The uninhibited person I am when I’m with him is freeing. It’s a person I never thought I’d have the courage to be. It’s me. It’s Windsor Forbes unfiltered.
I spread my legs a little wider to give his hand better access to me, and stifle another moan. The tips of his fingers circle and rub, causing my slick sex to pulse. He dips a finger into me. I can’t even stop my muscles from tightening around him. I do try to calm myself, because I want him inside me when I do come. His hand disappears, and I’m left panting, wondering what comes next. Lifting me by my waist and pushing down my shoulder blades, he bends me over the stack of bags.
“Keep your legs open for me, baby,” he says, hissing when the tip of his dick presses into my sex. My face is pressed into his bag. It smells like new plastic. I guess it could smell like something worse. “You feel so good, Win. I’m gonna fuck you now,” Maverick growls.
He pushes all the way into me, hitting the back. It hurts at first, but after a couple thrusts I’m used to his punishing rhythm. This isn’t the sweet sex we usually have, when we’re entwined with each other. This is frantic. He pulls me off the bags a little each time he thrusts, like he’s trying to bury himself inside me further than he’s ever gone. I grab onto one of the handles on the side of the bag to steady myself.
I know he needs this. I saw the way he looked at me when he asked if I was going to stay. It was the same look he wore when he looked at his packed bags. All I can do is trust him to trust me when I tell him I want him forever.
His strokes are more harried and out of pace as he reaches a hand around to stroke me. I feel everything, everywhere. How hot is cock is as it fills me, how his muscles strain as he pumps. I feel him shaking a little and know he’s about to come. Maverick coming is the most erotic sight I’ve ever seen. Imagining what his face looks like right now is all it takes to send me off. I arch my back, and work myself back onto him as far as I can as I pulsate around him. Tingling shoots throughout my body and I ride it for as long as I can.
“Shit. Yeah,” he whispers, smacking my ass. With a loud groan he pulls out of me and comes. His hot spurts land on my ass and all the way up my back, reaching my shoulder blades. “Fuck,” Maverick mutters, between clenched teeth. “I got it in your hair,” he says, panting loudly. I turn my head around so I can see him. I don’t dare move though. Come would get everywhere. I’ll have to play the run to the bathroom and not get it everywhere game soon.
I laugh when I see that he’s actually concerned I’ll be upset he got it in my hair. “It’s good for it,” I explain. “Really, I’m only concerned because this sort of makes me abag, doesn’t it?” I point at the one he just thoroughly worked me over on. He graces me with both dimples.
“You’re my forever bag, baby. And I think I hate these dead hookers a little less.” I’m not sure what that means, but he’s looking at me with those black fringed, hazel eyes and I’m so done for. I don’t care that he holds all the power, that he alone has the power to crush me into tiny bits. I’ll fade like a dying star without him anyways.
“I wrote you another song,” Maverick says, scooping me into his arms. He hums an upbeat melody as he carries me to the shower. Serenading me in the wet room, his sexy, growly voice breaks up the stream of the showerheads. I can only stare at him, in all of his glorious perfection as he looks directly at me and sings a perfectly lyrical love story. Luckily my tears mix with the warm water, hiding just how much I’m going to miss this sight.
