“My family isn’t exactly warm and fuzzy, Sophie.”
Ohhh, fuck.
The bar was on the fucking floor if him saying my name in such a gravelly tone made me wet. That really spoke to my poor taste in men up until now.
“Well, neither is your penthouse.” I said it sarcastically, but the coldness that washed over his features had me second-guessing my approach. Before I could defend myself, he grabbedmy waist and pushed me against the wall in the living room, placing his hands on either side of me. I was trapped.
My heart beat a million miles a minute as I leveled with him, tried not to show any fear—especially not the fact that the little bit of contact from his hands made my core tighten. I held my breath.
“We agreed this was on my terms, yes?” he growled, leaning in so close that his scent wrapped around me, dark and intoxicating—cedar and cloves, the lingering bite of expensive whiskey, something distinctlyhim.It coiled low in my stomach, a dizzying mix of danger and desire, and his warmth only made it worse, seeping into my skin like a slow burn I couldn’t escape.Dios mio,I needed to get a grip.
I managed a small nod.
Maverick grabbed my chin with one hand and tipped my face up, tugging on my lip to release it from my teeth. “Don’t bite your lip around me. That’s rule number one. Got it?”
Another nod.
“Good girl. Rule number two: when you’re in my space, you’re subject to whatever punishment I see fit for that little attitude you like to cop with me.” He must’ve seen the wariness on my face, because he added, “I will never push you past what you can handle. I promise you’ll enjoy it, and at times you’ll be out of your comfort zone, but I will never hurt you. Are we on the same page?”
My legs trembled, so I braced myself against the wall as I whispered, “Yes, sir.”
His eyes dropped to my lips. “Jesus, Sophie, don’t say that to me unless you want me to react to it. Is that what you want?” I gulped and nodded again. His lips quirked; not a kind smile, but it was beautiful nonetheless.
Maverick gripped my waist in one hand and my cheek in the other, giving me an urgent kiss that threw me completely off-kilter. I sighed, my lips parting to let him in, and he took full advantage—his tongue stroking against mine in fast, deliberate strokes, each one sending my head spinning and heat curling low in my core. I melted into him, grasping for something to hold onto, but he was already consuming me, piece by piece.
He pressed his hips into mine, his thick length an ever-present reminder that he was as affected by our chemistry as I was. Both hands trailed over my hips, squeezing and kneading until he reached the hem of my dress, pausing when he reached the lace trim of the thigh-high stockings I wore.
He pulled away to yank my dress up and gawked at my panty-free pussy and garter belt. The shock coloring his face pleased me. I widened my stance and held my chin high. “Like what you see?”
His midnight blue irises flashed, pupils dilated with lust. His knuckles whitened as he clutched the skirt of my dress tightly.
“I’m not sure how to keep my hands off you. You’re fucking perfect, Sophie.” Heat raced through me at the raw praise, my grin slipping out before I could stop it. Maverick’s grip on my waist tightened; he was fighting a losing battle with restraint. His chest rose and fell against mine, the tension between us thick enough to drown in.
“I need to taste you.” His voice was rough, almost desperate. He wasn’t just saying it—he was unraveling, and I felt every inch of his control snapping as he pulled me closer, as if I was the only thing he could hold onto.
“Please,” I breathed, writhing under his touch as his fingers brushed over my clit. I cried out.
He paused. “Beg me again.”
“Please,Maverick. Touch me, taste me, make me come. I need it. Need you.”
Maverick fell to his knees, and the sight of this beautiful man staring up at me reverently, dark locks tumbling over hisforehead, nearly undid me. His thumb circled my clit, his eyes watching my reaction as my back arched off the wall. He did it again. And again. And again, until the start of an orgasm coiled deep within me. But then he stopped and leaned in, replacing his thumb with his tongue and licking, sucking, circling me as if it was the only time he’d ever taste me.
God, I hoped not.
I could already tell this orgasm would be intense; it would take over every thought and muscle and fucking ruin me.
He flattened his tongue, and I was almost there. “Yes,yes,” I cried. “There, there, please, please don’t stop.” Then he inserted two fingers and I trembled, cresting, so close to falling off the ledge.
“Christ, Sophie, you’re so fucking wet. And it’s all mine. Isn’t it? Tell me it’s all mine.”
“Yours, yes, only yours,” I breathed.
He continued his relentless tongue-lashing until fire consumed me and I was moaning incoherent words, gripping fistfuls of his hair and shuddering and pulsing. I was spiraling out of this world, wondering where he’d been all my life. Even as I floated back down, he continued kissing and stroking with his lips and fingers until I was settled.
“Fucking beautiful,” he murmured as he leaned back, letting my dress fall back into place. His mouth was shiny with my arousal as he slowly rose to his feet again. Our striking height difference reminded me how small I was. It made me feel dainty and feminine.
“I’ve never… I’ve never come that hard before,” I admitted, still dazed.
