by A. J. Downey
“Yeah!” I said a little too quickly and he chuckled deeply, pressing another kiss, full of affection, to my forehead.
“It’s alright to be nervous,” he murmured. “We get a little wild in a big ol’ pack – it’s true and the Eversong run is the biggest run we do as National. It’ll be alright, so long as you follow the rules and unless you’re in the water you keep that vest on.”
“I won’t go in the water,” I vowed. Mostly because I didn’t know how to swim, but also because I didn’t want there to be any mistakes. I tried not to shudder, but I think I failed.
Mav squeezed me a little tighter and whispered, “Easy, Zaychik. You’re gonna be just fine. I got you.”
I wish I could believe that, I thought earnestly, because as much as I wanted to paint Maverick as just another villain in my story, as much as I wanted to consider him just a means to an end, over the last several days… he had treated me better than anyone had my whole life. He was kind, but firm. Sweet, but definitely alpha, and it left me feeling confused and vulnerable in his embrace. I didn’t like that last part at all, but what could I do? The bargain had been struck, and I was his for the month and after that?
I didn’t know, but I had to come up with something fast.
I fell into an uneasy sleep, light, and restless. I kept waking up. Finally, with the light starting to turn and the birds chirping loudly outside the window, I gave up on all pretense of getting some rest and got up for the day. I stood quietly in the early dawn’s light, the air in the room cool against my skin and watched Maverick sleep for a moment or two.
He was just as attractive asleep as he was when he was awake, only when he slept, it was like the sharp edges smoothed out. His face somehow more open and vulnerable than when he was awake. He seemed… more human.
I sighed and lifted his robe from the hook on the back of his bedroom door, slipping the cool navy-blue satin over my arms and shrugging into it, belting it at my waist with a secure bow as I slipped from the room and down the unfinished hallway. I’d made some progress on cleaning and sorting his little hodge-podge house into some semblance of uniformity. There was, of course, only so much that I could do given the state of some rooms’ finish.
I padded barefoot across the kitchen to the coffee maker and got started preparing a fresh brew. As I was filling the carafe with water at the kitchen sink to fill the machine, his hands fell on my hips in a light touch and he stepped up to my back, his warmth enveloping me.
“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, his voice an octave low, rough with waking up himself.
“Mm-mm, no,” I murmured and shut off the tap. He swept my hair to one side, over my shoulder, and as I poured the fresh cool water into the reservoir of the coffeemaker, he kissed the side of my neck. He had this way of breathing me in deeply, intentionally, that always made me weak in the knees. I felt desired and wanted in a way that left me feeling confused and uneasy. A confusion and uneasiness that always melted away when he drew me, back against his chest, arms circling me protectively.
I barely slid the carafe home on its base, flipped the lid to the reservoir down, and flipped the switch to get the coffee brewing before he cuddled me so tightly I couldn’t. I couldn’t help the light chuckle that escaped me as he wrapped his teeth lightly in his lips and bit gently along the side of my neck, mock growling against my skin.
“Come back to bed,” he urged, and I sighed, surprised at how much I wanted to.
“Shouldn’t we get ready to leave?” I asked.
“Hmm, yeah, but I want you.”
“You always want me,” I teased.
“That’s because you’re always beautiful, always wild, and I get hard just looking at you.” His stark admission held no hint of falsehood and I closed my eyes, soaking in the praise. I wanted to believe he meant more than just my looks… but I knew better.
“Thank you,” I whispered and pulled gently away. He let me go.
I turned around and leaned my back against the edge of the counter and looked up at him, unable to help my blush. I was never able to contain it when he walked around his house nude like he did. It was unheard of back home. Then again, we were stacked like cordwood, one on top of the other, back home.
His blue eyes captured mine, and he grasped the point of my chin lightly between the pad of his thumb and the side of his index finger. The touch light, gentle, and I didn’t move.
“When you going to trust me, Zaychik, hm? When are you going to let me in?” he asked. His voice was low, a living thing of its own that brushed sable soft fur along my spine, predatory like some great, sleek, black cat.
I suppressed a shiver and answered softly, “I trust you.”
His lips quirked into a sad sort of smile and he let me go, taking a step back, “Now we both know that’s a damn lie,” he said. “You can get away with a lot of shit with me, Marisol… but lying isn’t one of them. I’ll give you some more time to come clean, to tell me your secrets all on your own.” He paused, and it was for dramatic effect. “Don’t make me come digging. You don’t want me in the middle of it turning over rocks on my own.”
Shit.
I most certainly did not.
He backed away, keeping me fixed with his deep blue eyes which had darkened to midnight skies.
“I’m takin’ a shower. Bring me a cup of that when it’s finished, yeah?”
I licked suddenly dry lips and found enough breath to say, “Yeah,” and he turned and walked away. It was like his departure changed the very pressure in the atmosphere. Like a thunderstorm, roiling and loaded with energy had suddenly dissipated.
I was learning that Maverick was like that. Intense. Always intense, but you didn’t always feel it like you did now. Still, it was there, always there, right below the surface.
No. I didn’t trust him, and his words echoing in my head did nothing to improve that situation.
I made his coffee to his liking and took it to him – an offering of sorts. Caffeine be with you; I thought and suppressed a giggle. He took a drink, smiling behind the rim of his cup and pulled me laughing to him, kissing me, getting me soaked in his robe under the shower’s spray. I laughed and kissed him back, the rich dark Colombian roast tingeing our kisses with extra zing and I thought… and also with you, apparently.
He had his way. He always did. He fucked me in his shower and made me come around his invading cock twice.
It left me shattered, weak in the knees, and it also made us both late.
The ride from the fruit grower’s village to his home had nothing on the ride we took over the next several days to get to where we were going. The first day was a long, hard, four-hour slog, an hour’s stop for lunch with another solid four hours on the other side. We made minimal stops for bathroom breaks and by the time we were through, it was dark. I didn’t care. I just wanted sleep. I was exhausted, and we were doing it all over again the next day.
You can pretty much rinse and repeat for the next two or three days the same experience.
To his credit, Mav backed off when it came to fucking me those nights. I couldn’t tell if it was because he felt sorry for me, or if it was that he was just as exhausted as I was and couldn’t get it up if he tried.
I somehow doubted it was the latter. The man was, seemingly, always ready to go.
The one thing I wasn’t spared in the evenings was conversation as we fell asleep. I would lie beside him in the dark, his strong arms around me, the warmth of him radiating through my back pleasantly, and he would ask questions. Simple ones, but that was merely a ploy. I was onto him by the second night.
He would ask innocuous things to start. Small talk about things we had seen along the way before transitioning to talk of my past or my homelife. I was careful there, not to give him too much information… It’s not like I would have been believed anyway. That, and if Abuela knew I’d told any of the family business or secrets to an outsider? She was a vengeful, vindictive bitch and I couldn’t be certain she wouldn’t do somet
hing to Mateo in her rage.
I didn’t care what happened to me. I cared a lot about what happened to my brother. He was an innocent in all of this and deserved a chance to stay that way… unlike me. I would never be able to go back or pretend.
“Don’t much like it when you get all quiet like that, baby. Makes me think I said something to hurt you.”
His fingertips roamed over my skin in a light caress, following the natural curve of my ribs as they dipped into the hollow my profile made at the waist. He kept his hand traveling and I closed my eyes, the sensation of his skin on mine, moving to follow the flare of my hip, almost hypnotic in a way.
“No,” I denied his concern. “I was just thinking about Mateo. Wondering what he’s doing right now…”
“Mm,” he pressed a kiss to the cap of my shoulder, his arm up over me, hand pressed against my body, high up on my stomach, lightly holding me back against his body. I eased my tense posture and he smiled against my skin, lips curving against my shoulder. Pleased, but I didn’t know why.
“Why are you so smug?” I challenged lightly in a bid to change the subject.
“Not smug,” he whispered in my ear in a way that made me shudder. “Pleased.”
Pleased? What did I do?
His hand tightened on my hip, drawing me back even as his warmth along my spine dissipated as he edged further behind us both onto the bed to turn me on my back. It was becoming a familiar move of his, indicating his arousal, his want to fuck me – but by the same token, his touch while insistent, eager, wasn’t demanding.
The choice was always mine. If I said no, he would relinquish his hold on me. How did I know?
I’d begged off sex one night just to see if I had a choice or if, like so many things, it was an illusion. He’d quickly relented and had held me, but had otherwise let me be.
Now, I was curious. While I was exhausted, and we had one more day of riding to get to our destination, I was finding that I was starting to miss the delicious soreness he wrought between my thighs after a night of his absolutely mind-blowing brand of sex.
He lay over the top of me, the warmth of his body welcome, his mouth finding mine in the dark, air-conditioned hush of the roadside motel room.
I gasped as he deviated from my mouth, his lips and teeth lightly grazing and nipping that spot on the side of my neck that drove me wild.
“Mm,” he half groaned, half growled in appreciation when I arched my back, body bowing closer to him. “I love it when you arch for me like that, baby.”
“Yeah?” I asked softly.
“Mm-hmm,” he muttered against my skin, kissing his way down my body in that way that told me he was about to absolutely rock my world.
I loved it when Maverick went down on me. He had a real love for eating pussy and the way he went after mine, it was like it was some world-class catnip or some shit.
He glided down my body, hands sliding along my skin, lips planting these beautiful little butterfly kisses at regular intervals as I grew wetter by the second, my anticipation growing and quickly outpacing my loathing for myself. I shouldn’t enjoy this, but I couldn’t help it. He made me feel just so damn good.
His mouth, hot and soft, made contact with my body and I writhed, closing my eyes, concentrating on the sensation of him – of his hands on my skin, above my hips, of his arms cradling me gently as he worked his mouth, velvet slick against my pussy – his tongue alternatively darting against and lavishing my clit with attention.
I arched again, voice escaping me in a deep ugh of surprise, although it should hardly be surprising by now. The things he was doing to me were only made better when he slipped a finger inside of me, gliding through my wetness, probing gently around looking for that spot.
I sucked in a strangled breath and my hips tried to lift unbidden from the bed when he found it, sparkling energy swirling out from that sensitive place deep inside me. His mouth worked magic on me from the outside very nearly overloading me with sensations that were so strong, fierce, and at once the gentlest storm I think I had ever had to weather.
He hummed appreciatively against my body and I jolted, the cascade of overlapping sensations overtaking me. The feeling of being overfull, falling, and tumbling even though my body was safely grounded in his arms, anchored in the too-hard hotel room bed – all of it was a distant memory as the pleasure swept through me, intense, overwhelming. I tapped on his arm, vaguely aware that I did it.
Too much, too many sensations, too many feelings, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop!
But he never did. He always took me through, carried me through to the other side where I found myself lying, groaning, hands pressed to my mouth, legs twitching of their own accord as he climbed my body the same way he’d descended, with light butterfly kisses. Wiping his mouth with his hand, a smug smirk on his lips; a sparkle of mischievous light in his deep indigo eyes as he kneeled between my legs and produced a condom seemingly out of thin air.
I lay panting, helpless in the aftermath of such a devastating orgasm, watching him make himself ready to take me, low-key eager to have him inside me. The orgasm he’d given me was suddenly just an appetizer, and I now found myself ravenous for him, wanting him, needing him inside me, desperate for that deeper touch of his cock as it filled me.
He gave me a crooked smile and murmured, “There’s my dirty girl. I love it when you look at me like that.”
I swallowed hard and pulled him down over the top of me, twining my legs around his lean hips as he smoothly penetrated me, filling me slowly – agonizingly slow, while I writhed against him in a desperate bid to take him in further.
“Slow it down, Marisol,” he ordered. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve got all night.”
Oh. It was like that.
I lay back and let him sink into me, balls deep, on his own time and I would be lying if I said I didn’t love it.
I loved everything about it from the warmth of his body against mine, the sensation of him inside me, to the way he gazed down at me, careful calculation and consideration in his deep blue eyes. I found myself reaching up, and he came to me, sinking lower so that my hands could reach him. I pulled his face to mine and kissed him deeply, a thank you for his patience and understanding… even if he couldn’t understand the why of my reluctance.
Chapter Eleven
Maverick…
“Well this is a right fuckin’ mess,” Dragon harrumphed and leaned back, ashing his cigarette off to the side before leaning back in, his forearms on the edge of the picnic table he was holding court at. I was in the uncomfortable position of delivering the bad news about the Eastern Washington chapter. Even though it wasn’t my chapter, I felt like I was the one in the hot seat with Dragon and the mother chapter. That was the last place anyone wanted to fuckin’ be.
“And what about you three fuckin’ knuckleheads?” Dragon’s obsidian eyes tracked to my left and behind me, fixing on Skeeter, Derry, and Goner. “How the fuck did you not know what the rest of your crew was up to?”
I stepped back and to the right where the rest of my crew had my back and gave the floor of crunchy fallen leaves to what was left of the Eastern Washington chapter.
Dragon efficiently eviscerated their stories. All except for Derry, who legit had a reason to not know what was up between spending some time in jail on a drunk and disorderly when the shit started to go sideways only to follow up with having to take care of his ailing mother, who later passed around the same time shit got real.
By the time all was said and done, Goner was on probation with the club and likely to be stripped of his patch and put out bad if he so much as stepped a toe out of line. Skeeter was stripped of his position as VP and wouldn’t be allowed to hold an officer’s position again for five years with any chapter. Derry had barely skirted any consequences, but that was because he was just as disgusted with the rest of his crew as anybody else here and had asked, practically on bended knee, to join mine for a fresh start away from the bullshit.
Those two, in conjunction with a pack of nomads that were white knighting, riding to the rescue in from parts unknown, were going to rebuild the Eastern Washington chapter from the dusty ground on up.
It wasn’t an overnight fix by any means, but my crew was prepared to pick up the slack and help the new crew coming in learn the ropes. Idaho was stepping up in a big way to help from the other side to help the new group of guys get settled.
We spent way too long banging out the details under the shade of those trees by the lake. The shade was good, the random puffs of breeze from the water refreshing when they came, but it was still hot as fuck out there and by the end, I was ready for a cold beer, some dinner, and some time by the fire.
Mostly, I wanted to see how my little zaychik was doing. I hadn’t seen her since we’d gotten here. Of course, we’d arrived, had just enough time to put our stuff down in our respective rooms and whatnot before we’d hustled to get shit squared away with the big boss out back in the clearing by the head honcho’s cabin.
I went up the path, Fenris on my right and Glass Jaw on my left and scratched an itch below my bottom lip with a thumbnail, still digesting everything that’d gone down.
“Glass, you put in a call back home as quick as you can and fill in D.T. on the immediate adjustments that need to be made.”
“Copy that.” Glass shot me a quick salute and surged up the pathway ahead of us.
“You believe that shit with Skeeter and Goner?” Fen growled low.
“Yes and no,” I said. “Goner I believe it, but Skeeter? I think he was telling the truth. He didn’t know shit – but he knew something wasn’t right. He just didn’t want to know.”
