“Why, yes. The dog could live with Maverick and you could take care of it. Of course, this is while you try to find the owner, right?”
The owner. Right. “I don’t know if anyone wanted her. Her coat was matted and dirty. She was scared of me at first.”
“Did you feed her?” Mabel asked curiously.
Oh, my gosh! “No,” I exclaimed. “I better go so I can find some puppy food for her. What if she’s starving?”
“Now settle down. Go out onto the back patio and inside the blue bin is some dog food. Take some for tonight and see if she’ll take it.”
“You’re a life-saver. I can’t believe I didn’t think about feeding her. I was in such a hurry to get here to set up and she got me dirty, I had to change-”
“Grace, the dog food.” She handed me a plastic bag and I hustled out of the kitchen and onto the patio, quickly finding the blue bin, where I filled the bag she gave me.
“You’ll be sure to take the apple pies out of the warmers, right? They’ll get dry if you leave them in too long.”
“Child, yes. I have it covered.”
“Thanks, Mabel.” I kissed her cheek and headed toward town.
I could ask Maverick if the puppy could stay with him. I don’t think he would like it. He’d probably laugh at me again for suggesting such a ludicrous idea. I had no other choice. I could ask Thatcher to help. Since Maverick lived closer to me than Thatcher did, I’d use my brother as a last option. My gut told me no one wanted the little dog and I could keep her if I wanted. I’d rather convince Maverick – even if that meant having to deal with his rudeness – that way, I could potentially see the puppy as often as possible.
I slowed to a stop along the curb near Maverick’s house. Even though he said he wouldn’t be home until ten, I figured I could go into his backyard and at least feed the dog. Surely, he wouldn’t mind that. I shut off the car lights, took the plastic bag Mabel had given me, and made my way up his driveway.
His porch light was on but the rest of the house looked dark, giving me comfort that I could quickly let myself into his yard and feed her. What was I going to call her? Even if someone came forward in the next few days with ownership, I felt like I still needed to call her something.
I opened the metal gate, grateful it didn’t squeak as I pushed it open. One of his neighbors calling the police on me for trying to break into his house was the last thing I needed.
His backyard was mostly dark, save for a light glowing from a curtained window. I didn’t immediately see the dog as I entered the back yard. Had he let her stay inside?
“Puppy,” I whispered.
I found her on his back porch, lying on the concrete next to a big, black grill. I was strangely happy at the little plastic bowl filled with water that he’d set out. When she saw me approach she jumped up and came toward me letting out her high-pitched bark.
“Hey, little girl.”
I swooped her up and sat on a metal chair that was off to the side of the porch. The faint glow of light from the window allowed for me to see her face. She was adorable. A part of me hoped no one was looking for her, despite how neglected she looked, and it was a long shot, but I hoped there would be a way I could keep her. I was already falling madly in love with her.
“Are you hungry? I brought you some food.”
She smelled the bag, her tail wagging incessantly as I opened it up and poured a few pieces of kibble into my hand. My heart skipped as I heard a murmur of voices, sure that they were coming from inside Maverick’s house. He wasn’t supposed to be here. Just as I was getting ready to stand, loud moaning started coming from the bedroom window.
Oh. My. Gosh.
I stilled, unable to believe my ears. Maverick was home? Not alone, by the sounds of it. The puppy stared at me and I realized she was waiting for more food. The right thing to do would be to get out of here before he realized there was a third wheel to his sex game. How horrifying would that be to have him know I not only overheard him having sex, but I stayed and listened?
However, the sounds kept coming and even though my mind told me to move, my butt stayed glued to the chair. That same unrecognizable feeling from earlier when I was watching him get off his motorcycle flooded my blood again.
I poured more dog food into my hand as a way to keep the puppy busy while I sat there, listening to the faint moans as they got louder. Something happened to my insides as I envisioned the scene going on in there. Maverick’s sweaty body as he pounded into her. Thinking of the romance novels I’d somehow gotten hooked on, I couldn’t help imagining the way he did things. In bed. And by the sounds of it, he must do it pretty damn well. Is that what Maverick liked? Hearing the exaggerated sounds of a woman as he fucked her? I don’t know why I was even questioning what he liked.
“You can’t tell anyone about this,” I whispered to the dog.
So many things were going through my mind right now, the least of which was getting caught. Not if I sat here and stayed quiet. No. My biggest concern was how hearing the sounds of this woman moaning and – oh my gosh, was that the bed? – thumping sounds were now coming from the window too and my concern in all of this, was how turned on I was getting. Not getting caught, but listening as Maverick fucked this woman into oblivion. I wasn’t about to address the small part of me that was wishing it were me in there. No. Never happening.
Maverick was too…rough. Too bad boy for me. Even if my insides were getting overheated at the thought of how he looked naked and how he did what he was doing in there. The way he must look beneath those sinful clothes he wore. How those steely eyes of his must look as he watched a woman orgasm. He wasn’t my type.
I wasn’t a virgin but come on, the way he was able to keep going, was a little exaggerated. The exaggeration could be summed up to the novels I’d managed to get hooked on. The perfect-looking guy—great hair, great body, well-endowed and wonderful personality—who was miraculously great in bed, too. Maverick was hot in a rugged way – his piercing whiskey colored eyes and what I could ever see of his blondish brownish hair. Of course, his bad boy persona probably made the women swoon. Obviously, I didn’t know what size of a cock he had, but I could attest to the fact that his personality needed work. More like his socialization skills.
More pounding.
Mmmm, maybe his socialization skills were fine, if the woman calling out “Cap” in the room was anything to go by. And judging from her praise, my guess was that he was sized just right. Cap ran his rough hands along the woman’s thighs as she smiled in approval. He forced her legs open as he growled, “I’m taking what’s mine.” The woman threw her head back as his large fingers trailed along her panty line.
“Tell me you fucking want it,” Cap demanded.
“I want it, Cap. Not your fingers. Your big cock.”
Cap unbuckled his belt, unzipped his jeans and his large manhood sprang out. He didn’t wear underwear. He pushed the woman’s panties to the side exposing her wet lips as he stroked himself.
“What are you waiting for?” the woman asked him.
“Turn around,” he told her. In one swift movement the woman was on her knees, her ass high in the air.
Cap slipped himself along the woman’s wet folds, coating himself with her juices. Holding the panties to the side with one hand, he gripped her hips and shoved himself into her. The woman let out a cry as Cap relentlessly pounded into her.
The dog nudged my hand, bringing me back to reality. What was I doing? Imagining Cap in my very own romance novel. My heart thundered in my chest amidst the extravagant moaning and I poured more kibble into my trembling hand. My panties were drenched and I casually brushed a palm over my nipple confirming my suspicion that they were hard as rocks.
I shouldn’t be here. I couldn’t tear myself away. I squinted at my watch. I’d been here exactly nine minutes. How long could this go on? My sexual experiences – the sex act itself – had ever only lasted a few minutes. Excluding Owen, of course, who lasted a good nin
ety-five seconds. Not long enough for me to even try to have an orgasm while having sex. I’d only slept with four men in my life and not one of them had given me an orgasm through intercourse.
It takes me a long time. They couldn’t last long enough for me and how could I blame them? It wasn’t their fault I couldn’t come timely. I don’t know what was wrong with me in that department but that was a whole other story in and of itself. Deep down I suspected it was my insecurity with my boobs that made me uptight once I was naked in the bedroom.
Seriously though, nine minutes? Ten and counting. Was this even normal? I bet he took Viagra. I’ve never even heard of anyone lasting this long.
I set the puppy down and she immediately went over to the water bowl and got her fill. I was seriously on the verge of satisfying the throbbing pain between my legs when the thumping sound and moaning stopped and I felt myself straining toward the window in the hopes that I would be able to hear more.
This was disgusting. I couldn’t believe I was doing this. Spying. Being a voyeur. What was it called when you listened to someone having sex? With Maverick Carter, nonetheless!
As my body, all achy and hot, pleaded for more, all I heard was more mumbling and I glanced at my watch. Fourteen minutes. Oh, boy. My clit throbbed, an ache so painfully good I looked forward to taking care of myself later. That, I could do with no problem. Being naked and under pressure, that seemed to create the problem.
I didn’t hear anything more and the puppy pawed at my leg, clearly wanting to be held. Sorry, puppy, I had more pressing matters there for a moment. I picked her up just as the bedroom light shut off and not much longer after that, I heard a car start and drive away. I still had another thirty minutes before I was supposed to be back here to meet Maverick and get the dog – which still had no name. I should name her voyeur or peepshow. Did those terms cover listening to someone have sex, too? Peeper. Little Bo Peep.
I needed to get out of here. No other lights came on inside his house so I took that as a good sign to sneak back out the gate and leave. It wouldn’t do me any good to sit around and get caught. I could only imagine Maverick’s reaction at finding me in his backyard, no doubt putting two and two together that I heard him having sex with some woman.
“Okay, Little Bo Peep. Remember, this has to be kept between you and me. I’ll come back soon.”
I set the puppy back down and made my way out the gate, still oddly turned on and in shock at what transpired. I unlocked my car and slid into the cool leather seat, trying to steady my heavy breathing as images of Maverick fucking a woman that, oddly enough, looked just like me flitted through my head.
Chapter Two
Maverick
I wanted nothing to do with pets. Dogs mostly. How the hell Grace Patterson talked me into keeping this tiny mutt for almost five hours was beyond me. It was because she was Thatcher’s little sister. Otherwise I would’ve told her to hit the road and take her ugly mutt with her. Instead, I bit my tongue and agreed to keep it long enough for her to figure out what she was going to do with it.
I told myself it had nothing to do with the way she sassily strutted along the sidewalk most days with her book bag slung over her shoulder walking to and from the school. Or that it had nothing to do with the fact that only a month ago, I learned she read motorcycle club romance books. Ride Me was the book I’d seen in her bag. A freaking motorcycle club romance. Out of all people, I couldn't believe she read them. The little sister that always wanted to tag along. Little Miss Pigtails.
Or now, Grace Patterson.
All grown up.
Fuck.
I’ve known Thatch for almost ten years. I used to work for his dad as a welder. Gracie had been a young teen when I started and could only be described as that pesky little sister of my best friend. She would linger around us, reminding us about following the rules. Thatcher, Mom said not to do that or Dad said to do it the other way. I don't know when she grew out of her pigtails – two matching ribbons, her blonde hair always parted down the middle and tied up. Anyhow, I’d never paid much attention to her as she’d gotten older, only recently, when she’d come back to Lone Star from college.
I’d seen her walking to school one morning and she was like a fresh, crisp breath of air. She hadn’t seen me watching her. In a drab, gray town, she was a bright yellow flower standing out. Her long blonde hair fluttered behind her as she walked with purpose toward her job at the elementary school. She was tall – almost as tall as me – enough that we were basically at eyelevel with one another. Not only were she and I cut from different cloths, we lived in completely different universes. One where her world was new and shiny, sunny and cloud-free, perfect and whole. Mine was fucking gray, incomplete and cloudy even on a good day.
Even though she was exhilarating and intriguing to me now, she was untouchable. Not because of how different we were, although that played a part, but as my best friend’s little sister – she was completely off limits. Thatcher would have my balls if he knew I’d just fucked Tiffany Dee hard and fast from behind and yet it was his prissy sister’s flowing blonde hair I’d imagined flying around that managed to make me come.
My doorbell rang and I ignored the slight hum of tension in my veins as I went to answer. It was Grace. She was here for the mutt. I smirked at the sight of her as I opened the door.
“What’s so funny?” she demanded.
“If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”
“Ha ha. Speaking of killing…is my dog still alive?”
“Barely. There were a few times her yappy-assed barking had me considering finishing her off.”
She gasped, “You wouldn’t do that…Would you?”
I laughed again but didn’t answer her. Her blue eyes flamed bright against her light skin as she stood with her hand on her hip. Oh, man, definitely fire. Flames. Pure sass. Why hadn’t some preppy-boy school teacher scooped her up by now?
“Can I come in or are you going to make me walk around to the back?”
I held the door open and let her pass. She smelled sweet, sugary, and I backed up closer into the door for fear I’d reach for her. Even as my brain registered there wasn’t a fat chance in hell she’d even let me touch her.
“How was your dad’s?” I asked.
“Fine. The usual. I didn’t see them.”
“I thought they were having a party. How could you not see them?”
“Are you kidding? I might as well be a guest inside their home instead of their daughter. That’s how close we are. Actually, guests get treated better than me. Unless they want something. Like tonight. Then they butter me up and make themselves scarce when I'm around. So, back to your question: my dad’s house was fine. I decorated their dining hall, talked to Mabel and left. What did you do?”
Going for shock, cause I didn’t think she gave a damn what I did with my time and was only asking out of mere formality, I told her the truth. “I got laid.”
I could feel the heat from her cheeks as a fine shade of red flooded her face all the way to her neck, disappearing beneath the awful colored shirt she was wearing—that did nothing to showcase her tits. I smirked as she opened her mouth and then closed it. I tried not to grin at having jolted her.
“I know. I heard you.” She held her chin up and folded her arms beneath her chest.
“How in the hell did you hear me?”
“I was in your backyard. I thought you were gone,” she whispered just as I stepped toward her. Holy shit. So much for me shocking her. Here I’d been imagining her while I fucked Tiff and she was only a mere wall away?
“You said you would be back at ten. I came and fed the puppy. You could imagine my shock and horror when I heard what I did.”
“I bet you ran away as fast as you could.”
Her eyes flashed and her pupils enlarged, “No. I didn’t. Do you get off on all that exaggerated moaning? I mean, come on, it’s just a show.”
Holy shit again. She’d overheard alright. “It wasn’t ex
aggerated. That’s just how good I am.”
“Whatever,” she rolled her eyes at me and tried to back away. I grabbed onto her arm, not letting her get away.
“How long did you listen?”
“Fourteen minutes. Were you on Viagra?”
I laughed, “What?”
“Seriously, who lasts that long?”
Little Gracie listened to me fuck for almost fifteen minutes. She had to be wet and my dick hardened because of this thought and unlike before, I wasn’t so sure telling her that would shock her. Not anymore anyway. Had Grace never had a real man to fuck her longer than three minutes?
“I’m not having this conversation with you, Gracie.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Don’t call me Maverick.”
“I’m right. It was Viagra.” She rolled her eyes at me and suddenly I was having this conversation.
I stepped so close to her, that her tits were pressed against my chest and I could feel her body rise and fall with each breath she took. I could almost swear she was quivering.
“I don’t need Viagra. I can control myself long enough to get a woman off. Jesus, Grace, I'm not nineteen. Why is it even affecting you? Do you want to be that willing female? Do you want me to show you what it’s like to be with a real man and not some punk guy who can’t fuck you long enough for you to come? Or at the very least, not more than once.”
“And have sloppy seconds? Uh, no. No thanks.”
Even though I was wanting a rise out of her, I wasn’t expecting the flash of desire in her eyes. Her pupils dilated. Shit. Was she a hellcat underneath her cool exterior?
“It doesn't bother you that I was just having sex?”
She gave her typical Ice Queen stare and damn if I couldn't help myself, thinking what I could say or do to break that facade of hers. That damn mutt barking brought me out of the showdown and I backed away from Grace, reminding myself that even if I thought I just saw desire in her eyes, that her older brother would have my nuts on a chopping block if I so much as winked at her. Shit, he’d probably kick them now if he knew I’d just extended an invitation to get her off.
Wicked: A Small Town Romance (Love in Lone Star Book 3) Page 2
