No.
I couldn’t think that. Not with how much she meant to me.
But kids?
The house was one thing, but the kids? A family?
I stayed silent because I was incapable of words on that matter, so even though the story always made me want to groan, I told her it to get her off the topic.
“There were a lot of books that were banned in our school,” I started roughly. “Seemed like anything good that came out wasn’t allowed in the library. So, one day, Rex created a distraction in there, I sneaked into the office, managed to break into the server and ordered every single book that we weren’t allowed.
“They didn’t stock anything like 1984 or Brave New World… nothing that made us question the way society worked. Said it was communist propaganda like we were back in the McCarthy era.” I heaved a sigh. “It pissed us both off enough to act. I’m not sure how, there must have been CCTV footage of my breaking into the office, but they found out it was me, and I was shoved in detention for eight months. Bear called me ‘Maverick.’ Said it was fitting.”
“Why was it fitting?” she whispered.
“Because a maverick is an unbranded calf, but it also means someone who’ll go out on a limb to do something most people won’t. Then there’s the whole Top Gun thing. A character in a big movie over here was called Maverick too.” My lips twisted. “You know who Tom Cruise is, right?”
She snorted. “Yes, you’re not that old that I don’t know who he is.” A laugh escaped her at my grunt. “So Bear meant you were all three?”
“That day I was, yeah. He said I had to learn a lesson that the perfect crime didn’t exist, and that I’d be ready when I knew how to offset the risk factor so I didn’t get caught.” My lips twitched. “He always used to come out with stuff like that. Little words of wisdom.”
“Wisdom to future criminals,” Alessa muttered sleepily.
“I guess,” I agreed with a laugh. “I never thought of it that way.”
“Why would you? That was your life.” She heaved a sigh. “I wish we could sleep like this morning.”
Because I wanted that more than I could fucking say, I tensed up. “With me inside you?” I asked cautiously, praying to Yoda that she really meant that and not just me wrapped around her like the cookie around an Oreo cream stuffing.
“Yes,” she whispered. “That felt good.”
“Until I pulled out of you after,” I teased.
“Well, that was different.” She patted my chest. “It didn’t feel like I thought it would.”
“No? In a good way?” Christ, that it might have been in a bad way hit me harder than the prospect of her wanting my kids.
A laugh escaped her, and her hands slid along the divots of my abdomen and down to cup my dick over my boxer briefs. If I hadn’t smelled the wine on her, heard it in her voice, I just had confirmation.
Alessa was many things, but confident wasn’t one of them. Hesitant, sure. But for her to have the cojones to go for my dick like that, well, it was definitely courage of the liquid variety that was getting her through.
And as much as my cock wanted to be inside her like we hadn’t been together this morning, I reached down and tangled my fingers in hers to stop her before she could turn me on too much.
Wasn’t sure what it said about me that my wife’s hand around my cock got me harder than a lap dance from a bunch of clubwhores, but this little lady, with her heart of gold, her kindness, her warmth, somehow, she managed to break me and put me together again all at the same time.
She pouted. “Don’t be mean.”
“I’m never mean. And in the future, when you’re not drunk and you put your hand on my dick, then I’m going to take that as game on. But, baby, you need to sleep off the wine you had.” My lips twitched again. “Did you have a nice evening with the girls?”
“Giulia calls us her posse.”
Her mutter had me snickering. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?” I sighed as I buried my face in her hair. “I hope you know what that means.”
“Posse?” She shrugged. “I assume it’s a group of some kind.”
“Yes, it is, but it means something more. Especially where she’s concerned. Posses were a group of men that a sheriff used to call up to enforce law, and we both know what kind of law Giulia wants to uphold.”
“I’m down with that,” she mumbled around a yawn. “Sinners’ law.”
A stillness overtook me at her statement. A statement she made with ease, with no fear, with no shame…
She accepted she was a Sinner, and I didn’t think that was because her husband was one, but because she chose to be.
And that made all the fucking difference.
Thirty-Five
Alessa
Hospitals were never silent.
The main reason my mother had sold herself was so my grandmother could afford treatment for a sickness that had ultimately taken her life.
We hadn’t known it was cancer, not until the official diagnosis, but after Mama had married, she’d sent money over to fund the treatments and I’d ended up spending a lot of time in the hospital with my babusya, the rest of my days being fractioned between school and working on the family farm.
With no one else to look after me, when she’d been sick enough to spend the night, I’d stayed with her, and in the mornings, I’d had to help clean her, and throughout the rest of the day, help her eat when she was too sick to feed herself.
I knew hospitals, but Ukrainian ones were different than American ones. I remembered seeing older people being tied to beds to keep them contained, puddles of innocuous fluids on the floor that were left to stay there until things quieted down. I’d been in a tiny hospital though. Maybe in Kiev it was different—at least, I hoped it was. And I hoped that in the fifteen years since that time, things had changed.
But this place, with the slight scent of chemicals, the scratchy fabric of the blanket covering Maverick and me, the beeps from the machines, the squeak of the nurses’ sneakers on the linoleum, the traffic outside, the rush of sirens every now and then, it was alive. Which was strange considering how I associated hospitals with death.
Maybe I was introspective because of the bottles of wine Lily and I had consumed this evening, both of us being silly by finding comfort in a drink that would only give us a sore head in the morning, or maybe I was just not capable of rational thought because this bed, this man, this life, this world, it resonated with me in a way that it hadn’t before.
Seeing Lily’s tears, her shame, her guilt, I’d never looked at it like that, so when she’d given me access to the account with her gift to me in it, I guessed I’d seen it as blood money. As someone who was as poor as me, I supposed I should have snapped at her fingers rather than questioning things. But seeing the agony in her face tonight had settled something inside me.
The need to forget.
The need to move on.
Without meaning to, I found myself in the middle of some kind of turf war that had my new home exploding into a million pieces, and that was taking precedence over my past.
Was that a good thing or a bad thing?
My priorities were shifting.
I was starting to belong.
Instead of being flotsam, floating here and there, never really settling somewhere, I’d already started to set down roots, something Maverick’s desertion had triggered.
Before the blast, I’d started to make friends with the Old Ladies, and we’d taken to sitting together at parties and such. Mostly, I thought, in self-defense against a lot of the disturbing things that happened at those events, but tonight? And the other day at Rachel’s home? Things were changing for all of us.
That blast, which should have ripped us apart like it had our home, was bringing us together.
I was a Sinner.
Tonight had been fun. Even after Lodestar had wheeled in to bitch at us for making too much noise and we’d gotten answers from her, it had been a real laugh.
Giggling over shots of tequila and glasses of wine, snacking on Chile and Limón Doritos that had Giulia coughing with every bite and Lily munching on them like they weren’t as hot as hell, over smores the women had made in the fire and had practically shoved down my throat, we’d come up with a plan of action.
One our men wouldn’t approve of.
But we didn’t need their approval.
And that was the most liberating thing of all.
In fact, it was like all my life I’d lived with a man looming over me, his booted foot on my throat. But tonight, my throat was released from that prison, and I could move around once more.
Whether or not Maverick approved, I had the women I’d left snoring away their drunk at Lily’s home.
Whether or not Maverick approved, this Maverick wouldn’t leave me. He wouldn’t hurt me. Or punish me. He wouldn’t chain me to the wall and leave me outside like a bad dog. He wouldn’t piss on me or rape me.
He might snap at me, might grit his teeth and storm off, might even shout, but he wouldn’t hurt me.
And in my life, I’d learned that sticks and stones were far more painful than words.
I felt giggly and overheated, flushed with hope, with a promise of a future that was so much more jubilant than the past. I’d been fed drugs and alcohol during my time as a slave so I had a higher tolerance level than the other women, so when I’d discussed children with Maverick, the need for a home, I knew he’d tensed up. I knew he wasn’t enamored of the idea. But I also knew he wanted me to be happy.
My happiness mattered to someone.
It actually mattered.
The thought was enough to make me release a gust of air, because a few short months ago, I’d been left to rot in a basement in a cabin in the woods. I’d been left to dehydrate. Left to starve. Left to die.
I’d been an animal.
Now, I was a woman once more.
And this woman wanted her man.
A doctor could come bursting in, someone might walk past the corridor and peer in, someone might call, someone might, someone might, someone might.
I’d been raped in a hall full of men, I’d been choked and abused and hurt one-on-one.
I had no inhibitions.
I wasn’t shy.
I was shell-shocked.
I was traumatized.
But I was tired of that. Tired of that boot on my throat. And tonight, I’d taken a step toward changing that. Tonight, I wanted to end it as my day had begun.
With joy.
I wanted more of that. More of the heat, the intensity, the power, the pleasure.
I wanted wet kisses and breathless moans, I wanted wetness and slick juices and sweat.
I wanted Maverick.
No one else.
No other.
Forever.
Just him.
So I shrugged the blanket down, leaving it to cover our upper thighs before I pressed my hand to his belly, appreciating the rough flesh of his torso. He was scarred here, the tainted flesh where he’d been injured as a soldier was just proof of the level of sacrifice he was capable of.
What a man.
Muscular if a little lean, scarred and inked, rough and ready, dark and dirty, he was everything I needed.
More, I needed him to know that, and because that boot was away from my throat, I could.
I was free to do what I needed.
For the first time in my life.
So I spread my fingers, letting each tip absorb and appreciate the strength in him, the feel of his sacrifice, the depth of his devotion to his country, and I slid them down over the slightly furred flesh that led to his dick.
I moved over the tight underwear that covered him, the fabric not as pleasing to me as his skin, and I turned my face into his chest where I’d been held close all night like I was a precious thing to him and not someone’s cum depository, and I gifted him with the only purity that was left inside me—my heart. My soul. My love.
Letting my tongue peep out, I swirled it around his skin, teasing as I moved to his nipple which I lathed with the tip of my tongue before I started to suck on it. Beneath my hand, his dick twitched, and I carried on, moving higher until I was nestled in his throat where the scent of him was strong and clean and intoxicating. As I nipped him there, I sucked down on his throat too, knowing I’d leave a bruise and wanting to see it tomorrow. Needing to remember this night.
As I teased the area, I moved, rolling from my back and onto my side so I could straddle him, only I stayed high, not letting my weight connect with him. I was wearing too many clothes to tease myself with his bare body, so I kept my distance, just using the freedom to kiss him where I wanted, to touch his hardening length as I slipped my hand beneath his waistband so flesh could collide with flesh, while my other hand moved to his nipple.
Letting my tongue slide over the sinews of his throat, I moved to the other side, going higher and higher until I could nip his earlobe, where I breathed, “I know you’re awake.”
His hips rocked up, confirming what I already knew and he growled, “Why are you teasing me then?”
“I’m worshipping you,” I countered, nipping his earlobe in punishment.
“Baby, if anyone needs worshipping, it’s you.” When he made to roll us over so I was beneath him, I tutted and squeezed his dick in warning.
“Stay where you are. I haven’t had my fun yet,” I grumbled, and I wasn’t sure why, but that had him obeying.
For all that he was a soldier, Maverick didn’t seem like the most obedient of types. For all that he was loyal and smart, capable and strong, I imagined he’d been a nightmare to his superiors. The thought had a smile dancing on my lips as I let our mouths collide, let him taste my smile. My inner peace. The joy that came from the freedom I felt in doing this.
There was no force. There would be no pain. Only pleasure.
Only love.
He did taste it, because he groaned and his hands came to my hips. I let him, squeezing his dick which was soft and hard at the same time, the flesh like silk, the steel core of him throbbing against me, and I loved as he rocked his hips against me again, grinding my pussy into his hardness.
“You can’t want to do this in here,” he rasped as I pulled back to flutter my tongue along his bottom lip.
“Why wouldn’t I?” I countered in surprise, my breathing starting to turn a little husky as that strange excitement overtook me.
I’d felt it this morning. It came with a tightening of my chest, a flood of heat between my legs.
One owner had used a vibrator on me, so I knew what arousal felt like, but he’d often teamed it with a whip studded with metal. There’d been no pleasure/pain for me. If anything, the pleasure from the vibrations had been consumed by the agony of the studs tearing flesh apart. That was why I never wore shorts, because my buttocks, upper thighs, and lower back were scarred.
If he’d seen that or felt that this morning, he hadn’t complained, and because he was scarred, I knew he wouldn’t see me as some kind of gross creature that he had to pity.
His scars were honestly earned.
Mine were from dishonestly inflicted torture.
But even as the thought dampened my mood some, it stirred something else inside me, prompting me to leap off the bed even though his hands tried to keep me close.
I’d seen before that there was a small bedside light that puddled around the bed so a patient could read, and I switched it on. Maverick winced and used his forearm to shield his eyes, which made me regret the abrupt move because I’d come to see how sensitive he was to light and had forgotten that in my haste.
Annoyance at my lack of care filling me, I moved over to him and whispered, “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he rumbled, but I could tell it wasn’t. I bit my lip, unsure if things could carry on the way I wanted, then he groused, “You better be stripping. I need to see that fine ass of yours as a reward for blinding me.”
Guilt warred with amuseme
nt, and I crinkled my nose even as I moved over to the window that overlooked the hall. The blinds weren’t closed, so I took care of that before I turned around and found him peeking at me with his forearm still shielding his brow.
Seeing I had his full attention, I went to work on the simple dress I wore with a pair of leggings beneath it. It floated around my knees, bobbing with every move, and it made me feel like I was in a black and white movie, one of my favorites—Sabrina Fair. The thought had me smiling, just as the dress did since Lily and I had gone shopping and had changed my wardrobe.
It was understated, with a cinched in waist and a heart neckline that moved into thick straps which pressed my breasts together. It was feminine and elegant, even if I knew it had to be crinkled from sleeping the way I had.
I didn’t care.
I knew Maverick didn’t either.
Even with his eyes in shadow, I saw his intent. Felt his need.
Drifting closer to the bed so I was in the light, not the dark, I reached for the buttons which lined the center of the dress and began to unfasten them. One by one, slowly, I revealed my body beneath. My breasts bounced free, the skin on my stomach was marred with gooseflesh from the sudden rush of air, and finally, I shrugged out of the dress, kicking it to the floor.
Because I wanted this out of the way, in a rush, I shoved the leggings down and turned around. Even though it was the first time he’d be seeing my tattoo, I knew it wasn’t the ink he saw when he released a hiss.
Moving my hands to my sides, I grabbed my panties and bunched them in my fingers before bending over to roll them along my legs. Once they were on the floor, I slowly stood, letting him see the scars, before I turned around, naked.
Bare.
There wasn’t a whisper of fear in me that he’d reject me for my scars, for this part of me that wasn’t beautiful.
I just wanted him to see me. Flaws and all. Wanted him to know all of me, even if he’d never know what I went through, never be able to understand, I wanted him to have me. Every part.
He was sitting up by now, and his erection had died. His fists were tight balls resting at his sides, and his jaw was clenched with anger.
Maverick: A Dark MC Romance (A Dark & Dirty Sinners' MC Series Book 6) Page 29
