Crazy Good

by Rachel Robinson

  I graze her knee with my fingertips casually, running them lightly up her smooth thigh only stopping when my fingers hit jean. She closes her eyes as her breathing speeds up. “As long as I’m the one doing all the fucking,” I whisper into her ear, making sure my lips graze her earlobe as I speak. She turns her head, searching for my lips. I pull back and stroke the inside of her thigh again. “Today though? You’re going to jump out of an airplane strapped to my chest,” I say, making sure she looks me directly in the eye.

  Blue Eyes is all mine. Even though she looks shocked at today’s choice of activity, I know she wants me and that stupid knowledge makes me so fucking giddy.

  “S-s-skydiving,” she stutters. It sounds more like fuck me, than a recreational sport. My dick, who has been tenting my pants since I removed the key from the ignition, is on high alert. I know I need to take it slow; he doesn’t. Poor bastard. “Are you even qualified to do that?”

  I laugh loudly. “Of course I’m qualified to do that. Who do you think I am? You think I’d break the law?” I grab a bag from the backseat.

  “I mean of course you can do it, but you can do it with me under you?” She shakes her head. It looks so cute. I know what she means, but I want to go there anyway. The sexual tension is so thick I’m about to choke on it.

  “Windsor, you can be in any position you want to be in. Today, for tandem skydiving, you will be under me. I’ll make it good…fun. I promise,” I tell her. I’ve never gone tandem with a woman before. Usually it’s one of my buddies swinging under me during training trips.

  “I’m scared. This is not on my bucket list, Maverick. Do you know how many things can go wrong? I mean there must be at least a thousand glitches that could happen. We’d careen into the earth so fast we’d explode!” she says, her voice rising. I can just smile and reassure her that I won’t let anything happen to her. Because I won’t. Her worries do distract me from her ass, which is a good thing.

  *****

  We’re up in the small, rickety airplane ascending to twelve thousand feet where we will jump out of a perfectly good flying machine. She made me check her harness twenty-two times before she agreed to board the plane. I indulged her mainly because it meant my hands were all over her—in between her legs, her waist, her shoulders. I went over the procedures and what exactly I expected of her. She paid attention, her eyes wide, as if her life depended on it. She thought it did, which made me laugh. Her life depends on me. Windsor got a little pissy when I told her that.

  “I hate this part,” I whisper into her ear. She’s sitting on my lap because she’s officially connected to me. She turns her head to the side and her eyes go wide.

  She clutches my pants in her hands. “Do not say stuff like that, Maverick!” she yells back over the whir of the engines. The buildings on the ground are getting smaller and smaller. I wrap my hands around her waist and drag her back to my chest. She tenses for a second, then relaxes completely into me. When she leans her head back against my shoulder and turns it to look up at me, my head swims. The trust in her eyes gives me a high I only get from a couple other places.

  “I got you,” I say, and hope it’s not a fucking lie. I want to have her not just now as we hurl toward earth, but for as far into the future as I can comfortably predict.

  She nods her head, though her heart is hammering. I feel it thumping into me, and I know exactly what will take her mind off everything. I want to kiss her so badly I can already taste her lips. I’ve been so close so many times in the past weeks that I think I know what her lip-gloss will taste like when I lick it off. I’ve memorized her every curve and have predicted what she will feel like in my hands as we make-out furiously, no caution—just tongues and skin and sweat.

  “Take a leap, Windsor. I won’t let anything happen to you,” I tell her as I lift her to stand in front of me. She nods once more, but I believe it this time because she smiles before she turns around, her back still pressed against my front.

  A muffled voice fills the cabin of the plane, announcing that we’ve reached our jumping altitude. We’re the only two so we walk together, like we practiced in unison, so we don’t trip, to the door. Mannie comes over and unlatches the hatch exposing the blue sky. A whistle fills the air and Windsor lets out a little scream. I chuckle to myself, remembering the first time I jumped out of an airplane, the adrenaline consuming me. It really does go against every self-preservation defense mechanism the human body has. My heart picks up, like it always does, and it’s like a fucking jolt of life entering my bloodstream. This is it. This is what I live for. And with this woman strapped to me I don’t think there is a better feeling in the world.

  I inch up to the edge of the door, keeping my hands on each side of the hatch. I look down over Windsor’s shoulder to see the landing zone. It looks like a speck of something, but I know it’s where we need to end up. Another scream, but this time accompanied with laughter, hits me. She’s excited and that makes me even higher.

  “On three!” I shout. It’s hard to hear anything with the engines and now the wind whipping us, calling me to it.

  She nods her head. “Yes!” she screams back, her hands tensing on the hatch door. I glance at Mannie and he gives me a solid nod, with a huge smile.

  “One,” I say, and rock forward a little bit in preparation for three when she’ll go out completely. “Two.” Another rock forward, a little bit further, extending my arms almost fully. “Three!” I yell and I push forward all the way.

  The wind hits us like a punch and then we fall.

  *****

  Windsor

  There is no sense of falling, only air hitting me. It’s like the air is trying to hold me up, but gravity wins out in the end. I know this because the things on the ground get bigger as we fall. I focus all my energy on keeping my arms out to the sides and bent just like Maverick taught me. It’s hard, because I scream every few seconds and I’m sure I move from the correct position.

  The scared shitless feeling left the second we left the plane. Now, I just feel free. Adrenaline pumps and my heart hammers, but being one with the air makes me feel unrestrained in a way I never imagined possible. The risks are moot; I’m in the air, falling rapidly. Nothing matters except the way this freedom feels.

  I’m confident in Maverick’s abilities. I never for a second questioned whether I’d be safe. His confidence is enough for both of us. When he wrapped his arms around me and told me to take a leap, I knew this was what I needed. I see his arms in my peripheral vision and the sight of his big arms, wrapped in tattoos, hovering over me just confirm my safety. I am safe.

  “One,” Maverick shouts. He’s going to pull the parachute on three like we practiced. Two comes next.

  “Three,” he says. I ball up my legs as much as I can, which isn’t much, and we are rising up, up, up in the opposite direction we were just going. I look up and see the huge blue parachute opening. All falls silent as Maverick grabs the handles and begins guiding us down.

  I pant a few seconds, just catching my breath from the thrill of it all. He laughs. It’s a laugh I haven’t heard before. It’s completely unguarded and carefree. “Oh my God. That was insane!” I squeal. It really is a squeal, too.

  “Insane good or insane awesome?” he asks through his laughs.

  “Freaking insanely awesome. AHHHHHHHHHHHH!” It’s contagious. I laugh so hard that I don’t know if I’ll ever stop. A few pulls on the handles and we’re spinning around in circles that make my stomach drop.

  “We’ll get down quicker this way,” he explains.

  The scenery is unreal—so beautiful from the vantage point at the top of the world. We are so small. The ground moves toward us fast now. I don’t realize how quickly we’re dropping until I see trees get larger.

  “I want to stay up here as long as possible,” I say, reaching back to grab on to his leg with one hand. I lean my head back and rest it on his chest.

  “Remember to bend your legs when we land,” he says. I do and we�
��re on the ground in a perfect landing in a large open field. In another moment, he is unclasping the parachute from his back and detaching my harness.

  I’m still breathing hard and the adrenaline I feel is buzzing so wildly that I think I may pass out or scream again. Maverick turns me around to face him. His one-dimpled smile is out to play. His brown hair is air tousled. He looks more amazing than I ever remember him looking. He’s in his element. This is the real Maverick.

  I prop my hands on my hips, but he pulls me against his chest in a quick jerk. “I should have done this weeks ago. Now, I can’t wait another second.” Cradling my head in his hands he smashes our lips together. He bends down and scoops me up. I wrap my legs around his waist without removing my mouth from his. His tongue is soft as he pushes it into my mouth with skilled flicks and twirls. Mint flavor hits me, mingling with his cologne and I think I might devour him forever. And ever. And ever.

  I wrap my hands around his neck and pull his head toward me until our teeth click together. The sound makes him groan and clutch my ass tighter to him. His fingers splay on the edge of my shorts. It annoys me that my clothes have the audacity to stop this man from touching every inch of me. When Maverick bites my bottom lip, I shut my eyes and gasp. I love how sweet gentleness laces his roughness. I turn my head so my lip breaks free. Bringing my lips to his neck, I lick the frog tattoo that peeks out of his t-shirt. I drag my mouth up to his ear, and then very slowly along his scruffy jawline. His stubble tickles my tongue.

  “Smile,” I order, looking directly into his fuck me eyes. He knows exactly what I want, because that smile breaks across his face. Dimples. I shut my eyes and my tongue finds one of those sweet little dips all on its own.

  Maverick loosens his grip on my ass so I slide down his body. He presses my sex against the bulge in his pants. It is so freaking hard and so large, I can’t ignore it. I circle my hips, grinding against him, feeling him where I want him so badly. A growl that seems to rip from his chest echoes in the wide-open air around us. His noise of raw need makes my pulse speed. He traces the curve of my lips with the tip of his tongue before plunging it back into my mouth. Claiming my mouth like no one else has. This man is owning me. And I want it so badly that I’ll let him own me in every way possible in the middle of a field.

  He smiles against my lips. It forces me to open my eyes. “This is even better than jumping out of airplanes,” he says, his voice so low, I’m so freaking turned on that my hips automatically rock against him again.

  I smile against his smile. “This is better than anything else, Maverick.” I say his name in a sexed up tone and drag my tongue over his other dimple. He sighs loudly. “It’s way better than awkward hugging, isn’t it?”

  He draws back, his lips pink and swollen from kissing. He shakes his head a few times as he just stares at my face. “You,” is all he says. I know he’s looking at my eyes and lips. It’s a back and forth game.

  “You,” I say back, as I watch something flicker in his eyes. “That was some record breaking first kiss.”

  A cocky grin plays on his wet mouth. “I only do record breaking, Win. One word,” he says.

  I bite my lip, which now feels a little swollen from his teeth. A shiver of delight runs up my spine at the use of my nickname. It sounds so much better coming out of his mouth.

  “Amazing,” I say, but his lips descend back to mine before I can ask him for his one word. He brings us to the ground and we make-out like teenagers in a field for a long time. He doesn’t let it go further even though I think I beg him once or twice.

  I may have had reservations about the type of person he was when we first met, but the person who is with me today isn’t that guy. This Maverick Hart is sweet, compelling, fifty shades of hot, and so into me. He is amazing. I’ve trusted him with my life today, and with that came a tiny piece of my heart.

  Chapter Eight

  Maverick

  I pull off the sand colored headphones that act as ear protection. “Nice fucking shot, dude,” Stone says. Two shots in the heart. One in the head. The perfect combo. Stone’s a better shot, but I’d rather stick my dick in flames than admit it.

  We’re at the range shooting paper terrorists and zombies. My favorite target practice is steel targets, but today the guys had other ideas. I love shooting at the range. It’s one of the few times when my head clears completely. I can think only about my forefinger hovering over the trigger and the solid, cool weight in my hand. The best shots are always when you don’t over think it. You just let your body do what it’s done a million times before. Pure instinct.

  I ignore Stone and Steve’s loud ass conversation about which bad guy the holey cut-out looks more like. I sit on a bench and start taking my gun apart to clean it. The focus and concentration are gone so my mind switches back on. I think of Windsor. An instinct of a different kind leads me to walk to the one fucking corner in this whole building that gets cell phone service.

  I can’t wait to see you tonight. I send off the text message half hoping she’s busy and won’t respond right away. If Steve realizes I’m texting a chick right now he’ll bust my balls for days.

  “Fine. We’ll just agree it looks like Hilary Clinton and be done with this shit,” Steve chortles as they walk over to me. “What is Maverick the Pussinator’s opinion?”

  I laugh. “Yep. For sure,” I reply. I know the second Stone’s gaze lands on the phone I’m trying to hide in my palm. He smirks. Then he looks at Steve. Fuck.

  “Who you talkin’ to, Mavvy?” Stone starts rattling off every girl name in the history of girl names…with a Boston accent. I start walking toward the high bay, knowing full well he will follow me all the way there, and possibly for the rest of the day. We enter the huge open, empty room just as Steve figures it out.

  “Are you still talking to that chick? The same one from forever ago?” To him a month is a long ass time. Until recently it was a long time for me too. Now every day doesn’t seem long enough. “Please tell me I’m wrong, dude. You can’t seriously be banging the same chick. If you are there isn’t any hope for the rest of us.”

  I slump down on the worn leather couch, and Stone and Steve head to the bar. Yes, we have a bar at work. Multiple ones, actually. I just need to fucking say it and stop being such a pussy. Then the questions will stop and no one will think twice about my weird ass schedule. Stone thrusts a Solo cup into my hand, his back to Steve, and nods. He fucking knows and he’s trying to make me admit it—either to myself or to the high bay full of plaques and photos of our fallen brothers. There’s only three of us, but it feels like all eyes are on me.

  I take a sip of my drink. “I’m inviting Windsor to my house,” I admit. I don’t need to say anymore. They both know exactly what that means, or what it doesn’t mean. Stone specifically is probably choking on his fucking tongue right now.

  Steve snorts then says, “You haven’t bagged her yet?” Stone clears his throat. Tongue choke. Just what I thought.

  “It’d be best if you don’t talk about her and bagging in the same sentence, Steve,” I say, feeling a bit defensive.

  “He told you to back off her, man. That should have told you everything you needed to know. Our buddy Mav here actually gives a shit. For the first time in his life,” Stone says. “I fucking knew it. I knew it!” He fishes his cell phone out of pocket and pounds out a text. I shake my head.

  “Morganna owes me a blow job all-the-way tonight. I fucking told her you weren’t going to bag and bash on Windsor, but she didn’t believe me.” With good reason. I have huge dickhead status when it comes to Morg. She’s seen or heard about them all. I do mean all.

  “Don’t bet blow jobs on my fucking life,” I tell him, but I’m laughing. It feels kind of nice to beat Morganna. She never loses. Anything. Steve has already lost interest, wandering away and shaking his head as he goes.

  As far as Steve is concerned I’m just like Stone, one of the few other guys who only fucks one woman. Except I’m worse—I’m no
t fucking anyone. I feel nauseous when I think about fucking one woman for the rest of my life. But isn’t that what this is? I can’t even look at another woman the way I used to. I compare them to Windsor, and there is just no comparison. I haven’t even gone past second base with the woman and I know she’s going to rock my God damned world like a hurricane when I finally get inside her. The anticipation is almost too much. That says something because I thrive on the feeling of not knowing what comes next, yet knowing I’ll be able to conquer it completely.

  “What’s the S.O.P for this? I’m in the dark,” I ask Stone as he flings himself onto the couch. I’m more nervous about letting a woman into my world than going down range with bullets whizzing past my head. I can do bullets. I can do bad guys hiding in closets with AKs. I can’t do this. “I don’t even know what this means. I feel crazy, man,” I whisper. I can tell Stone anything. And admitting this is fucking hard.

  He flicks on the big screen television to create noise. “There is no standard operating procedure for this. This isn’t something you can control, like every other facet of your meticulous fucking world. That’s the point. That’s why you feel like this. You’re taking a risk in something that you’ve never dabbled in before. It’s something you didn’t even do with her.” He says the last part with mock disgust. We don’t talk about her. I don’t even like to think about her. She’s known as the biggest mistake of my life in a tiny, bitchy, blonde monster package. I’ll pay for that blunder for the rest of my life. Literally.

  I sigh. “Maybe I’m too fucked up to get into this with her. I should just back off now.”

  “Is that what you want to do?”

  “No. I don’t even think I could if I wanted to,” I say. Lacing my hands around the back of my head, I look up to the ceiling. “I hired Tawny to go clean my house. I haven’t even asked Windsor to come over yet. She might freak the fuck out and say no. She knows about my hotel thing. It’s probably too big of a step.” Stone is shaking his head before I finish.