by Karina Halle
Once again, I’m flung out into stardust, my heart bursting like a firework, my world all colors and shapes that feel like surrender. Eventually his grip on my waist loosens and my skin tingles. He probably left a palm print behind.
So fucking…good.
I can’t even…
Seconds tick past. Maybe minutes. I can only stare up at the ceiling, waiting for my breath to return, for my heart to slow, for my brain to stop spinning. I feel fucking drugged, like I don’t even know where I am. But I know where I am. Tied to a metal table in the storage room and Maverick is still inside me. I’m still pulsing around him but even that eventually slows.
He exhales loudly and pulls out and suddenly I’m hollow, bereft. The feeling is so unwelcome that it snaps me back to reality. I hear him roll off the condom and toss it in the trash and then he starts to undo the ropes.
“You okay?” he asks me, as he does the ones around my wrists, peering at me with such tenderness and concern that I feel like I’m thrown for a loop once again.
I swallow, nod, say “yes” but it’s just my lips moving.
He gives me a soft smile and then slides his arm under my back, slowly helping me up to a sitting position.
The room spins some more as the orgasm still holds on, sticky-sweet. If this was my bedroom, I’d insist he stay over. But it’s not. It’s our work. It’s a room lined with tents and sleeping bags and numerous skiing packs and hiking backpacks and boots and helmets and ropes and emergency kits and skis and snowboards and snowshoes and it’s everything I’ve worked so hard for. To be at a place like this that has stuff like this.
And then it hits me, the fact that we just had sex at the office, where anyone could have walked in and seen us. We’ve been fighting against the rules for so long and when we finally throw the rulebook out the window, we lose all common sense.
“What’s wrong?” he asks me as he frees my legs. “Did that hurt?”
I shake my head. “We could have been caught.”
“It’s after midnight now,” he says but I see the worry on his brow.
“It doesn’t matter. Someone could have come in here and seen us. And then we’d be out of a job.”
He rubs his lips together, thinking. “Okay. I guess we got carried away.”
“Yeah,” I say. It shouldn’t happen again. I can’t believe those words are even in my head but they’re there. And they are right. It shouldn’t happen again. But I’m going to bet it probably will. “We just need to be more careful next time.”
Mav tilts his head, looking me over. “Next time?”
“I don’t think you’re done with me yet,” I say, getting off the table, and feeling vulnerable naked for the first time. I start gathering up my stuff so I don’t see the expression on his face. I don’t want him to think it’s over, to want that.
“You’re right,” he says, pulling on his jeans. Relief runs through me. “I’m only getting started with you.”
I nod at the trash can. “Then you probably shouldn’t put that there. Who knows what people will think if someone finds it.”
“Right,” he says, running his hand over his face as he looks at me, his eyes growing wild.
“What?”
“Nothing,” he says, going over to the trash can and fishing the condom back out.
“What?” I repeat, folding my arms across my chest.
He comes over to me and, with his free hand, grabs the back of my neck and pulls me to him, kissing me hard.
“You,” he says as he pulls his lips away. “Just…you.”
He holds me in place, his earnest eyes searching mine, a million words tumbling behind them, things he’s not saying.
Then he lets go. “Need a ride home?”
I nod.
Ten minutes later I’m dropped off at my place, crawling into bed and trying to figure out what the hell just happened.
I fall asleep and I’m still not sure. All I know is that I’ve never felt more alive and Maverick bleeds into my dreams.
11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Maverick
“John!”
I blink and look over at Fox. It’s rare that he calls me by my real name.
“What?” I ask. I’m standing out on the deck that takes up the whole front of the house. Because of where the chalet is built at the base of the mountain, we have a pretty sweet view over the town, the river, and the valley stretching beyond. You can even make out a few of the barns at Ravenswood. Or, at least you could, if the cloud cover wasn’t so low it obscured half the town.
“I’ve been calling you for the last few minutes,” he says gruffly, brows knit together. He’s in a mood, I can already tell. “Couldn’t you hear me?”
“I was looking at the view,” I say as he comes over.
He looks over the foggy landscape and cocks a brow. “Right. What’s with you?”
“Nothing?”
“You’ve been locked in your head for the last few days. That’s not like you. What’s up?”
“Nothing,” I repeat. Nothing I want to get into anyway. The fact is, I’ve been thinking about Riley non-stop. I can’t get her out of my damn head, not even for a second. I haven’t seen her since that night in the gear room. In fact, because I haven’t seen her—our schedules aren’t crossing—I’m starting to wonder if that night ever happened.
Because, fuck, that was the best sex I’ve ever had. I mean…Jesus. The first time I’m inside her and she lets me act out the dirty fantasies I’ve had about her since the day we met. I don’t know what guy at North Ridge SAR hasn’t thought about tying someone up in climbing rope and fucking them senseless.
It’s almost too good to be true. No, Riley is too good to be true. That little minx is like God dropped off the world’s most perfect woman right on my doorstep. Only when I look at the package closer, it says “do not touch.”
I certainly didn’t listen. I touched her everywhere I could. As much fun as it was to have her tied up like that, wanting and waiting and vulnerable, it was hard as hell trying to keep myself together. I’m surprised I lasted as long as I did. I’m surprised at a lot of things.
But I’m not surprised about my feelings for her. That little taste was everything and yet wasn’t enough. I’m hungry. I’m like a fucking junkie. Her skin, her taste, her breathless little sounds—it’s all that can satisfy me right now.
Of course, I don’t want to discuss any of that with Fox, though I can tell he wants to ask. I always kiss and tell, but not this time.
“Okay,” he says. “Well, I’m heading up the hill for a ski? Want to come?”
“Nah,” I tell him. “I should take Chewie to the dog park.”
He watches me intently and then seems satisfied with that answer. “Does that poodle still have a crush on her?”
“It’s hump city. Population: Chewie.”
But that’s all a lie. Not the poodle thing, there is a poodle at the dog park called Rubble that likes to hump Chewie all day long. It’s just that I’m not going there today. It’s Sunday and I’m not the only one with the day off.
As soon as Fox leaves, I text Riley.
Hey little minx. Want to come for a trail run?
The thing about working for search and rescue is that in our downtime, we have to stay active, keep learning. So that means running through the snow and up mountains, it means doing climbs, it means breaking into ice ponds and rescuing each other for practice. So, really, what I’m suggesting is good for the both of us.
She responds back right away. I’m in. Where?
Come meet me at my house. Do you know where I live?
Three dots flash and disappear. Then flash and disappear. Finally, the text comes through: I wouldn’t be a very good stalker if I didn’t.
I laugh. Good girl. See you soon.
I stand there on the deck waiting about thirty minutes, and I see Riley running up along the sidewalk toward the house.
There’s a smile on my face the whole ti
me I’m watching her. I’m not sure if she’s as klutzy as she proclaims she is but there’s obviously some mind over matter shit going on as she tries to navigate the sidewalks that are slick and half covered with melting grey patches of snow.
My inner thirteen-year old has a moment.
Just as she’s coming up the driveway, I scoop up a handful of wet snow from the railing, press it into a snowball and pelt it at her head.
Plomp.
It lands right on her beanie and she cries out, “The fuck?” and the moment she looks up at me to see where it came from, her feet start sliding on the driveway in every direction.
Oh shit.
She goes forward for a moment, then backward, then she just kind of throws herself into the snowbank on the side as a last-ditch effort to save herself.
I burst out laughing. I shouldn’t and I should also feel bad that it was my snowball that brought her down, but that was probably the funniest thing I’ve seen in a long time.
Of course, I’m not a complete jerk. I quickly run down the stairs and in seconds I’m at her side, grabbing her by the elbows and hauling her out of the snow.
“Sorry,” I tell her, “so sorry.”
“You fuck,” she seethes as I pull her to her feet. “What are you, twelve?”
“I believe I was having a thirteen-year-old moment.”
“I bet you were,” she says. Then she scoops up a bunch of snow in her glove and before I know what’s happening, she yanks at the collar of my sweater and drops the snow inside my shirt, pressing it in.
The cold makes me yelp. Fuck!
“You dick,” I tell her, waving the sweater, trying to get the snow out and off my skin.
She sticks out her tongue. “Tit for tat.”
“I’ll believe it when I see a tit,” I tell her, still feeling the cold.
“So is your dog coming with us?” she asks.
“Huh?”
“On our trail run?”
“Oh,” I say slowly. “You actually thought we were going for a trail run?”
She glares at me. “This is a booty call?”
I honestly didn’t think she of all people would have a problem with a booty call, especially after we screwed the other night, but now I’m second guessing everything. Shit. What if that was it? Like, she got her fill of me and now wants things to stop.
“Uh,” I fumble for words.
She rolls her eyes. “I’m down for a booty call, Mav. I just think we should actually go trail running as well. You said yourself that even when it looks like winter is on the way out, we’re usually hit with one last wallop.”
Man, she is way more on the ball than I am. And she has the right idea. If we’re going to screw around in secret, then we might as well keep working hard as well. Otherwise it just feeds into the reason why there are rules to begin with: you get distracted and sloppy and when that happens, people die.
“Okay,” I tell her. “Give me a few to get dressed. Want to come inside?”
“How about later?” she says, her stance firm, because she probably knows the second she steps inside my house I’ll be tearing off her clothes.
I head inside and slip on better pants and shoes and then come back out, Chewie whining pitifully the whole time.
“The dog isn’t coming?” she asks me while I join her side.
“Chewie? She’s got short hair, so she has to wear a sweater, and that sweater is wet right now and also, she’s chubby and slow. So no. She’s not a running into the snow trail dog. She’s a pass out in front of the fire dog.” I pause. “Which was my original plan.”
“Later,” she says, swinging her ponytail over her shoulder. “Let’s go.”
The easiest and quickest trail from my house is up a few blocks on Yates street until you come to the trail heading to Bridal Falls. In the summer, it’s packed with tourists, but in the winter, when the falls are frozen over and the trail is full of snow, there’s no one up there.
We take off running, our trail runners going over the snow with ease. Because of the recent melt, there’s only a few inches of snow and the higher up we go, the more stable the trail gets.
After a half an hour of running we finally reach the waterfall, the low cloud cover having parted for this moment.
“Wow,” Riley says breathlessly as she leans against the railing. “I can imagine how powerful it is in the summer.”
“I think I prefer it like this,” I tell her. The water is trickling now underneath the layer of ice. It’s perfect, like someone decided to make a waterfall ice sculpture. “It’s calming. The opposite of chaos.”
She seems to think as she looks me over. Her face is lightly sweaty, her cheeks and nose bright red. She’s breathless and yet she’s taking my breath away. “But you love the chaos.”
“I do. But, I think sometimes it gets old. Or tiring. I love getting that call, knowing that when I head out there, I’m doing something brave and important. It’s exciting. It’s addicting. It’s like nothing else.” I pause and take a deep breath. “But the older I get, the more I see other side. The peace. The quiet. I’m not sure what that means.”
She comes over to me and puts her hand on my cheek. “It means you’re getting older and the world is getting wilder and sometimes our hearts need a little peace. That’s all.”
“You’re so wise,” I whisper, half joking, half serious. Our faces are so close, intimate, her lips begging for a kiss.
“I’m many things,” Riley says, her hand coming off my face and trailing all the way down to my crotch “But wise isn’t one of them.”
I clear my throat, my limbs tense, my dick already throbbing at the mere suggestion of what might happen. I’m wearing rather tight jogging pants too, so there’s no hiding it. “Riley,” I say quietly but I’m not sure what else to say because there’s no way in hell I’m going to stop this.
She bites her lip, looking extra coy and drops to her knees in the snow, yanking down my pants and briefs.
My skin is immediately shocked from the cold and I gasp. She looks up at me with big sex-kitten eyes and takes off her gloves, dropping them in the snow, before taking the length of me in her bare, warm fist.
“Any objections?” she asks sweetly.
My God. I could never object to a single thing she does.
I shake my head and watch as she draws a long, thin line with her tongue from the base of my cock to the tip. I’m tempted to reach down because I know what I want but she reads my mind and rubs the tip across her lips like my precum is lip balm.
“Fuck,” I groan, reaching down and grabbing hold of her hair, half-pulling it out of her ponytail. “God, you’re so fucking good.”
“Mmmm,” she murmurs, running her mouth up and down over the hardened ridge and I’m helpless at the vibrations. “I can tell you’ve wanted this.”
I groan, my fist tightening. I know I can be rough with her but we both seem to like it. “I’ve been wanting to fuck those lips of yours since the moment I first saw you.”
“And I’ve wanted nothing more than to drop to my knees and suck this perfect dick,” she whispers hoarsely. “Match made in heaven.”
This is heaven. Standing here beside a frozen waterfall, Riley on her knees in the snow, slowly slipping my cock into her mouth. “I want you to swallow when I come. I want to feel your throat move.”
She pulls me out of her mouth in one long draw, her lips making an audible popping sound. “What makes you think I wouldn’t swallow?”
“I don’t know. There has to be a catch somewhere.”
“As long as you take me as I am,” she says, pausing to tease the rim with her tongue, “there are no catches. No surprises.”
“Oh but that’s where you’re wrong, little minx. Every day I’m surprised at how more perfect you become.”
Every day you become more ingrained my head, in my heart, I’m starting to think I’ll never be rid of you.
You’re under my skin.
You’re there to
stay.
But I don’t say any of that because even the feelings are too raw for me to process. I’ve honestly never felt this way before and the more time I spend with her, the further I’m pulled under. New territory. It’s frightening.
And oh so real.
“You sound so hungry,” I say gruffly, my grip rougher, pushing harder into her mouth, as much as she’ll take me. The sounds coming out of her are messy, greedy, like she can’t get enough. I don’t even think she’s moaning for my sake, she seems to be insatiable for my dick.
And I’ll give her as much of me as possible.
“You’re beautiful,
you sweet thing,
these perfect lips.
You feel so good.”
I’m saying words but not really hearing them. The urge to come is building inside me, rising hot and fiery, and I’m desperate for release. I fuck her mouth harder, my fist anchoring her head in place, deeper and deeper and then I’m coming.
It’s hot as it shoots down her throat and then I’m watching as I’m still emptying and she’s trying to swallow. It’s messy, spilling over her lips. It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. Her tongue swipes out, bringing more of me into her mouth, still gripping my dick.
I’m surprised I didn’t fall over during that. I’m fucking spent. I could curl up in a ball in the snow and sleep forever.
“Thank you,” I whisper, my face to the sky, eventually letting go of her hair. I then pull up my pants, every part of me extra sensitive, running both hot and cold.
“Thank you,” she says, getting to her feet. “I like seeing you like that.”
I look at her through heavy lids. “Like what?”
“Powerless,” she says.
She’s right. I’m completely powerless and at her mercy.
“Okay,” she says, dusting off her knees. “The waterfall was great and that was even better. But now I’m cold.”
“I have a hot tub,” I tell her.
“Sold.”
It’s not long before we’re back down the trail and at my house.
“Are you ready to meet Chewie?” I ask her as we stand outside the front door.