Page 10 of Burly Biker of Misty Mountain

Deep down, somehow I knew that wasn’t true.

Last night at the bar, Maverick had made it clear that he wanted to do more—kiss my neck,mark his territory. But he held back, for my sake. I don’t know why he was willing to draw me out of my shell, but at this point, I needed any help I could get.

I swallowed around the lump in my throat.

“I’m just wearing…a t-shirt and shorts,” I said. “Nothing special.”

Maverick gave a pleased hum.

“Oh, dove, you have no idea what that can do to a man in the morning. Please tell me you’re not wearing any panties.”

My breath hitched and that burn in my cheeks returned, ramping up by ten degrees.

“Maverick—I—you don’t need to know that.”

“It’s an important detail, baby.”

I gripped the edge of the counter to steady myself and lifted my gaze to the ceiling, feeling like my face was on fire.

This is what you’ve been looking for, remember?

“...yes,” I finally admitted. “I’m wearing…panties.”

“Take them off.”

The grit in Maverick’s commanding tone sent a bolt of need straight between my thighs. My knees wobbled. This was really happening…

“If I was there,” he added. “I would do it for you. But you have to take this first step yourself, dove.”

I chewed my lower lip as I deliberated. Then I set my phone on the counter. I could hang up. I could block Maverick’s number.

Or I could finally experience what it was like to feel sexy, desirable, wanted.

Without giving myself time to think, I stripped off my shorts and panties, leaving them in a pool of fabric on the floor. The hem of my shirt didn’t even cover my ass, and I desperately tugged at it, hoping I could stretch a few more inches out of it.

With trembling fingers, I picked up the phone again.

“Okay,” I said. “I—I did it.”

“Good girl,” Maverick said, practically a purr.

I pressed a hand to my mouth, swallowing the little sound that welled up in my throat. I felt shaky, exposed, like I wanted to run for my bedroom and burrow under the covers. But underneath that vulnerability was a buzz of excitement and I craved more of it.

“Have you ever touched yourself before?” Maverick asked.

My mouth went dry. I ducked my head, squeezing my thighs together against the relentless ache that continued to grow in my core.

For my twenty-first birthday, Bristol had insisted on taking me shopping for my first vibrator, so I wasn’t unfamiliar with my body.

Admitting it to a man though, especially someone like Maverick, was intimidating.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he continued softly. “Go on, sweetheart. Can you do that for me? Slide your hand between those gorgeous thighs of yours. Tell me how wet you are because of my voice.”

As he spoke, I found myself obeying. I lowered my hand, fingers tucked between my thighs. I sucked in a sharp breath when I grazed my clit, slippery and stiff with arousal.

“That’s it,” Maverick murmured. “Fuck, you sound so goddamn perfect. Keep going.”

My eyes slid closed, losing myself in his words and the pleasure coursing through me. I imagined Maverick’s thick, callused fingers teasing my clit, gliding lower to my entrance. Iimagined his hot breath on my neck, his broad body caging me against the counter, and his dark, blazing eyes roaming over me while I melted at his touch.

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