Page 11 of Burly Biker of Misty Mountain

“Oh, baby, I bet you’re soaked by now,” Maverick said with a groan. “Those little gasps you make—get your fingers inside that sweet pussy of yours, all right? Open yourself up.”

Angling my wrist, I twisted two fingers deep into my silky walls. My lips parted with a whimper. Maverick growled on the other end of the line.

“Don’t fucking stop. Let me hear you.”

I faltered. What was I supposed to…say? Maverick made it seem easy, filthy words rolling off his tongue without hesitation. A solo session with my vibrator didn’t require any dirty talk.

“Don’t overthink it, sweetheart,” Maverick said, as if reading my thoughts. “Tell me what you want right now. My tongue? My fingers? My cock?”

Arousal surged straight to my toes, curling up my spine. My walls clenched around my fingers with a slick sound and a moan escaped me. Maverick chuckled.

“I knew it,” he said. “Do you need to be bent over the kitchen counter, dove? Are you hungry for cock first thing in the morning? Tell me what you want, dove."

“Jesus,Maverick—”

I kept pumping my fingers, faster and faster, spurred on by the images he put in my head. The thought of his strong chest against my back, with his tattooed forearm locked around my pale stomach sent my juices dripping down my knuckles.

The thought of him kneeling on the kitchen tile, stubble scraping my thighs, hot tongue stroking my clit, left me breathless.

“I wish you could taste me,” I said in a rush, surprised at how quickly it slipped out. “I wish—I wish your mouth was on me right now.”

Oh my God, did I really just say that? Out loud?

A muffled obscenity echoed on the phone.

“Where?” Maverick’s voice dropped lower, horse, with a desperate edge to it, as if maintaining his control was taking considerable effort. “I could taste those sweet lips. Or that pretty little neck. Those tits I can’t stop thinking about.”

My walls clenched around my fingers.

He’s been thinking about me?

My body felt tight, ready to snap at any moment. A haze of arousal clouded my brain. All I could think about was Maverick’s hot, wet mouth on my body.

That five o’clock shadow would leave beard burn on my thighs for days.

That’s what I wanted. To come on his tongue. To feel his sharp jawline between my thighs. To lock eyes with him as he feasted on me.

Then my orgasm hit. Distantly, I heard the low, soothing murmur of Maverick’s voice in my ear, talking me through it.

“That’s it, baby. You needed that, didn’t you? I bet you’re a fucking mess right now with your sticky thighs, and you’re probably flushed the prettiest shade of pink I’ve ever seen.”

As my orgasm faded, the reality of what I’d just done came into focus.

“Oh, God,” I exhaled.

“Don’t do that, dove,” Maverick said in a firm tone. “Don’t be embarrassed. You were incredible.”

I couldn’t believe it. I just had phone sex with a hot biker.

Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought I was capable of doing something like that. Bristol would be so proud.

“Are you busy tonight?” Maverick prompted.

I shook my head.

“No. Why?”

“What would you say to dinner and a movie?” he replied.

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