Book III of UNC Series
While it's known that there are five stages of grief, did you know that there are also five stages of love?
Bailey Nicholson dreamed of finishing her Master's degree and settling in Boston while working alongside her boyfriend...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
two weeks later
I let out a soft mewl at his rough exploration. His callouses drag down my body, feeling every dip and curve of me, almost like he's impatient and can't get enough. I press my lips to his, seeking and craving the pressure, the wet tease of his tongue as he slips into my mouth to explore every inch.
My hands trace over the veins on his taut biceps; the contoured muscles of his arms and chest feel like they have been sculpted for my very touch. His hands settle on the curve of my ass, pressing me down into his crotch. Only the thin fabric of his boxers lay between us. My thighs are slick with my dripping arousal, having sat on his face just moments before as I continue to catch my breath, but I feel myself soaking the cotton material of his boxers, feeling the heat radiating off me.
A desired throb pulses between my legs as he kisses me passionately. His tongue strokes mine with finesse, with crippling passion. Hints of my arousal still coat his mouth, tasting the sweet and musky aftertaste.
Rolling my hips, I rub my centre against him, and he responds with a resounding growl that I feel in my aching pussy, causing me to clench my inner muscles.
In preparation for what's to come, I squeeze my thighs around him, ready to turn onto my back. But he flattens his palm against my thigh, stalling my movements.
"What?" I blink my bleary eyes to stare down at me, which my hands situated on his chest. I come out of a daze, "What's wrong?"
It's almost too painful to watch Maverick like this, unadulterated, unfettered. It's raw and pure. His golden eyes gleam under the morning sun, a bright amber surrounded by a ring of black; his skin is flushed, his chest riddled with streaks of red from my now-growing nails, and his hair is a rumpled mess from having my hands run through them moments ago.
And when he flashes me that grin with the single dimple on his right side, it has my heart swelling in my chest, ready to seize the opportunity to witness such a phenomenon.
"Nothing's wrong," he responds, sounding equally out of breath as me. Though we started to go to the gym together again, whenever we become intimate, it's almost like we can't keep up with each other's desires and passion. Always seemingly out of breath and winded from our activities.
"Then why am I not lying on my back, legs spread for you?"
Maverick's eyes glow at my statement, a chuckle slipping past his easy smile. I'm still floored that I can surprise him with my words. We haven't been dating for that long, but he knows me so well that it shocks me but still makes me giddy to know that I can render him speechless at times.
"Because I want you on top."
That brings me to a screeching halt. He wants me on top?
A year ago, he wouldn't let me and cited it would happen when he trusted me not to put our fierce competitiveness before our pleasure. Not that I don't think he doesn't trust me now, but I'm so used to him controlling our sex lives that I never thought to suggest I ride him.
