Page 12 of Maverick (Playing For Keeps #2)

QUINTON

Understandably, we all left the field feeling quite upset that day. Losses were never fun, but they sucked even more as a home game… and the first of the season. I’d been avoiding checking my phone or turning on the TV to steer clear of it, which is why I was surprised to hear a knock at my door.

We had twenty-four hours before we flew to Reno for our next game, and I’d planned to spend a quiet evening at home. Checking my cameras, a familiar bundle of black curls hovered beneath my front door.

I rushed to answer it, the sight breaking my heart.

Maverick, red-eyed and looking utterly… defeated , stood there with his arms crossed over his chest. Well, he didn’t stand so much as he slumped against the frame, as if simply standing up was too much work.

He sniffled, and tug in my chest intensified.

“I don’t want to talk about it right now,” he muttered.

“But can I stay here again? I don’t want to be alone. ”

“Of course you can.” I stepped aside to let him in and waited while he kicked his shoes off. “I was just making dinner.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I can?—”

“There’s plenty for you.” With a hand on the small of his back, I led him through the house, much like I had that first day he’d come home with me.

It was wild to think that it was just a couple of weeks ago.

Maverick slotted into my life so perfectly that I was almost scared to admit that I’d become accustomed to the sight of him in my home.

“You look like you could use some comfort food.”

Maverick slipped into a barstool, putting his chin in his hand and drawing shapes on the counter with his finger. “Preferably something deep fried and covered in cheese.”

Standing at the stove, I shot a look over my shoulder. The cheeky grin on his face told me that I didn’t need to say a word about how bad of a decision that would be. Bloating and food comas didn’t make for a functioning athlete. “Do I need to list all the reasons that won’t help you?”

“No…” he grumbled.

“Do you want a drink?” With the way my Daddy senses were on fire, I wouldn’t have normally offered, but one wouldn’t hurt—and I wanted to see where his limits were.

While Maverick mulled over his answer, I plated up our chicken Caesar salads and carried them to the counter. “I… don’t know.”

Smiling, I set his plate down. “Do you want me to make the decision for you?”

Maverick let out a sigh of relief. “Could you?”

“Of course I can.” I retrieved two bottles of water from the fridge, then slid my stool closer to him, letting my left hand fall to his thigh. “Eat up, princess.” And when he lifted the first bite to his mouth, I tacked on, “That’s my good girl.”

The precious boy whimpered around his fork. “Can I at least feed myself before you take me apart?”

“Take your time. But we’re not having sex tonight.”

That had him sputtering on his water. “What? Why?”

Where his shorts had ridden up, my thumb stroked the sensitive skin high on his leg. He only wriggled and tried to urge my hand upward. “Something tells me you need a different kind of release tonight.”

With a pointed glance at his crotch, Maverick muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, “Think again.”

I only laughed. He’d had a bad day; I could let him get away with being a little mouthy.

We ate quietly, with only the sounds of scraping cutlery being the only thing in the room.

I kept my left hand where it was and eventually, he stopped trying to move it.

Bowl empty, Maverick sat back in his chair, easing into my arm as I finished eating.

I massaged the muscle beneath my palm, switching to the other leg when he nudged me to do so.

The moment I finished eating, I hauled him into my lap, his back against my front.

The stool complained under our combined weight, but I didn’t care.

With both my arms around him, he finally relaxed. He let out a long, deep breath, and his head fell onto my shoulder, his fingers twisting into mine. “Please don’t make me talk about it,” he pleaded, tracing the vein on the back of my hand with his thumb.

“I’m not,” I assured him, pressing my lips to his shoulder. “But I am trying to decide if you need the hot tub or an ice bath.”

“Don’t you think I’ve been tortured enough for one day?” he groaned. “Don’t make me get in an ice bath right now.”

“They’re good for you.”

“So is broccoli and I don’t particularly care for that either.” He stood and flipped around to straddle my lap, letting his arms fall around my shoulders. When he batted those dark lashes at me, I knew I was done for. “Please, Daddy?”

I scoffed, tightening my grip on him. “Okay! I didn’t know I had such a brat on my hands.”

“I’m not a brat!” His cheeks were bright pink now. “Just your little… princess.” He whispered the word, as if the walls were going to tell on him, ducking his head to his lap.

My fingers danced up his sides, eliciting the most adorable giggle from him. He attempted to bat my hands away, but I was stronger. “Stop—I’m ticklish.”

“Stop what? This?” I dug in harder. Maverick squirmed and bucked in my lap and despite the rules I’d set, my cock took interest. The boy then leapt backward, shoving our plates aside and hopping onto the counter in an attempt to get away from me, but I was no match for him.

I stood and pressed close between his spread thighs, tickling his ribcage harder.

He threw his head back, howling with laughter and gasping for breath.

His pretty eyes sparkled, a complete one-eighty to what they looked like when he showed up.

I’d have done anything not to see tears there ever again.

"St-stop!" he panted, scrabbling at my hands. "I'm gonna pee!"

I continued for a moment, until his legs squeezed around my hips—we hadn't talked about that aspect of control quite yet. He wriggled on the countertop, fighting to catch his breath. "Do you want help with the dishes?"

I leaned in and pressed our lips together. Maverick let out a contented hum, warm breath washing over my skin. "I've got it, princess," I told him, deepening the twin spots of color on his cheeks. "Go use the bathroom and we'll get you into that hot tub."

“Yes, Daddy.”

Once he'd disappeared into the hallway, I gathered up the dirty dishes, rinsed them, and stacked them in the dishwasher.

As I did, I glanced out the kitchen window.

Clouds had been rolling in all day, but it had been nothing more than a tease.

My granny used to say it was "enough to make you mad," and I think that had been exactly what happened on the field.

Well, that combined with Maverick's long history with Reese.

Eventually deciding to take the risk on the rain, I pulled two glasses out of the cabinet and some juice from the fridge.

I still didn’t think it was a good idea for Maverick to drink, but that didn't mean that I couldn't make it feel like he was drinking a relaxing cocktail.

I'd felt the way his thigh muscles twitched beneath my hand as we ate.

The poor guy was tired, and likely sore.

I knew I felt it—we all did. That sort of ache didn't go away the longer you played; you just learned how to deal with it.

By the time Maverick returned to the kitchen, I'd started the dishwasher and our two drinks were sitting on the counter. "What are these?" he asked, grabbing one of the glasses and giving it a suspicious sniff.

"Something to help you relax. It might even help you sleep.

" Maverick raised an alarmed brow at me and with a smile, I returned the glass to the counter.

With the messy stuff out of the way, I slid my hands beneath the hem of his shirt and pushed the fabric up until he got the hint.

He raised his arms, and I let the garment flutter to the floor.

"It's just cherry juice and magnesium. They help your body’s melatonin production. "

"I don't have a suit," he whispered when I reached for his shorts.

My grin widened into a full smile, and I knelt at his feet. "Did I say anything about needing one?"

"No… but you said we weren't having sex."

"We're not." I slipped off each of his socks, bundling them together and tossing them aside.

His shorts fell to the floor next, and he stood in front of me in nothing but a pair of tiny black boxer briefs.

I sat back on my heels, rolling my bottom lip between my teeth.

I could have just tugged those off as well and had him get in the water with me stark naked, but I had a better idea. "Wait here."

Leaving Maverick in my kitchen, I darted up to my bedroom and dug around in my drawers until I found what I wanted.

Once I'd figured out that he was the pretty princess I'd entertained in that dark back room, I ordered another pair of those panties he'd so beautifully ruined for me.

I had to see him in them again, and this was my opportunity to do so without the risk of him coming in them before I could enjoy it properly .

The second I appeared in the kitchen doorway, Maverick blushed. "What are those?"

A low hum rumbled up from deep in my chest. "I think you know what these are, pretty girl." I took the scrap of fabric and sidled up close to him, letting the soft lace caress his skin before I dropped to my knees once more. "Can you give me a color, baby?"

"Green," he responded without hesitation, eyes fixed on the fabric in my hand.

"Good girl." Without another word, I lowered those tight boxer briefs. Maverick's cock sprang free, already hard and leaking.

I barely paid it any attention, helping him step into the panties. A whimper slipped past his lips, and he danced in place. "You look good down there."

"Don't get any ideas, princess." With his legs in the right places, I pulled the panties up his smooth, toned legs. After making sure that his dick was nestled perfectly inside them, I straightened to my full height. "Turn around for me."

He did, and I made sure the garment sat comfortably across his ass and hips.

Damn, he fit them like a glove and now that I was seeing him in proper lighting, I began to regret my "no sex" decision.

My cock swelled. The silk and lace stretched tight over the globes of his ass cheeks, sitting perfectly on his waist, low enough to show the dips of his back when he braced himself on the countertop.

"That's better," I said, a husk to my voice that I hardly recognized. "Those look so good on you, baby girl."

Another whine, and Maverick shot a pleading look over my shoulder—one I ignored. I reached around him, taking a drink in one hand and lacing our fingers together with the other. "Let's go."

He grumbled the entire way, but followed me out to the back deck.

The second we opened the door, the sticky Alabama night slapped us in the face like a hot, wet towel, but I knew we'd feel better the second we got in the water.

"It's gorgeous out here," Maverick commented, pausing by the edge of the tub while I removed the cover. "I can't stand living near the city. "

"Why do you?"

He shrugged, taking the hand I offered to help him into the water. "It's what I could get. The housing market isn't exactly great right now and without knowing that it would be my forever home, I was hesitant to do too much searching for the 'perfect place.'"

Maverick hovered in the middle of the hot tub, waiting for me to undress and join him.

I had to say that if I thought he looked good in those panties when they were dry, seeing them soaking wet was a whole other ball game.

Sweat already beaded up and dripped down his chest, his skin shimmering in the dim moonlight.

He sat his drink on the edge, and I didn't miss the subtle way his hand dipped beneath the water—and straight to his crotch.

"I don't think so."

"You're going to make me wear these all night, while you’re completely naked and not let me do anything about it?" he whined, throwing himself into a seat.

"That's right, because good things come to those who wait, princess.

" I settled next to him, throwing my arm around his shoulders.

He started to guzzle his drink, and I leaned in close, making sure to whisper my next threat in his ear.

"And if you sneak off to the bathroom to touch yourself, I'll take that privilege away from you too. "

Maverick choked, sputtering cherry juice all over himself and turning the same color as the liquid left in his glass. "You wouldn't do that."

I arched a brow. "Want to find out?"

Blushing furiously, the boy slid into the water, leaning into my arm. “You hinted at that when we were in the club…” he muttered into his drink. “What would it mean?”

“Well…” I sank into the steaming water, my sore muscles practically sighing with relief. It was a welcome sensation in spite of the heat. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that. Do you think you’re in the right headspace for it today?”

“If you’d asked me an hour ago, I would have said no.” Maverick hummed and rested his head on my shoulder, peering up at me through thick, dark lashes. “Now, I’m okay.”

“Know that you can use your safeword at any time—even if this conversation takes a turn you don’t want.” When he nodded, I continued. “Ideally, your body would be mine to control twenty-four hours a day, but I know that our jobs make that difficult. So I want to propose another plan.”

“What’s that?”

I leaned down, nuzzling against him until he raised his head. I ducked, licking and nipping a path to his ear until I could suck the lobe between my teeth.

“Daddy…” Maverick breathed, squirming.

I chuckled. The boy was insatiable. “The moment you step off the field every day, your body belongs to me . I’ll control every decision you’d need to make throughout the day: When and what you eat or drink—and when you use the bathroom.

You can safeword out at any time, for any reason.

I don’t need an explanation. But until that happens, every choice you make goes through me. How does that sound?”

“G-good,” he said, shuddering. “ Really good.”

“That’s my good girl. Now finish your drink so we can get you to bed.”