Page 20 of Pit Stop

He knows exactly what I’m doing and something sizzles in the bond—heat, desire. We can’t have that here. Not with all these other alphas watching so intently.

I shift on my seat and then snap the tip of that popsicle off, making him wince.

I grin and lick my lips as he gets back to work.

And so do I. When lunch rolls around, he grabs his lunchbox from the fridge and then grabs my hand, pulling me outside.

It’s warm out, but not overly so, making it the perfect time to settle down and eat.

Around the back of the garage are a few rickety tables and chairs, beaten down by the sun and rain. Maverick leads me to one and lowers himself onto it, spreading his legs slightly and glancing up at me.

“Are you serious?” I ask, and he nods.

“For the bond.”

I don’t even hesitate. For the bond, of course. I lower myself onto his lap and his hand sneaks under my shirt, the other crawling up my bare leg, touching the space beneath the fabric of my jean shorts.

“We need to eat,” I say, leaning back against him, desire pulsing through me. I can feel his cock growing beneath me and my own isn’t far behind.

“I want to eat you,” he growls, his nose moving against my neck, scenting me.

I should hate this. It’s so barbaric, but I just lean into it, loving how he’s marking me. His teeth nibble on my skin, the scruff of his jaw abrading my neck, and when he’s done, he finally moves away.

“We can eat now,” he says, and I huff, leaning forward, feeling his length against my crack. He grunts, pulling me against it, and I can’t help the small groan that escapes my lips.

“You’re too distracting. I can’t sit on your lap if we want to actually consume food.”

I try to move off his lap, but he holds me to him, his fingers digging into my sides.

“I’ll behave. I promise, Skye.”

The way he says my name makes me melt into him, the lunchbox on my lap. With lazy fingers, I open it up and pull out a foot-long sandwich, two apples, and a bag of chips. We take our time feeding it all to each other, licking at each other’s lips and fingers before kissing slowly.

We only stop when catcalls pull us from one another.

“Fuck, I hate my job,” he murmurs and then buries his face in my neck.

“No, you don’t. You just hate being interrupted.”

He huffs his agreement, and then I peel myself away from him, discreetly adjusting myself before packing up the lunchbox.

Maverick stands up and links his hand with mine, leading me back into the garage.

He gets back to work but stops every hour to make sure I’m drinking my water and to touch me in some small way.

Little touches to my face, my arms, my legs.

By the time work is over, I’m a horny mess.

I try to keep it together, but the need to have him inside of me is bubbling over.

By the time he parks the car, I stumble out and into the trailer, leaning against the kitchen counter, chest heaving.

“Skye, you okay?” he asks, and I bite my bottom lip to keep the moan at bay.

“I need you,” is all I manage to say before he’s on me, lifting me up and setting me on the counter, my shirt being ripped from my body as he descends.

I lean back, lifting my hips as he pulls my shorts off, leaving me in only my socks.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, his teeth dragging down my neck to my shoulder. I arch into his touch as my fingers frantically try to wrench his shirt from his chest. He helps after a minute of struggling, baring his chest to me. I want to map out every tattoo there with my tongue.

“You’re so hot,” I moan. “I can’t believe you’re mine.”

His eyes flicker shut, nostrils flaring.

“Mine,” he murmurs, lifting me up and carrying me to the bedroom. He sets me on the bed before stepping back and kicking his pants off, leaving him bare before me. So strong, so perfect. I spread my legs, reaching down and grabbing my cock as he lowers himself onto me.

“Aren’t you too sore?” he asks, and I shake my head.

“Not if you go slow.”

He hovers above me and something flashes across his face as something flares through the bond before it disappears.

“I’ll go slow, Skye-light,” he says softly before leaning over and grabbing the lube. I don’t need much, my slick is probably enough, but he doesn’t want to hurt me.

Sitting up, he lifts one of my legs onto his shoulder and gently starts to work me open. One finger. Two. A slow scissoring until I’m almost sweating with the need for more.

“I can take more. This is too slow!”

He glances down at where he’s entering me and wets his lips.

Then I feel him push a third finger inside of me and I gasp, bearing down.

“So good for me,” he says, reaching his free hand down to stroke my cock.

My hands fist the sheets, letting him stuff me full, opening me up until I’m ready for him.

I’m always ready. He must sense it, my desperation, because he wets his cock with lube, slots it at my hole, and gently pushes in.

His arms are bracketing my face, his hair falling over his forehead, and I can’t help but press my hands to his skin, feeling the way his heartbeat picks up in his chest.

“Fuck, so tight,” he moans as he pushes all the way in, my body accommodating his size just fine. My legs wrap around his body, ankles crossing behind his back, and I lean up and take his lips with mine.

He groans, slowly rocking into me, making sensations flare up within me. Need, desire, but something else as well.

Something deeper.

I don’t want to think about it too hard because it’s scary. Considering that we’re going to get this bond dissolved as soon as we can. I can’t go there. And I don’t want to. No matter how good and right this feels. It’s not real.

It’s not fucking real.

I kiss him harder, my tongue moving into his mouth as his cock tunnels in and out of me until we’re both moaning, the bed rocking steadily against the wall.

When we both finally come, the orgasm is so strong I lose the ability to breathe.

Maverick seems to have the same issue because his body is shaking slightly as he empties himself into me.

Then he falls to my side, pulling me into him and nuzzling against my neck.

“Why’s it so good?” he asks, and I turn into his embrace and press our bodies as close together as I can. I don’t know why it’s this good. Maybe every bond is like this, or maybe it’s just us. I won’t know until we end it and I can look back on this objectively.