Maverick (The Family Simon 3)

He was satiated, lethargic, and pretty happy with the place that he found himself in and if the feeling only lasted for the next little while, then so be it.

He’d take it. Hell, he’d take this for as long as he could and if that made him a selfish bastard, then he was a selfish bastard.

He cupped her shoulder and he reached down to kiss her softly, his mouth moving into the hollow of her neck. His memory was fresh—he knew that she liked it when he did that.

She moved, murmuring something he didn’t understand, as he continued to trail soft kisses along her neck. When he nuzzled the spot just under her ear, she shuddered and pushed at him.

“Oh my god, you’re like a machine.”

“Thanks,” he said with a smile.

“But the thing is…” She said softly.

He nipped at her earlobe.

“I don’t think I can do it again.”

“I have faith in you,” he responded.

“Good to know.” Charlie grabbed at his wandering hands, squirming, and damn, there went his cock—full-on erection springing up against her soft belly. She glanced down at him. “You’re a horn dog, you know that, right?”

He couldn’t help but smile. “If you say so.”

“I say so.” Her eyes were on his dick and she moved so that the covers fell away, leaving her bare to him. Her breasts swung gently, her hair was a mess around her shoulders. With her

gorgeous eyes and their smoky liner smudged from the night before and her mouth swollen from his, Charlie Samuels looked hot as sin.

She pushed him onto his back and before he could say a word, her hot, wet, mouth closed over his cock. With a groan, he settled back against the pillows and let her have at it. She took him deep, her tongue and mouth giving such pleasure that in no time he felt his orgasm building.

“Jesus,” he whispered, hands in her hair as he gently tugged her away, his body tensing—his release explosive. He was still adrift in the foggy aftermath of one hell of a morning blowjob when Charlie swore and slid off the bed.

“Oh my God, what the hell time is it?” she asked, hair flying everywhere as she turned in a full circle. “Don’t you have a freaking clock in this room?”

Maverick glanced down at the mess on the sheets, the foggy afterglow leaving him like water down the drain.

She grabbed his wrist, yanking his arm a bit as she angled a look at his watch.

“Hey,” he growled, not liking the abrupt change. Where the hell was his sex goddess? This woman was all business and—he glanced up into her stormy eyes—she was pissed off.

“Davis is going to have my ass if I don’t get home,” she said, whirling around. “God, he’s never going to let me live this down.”

Maverick slid into a sitting position, enjoying the lovely view of her backside, though he hid a grin when she turned on him.

“Where the hell are my clothes?” she snapped.

“In the shop.”

“In the…” The evening replayed in her mind and he knew she was remembering how he’d wrapped her in the throw blanket and brought her into the house.

“Give me a minute,” Maverick said dryly, getting out of bed. “I’ll get them for you.”

“Never mind,” Charlie said, voice tight. She grabbed the ugly green knitted blanket from the floor, slid her feet into his boots and disappeared before he had a chance to say or do anything.

What the hell?

Maverick made quick work of the bathroom, deciding he’d deal with his sheets in a bit. He was just pulling on his jeans when he heard the front door slam, followed by boots on the stairs.

She appeared in his doorway, dressed the way she’d appeared the night before and Maverick’s grin was wicked as he took her in from head to toe. In that outfit, with her wild hair, bruised mouth and shiny eyes, she looked as if she’d been thoroughly fucked. It gave him a lot of pleasure knowing he was the one responsible.