Maverick and Mistletoe (Hell's Handlers MC 10.50)

The kiss grew in intensity until her sex throbbed with the need to be filled by her husband, the only man she’d ever wanted with this powerful force. His hands roamed every curve and dip of her body. Hers explored his inked skin as if she were touching him for the first time. Finally, when the need bordered on torture, she arched her hips up into him, searching for the relief only he could provide.

Mav ripped his mouth away, panting. “Tell me you’ll never leave, Steph,” he whispered against her ear. Quiet so the rest of the world would continue to see him as a tough biker who had no vulnerabilities. But she knew otherwise. In the quiet times, Mav let the thick walls guarding his heart down.

For her.

Only her.

“Never, Maverick,” she whispered back. “I wouldn’t be whole. I need you.”

“Always.”

“Always,” she agreed as his mouth found hers again. This time, their touches became frantic, and within seconds, they were tearing at each other’s clothes.

When he finally entered her, Steph bit her lip to keep from crying out in Brooke’s quiet house. Last thing she needed was her new friend’s protective German Shepherd stampeding in to see why the guest was screaming down the house.

CHAPTER FIVE

THE DAYS SPENT with the Florida club passed in a blink. Mav worked directly with Curly on securing their computers as well as the farmland they’d renovated into their clubhouse and grounds.

It was more of a compound than a clubhouse. Brooke’s house bordered the farmland and was considered part of the property now. Along with the clubhouse, an old barn had been renovated and expanded into four apartments. Scott, who Mav had learned now went by the call sign Spec, lived in one. Locke, another of the guys, resided in another, while two remained unclaimed, waiting for future members or prospects.

Fortifying the vast property and beefing their cyber security resulted in a bigger job than Mav had expected. But the work was necessary. With several of Curly’s old cronies sniffing around, the compound needed to be a safe and protected home base for the club.

Besides, Mav lived for this shit. He loved creating elaborate safety protocols and implementing complicated security systems. When Curly mentioned budget wasn’t an issue, Mav had been like a kid in a security candy store.

Getting to know the Florida crew better didn’t suck either. Curly had assembled a solid group of guys who already functioned as a close brotherhood. Even Scott was on his best behavior for the rest of Mav’s stay. Made sense, considering the way Curly had ripped him a brand-new asshole the other night.

Mav shuddered. Better Scott than him.

His only complaint was that work ate up almost all his hours. He hadn’t spent nearly enough time loving on his wife over the past few days. Steph had a blast with Brooke, but he knew she was also craving the one-on-one time they’d planned.

Which led them to this evening and their trip down the coast to an Airbnb right on the beautiful west coast Florida beach. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve, and he had five days of sun, sand, and Steph all to himself.

Perfection.

But first…dinner.

They’d stopped at a diner about an hour outside of Lithia. The food had been hot, greasy, and the staff was smiling—an excellent way to start their Christmas getaway.

“So, just how private is this beach?” Mav asked as he stretched his arms over his head. “Damn, that was some good grub.” He rubbed a hand over his full belly.

Steph, who’d consumed about half what he ate, smiled at him. “Private.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Like I could frolic around with my danglers swinging free as God and nature intended?”

With a snort, she nodded. Those pretty blue eyes of hers danced with amusement. “I’m pretty sure. From the description, the house is on a piece of land that juts out into the ocean. The way it’s positioned allows the beach behind the home to be private enough you can’t see it from other houses.”

“So I get to fuck you on the beach any time of day and not have to worry about making any other men jealous with my moves?” Damn, just the thought of taking her in broad daylight with the sounds of the ocean and the warmth of the sun on their skin had his cock chubbing up. They both had a bit of an exhibitionist fetish and didn’t mind a little public nookie, but this weekend he wanted Steph and Steph only. No prying eyes, curious stares, or the possibility of being discovered.

Heat flared in his wife’s eyes. “You can do whatever you want, wherever you want.” Her voice dropped an octave, taking on a husky timbre that sent shivers right up his spine. “It’s totally private.”

He groaned.

“In fact, I think we should make a no clothing rule. This way, you can have easy access to this,” she said, motioning to her body, “anytime you want.”