Joy (Hell's Handlers MC 7)

Smiling at those spicy memories, Steph stepped into the office only to come to a dead stop. She let out a half snort, half laugh as she covered her mouth. “Oh, my God. You’re out of control.”

“I love that you think of me as your god, baby,” Mav said with a wink. “But I’m just a mere mortal. Though parts of me do seem to possess god-like powers. As you well know.”

This time, she just snorted.

Seated on their charcoal leather love seat, naked except for miles of ink, sat Maverick, legs spread, and hard cock in hand. Only since it was mid-December, it wasn’t a normal naked and horny Maverick. It was the Christmas version complete with Santa hat, blinking light bulb necklace, and mistletoe belt. Around his waist, a red and white striped cloth belt closed at a buckle which extended to an arched wire where some mistletoe dangled. His reclined position had the plastic plant bobbing directly over his cock. The cock he worked up and down this his fisted hand. The cock leaking with precum.

Stephanie couldn’t help it, she started laughing even as her body flared to life. The sight of her man sans clothes did it to her every time. Ridiculous props and all. Before him, she’d considered herself a normal woman with a typical sex drive. Now, thanks to the hot and randy biker on the couch, she was a borderline nymphomaniac. All he had to do was peel off his shirt and bare those lean, ropy muscles covered in tattoos, and she was ready to burn her panty drawer.

“You know, I’ve heard it’s bad luck if you don’t kiss under the mistletoe,” he said, giving her a sexy grin as he continued to stroke his tattooed erection in long, slow pulls.

“Is it?” Gaze rooted to where he pleasured himself, she bit her bottom lip. Watching him get himself off could be a fun time, but that cock was hers, and she’d be the one to enjoy it tonight.

“The worst luck.”

“Well,” she said, slowly walked toward him. “We don’t need any of that.”

“Strip,” he commanded as he tugged on his length.

Steph licked her lips, which had him groaning. “You sure that’s what you want me to do first?”

“Fuck yes,” he said, voice strained, hips punching up into his hand. “Want to see my tits.”

Mav was a jovial guy. He joked around like no other, had the raunchiest sense of humor, and generally viewed life as one big playground. Of course, living with him, Steph saw another side of him, the real Maverick. A protective, loving, and fiercely loyal man who would saw off his own leg for those he cared about. Still, he wasn’t as much of a macho, possessive alpha as some of his brothers. Until it came to the bedroom. When it was just the two of them, lost in their own sensual and intimate world. Then he was all mine this and mine that.

Steph fucking loved it. Because she did belong to him. He owned every part of her, body, heart, and soul just as she owned him in return.

She stripped off her sweater and the cami underneath, leaving her in the bright red bra she’d purchased just to feed his Christmas addiction.

“Damn, woman,” he said, circling his thumb and forefinger around the base of his cock. “You get hotter every day.”

Steph smiled. She loved how much he wanted her and never failed to let her know it. How he could make her feel like the sexiest woman alive with just one look and two sentences. “Your tits all you want to see?”

“Fuck no,” he said. “Wanna see my pussy too. Wanna see it all. Show me what belongs to me, baby. Then I’ll show you how I play with my toys.”

A shiver ran through her, the most delicious kind. Her panties were already wet and all they’d done was chat while she watched him jerk himself.

With a little wiggle, Steph worked her jeans down her legs and kicked them off right before toeing off her socks. As she straightened, she pressed her lips together to keep from smirking.

Mav had no such control. He barked out a laugh the moment his gaze connected with her panties. A red thong to match the bra, with the words, “If you can read this, I’ve been naughty,” scrawled across the crotch.

His gaze met hers. “Fuck, I love you, Stephanie,” he said, all clowning gone from his voice.

Even though by now they’d said it countless times, those words never failed to send a thrill coursing through her. Her nipples tightened and her sex practically dripped with arousal. This was more than an I love you for wearing playful and silly underwear. It was an I love you for seeing him and being the partner he needed. This was serious Maverick, and he was intense and rough.