“Say nite, nite, Daddy?” Delilah said to Noah. “Did you know he called you that? When we arrived earlier, he was daddy this and daddy that.”
“Don’t know where the kid got the idea,” Maverick smirked.
“Un-huh, I bet you don’t,” Delilah said.
“Nite, nite Dad-dee,” Noah said.
“Goodnight, son,” Maverick said with a formal nod.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” Delilah called out after him.
“Okay, in the morning,” Maverick agreed and closed the door behind him. It was ten in the evening. Late enough to call it a night, but still, he felt the bittersweetness of separation after the forgiveness Delilah and Noah offered. It had only been two days, but the second night bonded them even further than the first. What would come after four weeks of this? Instead of dwelling on the possibilities, he picked up the pot lids and toys left behind by Noah. A few times, he heard Noah crying behind the bedroom’s closed door, but not for long. The night had come to an end.
In the shower, Maverick laid his hands on the tile wall and put his head under the running water to cleanse his thoughts. He didn’t need to shower again, but the time spent cleansing himself released what was left of his anxiety. Maverick went through the motions of shutting down and locking up the guest house for the night in silence. It was evident that she and his son were asleep. Soon he found himself under the covers trying to do the same. It took forever for his eyes to close, and when they did, he prayed that his dreams didn’t conjure Melissa or Camille.
At times when he slept, Maverick couldn’t tell if he dreamed or not. That night he felt different. Not sleeping, not awake, just limbo. So when he opened his eyes, he didn’t know if it was reality or fantasy that pulled her to him. Delilah stood next to his bed. She wore a shirt that went past her hips and a golden silk bonnet on her head. Maverick squinted at her but did not move. Melissa and Camilla came to him often after bought of distress. The psychiatrists he’d seen during his career had different theories as to why. He just learned to live with it as fact. Maybe the destruction of his bond with Delilah had made his mind split with delusions of her too? It was possible. Even more disturbing to him was the fact that he was hallucinating was the fact that Delilah looked as if she’d been crying.
“Can I sleep with you?” she asked and began to only weep. “Please!”
In her hand was her baby monitor. He wondered if his place was wired with cameras too, and this was some kind of trap. This was no dream. Maverick lifted the covers and moved over. Delilah set the baby monitor down on the nightstand and turned it to face them. She then pulled the bottom of her t-shirt up over her head. She wore no undergarments underneath. Maverick gaze traveled down from her breasts to her sex and then back to her breasts. He’d imagined what her body looked like, petite and curvy, but the real her was far better. Delilah eased in bed with him, and Maverick dropped the covers over her. Together they lay on their sides as he held her against his chest, and she wept. She cried for what must have been an eternity for her. Maverick asked no questions. And within their shared comfort came the mutual need for affection. Like two magnets, they could not release each other, and like true lovers, Delilah denied him nothing. Maverick couldn’t help himself; he needed to feel her from the inside. Delilah grabbed the hand that he’d placed on her butt and brought it between her thighs to press his palm up against her sex. Her face tilted up, and she kissed him. Maverick kissed her. The moment he rubbed her center with his middle finger, she parted her lips and let go of a sweet sigh of relief.
“Is it true? Your husband is the only man you’ve ever been with?” he asked her. “Sexually, I mean?”
“No,” she turned over to her back. “It’s not true. I’ve been with you, remember?”
Maverick did remember. How could he forget the brief but intense moment? It was forever burned to the front of his brain. He had to adjust himself whenever he got too close or when his eyes landed on her backside after she left a room.
The covers went down to reveal her body, and then he pleasured her with his hand. Every sensation she experienced was told through emotions played over her face and whimpers escaping her succulent lips. He knew all he needed to know about what melted the ice off his princess. Her cheeks glistened with tears, but she wasn’t crying—not anymore. She radiated such desire he fell in love. Maverick lowered his lips to hers.
The kiss sent the pit of her stomach into a wild swirl. The caress of Maverick's hand snuffed any resistance and burned away her troubled thoughts. The first kiss was slow and thoughtful. It teased the same way his fingers glided gently in and out of her. Delilah had used her own fingers on herself before masturbation after sex with Charles didn’t satisfy her. Her husband was a stone old traditionalist in bed and life. For sex, she had her position, and he had his. She was on the bottom. He was on the top—always. Sex wasn’t nasty; from her perspective, it was satisfying. But what did she know in comparison? Delilah discovered there was far more than Charles or fingers could bring when it came to sexual pleasure. And that was with Maverick. The way he worshiped her, with the gentle part of her thighs, but the hard thrust of his dick. She arched her back and fed him more of her nipple as his invading cock surged and surged. She rubbed his arm with one hand and combed her fingers through his hair with the other. And when he moved faster then slower, then faster again on top of her, she was certain there was no stopping their passion. Soon after, she felt a pang of disappointment. She didn’t want to be pinned beneath another man with him controlling her. She wanted to be free with him.
“Maverick?” she said in a breathless state as he continued his dick and pelvic thrusts. Her lover only groaned in response. “Maverick?” She pushed at his chest to slow the thrust of his hips drilling his dick deeper and deeper. He looked down at her, dazed, deranged by his own lust, and his hips didn’t stop working. He flicked his tongue out to swipe at the tip of her nose. He was further gone than she was.
“I want to... to... to do it differently,” she panted, trying to gain control. She lost the battle soon after. Delilah moved her hips to let him screw her as he pleased because her clitoris was so distressed by the friction she neared her first sexual orgasm beneath a man. Instead of saying no, she said yes, she nearly screamed it. But why should she wait for what pleased him best? It was her body she was offering. Shouldn’t she get what she came to him for, her way? Or was this the best way? It felt so good she lost the energy to care. “No, Maverick, uhm, yes, stop it. Different. Make. Me. Different.”
Maverick paused.
“Different?” he asked. She ruined the moment. The ambers of climax flickered in her pussy, and she hated herself. She always ruined the moment with overthinking. Delilah decided to hurry her explanation because she didn’t want the magic to slip away.
“Make love. Let me make love. Don’t just have sex with me. Charles didn’t. No one did. It’s different,” she panted. Maverick stared at her for longer than she could tolerate; the magic was almost gone. Had she sounded so pathetic, he didn’t want to make love to her? Or was lovemaking something he shared with his wife, with Camille, and this was sex? Her eyes stretched? She had just asked the man to make love to her. That was not the goal. In silent darkness, they stared at each other, not moving, proper breathing, with their hearts beating wildly. She wasn’t a virgin or some pathetic damsel. She was just trying to be honest. She noticed how he hesitated with her, and that felt like his honesty. Maverick’s insecurity was something she found sexy and authentic. Any girl would fall deeper when watching him correct his every move. The man in the bathroom she fucked against the sink didn’t care about impropriety. She wanted that man each and every time she was with him—but she had introduced the word ‘love’ after only two days.