She gave him a kiss that started out sweet but quickly shifted into overdrive.
When they parted, Maverick changed his expression, his smile morphing to something completely different. He gave her a few moments to take it in, to let his sternness and the underlying threat feed her own desires.
“Ella,” he said. “Run.”
She jerked as if he’d fired a starter pistol, then sprinted toward the tree line like the hounds of hell were in pursuit.
Maverick forced himself to remain where he was, watching as she darted through the trees in a straight line. If she didn’t start adding some zig and zags, it wouldn’t be too hard to find her. Of course, the noise of her stomping through rustling leaves and breaking twigs was going to be pretty helpful as well.
After a minute passed, he walked down the steps and over to the tree line. Ella must have figured out her head start was over, because the woods were now quiet.
He slowly started out a good twenty yards away from her initial path, circling around the direction she’d taken so that he could come up behind her. He was more methodical and careful as he walked, attempting to make his approach quiet.
After fifteen minutes or so, he caught sight of her roughly thirty feet in front of him. Stepping behind a large tree, he peered around, grinning. She had tucked herself behind a thicket of woody vines. As he suspected, she was looking away from him, staring in the direction of the cabin.
Maverick considered his options, debating between sneaking up on her or stepping out into the open and initiating a full-out chase. In the end, he opted to let Ella make the decision. Or at least, the decision she’d made in her book.
Stepping out from behind the tree, he took off like a shot.
Ella turned at the sound, shock keeping her still for a good ten seconds that she desperately needed.
Maverick never missed a step as he ran, quickly cutting the distance.
Ella screamed as her brain and flight instinct engaged. Darting out of her hiding spot, she turned toward the cabin. She was quicker than he’d anticipated, but he was still faster.
He spotted the cabin through the woods just as he reached her. Maverick grabbed the back of her T-shirt roughly, the tight hold enough to make her lose her footing. She regained it quickly, staggering as she tried to escape his grip.
“Let me go!” she shouted.
“Never.” Maverick banded one arm around her midriff, pressing her tight to his chest, even as she struggled for freedom. “You’re trespassing on my property. That makes youmine,” he murmured in her ear, relishing the way her body rubbed against his. He’d decided to embrace her fantasy fully, taking on the role of her hero.
“I didn’t know it was your land! My car broke down and there’s no service. I’ll leave,” she said, catching on, playing the part of her book’s heroine.
“How do I know you’re not lying? How do I know someone didn’t send you here to spy on me?” In the book, the hero was a Mafia man, laying low after someone from a rival family put a hit on his head. Maverick had asked about her fascination with mobsters when he’d confessed to reading her books, and she’d admitted that, while she wrote in that trope because itwas popular and sold well, she was also a sucker for romances involving morally gray bad guys.
“Why would I spy on you? I don’t know you,” she insisted.
“If you were a man, I would have shot you on sight.”
“Please,” she begged. “Don’t kill me! I swear I’m not here to spy on you. If you let me go, I won’t tell anyone about this.”
Maverick slid the arm around her waist higher, cupping one of her breasts firmly, squeezing it until she squeaked. “I told you. You aren’t leaving. Trespassing on my land is a punishable offense.”
Ella continued to fight his grip, so much so, she was beginning to tire herself out. She was panting, her strength waning, and there was a sheen of sweat on her face.
“Punishable?” she said breathlessly.
Maverick had noticed common denominators in the three books he’d read of Ella’s so far. Bondage, dirty talk, and a lot of punishments—edging and spanking being the two he was most interested in exploring with her.
“Naughty girls get punished. And you’ve been bad, haven’t you?”
He unbuttoned her jeans, sliding down the zipper before shoving his hand inside. Cupping her pussy, he was unsurprised to discover Ella wet.
“Look at this soaking-wet pussy,” he murmured. “Is this for me?”
“Please,” she said again, though this time, it sounded less like a cry for mercy. Or at least, a different kind of mercy.
“I do like the sound of you begging. Ask me to fuck this pretty little cunt.”