Maggie elbowed him in the ribs.
“Hey, I’m serious. You smell so fucking sweet I may sell tickets. I might even invent some sort of
Maggie
spray and market it. I could make a fortune.” Mace wriggled his way beneath the blanket and buried his face in her pussy. She heard him mumble something and she felt the vibrations from his throat against her clit. Her breath quickening, she dug her nails into his shoulders. Mace climbed back up her body, stopping to give equal time to her nipples.
When he reappeared, smelling so enticingly of sex, Maggie asked him, “What did you say?”
“When?”
“When you were down there.”
“Oh, when I was down there sampling your goodies?”
Maggie smiled at him. “Yes.”
Mace wrapped an arm around her and pulled her head onto his shoulder. “Nothing, Maggie, just talking to myself. Try to get a little sleep. We have the whole night ahead of us.”
With a sigh, Maggie complied. She molded her naked body against his hard one and relaxed, drifting, half-asleep, waiting until he was ready for more.
Chapter Four
An arm beneath his head, Mace stared at the ceiling, thinking. Maggie dozed, curled up on her side like a warm little kitten, her breathing soft and even, her hair a tousled mess. He loved it, loved the tangled curls, loved the soft skin, the perfect way she nestled against him, the perfect way she fit him. Or he fit into her, Mace wasn’t sure which. She was prickly, skittish. She might be generous with her body, but she was stingy with her heart. He wondered who had hurt her.
Must have been in the past year or so, that’s the only reason for a woman to be so wary of men
.
He tried to remember what Jeff had said about her, about Lynn’s family.
I wish I’d paid more attention. Jeff said something about divorced parents, an alcoholic mother…I don’t remember much. Maybe it was something like “Lynn has a sister who always hooks up with losers. I hope she doesn’t bring one to the wedding.”
Why would a woman like Maggie hook up with losers? She was obviously intelligent, discerning, compassionate…she was a hospice nurse, for Christ’s sake. She had a good sense of humor, and she was cool as a cucumber in a crisis. She had impeccable taste in food and wine, and a body that was right up his alley, long and lean, with skin like satin. There was nothing he found more appealing in a woman than soft skin. Mace leaned over and inhaled. God, Maggie smelled good, no perfumes, no lotions, just the scent of a healthy woman. So why would she hook up with losers? The thought infuriated him. Men could be such asses. He could be an ass.
Yes, but I’m entitled. I’m good at what I do…in my practice and in my bed. I don’t cheat and I don’t lie. I treat women with respect. Maggie can trust me, but she’s determined not to.
She asked me what I said. She’s the kind of woman I’ve been looking for, that’s what I said, but I won’t tell her. If she heard me say that, she’d jump out of this bed in a heartbeat. She’d flee the apartment, probably grab a cab to the airport, and I’d never see her again, other than at the wedding. Maybe she’d give me a dance, but only for the sake of politeness.
Maggie mumbled something and her hand slid across his abdomen and along his rib cage. Mace felt a certain part of his anatomy stir at the warmth of her touch. Never had he wanted a woman the way he wanted her. His hand found her breast and he flipped her onto her back.
Leaning over her, Mace asked, “How much foreplay do you want, Maggie?”
“This time?” She smiled, stroking his swelling cock. “None. Just fuck me, Mace, please.” Her voice was low, smoky, and Mace felt a shiver run up his spine. What man didn’t dream of hearing the words
Just fuck me, please
?
Mace lay back and pulled Maggie on top of him. She bent her head as she climbed onto him, taking his nipple into her mouth, giving him a playful nip before he tugged her up higher and then slid her down over his erection. She was still slick and slippery from their previous lovemaking, and he thrust into her heat in one smooth move. Suspending her above him, withdrawing his cock until just the tip remained inside, he dangled her pert little breasts over his face.
“Perfect,” Mace murmured, and he sucked a nipple into his mouth, listening to Maggie’s appreciative moans. He tugged the nipple free to lower her over his cock for a few strokes, and then lifted her once more to his mouth, attending to her other breast.
Maggie wiggled against him, trying to take him deeper, but Mace held back. His mouth still around her nipple, he laughed. With a last suck, he shoved up and pushed her down, burying himself inside her. “Better?”
“Much better,” Maggie purred. She placed her hands on his chest and lifted herself, maneuvering her hips to ride up and down his length like a woman on the back of a galloping horse.
Mace stretched his body, raising his hands behind his head and pressing them against the headboard. He held still and let her have her way with him. He watched Maggie close her eyes.
“Maggie.”
“Hmmmm?” She didn’t stop her rocking motion.
“Open your eyes.”
“Hmmmm?”
“Keep your eyes open. Look into mine while you come.”
Her eyes flew open and she sucked in a breath. “Is that…is that an order?”
“Yes. I’m ordering you to keep your eyes open while you come.”
She moaned. “What about…what about you?”
Mace thrust upward and grinned as he felt her response. “What about me?”
“Aren’t you going to come?” She sounded lonely.
“I haven’t decided yet.”
“Mace, please come with me.” She tried hard to keep her eyes open.
“Since you ask so nice,” Mace growled, “I will.”
He wrapped his arms around her and flipped her onto her back, reversing their positions. He stayed between her legs, driving deep inside her. Maggie mimicked his previous position, lengthening her body, stretching her arms above her head and flattening her palms against the headboard, whimpering with anticipation.
“Wrap your legs around my hips.”
She did.
“Dig your heels into my ass.”
“Yes, Mace.”
“Now hold on tight, baby. You tell me how many times you come.”
“Oh, God…move just once and I’ll come right now.”
“You mean like this?” Mace pumped his hips. Listening to Maggie’s cries as she came made him so hard, strung him so tight, that he didn’t know how long he could last. He thrust again and again, listening to her moans, her whimpers, her tiny screams of pleasure.
“How many?” Mace’s voice was harsh. “How many, Maggie?”
She could barely talk, her hips still thrust upward to meet him. “Th…three.”
“Oh, baby, that’s not nearly enough. Three more and then I’ll come.” Mace withdrew from her body, his movements rushed. It was now or never. His control was razor thin.
“Fuck no, Mace,” she groaned in protest, tightening the grip of her legs around his hips.
He laughed at her and pulled her legs away from his body, sliding down until his mouth was buried in her slick pussy. “Once like this,” he murmured. “Say when.” It took just a few licks to make her come.
She arched her body against his face, her hips flexing in his hands. Finally, she lifted his head by his hair. “When,” she whispered, with a long, slow, seductive exhale.
Grinning, Mace flipped Maggie over onto her stomach. “One of the perks of being a woman, you get to come so many times with the right man.” He spread her legs and pressed against her. “Damn, Maggie, you’re tight in this position. Give me that pillow.”
He watched Maggie fumble to reach it, and he laughed when she tried to toss it back. She missed and it dropped to the floor. “Tight it is, then,” he said, and with a groan of appreciation, he forced his way in. “Fuck, woman, you’re killing me.”
“Two more times.” Maggie giggled, wiggling her ass
“Stop that.” Mace gave her a little smack on the bottom. “You’re going to make me come before I’m ready.”
Maggie stopped giggling. She lifted her upper body on her elbows and turned around to look into his eyes. “Mace.” Her voice sounded serious. “That’s the idea. Don’t…don’t control yourself. Please. You, out of control, that will make me come.”
Mace thrust deep, and she squealed in response. He watched her slender fingers grab at the bedspread. He panted and tried to hold still. “Are you sure?”
She nodded.
“Then come over here.” He pulled out of her and dragged her to the edge of the bed. “I’ll hurt you if I do you hard in that position.” Sitting upright now, Mace spread his legs and sat Maggie down on his erection. “This way…” he spoke through gritted teeth, “you have some control. If I go too deep, you can stop me.”
“You won’t go too deep.” Despite her rapid breathing, he heard confidence in her voice.
“How do you know, Maggie?” His hands slid around her rib cage to cup her breasts. “I might. You feel so fucking good.” His lips brushed the small, rounded bones of her spine. She began to move her body up and down along his hard length, using her long, strong legs for balance, bracing herself by placing her hands on his muscular thighs. “Yes, baby, like that. That’s what I want. Use me.”
Mace closed his eyes and let go. Maggie pressed his legs even farther apart, riding him, sliding her hands from his inner thighs down to his ankles and back up as she changed angles, over and over again. Sometimes she was upright, sometimes bent over at the waist. Jesus, Mace thought he might die. He felt her come, heard her cry out his name, and he wanted to let it go, but he’d promised her that she’d come one more time. He slid his hand down from her breast and slipped a finger between her legs, pressing against her clit.
“One more time, Maggie, one more fucking time…” He couldn’t say anything more.
“Yes, Mace, yes…yes…yes.” That little three-letter word was all he needed to send him over the edge. He gripped her hips with both of his hands and held her still. Pumping into her, Mace came. His groan was deep, visceral; it tore from his chest like a lion’s roar.
* * * *
It was a long time before either of them moved. Maggie hung, suspended between his legs, his cock, at half-mast, still inside her.
I think, oh my god, I think this is the very first time I’ve ever been with a man, a real man
.
Compared to Mason Williams, my college boyfriend, Drunken Motorcycle Dude, was nothing more than an infant. My post-college love, Misogynist Chef, who insisted I needed acacia honey dumped on every part of me to taste appropriate, was a mere Boy Scout, and despite his Frenchy-French-French accent, my former fiancé, two-timing bigamist Dr. Jean Luc, was a budding adolescent. What on earth am I going to do?
Nothing. Nothing more than you’ve already decided. When that sun rises, this night is history. Mace may be, um, Hercules, or Adonis, or some immortal Highlander in bed, but he’s still a man and that means he’s one more man you can’t count on. He’s one more man who’ll get what he wants and break your heart. You’ll be back to kicking your own ass in another month, or three months or six months.
Her movements slow, Maggie rose to her feet. She started toward the bathroom, but Mace grabbed her arm.
“Where are you going?”
“The bathroom. I’ll be right back.”
“What’s changed, Maggie? Something’s changed.”
She refused to look at him. “Nothing’s changed, Mace. I offered you one night.” She heard him sigh.