Bedwrecker(78)

I lean back on the bed and thrust my hips forward. “And you call me crazy.”

He grins in that wicked way of his and holds tightly onto my thighs as he thrusts into me at the most relentless pace.

I keep up in time with him.

His voice is hoarse. “Jesus, Maggie.”

In.

Out.

Faster.

Faster still.

I keep my eyes open and stare at that body of his that just begs to be fucked—all smooth muscles and perfect proportions.

When I know I’m going to come again, when I know by his face he is going to come, I lean forward and hold onto his biceps for support.

His muscles are trembling, and it gives me a little thrill to know that I am doing this to him. That I’m making him fall apart.

While I’m watching him, a second wave of orgasm strikes so unexpectedly and everything about me draws tighter. Suddenly my clit is tingling again and just like that I start to fall back into oblivion.

This time, though, I don’t close my eyes; instead I force myself to keep my eyes locked on his. I watch as his thrusts start to slow and then he grunts, and soon his come face is telling me he’s right where I am.

And together we find that sweet release.

Gently, I kiss him on the mouth and wrap my arms around him, clutching his shoulders with my nails digging into his skin as we do . . . hard enough to draw blood.

Hard and soft.

Hard and soft.

That is our way.





Maggie

The sound of crackling asparagus is enough to make my mouth water, but the aroma curling up from the grill is really what makes my toes curl.

With my arms crossed, I watch Cam with his apron on. Keen bought it for him just for this occasion. On the front is the body of a bikini-clad woman and every time Cam moves his arms to flip the large marinated mushrooms, her boobs push together.

Brooklyn has been dying of laughter for the past ten minutes.

It’s Friday, and Keen and I waited until now to tell everyone about the two of us because I had been sick all week. I blamed Keen for the no-panties thing last week, and trust me, even the cough and antibiotics have been well worth the pleasure I’ve gotten out of milking my illness.

The soup runs.

The special favors.

And having control.

Lots of control.

Who ever thought being sick could be so much fun?

The laughing has ceased now, though, and everyone is staring at Keen and me as we share a kiss after telling our friends and family we hooked up on New Year’s Eve and that we are together.

Keen was in charge of the music for the party, and Elvis croons about his blue suede shoes while Keen holds onto me and continues to plaster his mouth to mine. See, no hard rock. He is capable of compromise. Who would have thought? Oh, and obviously you already know that he’s such an amazing kisser, but between the sheets is really where his skills excel.

Shhh . . . don’t tell him I said that—I don’t want him to get a bigger head or anything.

When I pull away, as usual I’m breathless, but much to my surprise so are my friends. I might refuse to label this thing between Keen and me any more than boyfriend and girlfriend, but looking around at the faces of my best friends, I think they are labeling it for us.

“Ho-lee shit. I knew it.” This is the first response given by Cam as he starts to slide the food off the grill and onto the platters beside him.

“No you didn’t, man,” Keen laughs, taking a step forward to uncork the wine bottles.

“Fuck you I didn’t. I saw the way you were looking at her the morning I caught you two getting it on in the kitchen.”

“We were not getting it on in my kitchen,” I say indignantly.

“Right.” Cam winks.

Makayla sets the salad bowl down and whirls around to glare at Cam. “What do you mean when you caught them?”

Sheepishly he says, “Right, I forgot to mention that, but talk to your BFF over there. She’s the one that has been so close-lipped.”

I get busy setting the plates down and when I catch her eye, I mouth, “I’m sorry.”

Makayla narrows her eyes at me. “It was his clothes I saw on New Year’s, wasn’t it?”

I nod. “Are you mad?”

She shakes her head no, and then whispers, “I’m so happy for you. It’s your turn for the fairy tale.”

“Please,” I say, “you know I don’t believe in that crap.”

All she does is nod her head. “You don’t have to, Maggie, but it’s yours and it’s happening. I can practically see your happily-ever-after right now.”

“Stop.”

She winks at me. “And I want all the details, and I mean all . . . later, not in front of these buffoons.”

Just then Cam comes up behind her and swipes his tongue right up her cheek.