“If you go slow, I’ll kill you.” She held his head against her, loving the scratch of his beard on her skin. She wrapped her legs around his waist, grinding against the hardness that hit exactly where she needed it.
Somehow her T-shirt skimmed her face and went flying behind them, and all the while, Cal never missed a beat in the almost frenzied lovemaking. His hands and mouth were everywhere at once. When he got to the complicated bra clasp, she reached back to unhook the lacy fluff she’d bought on clearance at Barneys last fall. But he obviously had mad skills and the bra popped loose and went sailing overhead before she could help him.
“Oh, sweet...um.” He nestled his face between her breasts, inhaling before sucking the left one into his mouth. The sensation made her arch against him. He moved to her other breast, nipping, suckling, making her ache for more.
“Oh, oh,” she cried, holding him to her. She wiggled her hips again, rocking against his erection, driving herself toward total loss of control. If there were a launch button, his fingers hovered above it.
Maggie ran her hands up and down his back, tugging at his shirt. Cal paused for a moment and sat back, wrenching his shirt overhead before standing, unbuckling his jeans and allowing them to drop. His boxers joined the orphaned articles of clothing strewn on the floor.
She lifted onto her elbows to take in the splendid sight. Cal was built compactly, all tough sinew and defined muscle. At that very second she got it. All those books with the bare-chested cowboys, all those songs waxing poetic and all those women hanging around the arenas and bars for a shot at one night with a cowboy knew the truth. Cowboys were an addiction. Pure and simple. “Wow.”
“No time to admire...or find flaws.” He lunged toward her, reaching for the button on the jean shorts she wore. She helped him out, wiggling out of the loose denim, ripping her teeny bikini panties off at the same time so that she was bared to him.
“Holy Moses,” Cal breathed, easing onto the bed and running his hand over her stomach down to the thin strip of hair covering the place that ached for him. His finger dipped inside the cleft, grazing her clitoris lightly, making her moan at the sweet pleasure. “Ah, Mags, so wet. So wet for me.”
His words turned her to jelly. Legs splayed to either side as she collapsed onto the sheets, uncaring that she looked like a wanton. She couldn’t think about the rules of seduction she usually followed—touch here, pet there. Instead she dissolved into a ridiculous mass of nerve endings. Obviously she needed a good screw more than she’d thought she did because the intense pleasure at his touch felt as though she’d achieved nirvana.
For a minute or so she let him have his way because it was too good to stop, but Maggie had never been selfish when it came to the bedroom. Turnabout was fair play. She moved her hand until she clasped the cock bobbing against her thigh. As her fingers curled around his girth, she had but one thought: Cal was the perfect size. The next thought was just as good: he was hard and ready to go.
“Ah,” he murmured when she began to move her hand, his body stiffening before relaxing against her. She lifted her gaze to find his eyes squeezed shut, pleasure etched on his face.
The bed creaked as he shifted his weight, lifting so he had better access to her body. His fingers continued the delicious torture, strumming her clit before easing downward, parting her folds. Slowly he slid a finger inside her. And to further torture her, he lowered his head and drew her nipple into the heat of his mouth.
“Oh, please,” she said, moving her hips as his fingers established rhythm. Her own fingers did likewise, moving back and forth along the length of his cock.
“What, baby?” he murmured, moving his lips to her other breast.
“I need you now,” she said, tugging with just the right amount of force on the erection that filled her hand. “I can’t wait. We can do all this later.”
All she could think about was him filling her, driving her to the ultimate goal.
Cal pulled himself from her and reached toward the jeans he’d dropped on the floor. Half a second later, he pulled out a string of condoms.
“Ambitious.” She laughed, reaching out to stroke the hard ass he half presented her with the action.
“It’s one of my most charming qualities,” he said with a grin before ripping the package with his teeth. He removed the disk of latex from the package and made quick work of suiting up. Then he leaned down and kissed her, his tongue tangling with hers, a fierce reminder of the frenzy that had swept them earlier.
No more messing around.
Her legs once again fell open as he pressed her back onto the bed. Her knees rose, a welcoming embrace. Cal lifted her hips as he dipped his. And slid home, filling her. “Oh, sweet mother of...” She couldn’t finish, because he’d anchored her hips with his big hands and had started moving with hard, long strokes.
Maggie arched her back, lifted her ass and started moving in time with him. Her hair stuck to her cheeks, her boobs were squished and she’d forgotten to light the candles. Didn’t matter because already her body tightened with the release that would come. “I’m close,” she panted as he leaned down and bit her nipple.
Inching her hand between them, she found her clit. With his cock hitting her G-spot and her breast sucked into his mouth, all she needed was one little touch. She slammed her other hand down and clenched the sheet as the first wave crashed over her. Her orgasm was intense, making her body tremble and clench.
“Oh. My. Go—” she said before losing her breath again. She’d never come twice, but somehow her body had started and couldn’t stop. Vaguely she registered Cal’s own guttural groan as he pumped into her, moving her across the bed, but the second orgasm was more intense than the first one.
“Shit,” he said, still clasping her hips, emptying himself in her before collapsing.
Maggie’s orgasm finally faded, leaving her useless. Hopelessly sated with warm glowing goodness seeping into her bones.
Cal collapsed next to her, his breathing matching hers in raggedness. They both lay looking up at the ceiling, trying to summon words, breaths, something.
Finally, Cal said, “Thank goodness we got the roof fixed. That water stain is scary.”
8
MAGGIE LIFTED HERSELF onto her elbows and glanced down at the naked man still panting beside her. “We just had the most amazing sex ever and you’re talking about water stains?”
Cal looked like a man who’d been ridden hard and put up wet—a phrase she’d heard one of the painters use. He still wore the spent condom and should have felt vulnerable, maybe even embarrassed. He should not, however, be thinking about work.
“What?” he asked, giving her a slow grin. “You’re paying me to fix the water stains. I need to make a note for the painters.”
She must have looked disgusted, because he started laughing. Pulling her elbow, he tugged her down. She willingly collapsed again, this time snuggling into his shoulder.
“And I like how you called it ‘the best sex ever,’” he teased.
She pinched him on the thigh. “So I like to exaggerate.”
He cocked his head. “You mean that wasn’t the best sex ever? Of all time? We didn’t set a record for our big, big bang?”
Maggie snorted. “I’m not giving you the satisfaction. You’re already too big for your Wranglers.”
“That’s what she said,” he murmured, kissing her temple. “But in all seriousness, Mags, that was at least a nine-point-nine on a scale of one to ten.”
“Why wasn’t it a ten?” she asked, thinking that after the way she’d achieved multiorgasm she’d have to give it a perfect score. That had never happened before. But then again, she’d never gone almost two years without sex. With another person. Again, Pinkie Lee, her vibrator, didn’t count.
“Because we need a goal, babe,” he said, giving her a squeeze. “Gotta keep practicing.”
She flopped back onto the bed. “That makes sense.”
For a few minutes they lay there, comfortable in each other’s arms. If Cal was like her, he chased each thought with a new one. Maggie wondered, what was next? Did they settle into something similar to her past relationships? Or would it be hot sex at night and business during the day? They’d set parameters but not particulars. Maybe particulars didn’t matter when you were only having a five-week love affair. Or maybe she should stop thinking so much.
Yet planning and overthinking were part of her protection from the riotous world full of mistakes. Potential doom hung over her like a piano dangling from a frayed rope. Though she’d convinced herself she didn’t mind the mistake her mother had made in getting knocked up by some unknown man and not caring to find him afterward, it still molded her beliefs about relationships. She didn’t lie when she said she had had a good childhood, but that didn’t mean she wanted the same for her future children. If she even decided to have children. Decisions mattered. Newton had pretty much nailed that with the whole “for each action there’s an equal and opposite reaction” thing. No decision stood without repercussion. Without ripples.
So what would be her ripple with Cal?
“You hungry?” Cal asked, rising and snapping off the condom. He padded naked out the door and a second later she heard the water in the bathroom turn on.