“Why are men always hungry after sex?” she called to him.
The water shut off and three seconds later his head popped past the doorjamb. “Because I did all the work.”
“Well, next time, I’ll do the work.” She reached over and flipped on the bedside lamp, illuminating the room.
His blue eyes darkened and like a snap of her fingers, desire came roaring back. “I’ll take you up on that. I’ll even give you pointers for the ride.”
“I don’t need pointers.” She scrambled up, tucking her feet beneath her. Her breasts swayed and Cal’s eyes went immediately to the jiggle. Her friends in college had always teased her about the boob job she’d gotten in high school. She hadn’t gotten one, of course. Mother Nature had been her plastic surgeon. A boon since Cal was obviously a breast man.
“Your tits are magnificent,” he said, moving back into the room. His cock lengthened and thickened, making her heart beat hard.
“These little ol’ things?” she asked cupping them and glancing down.
“You know what you’re doing,” he said, setting one knee on the bed, crossing his arms. He looked rather magnificent posed that way. His biceps looked bigger, his chest wider and his stomach somehow trimmer. And there was that erection rising to the occasion.
“Who, me?” she said, dropping her hands and swinging her legs to the other side, very deliberately doing them one at a time à la Basic Instinct.
Cal threw his head back and laughed. “You’re a minx.”
She grinned. “A cowboy who uses the term minx?”
“What? We’re all spittin’, cussin’ dumb asses? I went to college, you know. Even took some classes.”
“Which taught you the word minx?”
“I took Cary Grant 101,” Cal said, lowering himself so that his hands sank into the bed. He looked like a predator stalking her. Somehow it fueled her blood. She wanted him to catch her and do bad things to her.
“Did you smoke cigarettes, sip Scotch and practice tying bowties?” She laughed, putting her hands down and leaning forward so they were nose to nose. Her breasts swung toward him and he looked down.
“How’d you know?” he asked, kissing her.
“Lucky guess,” she said, kissing him back. “You ready for round two or you want to cut into that lemon pie I picked up?”
“Both?” He wiggled his eyebrows as he lifted a hand to cup her breast.
Like a button pushed, her eyes closed and her nipples tightened. The achy throb in her pelvis returned. “Sounds kinky.”
Giving her breast a squeeze, he said, “I’m now having whipped cream fantasies. I’ll be right back.” He climbed off the bed, slipping on his boxers before he hurried out the door.
Maggie collapsed onto the bed with a laugh. The man wanted to rub whipped cream and lemon filling on her and lick it off. Sounded messy. And sticky. She’d probably have to wash the sheets. “Don’t forget to bring some forks.”
“We won’t need forks,” he called back.
* * *
CAL GRABBED THE pie from the fridge and pried off the plastic lid. He’d never combined food and sex. Except one time in Cheyenne when a chick went down on him while he was eating his burger in the parking lot of Big Barn Burgers. He’d nearly choked on the damn thing.
He stared down at the pie covered with fancy loops of whipped cream. They always did things like this in the movies. Whip cream bikinis or pouring honey over a woman’s breasts were, like, sensual things. Couldn’t be weird. After all, he loved lemon pie. And Maggie’s body. Combining the two would be amazing.
Or strange.
He shrugged, grabbed two forks just in case he changed his mind, and jogged up the stairs, very aware of his heavy cock slapping against his upper thigh. He couldn’t believe he already wanted her again. He felt like a teenager. Not to mention he’d noticed only a slight twinge in his shoulder as he made love to her. Had to be a good sign.
When he entered the room, he found Maggie propped up against the headboard. She’d stacked pillows behind her back. She lounged against the white sheets, one leg crossed over her bent knee, bobbing in time to the music coming out of her phone. Bruno Mars. “You look amazingly sexy.”
She smiled. “I’m showing my good side.”
“It’s a very nice side,” he said, setting the pie on the bedside table and sliding a hand down to the ass revealed in her pose.
Maggie eyed the pie. “I see you brought forks. So you’re chickening out on food play?”
“Is that what it’s called? Hell, you’re the city girl. I just call this a snack.”
She laughed and he decided she needed to do that more. It wasn’t that she was serious all the time. Maggie had plenty of sass. But something shadowed her. Perhaps it was the same thing that followed him—a need to prove himself. To rise from a hard beginning, a life stacked against them, to sit in the sunshine and enjoy the reward. He’d done much to make that happen. Another world championship would sweeten the pot.
“A snack, huh?” she said, swiping a finger through the whipped cream.
“Hey, you’re messing it up,” he teased.
She held her finger to his lips. He sucked the cream from her finger.
“Never mind. Mess it up,” he said with a grin. Maggie dipped her finger back into the cream and then popped it into her mouth.
“Yum,” she said, closing her eyes. “Hand me a fork...and take off your boxers.”
“You’re not going to rub that on me, are you?” he asked, shimmying out of his boxers and kicking them to the side. He climbed back onto the bed.
“No, I don’t want to be the only one who’s naked,” she said, lifting the pie from the side table and grabbing a fork. “Let’s dig in. Then make love.”
He settled in next to her, crossing his feet at the ankles and took a bite of the pie. It was decent. Nothing like the one his mom picked up in Dallas, but he’d rather eat a subpar pie with Maggie naked than a prize-winning one listening to Gary complain about the grass growing in the wrong direction. “So obviously, I intended on making this a sexy little adventure, but I figured we didn’t want to change the sheets tonight. Does that make me boring?”
Maggie laughed. “Is it okay I had the same thought? Though showering with you might be fun.”
“Oh, we’ll get to that,” he said, reaching out to wipe a smear of pie from the corner of her mouth. He sucked his thumb into his mouth. “So where will you start your company, Mags?”
“You don’t want to...oh, do you need a bit more time?” Maggie took another bite of the pie, shooting an uncertain look at him.
“No,” he said, slightly offended she would suggest such a thing. “I wanted to know a little more about you. Unless you want to—”
“No, I mean, yes, but it’s okay to talk, too.” Maggie dug her fork into the pie. “You know, I don’t have a firm plan for my business in mind. I suppose I will either stay in Philly or move to New Jersey which would be close to NYC.”
“New Jersey, huh?” Sounded horrible. But then again, he’d only visited the state a few times.
Maggie shrugged. “It makes sense. My mother now lives there with my aunt, so I would have family close. I think it’s the right move. Helping stubborn board members see the other person’s view was something I was actually good at. Probably because I spent my early years watching my mother negotiate everything with Bud’s wife. Phyllis was an absolute bitch. Don’t know why Bud married her.”
“Probably money. Or knowing her family. Rich people still do stuff like that.”
“Yeah, she came from money and was probably a lot nicer before she had three spoiled brats and a botched nose job. An ugly nose makes people cranky,” Maggie said, licking her spoon thoughtfully. The move reminded him they were both splendidly naked in bed. “All I need is the cash to get it started. If I can sell the Triple J for enough money, I can cobble a business plan together.”
“Interesting,” he said, wondering why anyone would want to serve as a negotiator, putting up with stubborn businessmen. And people thought he was crazy for riding bulls. At least he didn’t have to listen to bulls.
“Not really, but I have to find something to pay the bills. As of now, I no longer have a place to live or a job. My aunt’s place in Newark is a two-bedroom walk-up. So...yeah.”
He scraped the graham crust bottom and popped it in his mouth. “Okay, enough talk. We were supposed to be rubbing whipped cream on each other and licking it off.”
Maggie scooped up some pie and allowed it to drop on his stomach. “Oops.”
His stomach contracted because it was cold.
“Guess I better clean that up,” Maggie said, swinging the hacked up pie over to the bedside table. She leaned over and licked the lemon filling and cream off his stomach.
Yeah, it was sticky and messy and...frickin’ hot.
Because she didn’t stop. She rolled over, presenting a nice ass for his contemplation, and took several long licks before lifting her gaze to his. “Was this what you were thinking?”
He swallowed. “Um, pretty much.”
“Or maybe this?” she asked, reaching over him and scooping up more cream. This time she smeared it lower than his stomach. Her fingers were light as they dragged across his cock which grew hard at her touch even though the cream was cold. But the cold didn’t last long because Maggie’s warm mouth enveloped him. She sucked all the dessert off, leaned back and grinned. “This is the best pie I’ve ever eaten.”