by Hope Tarr
Macie stared. “Sam! I was supposed to visit her today.”
Gentle hands urged her back down on the mattress. “I told her you were back but feeling under the weather—not exactly a lie.”
Macie bit her lip, thinking of all the lies she’d so far told both Ross and Sam.
His hand on her spine traveled lower still, stroking the curve where her back and buttocks met. “How are you feeling now?” The press of his lips on her lower back followed the question, and relaxation took a sudden, erotic turn.
Macie sucked down a breath. “Better.”
His next kiss fell on her left buttock cheek. “And how about now?”
“Pretty…amazing.”
He kissed her right cheek as well, shaping it with his hand. “And now?”
“Ross, you are killing me.”
“Good. Now touch yourself for me.”
“What?”
“You heard me. Reach around and touch yourself. I’ll be right here.”
Was he really suggesting that she masturbate in front of him? Given his conservative social values, she’d assumed any sex they had would be missionary style, totally vanilla. So far they hadn’t done much more than make out and already the vanilla was turning into a swirl cone.
He came down lightly atop her. Coarse chest hair brushed her back. Shifting onto his side, he drew her against him. His hardness pressed against her, not terribly far away from the spots he’d branded with his kisses.
“Don’t you want to put on a condom and—”
He cut her off with a cluck of his tongue. “You’re always in such a hurry. We have the rest of the day and night. I’m not going anywhere and neither are you. Now touch yourself, darlin’. Let’s see how good you can feel.”
She hesitated and then slipped a hand between her parted thighs. She was wet, really wet—a good sign. She’d masturbated in private plenty of times—any woman who claimed she didn’t must be a saint or a monumental liar. Sometimes she even managed to stir a tepid tingling. Nice as that felt, it fell sadly short of the orgasmic pleasure she’d researched and written about in articles over the last five years. Doing so had made her feel like a fraud.
As if reading her mind, he whispered, “Don’t make it about reaching some finish line. Enjoy getting there.”
He bit the side of her neck, and Macie shuddered. “I’ll try.”
He covered her hand with his, not guiding but going along with the motion she set. “That’s it, baby. Don’t hold back. Take it all.”
Pressing back against him, she slipped a finger inside herself, imagining it was him entering her.
His hot whisper struck the shell of her ear. “You’re so wet. And hot.”
She swallowed hard. “It’s you who’s making me this way.” Wet and throbbing, her clit beat like a miniature heart.
“I can’t wait to kiss you there, to taste you.”
The image of his blond head bent to her spread thighs sent the sensation skyrocketing. Holding onto the scenario, she circled her clitoris and the pleasure peaked.
“That’s it. Slow and steady wins the race.”
That might be true, but suddenly Macie couldn’t hold back any longer, not because she was afraid anxiety might take over but because she was so aroused she thought she might burst. Like a bud about to break into bloom, her clit felt hard and hot and tight. She circled herself again, firmer and faster.
And suddenly it happened. The tension uncoiled, the shackles fell away. Spasms wracked her. Pleasure filled her, not just between her legs but everywhere, her whole being, a precious, long overdue gift.
And throughout it all was Ross, his arms anchoring her, his warmth enveloping her. Knowing she was finally safe, she threw back her head and called out the single word that summed up all that made sense in her newly discovered universe.
“Ross!”
The fairy-tale fervor ended far too fast, leaving her limp and spent and satisfied, at least for the time being. Breathing hard, she shifted to look at her personal Prince Charming.
He greeted her with a big grin and shining eyes. “Welcome to the club, darlin’.”
Rolling onto her back, she reached for the sheet. “Does this mean I’m accepted as a member?”
Lifting up on one elbow, he grinned down at her. “Yes ma’am, card-carrying and in good standing.”
She glanced at the clock. It was nearing five p.m. How had that happened? “Hungry?” she asked, suddenly aware that she hadn’t eaten since the airline dinner the previous day.
“Starved.” He leaned in to nip her neck.
Macie smiled. “Great, because I know someone who makes a mean plate of huevos rancheros.”
Ross grinned. “So long as the chef cooks naked, I’m all in.”
.
They ate their eggs in bed, washed down with a bottle of chianti they’d been fortunate to find in the back of the pantry closet. Macie had known sex could be hot, but before now she’d never known it could be playful, too. Ross sipped hot sauce from the well of her navel. He fed her dollops of sour cream from his fork and his fingers. He trailed spicy kisses from her mouth down to her belly and beyond. When he slid his hands to her inner thighs, Macie let her legs fall open with a sigh. When he found her with his mouth, she closed her eyes and gave herself over to his tender lips and laving tongue. And finally when he left her just long enough to reach over, open his nightstand drawer, and take out a foil wrapped condom, she watched him without anxiety, only eagerness.
“Don’t you think you’ve worn those jeans long enough?” As awesome as his ass looked in the comfortably worn denim, she’d bet her last buck it would look even more awesome wearing nothing at all.
Sitting back on his heels, he tore open the condom wrapper, his gaze never leaving her face. “You tell me.”
“I’d say so.” She sat up, knelt, and slowly, lovingly drew his zipper down.
His erection spilled free, a velvety hard heat that pooled into her palm. Macie’s mouth watered. Her clit throbbed. She stroked her fingers along the length of him, loving the way he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her, that big and strong though he was, she had the power to make him tremble. A bead of moisture dropped into her palm like a liquid jewel. Wanting, needing, to see and touch and taste the rest of him, Macie grabbed the waist of his jeans and started tugging them down and off. Ross helped her. Kicking free of the pants, he turned back to her. Narrow hips, powerful thighs, and a runner’s muscled calves matched the magnificence of his erection. Macie sucked in a breath. He was, in a word, stunning.
She reached for him, her fingers sinking into the sleek, firm flesh of his buttocks as she pulled him closer. “Professor, in case no one’s told you before, you have one bodacious butt,” she said, forgetting all about being “Martha Jane” in the joy of being herself.
Chuckling, Ross rolled on the condom. “Given that I spend most of my days sitting on it, I don’t get a lot of…positive feedback, but thanks.” Sheathed, he settled his gaze on hers. “Slow and steady,” he said. “And in case you’re wondering, I’ll do anything you want.”
Macie swallowed hard. “Anything?” So much for her earlier assumptions that he’d be conservative sexually. Anything encompassed…a hell of a lot.
A slow smile spread across his face. “Yes, ma’am.” He lay down on his back, pulled the pillow under his head, and waited.
Still kneeling, Macie hesitated. “What are you doing?”
He grinned up at her, though the tautness about his mouth hinted at what the restraint cost him. “Giving you your chance to be a modern woman.”
Macie was already aroused, but the sudden reality of having more than six feet three inches of firm Texas male stretched out and available for her exclusive pleasure carried her almost to climax.
“Whatever you say, Tex.” She lifted one leg, threw it over him, and boldly settled herself atop. Bracing a hand on the pillow by his head, she reached down with her other hand and fitted him to her. There was no doubt about
it. He was huge. Fortunately she was ready. More than ready—she couldn’t wait. And she no longer had to.
Holding his gaze, she shifted, filling herself with him in one exquisite, perfectly penetrating thrust. “Oh…my…God.”
Fuller than she’d ever felt before, Macie hesitated but only a moment. Bracing a fisted hand on either side of Ross’s head, she began to move, back and forth, up and down.
Ross’s steadying hands anchored to her hips. The same blunt fingers that had stoked her somnolent sex to life now imprinted deliciously on her skin. “That’s it, take what you need, darlin’. Better yet, take what you want.”
Macie picked up pace, grinding greedily against him. Likely she’d be sore tomorrow but, as a certain fictional Southern belle had famously pointed out, tomorrow was another day. Presently all that existed was the here and now with Ross.
The pressure inside her built. Her nipples beaded, her clit buzzed. Perspiration filmed her forehead and the backs of her knees. The muscles of her thighs quivered with exhaustion. Her arms ached and her fisted hands began to feel bruised. It was pure torture—and it felt so purely good.
She pulled back and pushed him into her once more. As she did, their gazes met, melded. It was, she realized, the first time she’d ever made love while meeting a man’s eyes. In the past, she’d always looked away, sending herself on a mental mini-break until she was done. But mindless sex didn’t interest her now. It hadn’t much interested her then. Still, it took being with Ross to realize just how very much she’d missed. He was the “complete package,” all the dancing, dragon slaying Disney princes rolled into one. Being here in his bed brought every fevered fairy-tale fantasy she’d ever harbored to brilliant, blazing life.
A gritty groan escaped him. His grip on her tightened. He bucked his hips, driving deeply into her. The first spasm struck hard, taking her totally unaware. The second sent her clenching, the current of sensation traveling to her toes.
“Ross, I’ve never—” Before she could finish, Macie shuddered around him, her tremors milking his manhood, triggering his release.
She caught a flash of blue fire as his eyes flew open. “Oh, Christ, MJ!”
Spent, she collapsed onto him. His arms banded about her, keeping her from falling. His one big hand slid down her damp back to shape her buttocks, as though marking her as his. Macie relaxed against him, even now amazed at how beautifully their bodies fit, at how absolutely right it felt to lie prone atop him, his penis still inside her.
A tear trailed her cheek, a happy one this time. She’d waited a decade to be free of the past. Thanks to Ross, she finally was.
…
Ross woke up the next morning feeling like a changed man. With MJ at his side, he felt like he could conquer just about anything, including getting Sam whatever help she needed. Looking at her curled up beside him, the realization hit him anew.
I love this woman, I purely love her.
He didn’t want a fling with her or a relationship where they saw each other on weekends and maybe one weeknight. He wanted her in his life twenty-four-seven, for holidays and regular days, the good times and bad. He wanted her as his wife forever and for always.
He’d wait until they brought Sam home from the hospital and then he’d propose. Once she accepted—and after last night he felt pretty sure she would—they’d order in pizza and celebrate.
Like a family.
…
They got Sam home by lunchtime. She insisted on sitting up and eating at the table but afterward she was happy to settle into her room for a rest.
Ross looked down at the sandwich he’d barely touched. “I never was good at this stuff but suddenly I feel rustier than an old nail,” he muttered.
Macie cast her gaze around. Making sure they were alone, she dropped her voice and said, “Funny, I don’t recall any creaking last night.” She flashed him a smile and leaned over to kiss the tip of his nose.
“I’m serious, honey, I have something to say to you.” He pushed back his chair and stood.
Wondering if he might be regretting going to bed with her, she froze. “W-what is it?”
To her shock, he went down on one knee. “Martha Jane Gray, will you do me the honor of marrying me?”
Stunned, Macie stared down at him. “You’re proposing!”
He grinned up at her. “I’m sure giving it my best shot.”
“But, Ross, you don’t even know me, not really.”
“Darlin’, I know you’re sweet and smart and funny and as good-hearted as they come. You’re everything I want in a wife and a second mother to Sam.” He reached up for her hand. “Hell, I was starting to doubt women like you existed anymore.”
Staring down, Macie blinked away tears, but they weren’t happy ones. A man was finally ready to commit to her—only the woman he wanted wasn’t real but a persona she’d put on along with her pale pink lipstick and pastel wardrobe. She swallowed hard, feeling as if the lies she’d spent the last weeks spinning were suddenly being pulled over her, a tight, dense web from which there was no escape. She was everything he wanted in a woman, in a wife.
Only everything about her was a lie.
She bolted from her chair, her body and brain shifting into survival mode. “You think you know me, but you don’t.”
He stood stiffly, wincing as, no doubt, the old football injury kicked in. “Of course I know you.” His smugness made her want to hit him.
Instead, she said, “Really, then let’s play a little game—truth or dare. Only the dare is all on your side, mister. Want to know what political party I’m registered to? Go ahead and ask me—I dare you.”
Ross stared at her. “Don’t tell me you’re a—”
“A Democrat, yep, sure am. A Liberal Democrat and a proud member of NOW. And for your information, all those wholesome, home-cooked meals from the past weeks—other than the eggs, I didn’t make any of them.”
After weeks of hiding her true self, or at least some pretty major parts of it, it felt good to debunk the lies. Even if doing so might mean driving him away, she couldn’t keep up the façade. Not after last night.
Ross’s mouth hung at half-mast. “Then how—”
“My friend Stefanie owns a personal chef service and business is booming. It seems that here in Washington, DC, most women have better things to do than slave away in the kitchen.”
His gaze narrowed. “She keep house, too?”
“No, but she hooked me up with a really great maid service.”
“You hire a chauffeur to drive Sam?”
“No, I actually did that myself, along with picking up your dry cleaning and doing your laundry and helping your daughter with her homework—just a few of the hundred or so tasks involved in running a household.”
Their raised voices must have reached Sam in her room. Hobbling in, she looked between them and asked, “What’s going on? Why are you fighting?”
Ross answered for them both. “We’ll talk later. For now, I need you to go back to your room.”
Macie shot him a look. Did he really think he could warehouse his daughter in her room whenever life got too real or too messy? To Sam, she said, “Your father and I are just having a discussion.”
Sam rolled her eyes. “A discussion, give me a break. I remember he and Mom used to have a lot of those when I was a little kid.”
Ross scowled. “For your information, young lady, you still qualify as a kid. A kid who’s going to spend all of next weekend locked up inside here tighter than San Quentin unless she gets her butt in her room pronto.”
Watching Sam hold her ground, Macie was silently, secretly proud of her. Sam tightened her fingers on the crutch’s crossbar and straightened her back. “That’s right, Dad. Go ahead and shut me out, just like you do to everyone who doesn’t see things your way.”
For a moment Ross stood stock still. Then, as if suddenly recovering himself, he said, “Then stay. MJ and I have just been discussing how all these fine suppers she’s been servi
ng were catered and how the apartment’s in such great shape because she hired a housecleaning service. You know about any of that?”
Sam darted a look to Macie and the sick feeling in her stomach spread. “Maybe.”
He looked hard at Sam. “I asked you a straight-up question, young lady, and I expect a straight-up answer.”
Poor Sam, Ross was really grilling her. Looking on, Macie had to hold back from rushing over to hug her.
“I didn’t know for certain but I suspected…stuff,” Sam said. “She served up such big dinners but until lately I never really saw her cook anything. And she seemed real protective of the trash. But what’s the big deal? It all got done.”
Ross squared his shoulders. “The big deal is that I don’t much like being lied to.” He swung his gaze back to Macie. Her face felt flushed, as if she’d spent a day baking sans sunscreen on the beach.
“I didn’t lie,” Sam insisted, her cheeks turning bright. “I just didn’t tell. That’s different.”
Eyes on Macie, he said, “That is just the sort of moral relativism I would expect from someone like—”
“Like me?” That did it! Until now, she’d held back, but going forward the gloves would be off. “If you mean someone who’d dare to want more from life than to be at the beck and call of some beer guzzling man sprawled on the couch in front of the TV, then yes, guilty as charged.”
Come to think of it, she couldn’t remember ever seeing Ross drink a beer while watching TV. Other than Blue Bloods and Law and Order and the black-and-white movies they showed on the Turner Classics channel, he always said most of the programs on TV were crap, but that wasn’t really the point. It was his attitude that she objected to, not any specific action.
Frustrated to the point of throwing things, she ran a hand through her hair, wrecking the rest of the ponytail and popping a hairpin out of place. “Sam, sweetie, your father’s right. You shouldn’t have to be a part of this.”
Sam hesitated and then nodded. “Okay, I get it. You’re unlawfully imprisoning me in my room. If anyone needs me, that’s where I’ll be.”