Command Performance

by Sara Jane Stone

  HUNTER’S MIND BLANKED. His world at this moment was Maggie’s mouth on him, the feel of her lips, her tongue and her hand wrapped around him. Eyes open, he watched her, running his gaze down her naked body to her sexy black heels. God, those shoes really did it for him.

  “I’m close, Maggie,” he rasped.

  She made a purring sound in the back of her throat that pushed him right over the edge. He held her head in his hands as his hips lifted off the chair. He thrust up into her mouth, forcing her to take him as deeply as she could. Without taking his eyes off her, he exploded. Pleasure rocked him from head to toe.

  As his orgasm eased and faded, he closed his eyes. More than a few women had serviced him like this. Well, maybe not exactly like this. Naked except for the supersexy shoes was a first. But he’d never felt this warm afterglow.

  Opening his eyes, he looked down at Maggie’s expectant expression. “Come here,” he said, drawing her up onto his lap. He wrapped his arms around her, cradling her head against his chest.

  “That was your fantasy?” she asked quietly.

  “Yeah. Not very original, huh?”

  “It really worked for me. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so wildly sexy and powerful at the same time.” Her voice was so soft against his shirt he barely heard her. He felt her fingers unbuttoning his polo and then her lips against his bare skin. He might have had his orgasm, but she still needed hers.

  “I promised I’d take care of you.” He gently pushed her off his lap, immediately missing the feel of her pressed against him. “Let’s go to bed, Maggie.”

  With his hands on her hips, he guided her back until she hit the edge of the bed. Before she fell onto her back, he said, “Turn around.”

  She followed his orders, bending at the waist and resting her forearms on the cream-colored comforter.

  “Stretch your arms out over your head,” he commanded. “That’s it. Palms flat. Good girl.” He stroked one hand from the nape of her neck down to her raised bottom. She groaned, pushing back against him. He lightly swatted her bottom. “I didn’t tell you to move.”

  “Not rough,” she said, her voice muffled by the comforter on the bed.

  “That didn’t hurt, Maggie.” He ran his hand over her bottom and down between her legs. “I think it turned you on.”

  “Please,” she whimpered as his fingers glided over her most sensitive spot.

  “Patience, Miss Maggie.” He walked around the side of the bed stark naked and retrieved the box of condoms he’d placed in the night table earlier. Condom in hand, he moved back until he stood behind her. Allowing his body time to recover, he kissed her senseless, running his mouth down her spine.

  “Spread your legs wider.” He dropped to his knees, adjusting his position until his tongue lapped at the spot guaranteed to have her crying his name. He wanted to hear her calling out for him, acknowledging that he was the one to push her over the edge.

  She hadn’t lied when she said his fantasy worked for her. It didn’t take long for her to moan and quiver with pleasure. He stayed with her until her first orgasm faded. When she was wet and begging for another, he stood, covered himself and entered her.

  The motions were familiar, but something was different this time. His last clear thought before he lost himself in the pleasure? This wasn’t just sex. Not for him. He was making love to her with everything he had.

  He reached forward, wrapped his hand in her hair and pulled back until he could see her face. She looked beautiful, her lips swollen, her eyes wild with need. “I’m never going to get enough of you, am I?”

  He released her hair, shifting his grip to her hips as he slammed into her again and again. When it was over, he’d probably worry about what it all meant. But right now? Inside her? It felt right.

  Seconds later, he felt her tighten around him and he couldn’t wait any longer. He exploded. His mind blanked. Pleasure rocked him from head to toe. And Maggie, beautiful, sexy, determined Maggie, was right there with him, screaming out his name as she beat the palm of her hand against the bed.

  Spent, but feeling better than he had in months, he withdrew from her. “Lie down, honey,” he commanded as he cleaned himself up. Maggie obeyed, rolling to her side, her high heels hanging off the bed. Hunter lay down beside her, with her back nestled against the front of his body. With her bottom pressed against him, he’d be ready for round three soon.

  As if she’d read his mind and had other plans, Maggie rolled to her back and looked up at him. “I should go.”

  “Go where? You live here.” He propped his head up with his right hand while the left brushed a strand of hair from her face.

  She smiled up at him. “Back to my room.”

  “Stay,” he said. “Spend the night with me.”

  “We’re flying to Tennessee tomorrow. I need to get ready.”

  “You’ll have time in the morning.” He’d never begged a woman to stay the night. Not that he was down on his hands and knees now, but he felt damn close. He should be grateful she wanted to leave. Spending the night together inched the business-by-day/sex-by-night thing they had going straight into relationship territory.

  “Hunter, it’s not a good idea,” she said softly.

  His fingers ran down her throat until he found her collarbone. “I know, honey. We’re not a good idea. I’m a long way from being ready for commitment and you need stability in your life more than anyone I’ve ever met. But there’s one place where we work, where I’m just what you need, and that’s right here in this bed. Stay with me, Maggie.”

  “I can’t.” She reached up and caught his hand in hers. Slowly, she pushed it away as she sat up. “I’m sorry. I can’t stay here.”

  Hunter watched her pick up her dress, pull it on and walk away. Maybe she was right. Spending the night would lead to feelings he couldn’t afford.

  15

  FOR THE SECOND DAY in a row, Maggie woke up before her alarm clock. Only today, a loud banging forced her eyes open. It sounded as if Hunter had decided to use a mallet on her bedroom door. Maggie pushed back the covers and found her slippers.

  “I’m coming.” She shuffled across her room and opened the door expecting to find Hunter holding a hammer and a cup of coffee on the other side. Instead, she found an empty hall.

  “Hunter?”

  The hammering started again. Now that she was awake, she realized the sound was coming from outside. Maggie headed down the stairs to the kitchen. First stop, caffeine, and then she would find the source of the sound that had driven her out of bed at—she glanced at her watch—seven in the morning.

  The welcome smell of French roast greeted her as she pushed through the swinging door. Hunter must be awake. But if he was up, why hadn’t he put a stop to the horrible banging noises? Maggie filled the mug set out beside the coffeemaker and headed for the side door leading to the yard. There was only one explanation.

  She found Hunter on a ladder, hammer in hand, beating a piece of metal fifteen or so feet from her bedroom windows. He wore a pair of ripped jeans and a gray T-shirt that clung to his sweaty body. Even two stories down on the ground, she could see his biceps bulge as he swung the hammer. Her pulse raced at the sight, remembering what that body had done to her last night.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Good morning.” He set down the hammer and smiled at her. “I was up early so I thought I’d fix your gutters. They were overflowing the other night. After the storm.” He began climbing down the ladder. “At first, I thought they needed to be cleaned, but when I got up here I saw they were bent out of shape. I think a tree branch might have hit them.”

  Maggie frowned. She’d gone to bed unsettled last night. It wasn’t the sex, but the way he’d asked her to stay. Spending the night with a man she was head over heels in lust with felt dangerous—not physically, but emotionally. She’d comforted herself with the fact that he knew he was wrong for her. But now, as she watched him repair her home, the unsettled feeling returned
.

  “I have someone who is paid to maintain those,” she said.

  “You should fire him. He’s doing a shitty job if he let them get to this point. You really should replace them. If I had more time here, I’d offer to do it. Though I’ve got them mostly fixed, now.”

  Maggie sipped her coffee, forcing her fingers to remain still. He was doing her a favor. She should be thanking him. But she couldn’t find the words. This was her house. She’d been taking care of it for nearly two decades.

  “What time were you up?” she asked.

  He shrugged as he stepped off the ladder. “I couldn’t sleep last night. I started up here around five-thirty or six.”

  “You didn’t have to do this.”

  Hunter cocked his head to one side and studied her. “It bothers you, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes,” she said, looking down at her mug. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate it. I do. I am simply accustomed to taking care of the house on my own. Just because we’re sleeping together doesn’t mean you need to fix my gutters.”

  Hunter shook his head. “Whether you like it or not, we’re more than two people who work together and have sex. We’re friends, Maggie. Or at least I thought we were.” He turned and started to walk away.

  “Hunter,” Maggie called after him.

  He glanced over his shoulder. “I’m going for a run. I need to get some exercise before we leave for the airport. I’ll put the ladder away when I get back, if that’s all right with you.”

  Maggie nodded and watched him walk away. She should have hidden her unease, said a quick thank you and walked away. It wasn’t his fault she needed to control every little part of her life. She was learning to let go in bed with him, but when it came to the rest of her life? Maybe one day, but not yet.

  An hour later, Maggie sat at her desk reviewing her list of questions for Hunter’s teammates when the doorbell buzzed. Had Hunter forgotten his key? The buzzer rang a second time. Frowning, she stood and went to get the door. It had better be Hunter. Still wearing her pajamas and robe, she wasn’t dressed for company. She was halfway to the door before it occurred to her that her ex-fiancé might be on her front porch.

  If Derrick had decided to show up again, she’d drive to the police station right after she kicked him out and put on some clothes. She’d request a restraining order. Maybe Hunter had been right. Rejection could turn a previously sane man into a low-fat-muffin-wielding stalker.

  Peering through the peephole, Maggie saw a tall, model-thin brunette.

  Or maybe Derrick had received the message loud and clear, and now one of Hunter’s exes had decided to grace her doorstep. Of course, there was always the possibility Little Miss I-only-eat-rice-cakes thought she was Hunter’s current girlfriend. Maybe trusting him had been one massive mistake.

  “Hi, can I help you?” Maggie asked, opening the door just a crack. Not that this woman was dressed to impress. Far from it, in fact. Her cutoff jean shorts looked as if she hadn’t washed them in weeks, and her fitted black T-shirt appeared slept in. Maggie glanced over her unexpected guest’s shoulder and saw a beat-up white pickup that would probably be more at home in the junkyard than her driveway.

  The woman shifted from one foot to the other. Nerves? No, this woman seemed jittery, almost as if she might start shaking uncontrollably right there on Maggie’s front steps.

  “I’m looking for Hunter.”

  Big surprise there.

  “He’s not here at the moment. But I can tell him you stopped by.” Maggie paused, but the other woman just furrowed her brow. “And you are?”

  “Sierra.”

  Just like that the bubble burst on her fantasy. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the door. She should have asked about his mystery woman before last night. But why should she care? She’d only wanted one more night with Hunter, and now that Sierra had arrived, she wouldn’t be tempted to ask for another, she told herself. Still, the dread lingered.

  “I’m his sister,” Sierra said, her voice clear despite her jumpy movements. “He probably didn’t mention me, but I really need to talk to him. Is there any chance I could wait for him? I can sit in my car—”

  “No, please come in.” Maggie stepped back and swung the door open, no longer caring about her attire as the puzzle pieces surrounding her morning visitor’s identity fell into place, and relief swept her from head to toe. His sister. Not his lover or his girlfriend.

  Watching Sierra closely, Maggie had a hunch Hunter’s sister needed the money and doctors she’d overheard him talking about on the phone. Recovering alcoholics and drug users often experienced jitters and shaking after they quit. Assuming Sierra was sober. Leaving rehab early? Not a good sign.

  Maggie led the younger woman down the hall and through the swinging door. “Can I get you something? Coffee? Tea? Water?”

  Sierra scanned the kitchen, shaking her head. “I’m okay.”

  No, you’re not. Maggie bit back the words.

  “Would you like to sit down? I was just about to make breakfast, which for me involves opening a cereal box, but you’re welcome to a bowl. I also have muffins.” Maggie had an overwhelming urge to feed the shaking, stick-thin girl.

  Sierra nodded, but stopped short of verbally committing to anything. “When do you expect Hunter will be back?”

  “Soon. Ten minutes, maybe.” Maggie retrieved the leftover muffins from the breadbox and set them on a plate. She opened the fridge and pulled out butter and milk. Then she turned to face Hunter’s sister. Maggie hesitated a moment, but her curiosity won. “So you’re in rehab? That’s a big step. Congratulations.”

  Sierra looked like a frightened deer with an open wound, caught but unable to escape. The silence stretched until it bordered on awkward.

  “I admire your courage.” Maggie took one of the blueberry muffins her housekeeper had dropped off yesterday, cut it in half and smeared it with butter, hoping Sierra would follow her lead. “I tried for years to get my dad to seek treatment, but he always had an excuse.”

  “Your dad,” Sierra repeated, selecting a bran muffin.

  “He drank.” Maggie turned to the sink and filled two glasses with water. She passed one across the island to Hunter’s sister.

  Sierra looked straight at Maggie, her gaze filled with understanding. “I’m sorry.”

  Maggie nodded and fought the urge to hug Sierra. She could count on one hand the number of people she’d told about her father’s drinking, and of those very few understood what addiction did to a person. They ate in silence, Sierra’s eyes turning to the door every few seconds. Clearly Hunter’s sister didn’t feel the instant bond between them that Maggie did.

  “Hunter will be back soon,” she said. “But he’ll probably be wondering why you left rehab.”

  “I couldn’t stay there any longer.” Sierra spoke in a strong, clear voice. “I couldn’t let Hunter spend every penny he has on me. He’s already spent his entire savings on my recovery. I’m grateful, believe me, I am, but any more is just too much of a burden.”

  “I’m sure Hunter feels having you sober is worth the cost,” Maggie said.

  Sierra broke the muffin into pieces as if she couldn’t speak without moving some part of her body. Nervous hands. Maggie could relate.

  “Now that I’m clean I understand how selfish I was, ignoring my family and friends when they tried to help, forcing them to deal with my problems when they had their own to manage.”

  Maggie nodded. Sierra sounded like a walking, talking rehab brochure—and Maggie would know. She’d read them all at some point while trying to convince her father to seek help, but something about Sierra’s voice suggested sincerity.

  “I’m not going to start using again,” Sierra continued. “Another month of rehab won’t change that.”

  “It might help you stay clean,” Maggie said.

  “I can do this. I’m going to get my life back on track. I’ve changed. And this time, I’m not going to let Hunter down. Or myself.
”

  God, how Maggie had longed to hear those words from her father, for him to wake up from his drunken haze and admit how destructive his drinking was. Oh, he’d apologized plenty, but he’d never meant it. He’d never tried to change. If he’d only had an ounce of Sierra’s determination.

  “Sierra, I know you believe you can stay clean without rehab, but if the doctors think you should still be there, maybe you should be selfish for a little longer.” Maggie walked around the island and pulled out the chair beside Hunter’s sister.

  “He can’t pay for it,” Sierra said bluntly. “He’s already past due on last month’s bill. I know. I broke into the office and saw the second delinquent notice when I was looking for his temporary address. Your address.”

  Maggie reached over, covering Sierra’s hand with hers. “Breaking and entering really isn’t the first sign of recovery.”

  “I had to find Hunter.”

  The kitchen door swung open and a sweaty, shirtless Hunter strode into the room. “You found me. Now, do you mind telling me what the hell you’re doing here?”

  * * *

  HUNTER HAD RUN the last mile back to the house driven by one thought. Shower sex. He’d raced down the hall planning to scoop Maggie up, carry her to the first floor guest bathroom and make her forget all about her gutters. Instead, he’d found her perched on a kitchen stool beside his sister. He glanced out the window over the sink. How had he missed Sierra’s piece-of-shit truck parked beside the Mercedes? Shower sex. He’d been too damn focused on getting Maggie naked and under running water.

  “Well, Sierra?” he demanded, hands on hips. His chest still heaved from exertion. Pile on a heavy dose of what-the-hell-is-my-sister-doing-here anger and he didn’t even trust himself to pour a glass of water. He just might smash the damn thing on the floor.

  Sierra let go of Maggie’s hand and straightened her spine as if she’d prepared for this confrontation. Smart girl. She’d known he’d be pissed.

  “I know what you’re thinking, but I’m clean now and I’m not going to start again.”

  “Just because you aren’t using now doesn’t mean you won’t use again later,” Hunter challenged. “You should be in rehab. The doctors said you needed to be there.”