Ah God. He had to stop this. Didn’t he?
How? How the hell was he supposed to find the strength to make her stop?
“Maggie, baby … please…,” he groaned harshly as she began to suck him with slow, tight strokes of her mouth.
Nearly to her throat, only to retreat, her tongue laving with quick little licks before sinking down again, her lips meeting her fingers as she stroked the lower portion of his shaft.
She was going to destroy him. Tonight, she would steal his soul and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. Once he spilled into her mouth there would be no returning to sanity. There never had been. Like an animal, reality receded and nothing mattered but spreading her thighs and fucking them both into exhaustion.
“God yes.” He blinked again against the moisture stinging his eyes as his hips moved to her suckling mouth. Thrusting in and out, his scrotum tightening until pleasure was near pain and the need to come was torture.
“There you go, sweetheart,” he panted. “Hell yes. Suck it, baby. Suck it so deep and good. Your mouth is heaven, Maggie. Paradise.”
He strained in her grip, desperate to reach deeper, to thrust harder. He fought the need to climax, his head thrashing on the pillow as he fought it with every ounce of control he could hang on to.
She was unaware of what she was doing. Surely she was. She had gone to bed furious with him, hadn’t she?
Then she moved again, sliding between his thighs, one hand cupping the tight sack beneath his cock as she took him deeper, moaned, and her eyes opened in drowsy sensuality.
There was no shock. Green eyes stared back at him with drugged lust as her entire mouth caressed him, flexed around him, and he was lost. She knew what the hell she was doing. Just as she always had.
A hard growl tore from his lips as he drove hard against her grip and lost the last threads of control. He felt his semen exploding into her mouth, her lips moving as she consumed him, accepting his release as her hands stroked, caressed. Her tongue milked at the underside of his cock, urging more of the creamy release to her mouth as she moaned in rising hunger.
“I tried.” His hands tore from the slats of the headboard. “God help us both, Maggie, I tried…”
6
She was so weak. Maggie cursed her weakness even as she let Joe bear her to her back on the bed. He was her weakness. His lips on hers, the sharp, fierce kisses that left her drugged as his hands pulled at her shirt. He lifted only enough to drag the material over her head and toss it aside before he was back.
Cool air rippled over the tender, aching tips of her breasts only a second before Joe’s heat enveloped her once again. He had that power, the power to warm her, to fuel a fire inside her so hot, so desperate that nothing mattered but his touch.
Maggie opened to him, her hands clutching at his back as the rasp of his chest hair stimulated her sensitive nipples and stole her breath with the pleasure. So good. It had been so long. Too long without him, without his touch. She had sworn she wouldn’t let this happen, but her own dreams and hunger had stolen her will.
She had dreamed of him every night that they had been apart. Aching dreams. Dreams of anger or of lust. Dreams of reunion or of parting. It didn’t matter which, she looked forward to each one, to touching him, to seeing him, if only in those dreams.
But this hadn’t been a dream. When she slowly awake, forgetting for a few brief moments where they were, and the trouble she was in, Maggie had touched him. Her hand sliding over his abdomen. Her body heating with need. Just as quickly reality had tried to intrude. But Joe was there, tense but quiet beneath her touch, letting her lead.
He had never done that before. Never had he lain back and allowed her to set the pace of any part of their lovemaking.
Having that control had broken her resolve. That and her own hunger. God, such hunger for him. She couldn’t bear the longing whipping through her, the emotions tearing into her heart, filling her soul.
As she moved between his thighs she had expected him to dominate the act, to move her head as he wanted it, to hold her to him as he took over the pace. Instead, his ragged voice had encouraged her as he arched to her. His hands had gripped the headboard, his body tight, tortured with need.
And now she arched to him. As his lips moved from hers, to her neck, then her breasts, his hands pushed at the pajama bottoms she wore.
Heat built around them until Maggie felt perspiration coat her flesh. Reaching for him, a whimper left her lips as he caught her hands and stretched her arms above her head.
“Hold on,” he growled. “It’s my turn now.”
Her fingers latched onto the slats behind her as she watched him with dazed fascination. The expression on his face was one she had never seen, not at any time before. Savagery tightened it as hunger lent a dark cast that sent a shiver racing down her spine. He wanted her, wanted her with a depth and a strength she had never seen in him before.
His head lowered over a breast again, his lips poised just above the hard point rising eagerly toward him. His gaze lifted, meeting hers in the dim light of the room as his tongue extended to lick over the stiff peak, demanding that she watch. That she see the naked lust and pleasure tearing through him, as it tore through her. Sensation whipped through her, jerking her body violently upwards as a cry left her lips.
“Joe. Don’t tease me. It’s been too long.”
Years too long. An aching, sorrow-filled lifetime since she had known his touch.
“I know how long it’s been.” His voice was raspy, deep. “Every day, every hour, I counted with my need for you, Maggie. I’m a very hungry man now. Let me relish what little time my control will allow me here.”
He turned his head, rubbing his rough cheek against the sensitive flesh of her swollen breast. Maggie bit her lip as she panted for air and shuddered beneath the caress.
“I love your breasts.” His hands framed the hardened mounds, his thumbs raking over her nipples as the hard bursts of pleasure had her whimpering in rising anticipation. “Such pretty, flushed nipples.” He lowered his head, his lips covering the hard tips, his tongue flickering over them with rapid, hot strokes. “So sensitive and easy to please. I love pleasing your nipples, Maggie.”
Maggie’s hands tightened on the headboard, as her gaze dimmed and pleasure rocked through her. It was so good, the slow worshipping of her breasts. She remembered that well, how he loved making her nipples hard, then driving her crazy as he made them more sensitive by the second.
Which was pretty much what he was doing now. Laving each with his tongue, raking them with his teeth, only to come back to suck at them firmly, one by one, until she swore she was going to climax from the intense pleasure of that alone.
“Beautiful.” He breathed the word from one nipple to the other before giving each a parting kiss and moving lower.
As he touched her, Maggie could feel her heart melting, her soul reaching out to him. There was a difference in his touch, it was gentler, almost reverent. As though the time spent apart had hurt him as much as it had hurt her. Was she being fanciful? Probably. But God, she loved him. She always had. And for just this one night she would let her heart have its way and convince her that he loved her as well. Just a little bit. Just enough to sustain the dreams she had kept hidden, even from herself.
“Joe…” The pleasure grew, wrapping around her until she knew she wasn’t going to be able to bear much more. The agonizing arousal tearing through her clenched her womb, throbbed in her vagina. She was desperate for release, for his possession.
“I have to taste you again, Maggie,” he whispered, his voice whisky-rough as his hands moved to push the pajama bottoms further down her thighs and over her knees.
With an impatient kick, Maggie discarded the bottoms. Arching her back, she lifted closer to the tormenting lips moving along her torso, then her abdomen. With hot licks and slow kisses, Joe had her stretched on a rack of lust nearly too intense to bear. The pleasure was burning through her nervo
us system, creating a vortex of need, hunger, and intense blinding arousal so deep it became the very center of her existence.
She needed more.
As he lifted himself between her thighs, his hands parting her legs and lifting them until her knees bent, Maggie could only watch in rising anticipation. Breathing was nearly impossible as she waited for that first touch, that first blinding, intimate kiss.
“I dreamed of this, Maggie.” He moved his hand until the backs of his fingers were feathering over the short curls that shielded her sex. “Touching you, tasting you again. Did you dream of me, baby?”
His thumb rasped over her clit and she jerked in pleasured response.
“You know I did.” The dreams had kept her going, had kept her hoping through two years of a marriage that had turned into hell.
She wasn’t in the mood for games now, though. She needed to orgasm, needed that sharp brutal edge of lust to dissipate as it only did after Joe brought her to climax.
“Hmm, were your dreams this good?”
His head bent, his tongue swiping quickly through the drenched slit of her sex, as her hips arched violently and a cry tore from her lips. Electrical impulses of lava-hot sensation tore through her body, leaving her hovering on the edge of climax as Joe retreated.
“Don’t stop.” Her head thrashed on the pillow. “Joe, don’t stop.”
“I don’t want to rush it.” His voice was strained, his breath hot against the damp flesh between her thighs as he blew against the sodden curls.
His tongue licked over her, teasing the swollen bud of her clit before going lower. With wicked, knowing licks, he outlined the sensitive entrance to her vagina, his tongue flickering over it as she lifted to him, only to retreat teasingly.
She would never survive his teasing. She knew how he teased, knew how long he could hold off as he made her hotter by the second. She was more desperate now than she had ever been for his touch. The teasing wasn’t going to happen, because she would never survive it.
“Rush it. You can go slow later.”
She released the slats of the headboard, and before he could catch her hands, her fingers were tangling in his hair and pulling him to her desperate flesh.
She heard a growl a second before his lips covered the aching, burning nub between the sensitive folds of her pussy. Sucking it into his mouth, his tongue licked with a driving rhythm, as a thick male finger worked deep inside the pulsing depths of her vagina.
Oh yeah, that was what she needed.
Pleasure exploded inside her, brilliant shards of white-hot lightning sizzled over her nerve endings, burned through her flesh. Her clitoris swelled beneath the assault, her body tightened, and seconds later the orgasm that tore through her flung her into ecstasy.
She was unaware of the tight grip she had on his hair, or his grip as he forced her fingers free. All she knew was the rapture flying through her, and the feel of him kneeling between her thighs seconds later.
Opening her eyes, she arched her hips to him as he rolled a condom quickly over the straining cock rising between his thighs.
He was powerful, all sleek flesh and rippling muscles. His chest was heaving with the effort to breathe as he secured the protection, then moved into position between her thighs.
“How do you want it?” His voice was strained. “Fast and hard, or hard and fast?”
The limited choice would have amused her, if she weren’t so damned desperate for the coming penetration.
“How about hard and fast?” she moaned. “God, I don’t care, just do it, Joe. Now…”
She screamed at the penetration. It was hard. Fast. In three strokes he had buried himself to the depths of her needy pussy. Coming over her, his arms tucked beneath her shoulders, his elbows holding the majority of his weight from her as he began to move.
“Hell, yes. Take me, baby. Take all of me.” The harsh demand, voiced in a tone desperate with pleasure, had her breath lodging in her chest.
All of him. She needed all of him. His body, his heart.
“Joe. Oh God. Joe.” Her fingers clenched on his shoulders as her legs lifted, wrapping around his pounding hips and locking in the small of his back as he drove her to insanity with the pleasure burning through her.
“There, baby,” he crooned, as his head lowered to her neck. “So sweet and tight.” His voice was guttural, throbbing with lust. “I could fuck you forever, Maggie. Never stop. I never want to stop.”
The fierce rhythm was too much to contain. Nerve endings untouched in more than two years rioted with the intensity of the sensations stroking over them. Explosions of nearing orgasm began to ripple through the tender tissue, as Joe groaned roughly at the further tightening around his plunging erection.
He liked that, she remembered. The way she tightened around him before climax, the feel of her racing toward completion.
“Come for me, Maggie.” He nipped her ear erotically. “Come for me, baby, let me feel you milk me. Now, baby. Now.”
He moved faster, impossibly deeper. Maggie felt the sensations splinter inside her as a stronger, harder orgasm gripped her. She couldn’t scream, there was no breath to scream, no strength to fight the rolling explosions tearing through her as Joe’s male cry filtered through her mind.
He tensed above her, driving deep in one last plunging thrust before she felt the convulsive throb of his cock inside her, felt him spilling himself into the condom he wore.
“Maggie. God, Maggie. I missed you…”
Her heart clenched at the words, at the emotion she fooled herself into believing she heard. She loved him. She had always loved him. In that moment, Maggie knew that nothing and no one would ever replace Joe in her heart.
7
“Did you really love him?”
Joe’s question wasn’t unexpected. Hours after the lust and hunger had burned itself down to a dull glow, sleep had stolen their strength. Now, awake, he held her, her back against his chest as she watched the day lighten beyond the bedroom window.
He wasn’t confrontational this time, not as he had been when he questioned her about Grant before. He was quiet, reflective. Unfortunately, it was also when he was at his most dangerous. And she was very aware of the fact that right now he had no intentions of allowing her to brush the subject away. And maybe it was time to face it, to face the truth of the mistakes she had made.
“I thought I did,” she finally answered. “I wanted to, until a few weeks after the wedding. Had he been the man I thought I married…” She paused. She didn’t want to break the fragile peace between them.
“You would have,” he answered for her.
He sounded accepting. There was no anger in his tone, he wasn’t tense. She hadn’t expected that. In the past two and a half years she had seen Joe only once, at her wedding, where he had been best man. It had been hell. The moment she whispered her vows to Grant something had shattered inside her soul.
She should have walked out then; she admitted that to herself long ago. When the vows had stuck in her throat, and the tears had flowed, not from happiness, but from sadness, sorrow, she should have turned and walked out.
But she hadn’t wanted to hurt Grant. She had cared for him deeply.
“I could have,” she amended. “If I had let myself.”
“Would you have let yourself?”
That question no longer haunted her. At first it had, in those first weeks when she had questioned herself so deeply, before Grant had shown himself for the bastard he was.
“If he had been the man I thought he was.” Admitting it to herself was the hardest part. “Then I would have loved him.” She would have lived her life loving two men, rather than just one.
“You wouldn’t have.” His answer had her jerking in his arms, turning until she could face him.
“I married him,” she pointed out, ignoring the dark look he flashed her. “I cared for him then, Joe. Deeply.”
“You cared for him, you didn’t love him.” His broad hand cupped h
er face, his thumb caressing over her swollen lips gently. “You would never have loved him, Maggie. Because you loved me.”
She breathed in roughly as she stared back at him, remembering the nights she had ached for him, dreamed of him. The nights she had cried for him.
“I cared for him,” she repeated. “He wasn’t the man I thought he was, so I wasn’t given the chance to love him.”
She felt him behind her, hard, erect. There was no demand in him though, at least not yet. He smoothed her hair back from her face as he watched her patiently, his gaze velvet-soft, flickering with emotion.
“Wouldn’t have mattered.” The arrogance that suddenly stamped his features moments later had anger simmering inside her. “You loved me, Maggie. You still love me. You married Grant loving another man and you know it.”
She gritted her teeth. She was not going to argue with him. Arguing with him got her nowhere.
“Stop it, Joe.”
His smile was patronizing. “You knew when you married him that you didn’t love him. You loved me. Admit it.”
“Why? So you can gloat? So you know you’ve won?”
“Oh baby, I already know I’ve won,” he growled. “I just want to make certain you know it.”
“I know you have got to be the most infuriating man I have ever met in my life,” she snapped, jerking out of his embrace as she moved from the bed. “You just can’t help yourself, can you, Joe? Being an asshole is so deeply ingrained inside you…”
“I loved you, Maggie.”
His calm, quiet announcement shut her up. She stared back at him in surprise, her eyes wide, the elation she would have once felt overshadowed by more than two years of pain.
“You loved me?”
Maggie watched as Joe flicked the blankets back and moved to the opposite side of the bed. The muscles in his back and lean buttocks flexed as he rose to his feet before turning back to her.
Real Men Do It Better Page 18