by Liz Talley
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.
“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 s
plendidly 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.”
Cal gave a choking laugh. Because he hadn’t expected her to do something so spontaneous.
He sprang toward her, catching her arms, knocking her back onto the bed, making her squeal. “Speaking of eating pie.”
She started wriggling when he reached out and grabbed the pie tin. “Don’t you dare put that on me.”