by C. C. Koen
She giggled as he laughed at himself and his gender. Another contrast, Mr. Stone had a sense of humor. Who knew?
He placed a framed photo of a baby boy in front of her, one she noticed on a side table nearby. “My boy, Max. The second happiest day of my life was when Olivia told me she was pregnant. No parent should outlive his own child.”
A gasp caught in her throat, and she placed her hand on top of his in a comforting gesture. She glanced up at him, and he gripped her shoulder. “I’m sorry for what I said to you. I’ll make no excuses, except to say that my family means everything. I didn’t know you or care to. All I wanted was to protect my grandson and what little I had left. I forgot what it was like to fall in love. Olivia passed away in her sleep twenty-five years ago, and I’ve been going through the motions. Then when Max died, I . . .”
She squeezed his arm and shook her head. “I want you to know something, Mr. Stone.”
“Horatio,” he insisted, gently.
“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to protect my family. As much as I hate to admit this, I can understand why you did it. But please know that I love Rick. I have no intention of harming him.”
“Oh, I realize that now. My grandson told me how you met, and how much he cares for you and your daughter. I hope you’ll give me a chance too. I’m not such a bad person, once you get to know me.”
“I don’t hold grudges, Mr.—” When he scrunched his bushy eyebrows and shook his head, she corrected herself. “Horatio, I’d like that very much. I miss my grandparents and so does Cece. After you spend time with us though, you might take back your invitation. We’re a rowdy bunch.”
His grip on her shoulder tightened a bit. “Olivia didn’t let me get away with anything, and her daredevil attitude kept me on my toes. After what I’ve been through, I need a zing to get me out of the rut I’ve been living in. I’m ready for a change, a breath of fresh air.”
She tucked her arm around his waist and pulled him into a hug. Leaning up on her tippy toes, she pecked his cheek. “I’m warning you.” He tilted his head, a tender expression she never envisioned he’d aim at her. “For the record, ‘I told you so’ now.”
He laughed and walked her around, telling her all about his adorable wife, son, and grandson. Every tale full of affection and fondness. She’d never forget that moment and the effort he made to welcome her into his home, setting her at ease by establishing a connection they could both relate to.
A turning point for all of them.
Lucky for her she worked in the same building as Rick. They fell into a routine that seemed so natural and comfortable, she had to pinch herself to make sure she wasn’t walking around in a dream state. After classes she stopped by his office before going to Westlake, sometimes with Cece and other times alone, depending on how late she arrived. Any breaks throughout the evening were spent with him, since he adjusted his schedule. He came in later in the afternoon when possible and stayed till midnight so he could drive her home. “No more bus,” he insisted. In most instances she’d protest at such pushiness, but she hadn’t because of the sweet way he requested the change, and the fact he diverted the spotlight onto him by admitting, “I need to see you before I close my eyes every night, Maggie.” What woman could argue with that?
Around nine o’clock, excited about their rendezvous, she skipped past the empty desks. When she approached his doorway and heard a female voice she recognized, her blood pressure spiked and teeth clamped down. Good manners be damned. Instead of knocking, she stormed into his office. Both Rick’s and Julia’s conversation came to an abrupt halt.
“Well, look what the garbage man forgot to pick up.”
“Leave, Julia, now,” he barked, but it didn’t matter. The prima donna hadn’t moved an inch from her shoulder-to-shoulder position.
The sight of them ticked Maggie off, and her mental countdown began. By the time she reached zero, she’d reined in her temper. During their twenty-question sessions while driving home, he’d told her nothing ever happened between them. Even so, she didn’t like the witch within a mile of her man. Possessive much? She didn’t care. No way she’d allow anyone to cause friction between them again. They had something great going, and she’d fight if she had to.
“Julia, I guess you couldn’t use your daddy’s money to buy him off either, like you tried to do with me. Ya know, the twenty thousand you offered me to stay away from Rick.”
The man in the middle shot Maggie a pointed look, indicating there would be a long discussion about that detail, and the story she hadn’t told him about yet. Heck, it had been just a week since their relationship became official, and she didn’t want to taint their getting to know each other with something so negative. Besides, since she hadn’t heard from or seen Julia since that encounter, she figured the matter over and vanquished the spoiled brat from her mind.
As she exposed Julia’s devious plan, she advanced on them too and didn’t stop until she eased herself in between Julia and Rick. His hands took hold of Maggie’s hips, but he remained silent behind her.
Julia’s glare dropped to his possessive grip, and her mouth fell open.
It would’ve been easy to bash her, but Maggie took a different tactic. “Have you ever been in love, Julia?” She felt the question a safe one, interpreting Julia’s bribery as desperation and an established bad habit of using her father’s riches to get her way without any regard given to whether the object or person sought was something Julia really wanted or not. Cold and indifferent were accurate classifications for Julia as her stare flicked over Maggie’s shoulder. The longer Julia didn’t answer, though, the more Maggie saw the hairline emotional fractures: a hitch and sag in her shoulders, and rapid blinking.
When Julia shifted from leaning on one foot and readjusted to two, threw her shoulders back, and aimed a hardened stare at Maggie, she recognized the recoup-your-pride act. And it motivated Maggie to make a heartfelt attempt. “Two people who share a bond and affection for one another. It’s not something you can buy, and you can’t force someone to love you.” Experience taught her that, along with Kat’s advice piercing her eardrums. Yeah, big sisters knew a lot after all. “If you do, it’ll be doomed from the start.” Swallowing her dignity, she admitted, “I should know.”
Julia turned tail and left without a word. The drawn paleness of her face and quick retreat might have been an indication that the message registered somewhere in her conscience. Time would tell. Either way, Maggie would be ready.
“You’re amazing.”
Appreciation filled Maggie’s heart and a small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. That expression vanished the instant she spun around and grasped his broad shoulders. “No.” She flung his admission back at him. “I’m gonna screw up. Sorry I didn’t tell you about her before. I wanted to forget the past and focus on us, the positive stuff. I promise, I won’t hide anything from you again.” His thumb rubbed along her neck, making it difficult to concentrate. She understood the importance of honesty in a relationship. Little white lies and stonewalling added up and eventually came out. She never wanted to be blindsided again and wouldn’t do that to him anymore.
“I trust you, Maggie. I realize you can handle a lot on your own and don’t need me, but I have your back. No matter what, we’ll deal with whatever comes our way. Together, okay?”
Overwhelmed by his support, she rested her head on his shoulder, tugging him into a bear hug. Yep, she got it—they were a team. A unified one.
The Jalfrezi Maggie bit into, a hot and tangy Indian lamb dish dressed in paprika, tomatoes, and coriander, was delicious. As a special treat for her twenty-seventh birthday, Rick took her to Masala Wala, which offered an amazing blend of traditional and hip South Asian street food. His attention to detail and concentrated effort to get to know everything about her, from childhood to present, resulted in them spending every non-working minute together. They started this morning by taking Cece to ballet lessons. The sneaky arrangement now out of the bag, it
hadn’t surprised her that Kat had gone behind her back. Even though Maggie had wanted to sign up Cece, and Rick’s involvement might’ve had good intentions, the maneuver still lit her fuse anyway. He pleaded his case, pulling out all the stops: puppy-dog eyes and an exaggerated fat-lip pout, which changed to kisses along her neck. Then he sucked on her earlobe and whispered he’d ask from now on, melting her like goo. A smart negotiator for sure.
In the late afternoon after playing in the park, they had lunch and cake. Kat and Cece gave her their gifts. Her sister bought her a spa day and whispered in her ear about another sexy item she couldn’t give her with Cece around. Her daughter gave her a matching braided band “like Max’s” but hers had red as the dominant color with a thin brown strip in the center. The opposite to his, but complementary. Cece’s constant chanting of “Max and Mama sittin’ in a tree” had lost its cuteness after the first week. A month later and the mantra became as appealing as the Barney songs she wouldn’t stop repeating. Whether it grated on her nerves or not, the elation and excitement Cece showed wouldn’t be something she’d squelch. Kat took care of that part though, redirecting her niece whenever possible.
Rick grabbed her wrist and brought the fork to his mouth, stealing her next bite. “Mmm, excellent.” His eclectic palate delighted her, and he soon replaced Matt as her personal taste tester, encouraging her to use him to experiment. Even though he meant with food, there had been an underlying sensual message attached to the open invitation. She expected he’d lure her into his bed right away, but that didn’t happen. He’d been dropping hints all day about a special surprise this evening. She hoped instead of Rabri Ras Malai for dessert, she’d be licking and savoring his gorgeous body. He was a hard man to resist. She didn’t know how much longer she could wait.
“Open up, Maggie, taste mine,” he teased, suspending Malai Tiger Shrimp from his fork.
She flicked her tongue along the tip first, capturing the sour cream and sesame oil sauce before sucking the prawn into her mouth. As seductively as possible, she twirled the tail between her fingers and mouth before biting off the end. A moan accompanied her slow chewing, and her fixed gaze and arched eyebrow taunted him, attempting to appeal to his baser instincts.
A smirk crooked up in the corner of Rick’s mouth and disappeared in a blink. His thumb swept across her bottom lip. He raised the plump digit to his mouth, clamped it between his teeth, and dragged it out. “Mmm, you taste so much better.”
Holy smokes, she might have just experienced a cosmic orgasm, transcending space, since he hadn’t even touched her there. She swallowed, barely able to force the food down.
“Maggie, Maggie, Maggie . . .” He leaned back in his chair, rubbed his jaw, and tapped his lower lip, ensuring she’d look right there. “You have no idea what you do to me, do you?” Before she could say anything he cautioned, “I’ll give you fair warning. I’m taking you to my place after dinner, and I plan on stripping you bare, laying you on my bed, and enjoying every part of you. So if you don’t want that, you need to speak up now. I’ve tried to be as patient as possible, since I let my hormones do the talking before.” He took a ragged breath, grabbed both of her hands twisting in the middle of the table, and kissed one then the other. “I’m hanging by a thread . . .” Nipping on her knuckles, his heated hazel eyes captivated her as he whispered against them, “And I’m ready to clear this table and take you right here.”
That little devil popped up on her shoulder, stabbing her in the neck with a pitchfork demanding: Yes! Years of being a good girl and common decency kept her mouth shut. Deep down though, her inner rebel took charge.
She kicked off a shoe and slid her toes up his pant leg, scraping her nails along the hair on his shin. He sprang across the table, gripping her neck and thrusting his tongue into her in a penetrating kiss. Unable to look away, they gazed in each other’s eyes. Her fingers drifted through his hair as she sucked on him harder—he groaned. His warm, heavy exhales brushed along her face, soothing, comforting. They tilted their heads left and right for the perfect angle—more of him, her. His stubble scraped her chin as he licked and savored; sweet spearmint, saltiness, and a tinge of pepper fired up her taste buds.
She didn’t know how long they’d been that way. It wasn’t until she heard a throat clearing that her eyes flew open, catching the waiter dropping the bill on their table and vanishing.
“You ready for me?” His question spoken softly against her lips came through loud and clear.
“Always.”
Just a few bites remaining, they agreed in silence that neither were interested in food any longer. After the bill had been paid, they ran out of there and got to his home in warp speed. The frenzy and rush came to a screeching halt after he kissed her all the way up the stairs and into his bedroom and stood her at the foot of the mattress.
“Maggie.” Love and tenderness came through, but so did an underlying hint of promises to come. The tiny wrinkles around his eyes softened as he scanned her face, drifting downward to her neck, chest, waist, and blush-pink painted toes. She’d selected a red nylon wrap dress with a deep v-slit down the front and a higher, gaping one along her left thigh. Some designers thought redheads shouldn’t wear the same color as their hair. They were wrong. By the way he strolled toward her with confident strides, mentally undressing her, he must have agreed. His eyes shouted—mine.
He slid his finger, whisper light, along her collarbone. Unblinking he said, “I’ve waited a long time for you.” Her hands captured in his, he pulled them up, placing them on his lapels. “I’m yours,” he murmured, then moistened his lips and added a dare: “Take me.”
The devil and inner rebel didn’t need to make an appearance. She’d take the challenge and a lot more.
As if her previous fantasies came true, her mind replayed all of her dreams while she performed a dual striptease.
She threw his suit jacket off and loosened his tie, letting it hang around his neck. With purpose she undid his shirt buttons, flicking one, followed by a kiss, then the other, another peck, and marked him all the way to his waistband. She yanked the fabric out of his charcoal-gray pants.
“This . . .” She drifted two fingers up and down the center of his chest. “Is mine.” He smiled and she smirked too.
“Yes,” his gruff confirmation spurred her on.
Licking him from waist to neck, her tongue dipped between each ridge of his abs—a six-pack. She tucked her nose under the edge of his shirt and caught his nipple between her teeth, flicking it with her tongue over and over. He grabbed the back of her head and held her there. “Mmm . . . lower, Maggie, much lower.”
Giggling, she nipped a puckered tip, reminding him she was the boss here.
When she stepped to the side and walked around him, she kept her eyes on the prize from front to back. He tried to turn with her, but she grabbed his shoulder and held him in place. “Don’t move.” From behind him, she slipped her hands around his waist, unbuckling his belt and drawing the zipper down. Pressed into his back, she crushed her chest into him. “This . . .” She cupped him between his legs and brushed her thumb along his hardened, twitching length several times. “Whose is it?”
“Fuck,” he whispered. His shaky inhale and exhale beat against her. The thrumming of his rapid heartbeat in sync and pounding with hers.
“I’m almost there,” she teased.
His head dropped back, and he looked at the ceiling. His hands fisted closed and open, again and again along her thighs. “You keep this up, Maggie, I’m not gonna last long.”
“Oh, but I’m getting to the good part . . .” she said in his ear, “you and . . .” she bit the back of his neck, “the bad, very, very bad.”
His growls rumbled along her from waist to cheek. But there weren’t any protests in them, just impatience.
She followed those claims by removing his belt and tossing it onto the bed. “For later,” she hinted, promised.
“Fuck me,” he mumbled under his breath.
Before he could answer, she stroked the tip, producing more of his groans as his strong grasp held on to the backs of her knees. His butt rotated against her. Friction she needed and didn’t deny herself.
“Please, Maggie.” She didn’t know if his strangled desire did her in or if she couldn’t take frustrating herself any more either. She whipped his boxers and pants down his legs and took charge again.
As she walked around him, she drifted her hand along his butt cheek and gave it a squeeze: firm, muscled, clenching. When their eyes met again, she stood where she’d been before, at the foot of his bed, a few feet away from him. At her hip, she tugged on the string belt. The bow tied there slipped free, and her dress parted wide open. Exactly why she had bought this outfit. More red, a demi-cup balconette, no padding, just lace so thin and sheer it hid nothing.
He brushed his thumbs along each breast at the same time. “Mine.” Her nipples stiffened and greeted him, answering for her. She reached behind and unsnapped the clasp. The silk straps on her shoulders fell forward and onto his wrists.
“You’re killing me, Maggie. I have to taste you.”
Not giving him the chance, his striped black-and-gray tie became her next target. She pulled the tip forward and flicked it up and down across her chest. It must have pushed him over the edge. He tossed the silk fabric aside and took over. He cupped her thirty-six Bs and held them out for his eager lips. He latched on and twirled, suckled. From one to the other, he repeated the same tugging and nibbling actions, making sure each received their fair share.