CHAPTER SEVEN
Maggie
I woke up sore.
Not just a little sore—the kind of sore that made itself known the second I tried to shift positions in bed. Between my thighs, in muscles I didn’t even know I had, everywhere Rhett had touched and claimed and made his own.
I also woke up alone.
The bed beside me was empty, the sheets cool, and for a moment panic fluttered in my chest. Had he left? Had last night been some kind of mistake? Was he regretting—
“Morning, sleepyhead.”
I turned my head to find Rhett leaning against the doorway, wearing nothing but low-slung jeans, his hair damp from a shower. He was holding two mugs of coffee, and the sight of him—all that bare chest and smug attitude—made my body quicken despite the soreness.
“Morning,” I managed, pulling the sheet up higher over my naked body.
His eyes tracked the movement, and his mouth curved into a knowing smile. “Little late for modesty, don’t you think? I’ve seen and tasted every inch of you.”
My face went hot. “That was different. That was—”
“That was last night. This is now.” He pushed off the doorway and walked to the bed, setting both mugs on the nightstand before sitting on the edge of the mattress. “How do you feel?”
“Sore,” I admitted.
His expression softened. “Yeah, I figured you would be. First time usually leaves you feeling it the next day.” His hand came up to brush hair back from my face. “You should have told me to slow down.”
“I didn’t want you to slow down.” It was true. Even now, sore and uncertain, I didn’t regret a single second of what we’d done. “It was perfect.”
“It was.” He leaned down and kissed me softly. “But you’re going to need a day or two to recover before we do that again.”
Disappointment curled through me. “A day or two?”
“Well, before we do most of that again.” His smile turned wicked. “But there are other things we can do. Things that won’t make you more sore. Things that’ll make you feel very, very good without any discomfort.”
Heat pooled low in my belly despite the soreness. “What kind of things?”
“Let me show you.” He stood up, held out his hand. “Come on. We’re taking a bath.”
“A bath?”
“Hot water will help with the soreness. And it’ll give me an excuse to get my hands on you again.” He waggled his eyebrows, and I couldn’t help but laugh.
“You don’t need an excuse to touch me.”
“No, but I like having one anyway. Now come on, before the water gets cold.”
He led me to his bathroom—which showed off just how wealthy he was.
It was marble and glass a far cry from the small bathroom from the one in my house.
A shower big enough for two was on one wall, while a large tub was on the other, already filled with steaming water.
Naturally, there were jets on the sides.
He helped me in, then climbed in behind me, settling me between his legs so my back rested against his chest.
“Better?” he asked, his hands sliding down my arms.
“Much better.” The hot water was already easing the ache in my muscles, and having him solid and warm behind me felt ridiculously good. Safe. Right.
“Good.” His hands moved to my shoulders, kneading the tension there, and I melted back against him with a sigh. “You’re tight here. All that fence work probably didn’t help.”
“Worth it,” I murmured.
“Yeah?” His mouth found the curve of my neck, pressing soft kisses there. “You think learning ranch work is worth being sore?”
“I think you are worth being sore.”
He groaned against my skin. “Keep talking like that and I’m going to forget my plan to take it easy on you.”
“What if I don’t want you to take it easy on me?”
His hands slid from my shoulders down to cup my breasts, and I gasped at the contact.
“Oh, darling. Your body needs time to recover. But that doesn’t mean I can’t make you feel good.
” His fingers pulled at my nipples, and pleasure ran through me.
He’d been a gentle lover last night—until he wasn’t.
“Doesn’t mean I can’t touch you, taste you, make you come apart in my hands. ”
“Rhett...”
“You’re so responsive.” His voice was rough in my ear. “I love the way your body reacts to me. The way you arch into my touch. The little sounds you make when I do this—” He pulled my my nipples, twisting just slightly and I couldn’t stop the moan that escaped.
“That’s it. Let me hear you.” One hand slid down my stomach, moving lower, and I tensed slightly. “Easy. I’m not going to hurt you. Just going to make you feel good.”
And then his hand was between my thighs. “Tell me if anything hurts.”
It didn’t hurt. It felt incredible. His touch was lighter than last night, more careful, circling my clit with just enough pressure to make pleasure build without causing any discomfort.
“How’s that?” he murmured against my ear. “Does that feel good?”
“Yes. It feels good.” I clenched his forearm as his hand moved between my thighs.
“That’s my girl. My very good girl,” he murmured as he sucked at my neck.
I knew he’d leave another mark on my body.
I looked down seeing the bluish hints of bruises on my thighs.
I remember when he’d put them there. When I’d tried to close my legs as he licked me.
It had been so overwhelming, the sensations he’d caused.
And felt so damn good.
Now, one hand was on my breast, one rubbing my clit and the dual sensation was overwhelming.
“I love touching you like this. I love feeling how wet you get for me, how your body responds. You’re so damn perfect, Maggie.”
I was trembling already, the pleasure building faster than I expected. Maybe because I was still sensitized from last night, or maybe because his words affected me as much as his touch.
“I want to make you come,” he continued, his voice dark and commanding. “I want to feel you shake apart in my arms. I want to hear you scream my name. Can you do that for me, sweetheart? Can you come for me?”
I leaned my head back against his chest, letting him control my body. Control me. “I’m close—so close—”
“I know. I can feel it. Your body’s tensing up, getting ready. Let go, Maggie. Let me have it.”
His fingers increased their pressure, rubbing harder and harder, faster and faster and I came with a cry that echoed off the bathroom tiles. He worked me through it, murmuring praise in my ear, until I went limp against him.
“Beautiful,” he said, kissing my temple. “You’re so beautiful when you come.”
I couldn’t form words yet, just lay there in the warm water with my body still humming with aftershocks. After a moment, he shifted behind me, and I felt his arousal pressing against my lower back. He was hard, clearly affected by what we’d just done, but he wasn’t pushing for more.
“You’re...” I swallowed, tried again. “Do you want me to—”
“No.” His arms tightened around me. “This morning was about you. About making you feel good without any discomfort.”
“But you’re—”
“I can take care of myself later. Or you can watch me take care of myself, if you want. Might be educational.” I could hear the smile in his voice.
I turned my head to look at him. “Watch you?”
“Would you like that?” His eyes were dark, intense. “Would you like to watch me stroke my cock while I think about being inside you? While I tell you all the filthy things I want to do to you once you’re not sore anymore?”
My breath caught. “Yes. I think I would.”
“Fuck.” He groaned, his hips flexing against me involuntarily.
“Is that a yes?”
“That’s a hell yes.” He kissed me hard, then pulled back. “But first, I’m feeding you breakfast. You need to eat.”
“Rhett—”
“Food first. Then I’ll give you a show. Then maybe, if you’re very good, I’ll let you touch me while I do it. Would you like that? Want to feel how hard I am for you?”
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
“Good girl. Now let’s get you dried off and dressed. I’m making you pancakes.”
Breakfast was surreal.
Sitting at Rhett’s kitGarrison table, wearing one of his t-shirts that swallowed me whole, watching him cook while shirtless and completely at ease.
He moved around the kitGarrison with the same confidence he had on a horse, and I couldn’t stop staring at the flex of muscles in his back, the way his jeans hung low on his hips.
“You’re staring,” he said without turning around.
“Can you blame me? You’re walking around half-naked.”
“You’re one to talk. You’ve got nothing on under that shirt.” He glanced over his shoulder, his gaze heated. “And I’m very aware of that fact.”
“Should I put my dress back on?”
“Don’t you dare.” He brought over a plate stacked with pancakes, setting it in front of me. “I like you in my clothes. Like knowing you’re bare underneath. Makes me think about all the things I’m going to do to you later.”
“Later as in...?”
“Later as in after you eat, after you watch me get myself off, after your body’s had more time to recover.” He sat across from me with his own plate. “I’m a patient man, Maggie. And I plan on making this good for you. Not rushing, not pushing. We’ve got time.”
We ate in comfortable silence, and I marveled at how easy this felt.
How natural. I’d been terrified last night—not of him, but of being inexperienced, of not knowing what to do, of disappointing him.
But he’d made it all feel effortless. Had taken care of me, guided me, made me feel cherished and desired in equal measure.
When we finished, he cleared the plates, then held out his hand. “Come on. Bedroom. You’ve earned your show. And I can’t wait any longer to feel those hands on me.”
My heart kicked into overdrive as I followed him back upstairs. He sat on the edge of the bed, pulling me down beside him.
“I want you to watch,” he said. “I want you to see what you do to me. I want you to understand how much I want you. Okay?”
I nodded.
“And if you want to touch—anywhere, anytime—you just do it. This is your show as much as it is mine.” He leaned over, kissing my thoroughly, his hand on the back of my head. Once we were both breathless he leaned back on his hands, watching me. “Now, take off that shirt. Let me see you.”
My hands shook slightly as I pulled the t-shirt over my head, sitting naked beside him. His eyes went dark, tracking over every curve.
He reached down, popped the button on his jeans. “Every time I see you naked, I can’t believe you’re real. I can’t believe you’re here, in my house, in my bed, letting me touch you.”
He worked his zipper down, and I watched, fascinated, as he freed himself. He was already hard, thick and flushed, and seeing him like this—knowing I’d made him that way—sent a thrill through me.
“See what you do to me?” He wrapped his hand around himself, stroking slowly. “This is all for you, Maggie. All because of you.”
I couldn’t look away. Couldn’t stop watching the way his hand moved, the way his jaw clenched with pleasure, the way his free hand gripped the sheets.
“Come closer,” he commanded, voice rough. “Touch me. Touch my chest, my stomach, anywhere you want.”
I did, my hands tentative at first, exploring the planes of his chest, the ridges of his abs. His skin was hot under my palms, and I could feel his heart racing.
“That’s it,” he groaned. “Your hands feel so good. So soft. Makes me imagine them wrapped around my cock, stroking me.”
“Can I?” The question slipped out before I could stop it.
His had stilled. His eyes locked on mine, dark and intense. “You want to touch me?”
“Yes.”
He lowered his hand to his side. “Then do it. Put your hand on me, Maggie. Feel how hard I am for you.”
I wrapped my hand around him and the sound he made—low and almost pained—went straight between my legs. He was hot and hard and silky smooth, and the way he reacted to my inexperienced touch made me feel powerful.
My fingers couldn’t close around him. I ‘d never seen a cock up close before. Never touched a man before, but I knew he was big, larger than average. I remembered him inside and I had to clench my thighs as the ache started again.
“Tighter,” he instructed. “Yeah, like that. Now move your hand—up and down—yeah, just like that.”
I stroked him, learning what he liked by the sounds he made, the way his hips flexed up into my touch.
His hand came up to cup my breast, thumb brushing over my nipple.
Feeling bold I ran my thumb over his head.
He jerked in my hand. “I’m close,” he warned, his voice strained. “If you don’t want to—”
“I want to,” I interrupted. “I want to watch you come this time.”
“Sassy little minx.” His hand covered mine, making me grip him tighter, stroke him faster, and then he was coming with a groan, hot and messy, and I watched it all with a fascination I didn’t know I had.
When he finally caught his breath, he pulled me onto his lap, kissing me deeply. My legs straddled him and his release mixed with my wetness.
“You’re incredible,” he murmured against my lips. “Absolutely incredible.”
“So are you.”
“We’re good together.” His hands slid down to cup my ass, squeezing. “Really good. And this is just the beginning, sweetheart. We’ve got so much more to explore.”
I shivered with anticipation. “I can’t wait.”