Chapter 31
thirty-one
MAGS
When they kissed, it started slow—unhurried, almost tentative—but the heat between them built quickly, catching and spreading until it was impossible to ignore. Soon, the air felt warmer, charged, their breaths uneven as they lost themselves in it.
Mags drew in a shaky breath, her forehead brushing his as Jonathan murmured her name, the sound low and strained.
Their hands moved constantly, exploring, holding, pulling each other closer as if neither could get enough. Every touch seemed to spark something deeper, her body alive with sensation, every nerve tuned to him.
“I need to be inside you,” he groaned as he pushed first one and then two fingers inside her body.
She sucked in a sharp breath at the fullness. It was nothing compared to what the thick shaft dragging across her inner thigh would feel like. Still, it was heaven. Her hips were already half frantic, thrusting up to meet him.
“Con…condom?” she asked, barely getting the word out when he pushed his fingers deeper and curled them just enough to make her eyes roll back.
Jonathan’s ministrations stalled, and his eyes widened. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” he cursed. “Are you on—” he cut himself off, wincing.
“I’m on the pill, and I’ve only ever used a condom,” she offered.
“I’ve never gone without one.”
He looked so desperate, it was precious. “First time for both of us then.”
She could feel the slight tremor in his hands as he straightened and ran his hands from her neck to her hips.
Lining his sex up with her center, he slicked his head back and forth. He made a “Ahh” sound while she said, “Oh, God.”
“This feels…I’ve never felt,” he tried again, “…this first time might be…fast.”
Mags’ mouth dried at the feel of him against her entrance. “It might not fit,” she gulped. Some women might have been embarrassed speaking their fears aloud, but when you’d known a person as long as she’d known Jonathan, honesty was comfortable. Plus, it was a big fear.
He huffed in amusement, which seemed to relax his stiff shoulders. “It will. I’ve imagined all the ways that I will fit into you perfectly. Okay, here we go,” he grunted as he started to feed his engorged sex into her body inch by inch.
And then words failed them both. It was pure sensation, agony, and ecstasy. Her back bowed, his hips thrust, slow at first and then when he felt her body give, faster and faster until the headboard rapped against the wall sounding like a symphony of steel drums.
Jonathan reared up and watched himself moving in her, transfixed. “So, beautiful. So perfect. Christ, Mags, you’re strangling me,” he growled before placing his palm above their connection and pressing until her sensitive flesh screamed for release.
“Don’t stop, Jon. Oh God, I’m going to come! Don’t stop!” she begged.
The minute her release slammed through her core, Jonathan’s hoarse, “Fuck,” preceded his release.
“Never felt anything like that,” he mumbled against her neck, where his head had dropped.
He reached a hand under her back, and as he slowly lay on his side, he moved her to lie against his chest, his penis, still semi-hard, still inside her.
“We’ll make a mess this way unless you let me up to use the restroom.”
“I want the mess,” he stated, giving her ass a slap for good measure. “Besides, I’m far from done with you.”
Mags smiled against his chest, so much for slow. She had no regrets.
“How do you feel now that we’ve,” she faltered, not sure how to describe the encounter, “known each other in the Biblical sense.” She had to place a hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle, enjoying Jonathan’s look of astonishment.
“Biblical sense, huh? I didn’t feel very holy, Mags, I can assure you. That was fucking plain and simple. Only it was fucking a woman who I never plan on letting go.”
Her heart thumped hard at that. Some women might not consider his words romantic, but between two people who’d grown up together and knowing that he’d never had nor wanted a serious relationship before, they were pure poetry to her.
She felt her face burn when she recalled how loud their headboard had been. Speaking into Jonathan's shoulder, she moaned, “The headboard. Oh God, do you think everyone heard?”
His shoulders were shaking before she finished asking. “Definitely,” he choked out, clearly enjoying her mortification.
“Jackass,” she cursed him, lightly slapping his chest. “You’re such an old-fashioned chest beater. I bet you loved Eze knowing exactly what we were up to.”
“You did mention kissing him.”
Her mouth dropped open in amazement at how men’s brains worked. “That’s your reasoning?”
He shrugged. “Yes.”
Men are simple creatures.
“Can I ask you something?” he asked while idly tracing figure eights over her back.
“Of course.” She felt him tense beneath her cheek and tensed in response.
In response, he flattened his hand on her back and pulled her tighter against his body. “Well, umm. Okay, this is dumb,” he admitted, running his free hand over his face. “Forget it.”
“It’s not dumb, if it bothers you. What?”
“I’m ashamed to admit this. Christ,” he cursed, giving his head a shake. “Fine. I held out hope that you had never been with a guy since we kissed.”
That got her attention. She sat up and propped her head on her hand so that she could get a better look at his face. “Let me get this straight. You practically majored in being a manwhore, and you expected me to remain untouched?”
“I’ve told you that I’m a selfish idiot where you’re concerned. I’m sorry. I knew I shouldn’t have said anything.”
She sat up and crossed her legs, pulling the sheet over her lap. “Would you like to swap stories about our previous partners? Because I can assure you that I’m not interested in hearing about yours, and mine only consists of one man.”
“One?” he asked, so hopeful that Mags hated to crush his almost-a-virgin picture he was creating of her.
“Yes. One. We’ve been hooking up every now and again since I turned eighteen.”
Rory was someone she’d met in the grocery store of all places. She had moved into the O’Faolain townhouse by then. Rory was buying flowers for a date, and Mags had intervened.
“Who are the flowers for, if you don’t mind my asking?” Rory had been wearing sharp business casual, sexy dark hair perfectly trimmed over the ears, blue eyes, and a great smile with definite dimple potential.
He put down the vase of red roses before answering. “First date,” he shrugged.
“Don’t get the roses. The sunflower and daisy bouquet says you're fun without taking yourself so seriously. She’ll look at them tomorrow morning and smile.”
Mags smiled and walked away. She’d been halfway across the parking lot where Bébhinn was waiting in her old Jeep when she heard a man shout, “Hey, flower lady.”
They ended up exchanging numbers and became great friends. Within a couple of months of meeting for coffees and friendly text exchanges, she’d accepted an invitation for dinner at his house.
She lost her virginity that night, but not her heart.
That organ had unfortunately belonged to someone else.
Rory was still in love with his high school sweetheart.
It turned out that even though they were both emotionally unavailable, the sex had been amazing.
He was a generous lover and hadn’t minded her inexperience.
They both still went on dates, hers were platonic, his were not. They weren’t exclusive, but they did respect one another.
“You’ve been…intimate with one man for almost three years.” It was more of a statement than a query. “Do you still see him? Have feelings for him?”
“Rory and I are friends. Do you think you’ll ever be in a situation where one of your exes is present, where you’ll speak to them?”
His jaw clenched. “I don’t want you to ever endure another moment around one of my dates,” he said barely above a whisper. “I don’t want anyone else around either of us.”
Mags hid her smile. His O’Faolain obstinacy was beginning to show. She really didn’t wish to tell him about Rory, but he thought the relationship was more than sex, and it wasn’t.
“I met him not long after that New Year’s Eve night. I was still smarting from your rejection, and I saw you not long after with another girl hanging off your arm at Murphy’s, so when Rory asked me if I was interested in something simple, no strings attached, I agreed.
“Admittedly, he didn’t know that I was barely eighteen and a virgin since he was older and already in his career. Still, it worked for us.”
Jonathan looked so pained, she couldn’t help touching his cheekbone and the hollow beneath. “I made a choice for myself, right or wrong.”
“And what’s your choice now?” he asked, capturing her hand under his own and leaning his face into her palm.
“If you don’t know the answer to that after what we just got up to, there’s no hope for you, boy,” she teased.
“You’re right,” he said, nodding his acceptance.
He looked a little lost, and Mags understood that feeling more than she wanted to admit. Every time he’d shown up with someone new on his arm, it had carved small, quiet doubts into her confidence.
She pushed the sheet back, letting her gaze travel over him—broad shoulders tapering into lean, defined lines, muscle shifting subtly beneath his skin.
There was something almost sculptural about him, like he’d been carved with care, softened only by the warm undertone he’d inherited from his mother.
Stunning.
The O’Faolain men really were a blessed lot.
Before he could say a word, she moved, swinging herself over his hips, settling there with deliberate ease. His sharp intake of breath sent a flicker of satisfaction through her.
His hands reacted instantly, finding her waist, guiding her closer—like he couldn’t help himself.
“You make me crazy, Margaret Morrow.” His voice had dropped, rougher now, threaded with something urgent, almost pleading, as his gaze locked onto hers.
“How crazy?” she asked.
“I’m fucking furious that I didn’t keep you in my arms that night. I want to hunt down that Rory and ruin him. I want you to have never chosen him, taken him to your bed, and into your body.
“I want you to have only ever been mine. I need promises from you as selfish as that sounds.” During his entire impassioned speech, he never stopped gliding his shaft between her parted thighs, making her wetter and wetter.
Bending, she kissed him slowly, surely, and hopefully, with everything she was feeling. She inched down his body, moaning as his sex moved from between her legs to her stomach and higher.
Mags kept kissing and sucking and taking nibbles from his flesh until she was equal with his belly button, which she licked and explored as she had every part of his upper body so far.
When she continued to shift down, Jonathan finally realized her intention. His breathing became ragged and she felt his hips lifting involuntarily against her chest.
“I need—” he started.
“Need what?”
“Your mouth. On me. Christ, Mags, I’m begging.”