Chapter 18 Mack
EIGHTEEN
mack
I went down the stairs so fast I stumbled at the bottom and nearly fell on my face. After making sure both the front and back doors were locked, I hurried into my room, shut the door, and whipped off my shirt.
I’m alone now. Are you there?
I’m here. I wish you were too.
The crotch of my jeans was already tight. I unbuttoned and unzipped them before lying back on my bed. Then I called her.
She was laughing when she answered. “I said I’d text you dirty things.”
“Fuck that,” I said quietly, holding the phone with my left hand and sliding my right hand down my lower abs inside my pants. “If you’re gonna talk filthy to me, I want to hear you do it. So talk.”
Her laugh turned sultry and feline. “So bossy.”
“You know you like it.”
“You’re right. I do,” she whispered.
“Where are you right now?” I took my cock in my fist and let the rising flesh slip through my fingers.
“I’m lying in bed. And I’m not wearing a stitch of clothing.”
Closing my eyes, I imagined her naked and warm beneath the covers. “Why not?”
“Because every night when I go to bed, I pretend you’re next to me. And you like to get your hands on my bare skin.”
“That’s not all I like on your bare skin.”
She laughed again, low and lilting. “No. You like your mouth on me too. I lie here and touch all the places on my body where I want to feel your tongue.”
“Do it now,” I demanded, my hand moving quicker now. “Touch yourself.”
“Where?” she whispered. “Tell me.”
“Your tits. Your stomach. Your thighs. Your pussy.” I kept my voice low as I imagined her hands running over her body.
She moaned, and my dick grew thicker and harder in my fist. “It feels so good,” she sighed. “And just hearing your voice makes me so hot.”
“Are you wet?”
“You know I am. Because you’re fucking me with your tongue.”
Sweet Jesus, I could taste her. I could feel her silky, swollen skin against my tongue. I could hear her breath coming quicker and harder. I could feel her body tense and tremble. “Tell me to make you come.”
“Mack,” she panted. “Make me come. Oh God, just like that. I love when you do it soft at first, so slow and sweet, like you can’t get enough.”
“Fuck yes.” I fought back against my own orgasm, which threatened to escape my control at any moment.
“And then you do it faster, and harder, and my hands are in your hair and I’m going to come so hard for you …
” Her words changed into soft, pleading little sounds that built in volume and intensity, and I pictured her lying there with her hand between her thighs and her legs open and her body rippling with pleasure as she said my name again and again and again.
My lower body tightened and I thrust into my hand, which was slick with warmth. “I need to fuck you,” I told her. “Now.”
“Yes. Do it,” she said breathlessly. “And don’t stop.”
“God, my cock is so hard for you. And you’re so wet, and so tight, and you take it so deep …”
“I can feel you,” she whispered. “I love the way you move, the way you fill me up, the way your body is so heavy on mine. I love your big, hard cock inside me, so deep I want to scream.”
“Keep talking.” My body was on the edge, my skin humming, my muscles tight. I listened to her voice in my ear and let her words and her breath and the memory of her sweet little pussy tightening around my cock drive me closer to release.
“I love it when you’re rough with me. When you tell me what to do.
When you take control and make me feel like I’m powerless against you.
When you fuck me so hard I can’t even breathe, and all I want to do is feel you come.
I want every last drop. Give it to me,” she urged, and hearing her get greedy and demanding was so fucking hot, I couldn’t take it.
Growling a chain of curses that would make any Marine proud, I exploded all over my bare chest and stomach in thick, hot, pulsing ribbons.
Afterward, I heard her breathless laughter. “Are you still there?”
“I think so.” My stomach muscles refused to unclench. “Fuck. That was so hot.”
“It was. But I still wish you were really here.”
“I know. Me too.” Something thumped upstairs. I paused and listened. “Shit. I hope I wasn’t too loud.”
She gasped. “Me too.”
“Give me a minute. I’ll call you right back.”
“Okay.”
Tossing my phone onto the bed, I went into the bathroom and cleaned myself up, then did up my jeans, threw my T-shirt back on, and went upstairs to check on the kids.
All three were sleeping soundly, but Millie had evidently moved around enough to knock a book off her nightstand. I must have heard it hitting the floor. After replacing it, I quietly left her room and went back down to mine.
I called Frannie back. “Hey, sorry. Just wanted to check on the kids.”
“That’s okay. Are they all right?”
“They’re fine.” I sat down on my bed and exhaled. “But I should take a quick shower and go up to Winnie’s room, although I’ll probably end up sleeping on the floor in there because her bed is so small.”
She laughed sympathetically. “Poor thing. I’d tell you I’ve got plenty of room in my bed, but that probably wouldn’t help.”
I groaned. “No, it doesn’t.”
“Well, the spot next to me is yours any time you can get away.”
“Thanks. I wish I knew when that would be.”
“What about the night of the wedding?” she asked hopefully.
“Yeah, my folks will be here then. That’s a possibility.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t get my hopes up,” she said quickly. “It’s just an idea.”
“I like it.” I exhaled. “Let me see what I can do.”
“Okay.” She yawned, then giggled. “You tired me out from clear across town.”
“Here’s where I make a joke about how big my dick is.”
“It’s no joke,” she said. “And I’ll be thinking about it every night about this time until I can have you to myself again.”
“You really do want to torture me, don’t you?”
“Yes.” She laughed softly. “And no. I just want to be with you, that’s all. I know this is brand new, but it feels really good.”
“It does.”
“So forgive me if I get a little carried away. I’ve had these feelings for you for so long, I hardly remember a time when you didn’t make my heart pound.”
“Really?”
“Really. But I was convinced you only saw me as a kid.”
I snorted. “Nope. I mean, I thought you were too young and way off limits, but I remember last year at the Christmas party wanting to throw you over my shoulder, take you back to my office, and fuck you on my desk.”
“What?” she screeched. “You never said anything!”
“What the hell would I have said?” I asked, laughing. “Your parents were in the room. And my kids. And everyone we work with.”
“I guess. But jeez. I wish I would have known. You hid it well.”
“I had to. I told myself it was wrong to want you that way.”
“Have you changed your mind yet?” she asked softly.
“That’s a good question.” I decided to be honest. “Yes and no. I’m still worried about what your parents will think. And I worry about what will happen when you realize I’m not worth all the shit you have to put up with.”
“What do you think will happen?” she asked.
“You’ll move on because you know you deserve better,” I said simply. “And I’ll let you, because I’ll know it too.” I know it already, I thought.
“If that’s what you think, then you don’t know me very well, Declan MacAllister. So I guess it’s up to me to prove you wrong.”
I smiled, picturing that stubborn tilt of her chin. “Okay.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” She blew a kiss. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
While I was in the shower, I wondered what it was going to be like seeing her at work this week. Actually, not only this week but from now on. Would it be obvious to everyone that we were … involved?
Maybe it was stupid of me to think we had to hide it.
Maybe this uneasy feeling was due to exhaustion and worry rather than any real reason to think things wouldn’t be okay.
Maybe I was letting my failed romantic past and divorced dad guilt overshadow the possibility of this new relationship.
After all, I was still human. I still needed companionship now and then.
I still craved human—adult human—connection from time to time.
Frannie was sexy and fun and easygoing, she fit seamlessly into our lives, and she was reconnecting me to a piece of myself I’d lost—the part that wasn’t anyone’s father.
I loved the way I felt when I was with her.
But deep down, I knew it couldn’t last.
The next morning when I walked into the inn, she looked up from where she was helping guests at the desk and grinned at me. Not a casual grin, either—a we’re secretly fucking grin, accompanied by a mischievous gleam in her eye.
And I gave it right back to her. I couldn’t help it.
But I bid her and the guests a very formal “good morning,” which she returned just as formally, as if she hadn’t been whispering dirty things to me on the phone while I jerked off last night.
I felt like a teenager sneaking out of her bedroom without getting caught as I headed down the hall toward my office.
Over the next couple days, we exchanged that grin often but behaved ourselves pretty well.
When we passed each other in the hallway or lobby at work, we did our best to keep straight faces, but sometimes I’d squeeze her hand or sneak a kiss if no one was watching.
Each night we’d text or chat once I got the kids in bed.
Late in the afternoon on Wednesday, there was a knock on my open office door. When I looked up and saw her, my heart began to race. “Hey, you. How’s your day?”
“Great,” she said, hugging some papers to her chest. “Got a minute?”
“Of course.” I stood up from my chair and walked around my desk toward her. “Come on in. Take a seat.”
She entered my office and I shut the door. Then, before she was out of reach, I grabbed her arm, tugged her back, and pushed her up against the door. “But first.”