Chapter 37
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
IAIN
“Your house is very … cute.”
Iain dropped his kit bag inside his front door as much as his over-excited dog would allow. Ted barely gave them two seconds before he brought them a toy each – a stuffed watermelon slice for Maisie and some half-dead goose for him.
“Two women lived here before me,” he said, throwing aside the unfortunate, discoloured creature with one foot hanging off. “I haven’t bothered to change any of the decorations.”
Eyes low and wary of her reaction to his pint-sized house, Iain watched Maisie step through his living room. “It’s giving ‘cosy cottage core’,” she said with a sweetness to her smile.
He blinked. “Cottage what ?”
“ Core . It’s like … never mind. It’s cute.”
You’re cute sprang to mind, watching her take in every corner of his space. He took off his suit jacket and dropped it on the sofa.
With the way that things had happened, Maisie hadn’t ever been to his house until now. He wasn’t exactly proud of it; the downstairs was one conjoined room that was so small he had to sidestep in most places. He owned one sofa, one coffee table, one television. The ceiling was cracked in places and every other month he had to reseal around the windows to keep out the rain.
But … he supposed that Maisie was right. If he let himself look with unclouded eyes, then the muted creams and raw wood furniture was cosy. He liked the no-frills simplicity of jute rugs and rattan baskets and the easy clean-up of hardwood floors.
He took Maisie’s coat and hung it in the cupboard beneath his stairs whilst Ted sat and mooned up at her. Poor boy probably couldn’t believe his luck – his new favourite person was here in their house. Iain felt much the same.
“Where would you like me to show you first?”
“Maybe your bathroom?”
“Right, of course.” Iain kicked off his shoes and led Maisie up to the door at the top of his stairs. He peeked around the edge to make sure it was still as presentable as he’d left it – fresh towels on the radiator, every surface gleaming and clean – before stepping aside for her. “I’m just going to let Ted out.”
“Iain—”
“Hm?”
Maisie leant up on her toes and pressed a slow, soft kiss on his lips. Warmth from her palm caressed down his ribs. A few seconds of peace and stillness after his hectic day.
Whatever that kiss was for, her delicacy lingered on Iain’s lips all through the minute he stayed with Ted in the courtyard. He came back to find Maisie perched on the arm of his sofa, her blue polka-dot dress that fell below her knees perfectly in place, and her curls no longer in the half-up style she’d had them in. The way she crossed her ankles and slanted backwards made him want to follow her around like a love-sick puppy.
Speaking of …
Iain took a toy he’d stuffed with dog-safe peanut butter from his freezer and tossed it to keep Ted occupied.
The air wasn’t the same as when he’d left. Maisie’s focus wasn’t on exploring his living room but solely on him. Her attention made his veins pulse harder – his heart turn over. She looked fucking edible like this, wearing his team’s colours and his favourite shade of red in her hair. He’d already had one taste of her, but he insatiably wanted more.
Sweeping his gaze along her enticing curves, Iain stood himself in front of her, their height difference giving him the perfect view of the deep seam between her breasts, showcased by the lovely V-cut of her dress. It was a testament to just how far he was gone in his affection for her that tension swelled beneath his stomach again with just one glance.
Maisie touched the veiny backs of his hands, ruffling up the hairs on his bare forearms, his sleeves rolled to the elbows, then ran her nails up to his shoulders. “You’re all bruised,” she purred, following her fingertips with her gaze as they dipped into his muscles.
“I’m fine,” Iain husked and bridged an inch of the gap between them.
Every touch of Maisie’s was filled with intention. The purpose? Letting him know without words just what she was in the mood for right now. Whatever she wanted, he was all in.
She dragged her pale-pink nails down his chest to where his crisp, white game-day button up was neatly tucked into his trousers. Feather-light, she swept her knuckles across his waistband, musing, “I could help you relax, if you’d like.”
A rumble came from deep within Iain’s chest at her suggestion. There was no need to rush. They had all day and all night, and he wanted to make that known. “Maisie?—”
“I want to watch you shower.”
Iain closed his mouth and processed what she’d said, taking a section of her curls and twirling it around his finger. “You want to watch me get all wet, Daffy?” Because that’s exactly what he wanted to do to her.
Maisie’s lips tipped up in a smile. She let her head tilt into his hand, his curl-wrapped finger grazing her smooth cheek. “I rather liked the view last time.”
Of course she did. He knew she’d been turned on by that – that’s the real reason why she ran out of the cabin and got herself into a whole heap of trouble that day.
Iain let out a hollow, nasal chuckle as the memory of how her eyes had danced appraisingly when she’d finally seen all of him bare flashed in the forefront of his mind.
He took one of her hands and played with her fingers, resting them on her soft thigh. “Well maybe you should join me?” he suggested, letting his voice soften someplace low in his throat. “These things are always better up close.”
“I didn’t tell you what I would be doing whilst you’re in there.”
Iain waited on her hook, yet Maisie kept her lips sealed without explaining. He gently tugged the curl wrapped around his finger, rasping, “Don’t make me beg to know, Maise.”
Where their hands twined, she opened up his palm, swiping her finger agonisingly slowly down the ticklish centre that made his thigh jerk and his cock stiffen.
“A little … preparation.”
Preparation. Did she mean …?
Their eyes connected, Maisie’s hazel ones hooded yet full of knowing whilst his widened, slight and swift, as he caught up to what she implied.
Iain didn’t want to look away from her but glanced at Ted, seeing that his dog was fully occupied over by the coffee table. That frozen treat toy would buy them at least an hour for whatever Maisie wanted to do with him, so he was all hers.
Flattening his fingers to her thighs, Iain watched her rosy lips part and her chest rise as he bunched the skirt of her dress in his hands and stepped forwards. He anchored his feet on either side of hers and slipped his hands under her dress, giving a squeeze to each of her petal-soft, supple thighs. The lightest whimper left her lips.
“I’ll do whatever you want.” He lowered his mouth to brush across her blushing cheek. “However quick or hard or slow you want it.”
Which is how Iain found himself being shed of his clothes as soon as they’d reached the top of the stairs. His fingers buried deep in Maisie’s curls angled her head as his mouth thoroughly kissed hers, her tongue sweeping into his. Her hands were desperate and sure as they scrambled to undress him. His shirt and trousers littered the carpet, leaving his full mast straining in his boxers whilst she remained fully clothed.
This version of Maisie was someone new – a woman who knew exactly what she wanted from him. A woman he was prepared to give it all to. Her hands were everywhere, searching and exploring his body, then she gave him a nudge backwards into his bathroom.
“Wait in here,” she said.
Breaths sawing and his head up in the clouds, Iain arched one eyebrow. “And where are you going?”
Maisie didn’t answer him. “Off you go.”
Her confidence and how she took control was like she’d lit a match and thrown it to Iain’s veins. He took a step back – his whole body abuzz, completely powerless to her – leaving enough of a gap around the door to see her disappear into his bedroom before shutting himself in.
Iain scrubbed a hand over his beard whilst he waited and faced the mirror above his sink, examining just how ragged a state he was in: cherry-faced, painfully hard, and practically wanton waiting for Maisie to come back. A little black and blue from where he’d taken the brunt of tackles during his game, but there wasn’t any pain. Perhaps later there would be, when his muscles calmed down after his energy was spent and his body had nothing left to give, again.
The door creaked open after what was the most agonising minute of his life.
His gaze landed on bare legs first, then travelled up Maisie’s stomach and the perfect, full swell of her breasts. He had no words. Not even a sound to come from his dried-in-awe tongue.
Under his own damn waffle dressing gown, Maisie undressed down to a fine satin and lace set, the emerald colour complementing her beyond perfectly. The daylight through the frosted window highlighted every single inch of her; her soft belly he just wanted to grab and mould, her thick thighs he wanted in a death grip around his waist. That satin bra did wonders for making his boxers strain even more, but he’d prefer it on the floor.
She’d made this entrance, but there was still a hesitant shyness in her features.
Iain looked in her eyes and flashed a smirk. “You’re stealing my clothes now?”
Maisie twirled the white belt of the robe in the air. “I like teasing you.”
“I can tell.”
She stepped up to him and traced her fingers over the grazes and faint bruises to his chest, dipping a finger beneath his boxers and running it along the waistband.
“You’re not in the shower,” she murmured, her voice like water rolling over pebbles on the bed of a stream.
“You said to wait.” Iain grunted as the back of her finger disturbed the clipped hair beneath that waistband. His hand snapped to grip her hip over the robe. “Are you going to take these off?” He could’ve bet money on the fact that Maisie’s lips twitched at the strain in his voice.
She tucked her fingers into either side of his boxers that should’ve ripped a seam from how much his length stood proud. Locked on his eyes, she sank to her knees, taking the thin fabric that separated them with her.
As his cock sprang free, Maisie swallowed, her breasts falling more heavily into that bra. Iain cupped under her chin and tilted her up to look at him, pressing his thumb to her mouth and through the seam of her lips until he grazed her teeth.
“If you’re going to stare at it,” he noted, “then you can play with it too.”
She gave him a challenging glare. “I am playing.” Pitching forward where she knelt, she kissed his thigh and blew on the wet ring her lips had left behind. His cock twitched like it beckoned for the same attention. Her lips were so close but not close enough.
Iain let go of a low, devilish laugh. “You don’t play fair, Maisie Moss.”
With only a smirk in response, she readjusted herself as if preparing to get up. He offered her his hands and locked his arms to be her support.
“You said we could go slow.” Sincerity slipped around Maisie’s playful demeanour, her features turning a shade more serious.
“I meant it.” Iain didn’t mind how far they took things between them, as long as she was comfortable. She’d argue he was being left out, but how could watching her reach the pleasures others had neglected her of for so long be a lonely thing?
She settled her hands on his waist like she needed something to ground herself. “Catching you in the shower made me feel things that I’d forgotten I could feel,” she said with a nervous tint in her voice and a slight shake of her head. “I want to feel it all again.”
Iain’s heart expanded, all because of her, because of the trust she was placing in his hands. Whoever had mistreated her didn’t deserve to know her name. He wouldn’t be the one to disappoint her this time.
He cupped each side of her face and kissed her slowly, savouringly, letting her body come to his when they became flush. Maisie arched her spine to reach his lips, and he grunted, his blood pulsating south from the sensation of her stomach pressing against his length. The satin of her underwear was so smooth against that over-sensitised, hot skin.
Drawing them apart, Iain stepped up into the shower and closed the glass behind him. He’d already had one not even an hour ago, but if Maisie wanted to see him shower then he would fucking shower. He wanted her nice and ready to take him in whatever way, and if that meant turning her on the way she wanted him to then he was more than willing.
So he twisted the dial and let water rain down over him, the temperature already set permanently to how he liked it. He shook his head under the spray, wetting his hair, and looked back to find Maisie’s lip curled between her teeth, her eyes on his arse. He spun like a model on display and gave her a show, before leaning his shoulder blades against the solid, cold tiles.
Maisie padded backwards and sat on the edge of his bathtub, anchoring her feet apart. This whole moment felt like a dance, him giving one move and her taking the next. She spread her legs and showed him what his base urges wanted, making his cock twitch in desperation to have her hands wrapped around him. He still remembered the achingly perfect way her thighs had squeezed around him last Saturday night.
Her fingers traced up the inner of her thigh, each stroke leaving Iain mesmerised.
“I could prepare you much better if you were in here with me, Daff.”
Maisie shook her head. “Take the shower gel. Lather yourself up.”
Iain obeyed. The cedarwood scent filled the air with the steam that escaped out over the shower. He used a cloth and spread the suds across his chest and over one shoulder, eyes glued to where Maisie’s fingers travelled across her stomach, dipping under the high waisted emerald satin.
His soapy hand drifted to his?—
“Ah-ah— No touching. ”
Iain dragged his hand away from himself, exhaling a burdened, strangled sound. “This is torture, woman.”
“You’re not done.”
It truly was torture to be so far away, unable to touch her, to feel the slickness of her getting herself wet. Iain watched her knuckles move under the shiny emerald material, knowing just what she was doing to herself. It should be his hand there making her thighs twitch, her hips roll, the red flush coming out on her cheeks.
“Does it turn you on to be this bossy?” he demanded to know. “To tell me what to do?” It wasn’t like her – the woman he’d witnessed bending to everyone else’s will was finally taking something for herself.
Maisie rolled her lips together in smug satisfaction.
Iain tipped his head back against the wall, scrunching the wet cloth in his fist. “Show me your fingers,” he said. Maisie drew them out of her underwear, two digits glistening in the light, and his cock jumped again. “There’s my answer.”
He brushed the shower cloth across his chest, foamy suds dissolving and rolling down his body. “Use them properly, Maisie.” She dipped her fingers inside herself, and a tiny whimper left her lips. “That’s it. I want you as wet as I am right now.”
Maisie shrugged her shoulder, letting his robe that she’d stolen, fall.
In a snap decision, Iain shut off the water and stepped out of the shower, dripping all over the floor.
Standing, Maisie’s outstretched hand met the centre of his abdomen and stopped him from getting too close. “You should probably get dry.”
Iain unhooked a towel from the radiator and held it out. “Do the honours then.”
For a millisecond, her eyes protested from the deviation to whatever she’d planned – she wasn’t the only one who could be bossy for the sake of getting themselves off – but then she took the towel and pressed it to his chest, then each shoulder. Droplets ran down his spine, and Iain was far too turned on to not be excited by the way they tickled his skin as they rolled. Maisie brushed down one arm and then the other, her lip firmly between her teeth as she dabbed at his abdomen.
“Lower,” he husked.
Lifting her gaze up through her lashes, she let the towel slide through her fingers, and he was so damn hard for her that it hooked on his dick. His body lurched as she two-fisted him – literally rubbing him dry.
Iain breathed in deeply and closed his eyes, forcing every tiny fibre of control he had over his body into submission to not ruin this too soon. But fuck it was impossible.
Maisie dragged the towel all the way to his tip and urged it all the way back down. Iain’s nose exhaled sharp breaths that sounded a lot like frustration. He was too hard for this. Too ready to let her see just how much she affected his every sense.
“I should dry your hair too,” she said, giving one more exaggerated pump.
“Go on then.”
Maisie hummed. “I recall you saying something about getting on your knees.”
Iain nudged her wrists to move away, sinking to his knees on the cold tiles in the pool of water that’d gathered at his feet. Never once did he take his eyes away from the beautiful freckles on her cheeks, the bright streak of green in her eyes. Maisie put the towel to his head, and he felt her nails scratching through the fabric as she massaged his hair dry.
He was on his knees in the space between hers, looking up at all of her, almost all of her, at her mercy for the way she made his blood pump harder than any sprint on the field to the goal line. She didn’t cower from his sight – the form of her from this angle looking so beautifully full.
Fuck, he wanted to fill her too.
His hands went to her thighs, brushing up over the emerald satin covering her wide hips under his robe she’d claimed as hers, all the way to curl his fingers around her breasts. Maisie whimpered, her hips punching towards him. Iain couldn’t remember this bra from when every one she owned had scattered at his feet not so long ago, but only because he’d saved her some embarrassment and closed his eyes; if he’d looked more fully, then he’d have decided back then that this one was his favourite.
The satin was smooth under his thumbs, the trim of white lace useless as decoration to breasts that were already so perfect. He was at the right height to lower his mouth to her chest and flatten his tongue between them.
“Ugh,” Maisie moaned, “do that again.” Her fingers tightened on his hair when he did, finding her hard nipples beneath the satin and thumbing them. If he ruined it – he didn’t care. He’d buy her another one.
The motions to dry his hair had practically ceased. Iain kissed and licked his way down her body, adoring all the bits she claimed as wobbly and undeserving of such attention. His hands paused at her hips, and he tucked his fingers in her underwear.
“These look so pretty on you,” he praised, chin tilted to peek all the way up at the rush of ruby on her cheeks, “but I’d prefer them on the floor.”
Maisie dropped the towel and grabbed the tub. “Iain …”
He drew the green satin down her legs and exposed her completely. “Fucking hell.”
“What?” The thread of worry in her breathy voice wasn’t warranted at all.
Iain turned his chin up again. “If only you could see what I do, Maisie. You are so beautiful.” Her chest hitched. “And while you might have made me dry …” He slid his fingers slowly up the inner of her thigh, all the way up. “You are completely soaked.”
Her body bucked, thighs clamping around his hand. Her fingers clutched his shoulders as he pitched his body forwards and slipped his tongue between the seam of her apex.
Maisie cried out in an ear-pleasing beg for more. One hand left his shoulder and hitched under her stomach as she pressed her hips forwards. She made an even more vein-pulsing cry one minute later when his tongue completed its task. Her hands fell to fold around his neck as her pleasure turned to the sweetest giggle.
Iain didn’t give her a chance to come down – he wanted her to stay on that sweaty, panting high.
Thrusting himself to his feet, he grabbed the backs of her thighs and lifted her up.
“Oh my god—” Maisie’s hands dug into his shoulders as she yelped in surprise.
God he’d wanted to do that for a while. Her legs circled around his hips and locked more tightly around him than they needed to. She was safe in his arms – he’d shown her that already.
Iain gave Maisie a second to realise that he had her. She was never going to fall when he was the one holding her. The shock of worry in her eyes eased and settled, shifting to something more like rapture.
“Fucking hell. You’re an enigma, Daffy,” he said. “You’re all shy at first and then you go and do that.”
Her words caressed his lips. “The way you look at me … it gives me confidence.”
“I look at you like this all the damn time.”
“I think we should go to your bedroom now,” she said.
He flexed his fingers where they spread across her arse, smirking at her little squeak. “ Do ? * , Daffy. We should.”
* ? Yes