13. Maggie
THIRTEEN
maggie
This kiss…it was different. It sealed something, more like a promise than any kiss before it, than any kiss I’d ever had.
I wasn’t going back. From this moment forward, I was his. I wasn’t going to deny it, not anymore.
And that meant this kiss wasn’t slow, wasn’t careful.
I flung my arms around his neck and he stumbled forward at the sudden shift in weight—my back hitting the wall next to the bathroom door, one leg hitching up around his waist without me even thinking I was going to do that.
He growled against my lips, our breaths coming in quick, desperate gasps.
His arms were around me, pulling me—we stumbled into the bathroom and he yanked the door shut behind us.
This was happening again.
It wasn’t going to be the last time.
I wasn’t going to lie to myself about that, or to him.
“You’re mine,” he was saying, his hand under my shirt now, cupping my breast through my lace bra. “You’re fucking mine, you hear me, Maggie?”
“Yes,” I breathed. “Yes, Nash—”
“Say it.”
“I’m yours.” It came out immediately, without hesitation, without the part of my brain that usually managed things getting any input at all. “I’m yours, I’ve been yours, I—“
He kissed me again to stop me talking and I didn’t mind.
His hands were everywhere—under my shirt, sliding up my back, pulling me closer like closer was something that was still possible.
I had both hands in his hair, against his jaw, I couldn’t decide what I wanted and kept changing my mind and he let me, accommodating every shift without complaint, like he had all the time in the world.
He didn’t. We both knew that. There was a bar full of people twelve feet away and a man at a corner table who was probably starting to wonder where I’d gone.
I didn’t care. For the first time since September I completely, entirely didn’t care.
“I want you to fuck me,” I said, surprising myself with the dirty word. He’d told me to say it…I wanted to be clear, wanted him to know what I wanted from him. “Please—please, Nash—”
“Fuck, you know I want to,” he said, and he thrust his hips against my stomach…and I felt him so hard in his jeans, straining against the denim. “But I don’t have a condom—didn’t think I’d see you—”
“I don’t care,” I said, shaking my head. I reached for his belt, undid it with deft fingers, like I’d been running drills on exactly this situation. “I want you inside me. Wanna feel you come inside me. Want you—”
He pulled back, his hands on my arms. “Maggie, look at me.”
I looked at him, bleary-eyed. Stopped going for his belt.
“You know what you’re asking me.”
I took a sharp breath, nodding. “Yes.”
“Tell me,” he pressed. “Say it.”
“I’m asking you to fuck me and I know you don’t have a condom,” I said. “I know what could happen. I want you to put a baby in me. You’re an amazing dad, I want that. I wanna give you another baby, I want to help you with Nell, I want to—”
He kissed me hard, then, and went for the button of my jeans.
This was happening.
This was happening…and I didn’t have any doubts, I knew I was ready.
He pulled back, turned me, one hand on my hip and the other between my shoulder blades. I met my own eyes in the bathroom mirror…then looked up at him.
I was so sure. It was ridiculous, I shouldn’t have been that sure, but I was.
Felt him pull my jeans down just enough that he could get inside…heard him work his own jeans open, pull down the zipper.
I gasped when I felt his cock bare against my pussy…I was so wet.
“You just say the word if you want me to pull out at any point,” he said, his eyes focused steadily on mine…
his cock dragging through my arousal. “But if we see this through—if we see this through, and you get pregnant, I’m staying.
I’m not leaving you. I’m gonna see you through every fucking second of it, and watch you get round and pretty with my baby, and then I’m gonna raise that child with you and we’re gonna give Nell a baby sibling. ”
I looked into his eyes. Curled my fingers around the edge of the sink.
“Please,” I said, not so much as blinking. “Please put a baby in me, Nash.”
He thrust inside me to the hilt.
We moaned together, and I watched as his eyes flickered shut just for a moment…as mine threatened to do the same, but I wanted to keep watching him, to see the way he reacted. His hand splayed out across my back, between my shoulder blades, his other hand holding me steady.
“Fuck, your bare pussy feels so fucking good, sunshine,” he groaned, tilting his head back, his brow furrowed. “So fucking good on my cock. Wanna fuck you raw for the rest of my life.”
“Yes,” I breathed. “Yes—”
He started to move.
No buildup, no easing into it—just Nash, all of him, setting a pace that made my knuckles white on the sink edge. I watched his face in the mirror and he watched mine and it was almost too much, that eye contact, nowhere to hide from what either of us was feeling.
His hand slid from my back around to my front, fingers finding me, and I bit down on my lip so hard I tasted copper.
“Don’t,” he said, low. “Let me hear you.”
“Someone will—”
“I don’t care.” He thrust deeper, his eyes locked on mine in the mirror. “Let me hear you.”
I let go of my lip.
He worked me with his fingers while he moved inside me and I stopped caring about the bar, about Connor, about any of it—there was just this, just him, just the specific impossible feeling of Nash without anything between us.
“You feel that?” he said against the back of my neck. “Feel how deep I am?”
“Yes—”
“That’s where it’s gonna take,” he said. Low and certain. “That’s where my baby’s going.”
Something crested in me.
“Nash—”
“I know.” His rhythm didn’t break. “I know, sunshine. Let go.”
I came apart.
“Fuck yes,” he gritted out. “Clench that sweet pussy and take me deeper. Come on…milk me, baby. Wanna make sure I get as deep inside you as I can—”
I couldn’t speak. Could barely breathe. The orgasm was still moving through me in waves and he wasn’t stopping, wasn’t slowing down, just kept working me through it with his fingers and his hips until I was shaking.
“That’s one,” he said against my ear.
“Nash—”
“I’m not done with you.”
He shifted his angle slightly and I gasped—different, deeper, hitting something that made my whole body go tight again almost immediately.
“There,” he said. Satisfied. Like he’d found exactly what he was looking for. “There it is.”
“I can’t—I just—“
“You can.” His fingers kept moving. “You’re going to.”
I watched us in the mirror—his jaw tight, the concentration on his face, the way he watched me like I was the only thing worth watching—and felt myself climbing again already, impossibly fast, my body doing things I hadn’t known it could do before him.
“Talk to me,” he said low. “Tell me what you want.”
“You,” I managed. “Just you—”
“More specific, sunshine.”
I groaned. “I want—I want you to fill me up, I want you to—”
“Yeah?” His rhythm deepened. “Want my baby?”
“Yes—”
“Say it again.”
“I want your baby.” Breathless, shameless, completely certain. “I want—want you to come inside me, I want to feel it, I want—”
He made a sound low in his chest that I felt everywhere.
“You’re going to,” he said. “But not yet. Come for me first.”
His fingers pressed exactly right and I shattered again—harder this time, longer, my whole body arching back against him, his name coming out broken and quiet because even now some part of me remembered the bar twelve feet away.
He caught me. Both arms around me, holding me up while I came apart, still moving, still deep inside me, his mouth at my temple.
“Good girl,” he murmured. “That’s my good girl.”
I could barely hold onto the sink.
“One more,” he said.
“I can’t—“
“Last one,” he said. “Then I’ll give you what you want.”
He meant it as a reward. The thought alone made me clench around him and he hissed through his teeth.
“Don’t do that,” he managed, “or I won’t last—“
“Then don’t make me wait,” I said.
He laughed—short, surprised, genuine—and something about that laugh in this moment, in this bathroom, undid me completely.
“Nash.” I reached back and grabbed his hip, pulling him deeper. “Please. I want to feel you. Please.”
His control broke.
The pace changed—less deliberate, less careful, just him, finally, chasing it—and I watched his face in the mirror go from concentrated to completely undone and thought there, that, I want that forever —
“Maggie—” Wrecked. Just my name.
“Yes,” I said. “Yes, do it, fill me up, give me—”
He buried himself as deep as he could get and came apart.
And I felt everything…and I loved it, and I wanted it, and I hoped and hoped and hoped it would take. Every pulse of his hot spend inside me, flooding me. His arms came around me, clutching him to me, and he breathed hard into my ear as I tried not to let my knees give out.
He stayed inside me like that until it got uncomfortable…then he tilted my head enough to kiss me, long and open and lazy. I felt the heat of him drip down my legs, more of it as he pulled out.
Every drop felt like a waste.
What I wanted had crystallized tonight into this perfect certainty.
Nash. Nell. Family. Ours.
“I’m gonna go back out there and tell Tess I’m done for the night,” he murmured against my lips. “You’re gonna text your friend and tell her you’re not feeling well and went home.”
“She’s going to know exactly what happened,” I laughed.
He smiled. “Good…but I assume she’ll get rid of those guys for you.”
“Mmhm.”
His eyes darted to the door.
“There’s an exit at the end of this hallway where you can walk out without anyone seeing you. I’ll meet you there. Then…”
He kissed me again, like he couldn’t help it. When he finally pulled away, I smiled at him.
“You were saying?”
He tilted my chin up toward him, staring directly into my eyes.
“Then I’m gonna spend the whole damn weekend making sure you’re knocked up.”