Chapter 17
“You don’t have a boyfriend anymore?” I asked.
My mind was racing. My heart kicked into a higher gear. This was good news. No, it was the best news.
Mags gave a little shrug, her lips curving up. “Nope.”
She was incredibly sexy in a pair of pajama pants and a tight T-shirt. Up until now, I’d been trying not to let my eyes linger on her chest, though I kept wanting to drink in the fact she wasn’t wearing a bra. But now that she didn’t have a boyfriend anymore, well, I was more than drinking. I was guzzling. I couldn’t be more aware of the curves of her breasts and her nipples pressing hard against the thin fabric of her T-shirt.
“You broke up?” I asked the question dumbly, mainly because my thoughts were like a ball bouncing back and forth over a net. My mind kept hitting against the no-boyfriend thing, bouncing back to the no-bra thing, returning to no-boyfriend, and so on.
She quirked an eyebrow. “You need me to draw you a no-boyfriend picture? Because the picture would be a blank page with no boyfriend on it. Pretty easy to draw. I could whip it up in no time.”
Maybe I should ask if she was okay, and pretend I was sorry about the end of her relationship. Only she didn’t look upset, and I’d never been less sorry about anything. Bringing my hand to her face, I stroked her soft cheek with the back of my fingers.
Her eyes were dark and hazy, her gaze focused on my lips. But when she moved a little, her hip bumped against the washing machine. She blinked, then glanced backward at it.
“Aren’t you going to show me how to turn that on?” she asked suggestively.
“Just press the button that says Start.” I demonstrated by reaching around her to press it, and the machine started to fill with water.
“Wait. That’s it?” Mags frowned at the panel of buttons. As she turned from me, the intoxicating scent of her perfume grew stronger. She smelled so good it was all I could do not to bury my nose in her hair. “What about all the rest of the buttons?”
“The machine defaults to a normal wash setting. The buttons are if you want to do something different.”
“Oh.” She turned her face back to me and rested her butt against the machine. “Well, that was almost too easy.” Then she cocked her head, her lovely eyes roaming over my face. “I like your beard a lot better now that you’ve trimmed it. You look...”
She hesitated, so I took the opportunity to provide some acceptable options for the end of her sentence. “Debonair?” I suggested. “Ruthlessly handsome? Irresistible?”
“Tidy,” she said. “But in a good way, not a boring, unattractive way.”
“Hmm. I’m almost certain there’s a compliment in there somewhere.” I put my hand on her hip to tug her a little closer. Her breasts were calling to me, her nipples whispering a siren song, begging for my fingers and mouth. I’d been rock hard since the moment she’d opened the front door, and I kept defying the laws of physics to get harder and harder, when it should have been impossible.
“Now I can see your lips.” Her hooded gaze was on my mouth.
“Don’t restrict yourself to looking. Feel free to touch.”
Putting both hands on my face, she stroked my freshly trimmed beard, following the line of the hair as though petting a cat. “I like the shape of your face,” she murmured. “So sharp and strong.”
Sliding my hands to her back, I captured her lips with mine. She kissed me hungrily, pushing her hands under my T-shirt. She felt incredible. So soft and pliant against me.
Moving my hand to her breast, I stroked its curve over her T-shirt. Then I circled the hard bullet of her nipple with my thumb, loving her weight in my palm. Even better was the little moan she made as I lightly pinched her nipple between my thumb and forefinger.
It wasn’t enough. I needed to get underneath her T-shirt, to feel her skin. But at the same time as I moved my hand to the bottom of her shirt, she was dropping one hand to palm my hard cock over my jeans. And although my cock strained into her hand, the placement of her arm stopped her T-shirt from lifting. Not being able to touch her skin the way I wanted wasn’t acceptable. I let out an involuntary sound of frustration, and she understand immediately what I needed. She let go for long enough to tug off her shirt.
Much better.
I bent my face to her breast, cupping it while I worshiped her with my tongue. There was nothing about her body I didn’t love, and the shape and weight of her breasts was sheer perfection.
“Mmm,” she moaned. “Touch me, Cy. I need you.” Her voice was breathless with want. And I felt the same way. I’d been dreaming of this nonstop for days, and my desire was so strong I was on fire.
I pushed a rough hand under the elastic of her pajamas. They were loose, and she wore nothing underneath. Parting her, I slid my finger into her wet heat. She gasped into my mouth, digging her nails into my back. Fuck. She was so wet. So hot. Her fingernails dragged across my skin, and I loved it.
But I had to draw back.
“How long before you need to leave to get to work on time?” I demanded, my voice as rough as my hands.
She blinked, her eyes hazy. Her lips looked even more beautiful now they were kiss-swollen. It took her a moment to say anything, and then it was just an um sound, as though her thoughts were so scrambled she couldn’t form words.
I loved scrambling her thoughts and driving her senseless. I wanted her to be unable to make any sounds except ones of pure pleasure.
With my lips on her neck, I trailed light kisses down her throat. “What time do you have to leave?” I repeated.
“Seven thirty,” she whispered.
“So if we left you ten minutes to shower and dress, we only have twelve minutes to fool around.”
She groaned. “Twelve minutes doesn’t seem long enough.”
I nipped her skin in agreement. “Not even close.”
I was so hard, I had an almost overwhelming urge to forget about the time and bury myself inside her anyway. But I couldn’t make love to her in twelve minutes. Not in the way I wanted, the way that would leave us both satisfied.
In that length of time, there was only one thing I could do, one pleasure I could allow myself. And for now at least, it would have to be enough.
I pushed her pajamas pants down her thighs, then put both hands around her waist. She let out a squeak of surprise as I lifted her onto the washing machine. It was still filling with water, and I sat her down on the glass lid, her knees spread.
She laughed a little at being up there, and my Lord, had I ever seen such a beautiful sight?
“You’re gorgeous,” I said and thought at the same time. Her hair was falling loose over her shoulders and her breasts jutted up as she put her hands behind her. Her eyes were bright, her lips rosy from my kisses.
“Aren’t I a little high up here?” she asked, reaching for my jeans.
“Not for what I have in mind. Sweetheart, I want to taste you.” I stepped back, evading her hands, then dropped to my knees. “We only just have long enough for that, and it’s the best thing to do with that length of time.”
As we couldn’t make love, this wasn’t just the next best thing, it was necessary. She needed my tongue, and I needed to revel in the best view in the world, enjoying the way she tasted and felt as I watched her come apart.
She bit her lip, watching me kiss my way up her soft thigh. Clearly not just willing, but eager. “What about you?” she asked.
“This is for me as much as it is for you.” I rubbed my short beard gently over the sensitive skin on her inner thigh and her breath hitched. “That’s it, beautiful,” I murmured, using my hands to spread her further and letting my warm breath gust over her. “Lie back and enjoy.”
Water stopped running into the washing machine, and the machine clicked into the agitation part of its cycle. The paddles inside it turned this way, then that way, swirling the clothes in the water. With each rotation, the machine shuddered.
Mags gasped with pleasure as I licked her, slowly exploring and savoring her.
“Oh my God,” she moaned. “Cy, that’s so good.”
It wasn’t just good, it was fucking amazing. I loved her taste and the way she smelled. I loved the way she looked with her head thrown back and her lips parted. I loved that she kept closing her eyes then flicking them open again, the sensations overwhelming her as she tried to watch me feast on her. And I loved that every time the machine shuddered, her spectacular breasts and her rounded, feminine stomach shook with tremors.
She moaned again. “I’m going to...” Her words were swallowed up in a groan as I pushed two fingers inside her. I lapped more quickly as she spread her legs wider, threading her fingers into my hair.
I wanted to tell her how gorgeous she looked, and how sexy she was. But she gave a little cry and then she was coming, her body shaking with the force of her release. She clenched around my fingers, and her thighs trembled. Her cries became loud, then slowly died down, the last one becoming a whimper.
Her eyes opened slowly. “Oh my God,” she said on a gust of breath.
Rising, I lifted her off the washing machine and set her on her feet. She sagged against it, her arms around my waist, her cheek on my T-shirt, her naked body so tempting, it was all I could do not to carry her into the bedroom and throw her onto the bed.
“My legs are wobbly. That was amazing.” Her eyes came up to mine. “But what about you?” She cupped me over my jeans.
My cock felt like it was trying to tear right through my jeans to force its way into her hand. I was so turned on that if she stroked me, I’d come quickly. But I just kissed the tip of her nose.
“We’re out of time, beautiful,” I told her. “It’s seven twenty. If I don’t leave now, you won’t make it to work at all.”