Chapter 9 #3
Sliding his finger into her tight channel, he continued to tease her while she panted and moaned beneath him.
Finally taking pity on her, he pulled her clit into his mouth, flicking it with his tongue as he added another finger.
The spasms started immediately, and Nick followed her long dance with amazing persistence.
While she was still crying out her pleasure, Nick rose above her and holding her warm bottom cheeks in both hands, he entered her in one thrilling thrust. Maggie went wild.
She was uncontrollable, starving for his possession and not even aware that she was sobbing his name over and over.
Her nails scored his back as she bucked beneath him, and when he picked up speed she imploded, convulsing around him as he continued to fight his own climax.
It felt so good; he never wanted it to end.
Her heat, her cries, were all he lived for now, and he gave her everything he had.
Maggie had no choice but to go with him into the storm, and as Nick exploded within her, lightening seared her once more. The last rainbow was another surprise.
* * *
Maggie awoke slowly just as the sun began making forays into her bedroom. Her head was on Nick’s shoulder and his arm kept her clamped to his side. Poor Nick was sleeping corner to corner on her bed and still his feet hung off. Opening her eyes, she studied the sleeping man beside her.
God, he was magnificent. His face was relaxed, making him look younger than his years, even with the flecks of silver at his temple.
His pecks were well defined, and his chest, which had a sprinkling of dark hair, rose and fell with his quiet breathing.
And the mother of all blessings, he was on his back and not snoring.
Her eyes traveled down his firm abs and trim waist, moving quickly to his strong thighs.
As huge as they were, even his feet were attractive.
Slowly moving his arm, she rolled onto her back and assessed her own body. Not too bad for having born three children she thought, although her slightly rounded abdomen bothered the hell out of her. As far as the rest of her, she might as well have been made out of butter.
Maggie felt as though she didn’t have a muscle in her body.
Every part of her was soft and languid. Other than a little soreness on her backside and between her legs, she’d never felt so relaxed.
A blush began on her chest and quickly swept up over her face as she recalled her wanton behavior.
Nick was an incredible lover. Maggie hadn’t had sex like that since…
well not ever, she forced herself to admit.
Unfortunately, everything she’d been afraid of had come to pass.
Nick had completely taken control of her.
From the moment he’d swept her into his arms, he’d owned her.
Maggie had been utterly helpless against his skill and her desire.
Even now, as she tried to get out of bed, his huge body lying on her hair trapped her.
She was well and truly caught, like a butterfly on a pin. She was dead meat.
She pictured herself as June Cleaver, scurrying around the house in heels and pearls, waiting for her lord and master to get home.
She would be waiting at the door with his pipe, slippers, and the evening paper, as she presented her cheek for his kiss, asking “How was your day, Dear?” Well, scratch the pipe, Nick didn’t smoke, but…
it could happen. Once a woman lost her independence, she was toast.
Still, her mind continued, he was a fantastic lover. I wonder if I could rent him, say like twice a week for… eternity. Hey, maybe being like Carol Brady would work out better. She wasn’t allowed to work either, but she’d had a maid!
But what about the spanking thing? That was a little worrisome.
She hadn’t seen any of those TV wives get spanked, but heck, who knew what went on behind the scenes.
All those men were old-fashioned, no nonsense kind of guys, just like Nick.
She didn’t even want to think about Lucy and Ricky, oh no, let’s not go there.
Yanking her imagination back to the problem at hand, Maggie worked quietly to free her hair.
Finally she managed to get out of bed leaving only a few strands behind.
Tip-toeing across the room to the bathroom, she closed the door without waking at him.
Other than her bottom being slightly pink and her hair making her look like a wild banshee, there wasn’t a mark on her.
Thankfully no hickeys marked her smooth throat, saving her from turtlenecks for the next week.
A hickey would be very hard to explain to her mother.
No, there was not one visibly physical mark to show that she had spent the night being devoured by an insatiable lover.
Nothing to show that she lost count of the number of times she came apart in his arms. He’d been gentle and relentless, never taking his pleasure until she was utterly spent.
He was exactly the kind of man she always wanted, and as she got in the shower she wondered for a fleeting moment which of her friends she could get to take him off her hands.