Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Magnolia was scared.
Just not enough to leave the comfort of Dawson’s arms. Or the heat of his kisses.
His story about his mama had crumbled her willpower like she’d crumbled Wilbur’s bacon and she couldn’t hold Dawson at arm’s length any longer.
She couldn’t close him out like his mama had.
No matter how much it might hurt her. She had fought against her growing feeling for Dawson for as long as she could and she was through fighting.
She loved him.
She didn’t know how it had happened. All she knew was that the more she discovered the sensitive man beneath the grumpy shell, the deeper she fell.
She now realized his uncaring persona was all just a smoke screen.
A smoke screen he used to convince people he didn’t care about what they thought of him.
But the truth was he cared deeply. He cared about his mama’s indifference.
He cared about Jaxon’s distrust. He cared about the town’s prejudice. He cared if Wilbur liked him.
He cared.
And she was head over heels for this caring man.
There was no way she could reject him when he’d finally trusted her enough to let that smoke screen dissipate.
“Maggie May,” he whispered her name as he kissed his way back to her lips. He might not be good at communicating with words, but he was amazing at communicating with kisses.
He took his time, leisurely feasting upon her mouth like a meal he wanted to savor as his hand slipped up her thigh and beneath her skirt. When he reached her panties, he paused for a heartbeat before his fingers traced the plump folds beneath the cotton.
The feel of those hot fingers strumming over her had moist heat flooding and a tiny moan escaping her throat. His other hand tightened in her hair, and he continued to sip at her lips as his broad finger outline her damp seam with a gentle stroke . . . before firmly pressing on her clit.
Intense pleasure ricocheted through her and her hips bucked, causing the swing to sway, as she moaned much louder into his mouth.
He answered her with a moan of his own as his finger stroked back and forth over her now-throbbing clit.
She might have reached the Big O if a low, deep growl hadn’t caused Dawson to freeze.
They drew apart and found Wilbur standing next to the swing, glaring at them with his teeth bared. Magnolia didn’t know if he was mad at Dawson for making his ear-scratcher moan or mad at her for getting his bacon-supplier’s attention.
Whatever the reason, the dog wasn’t happy.
Magnolia started to scold him, but Dawson spoke before she could. Not in a fearful voice, but in a sexy, commanding voice that made her even hotter.
“Down!”
Wilbur hesitated a moment before he complied. Once he was no longer growling, Dawson removed her feet from his lap and stood. He picked up the leash she’d hooked over the arm of the swing and attached it to Wilbur’s collar before he took her hand and pulled her to her feet.
She thought he would release her once she was standing, but instead he linked their fingers and led both her and Wilbur around to the back patio, stopping along the way to let Wilbur do his business.
Once they were on the patio, he unhooked Wilbur’s leash and patted his head. “You’re on your own, Willy Boy. Try not to disembowel any more toys.”
The nickname melted her heart, but not as much as the kiss he gave her as soon as they stepped into the house. This one wasn’t leisurely. This was possessive and pure alpha male. He even growled as he pushed her up against a wall and claimed her mouth.
“Tell me if you don’t like something,” he whispered against her lips.
At the moment, there wasn’t one thing she could think of that she wouldn’t like Dawson to do. She certainly enjoyed what he was doing now.
The consuming thrust of his tongue in her mouth. The possessive grip of his hand on her ass. The rhythmic grind of his hard fly against her damp panties.
She was nothing but a trembling mass of need by the time he lifted her into his arms and carried her to his room. He gently lowered her to the mattress, leaning on his hands to give her a long, sultry kiss that curled her toes before he drew away.
The curtains were open and the moonlight played with the flexing muscles of his torso as he lifted his arms and stripped off his shirt, tossing it in a corner. She admired the sight as she unbuttoned and took off her shirt. But when she reached behind her to unhook her bra, he stopped her.
“Nope.” He gave her breasts a heated look. “I want the job of revealing those sweet things.”
She lowered her hands. “And what about me? Maybe I want the pleasure of revealing your sweet thing.”
His smile was cocky and cute as he toed off his boots, then moved closer to the bed. “I don’t know how sweet it is but have at it.”
She had undressed men before, but never one with quite an impressive package. The hard bulge distending his fly made it nearly impossible to get the zipper down.
“Could you suck in?” she asked as she struggled to tug it down.
“Suck in?” A snorted laugh escaped his mouth. “That’s not quite how it works, Maggie May. Now if you were to suck it in . . .”
Her gaze snapped up to his amused face and all the scolding she’d been about to do died on her lips. There was nothing as beautiful as a smiling, twinkling-eyed Dawson Hennessy. He could laugh at her all day and night. She didn’t care as long as that look of happiness stayed on his face.
“If you help me with this zipper, sucking in might be in your future.”
It was her turn to laugh when he quickly brushed her hands out of the way and made short work of lowering the zipper, then he pushed down his jeans and stepped out of them. His girth and length stretching out the black cotton had her breath quickening and her panties growing damper.
She reached out and did what he’d done on the swing and outlined his blatant virility with one finger, starting at the base, then looping up over the wet spot at the top, before heading down the other side.
His voice was unsteady but serious when he spoke. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”
She glanced up at him. “What if I want to do everything?” She closed her hand around his length and squeezed.
His breath hissed out as his eyes slammed closed.
The sight of controlled Dawson losing control had her peeling down his boxers.
She took only a second to enjoy the masculine splendor springing free before she fisted him bare and lowered her head.
He moaned deep in his throat as she took him into her mouth. She sucked him in and his other hand came up and slid in her hair as his hips bucked reflexively.
“Damn, Mag . . . ahh . . . shit . . . that feels so good . . . like so damn good . . . I just . . . shit . . .”
If she hadn’t been so busy, she might have laughed.
She’d finally found a way to get Dawson to talk.
But before she could hear more of his sexy rambling, his hands tightened in her hair and he drew her back. “If you keep going, Maggie May, I won’t be able to do everything I want to do.” He joined her on the bed and kissed her, drawing his flavor into his mouth with a groan.
She didn’t know how it happened, but before the kiss even felt like it got started, her bra straps slipped down her arms.
She drew back and stared at him. “You are the Houdini of bras.”
He didn’t answer. He was too busy staring at her breasts. Of all her features, her breasts were the ones she was most self-conscious about. They would barely fill a teacup, and their small nipples weren’t even pink. They were more brownish rose.
But Dawson didn’t seem to find fault with them. His voice held awed admiration as he gently cradled one in his hand. “Perfect.”
“I wouldn’t say per—” She cut off on a gasp when he pushed her back to the bed and lowered his head.
He didn’t concentrate on her nipple with brushes of his tongue or sips from his lips.
Instead, he tried to pull her entire boob into his hot, wet mouth in a sucking kiss that turned her nipple into a tight, aching bud and caused need to quiver between her legs.
“Daw-son,” she groaned out as he slipped a hand beneath her skirt.
Tugging her panties to the side, he dipped a finger inside her, thrusting a few times before he pulled out and spread the wetness along the lips and over her clit. As her body clenched with need, she released a moan mixed with an ahh.
He repeated the actions—dipping, spreading, stroking—until her legs trembled and her hips pumped closer to his hand. She was about to start begging when his fingers finally settled on her throbbing clit.
It usually took men having sex with her a few times before they figured out the exact rhythmic stroke that worked for her.
Not so with Dawson. There was no hesitation or indecisiveness.
No trial and error. The tips of his fingers settled on her clit, and he proceeded to bring her to orgasm like no man had ever brought her to orgasm before.
As she crested, he decreased the rhythm and gently bit down on her nipple, bringing her even higher.
When her world stopped spinning, she opened her eyes to see him leaning on his bent arm watching her. With a smile on his face. Not smug or cocky. Just satisfied. Like giving her an orgasm was all he’d ever wanted in life.
“Good?”
She nodded. “Very.” Lifting her butt, she wiggled out of her skirt and panties and tossed them to the floor before she rolled to her side and mimicked his pose. She brushed a finger over his lips tracing his smile. “You don’t use this enough.”
His smile slipped. “I certainly haven’t given it to you very often.”
“Which just makes it more special.” She leaned in and kissed him before glancing down at his hard on. “Should we do something about that twitching beast?”
His eyes widened and the smile came back. “Twitching beast?” He rolled her to her back and held her hands above her head. “Oh, you are going to get it for that slur against my manhood, Maggie May. What shall it be? A spanking? Or maybe just some . . . fuzzy bubbles?”
“Fuzzy bubbles?” It was more a question than an answer, but Dawson didn’t see it that way.
“Then fuzzy bubbles it is.”
He released her hands and moved down until he was kneeling on the floor. Hooking his hands beneath her knees, he tugged her closer to the edge until her legs were spread and hooked over his shoulders.
“Now fuzzy bubbles are not for the faint of heart. Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer a spanking?”
If she hadn’t worried about looking inexperienced, she might have asked him what they were. Instead, she only nodded.
He shrugged, her legs lifting with his shoulders. “Suit yourself. But be prepared.”
Then he lowered his mouth.
Her breath sucked in at just the thought of that mouth working its magic, but instead of landing where she thought it would land, it landed on her lower belly where he blew loud raspberries against her skin.
She had always been ticklish, so she immediately tried to get away, but Dawson held her in place until she was squirming with laughter and begging to be let go.
“Okay . . . it’s a manly staff . . . a massive battering ram . . . a sexy rod of love.”
He lifted his head, his eyes narrowed in thought. “Sexy Rod of Love. I think I like that.” He looked at her. “You ready for the Sexy Rod of Love?” When she hesitated, he added. “Or do you want more fuzzy bubbles?”
“No! Bring on the Sexy Rod of Love.”
“I think not. At least not yet.” His gaze lowered. “I want to taste you first.”
He did taste her. He tasted her with lush tongue-strokes and gentle sucks that left her nothing but a trembling mass of need.
After he’d given her another orgasm, he got up and moved to the nightstand.
Before her orgasm haze could lift, he had a condom on and rejoined her on the bed.
His eyes were serious as he smoothed back her hair.
“I just want you to know that if you aren’t feeling comfortable with this, we won’t—”
She cut him off. “I swear, if you are not inside me in the next two seconds, Dawson Hennessy, I’m going to give you fuzzy bubbles.”
A smile lit up his face. “Sweetheart, you can give me all the fuzzy bubbles you want.”
Other men had called her sweetheart, but it had never made her heart flutter and tummy dip. And maybe it wasn’t the word as much as the way Dawson said it. Like she was someone special. Someone he cherished.
And the feeling only grew when he entered her. His sunburst eyes stayed on her face, gauging her reactions to the tilt of his hips and the depth of each thrust. He didn’t rush things. He took his time reigniting her passion with slow, sultry kisses . . . and lots of dirty talk.
“You like that, Maggie May? You like my cock being deep inside you? That’s it, baby . . . squeeze me tight and never let me go. I’ll fuck you all night just to hear those sexy little moans.”
That was all it took for her to climax.
As she gripped his muscled butt and rode it out, Dawson finally lost control and started thrusting hard and fast.
“God . . . ahhh . . . fuck . . . I can’t . . . Mags . . . dammit . . . I need you!”
He slumped over her and there was this moment of silence where all she heard were their lungs struggling for breath. Where all she felt was the rapid thumps of their hearts beating together.
If she doubted her feelings before, she didn’t doubt them now. She felt more than just love for Dawson. She felt a deep connection.
A merging of souls.
That terrified her.