by Jill Knowles
He started back toward town, fingertips tingling as he imagined running them over Maggie’s soft skin.
* * * * *
The strangest thing, Maggie decided, was that people responded to the library closure in exactly the same way they’d responded to her mother’s death. Casseroles, fried chicken, and pies overflowed her refrigerator and freezer, even though she’d sent plenty home with Sean and Junior. Suzie had been persuaded to take a pan of chili rellenos and a sweet potato pie. Maggie had also sent each of them away with vases of cut flowers, and the scent of the remainder was giving her a headache. She’d set the phone on vibrate an hour ago, and was contemplating hiding in her bedroom and refusing to answer the door.
Knock, knock, knock.
She pasted a smile on her face as she opened the door, wondering who in the hell was outside this time. “Dax?” Oh no. She’d completely forgotten their date. He stood on her front porch dressed in black jeans and an emerald green knit shirt, looking utterly edible. And she wore sweats, a stained tank top, and had cried her makeup off hours ago.
His smile faded as he got a good look at her. “What happened? Are you all right?” He didn’t wait for her to reply, just drew her into her arms.
Maggie hugged him, her hands fisting in his shirt. “The city council closed the library.”
“What?” He pulled back to study her face. “Why?”
She rested her head on his shoulder, his lack of height making him perfect for giving hugs. The scent of citrus and spice surrounded her, calming and soothing her. “Lack of funds. Apparently, it came down to a choice between the library and the jail. Books or crooks.” She drew away, taking his hand and leading him into the living room. “I’m not sure how much fun I’ll be tonight, but I’d like the company.”
He rubbed his thumb across the back of her hand. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”
Smiling to take the sting out of her words, she said, “You are the king of clichés. I’m not entirely sure I believe you, but it’s awful nice to hear.” It was wonderful to spend time with someone who just wanted to offer comfort.
He sat on the couch, tugging her down next to him. “After you tell me what happened today and if there’s anything I can do, I’ll tell you what I walked away from to spend time with you.” He quirked a grin at her. “You might be impressed.”
“Fair enough.” Maggie scooted closer to him. “You know most of it. Apparently, the city council held a special meeting this morning and decided to close the library.” She flinched as the words left her mouth. Saying them aloud hadn’t gotten any easier. “In a fit of extreme tackiness, they sent their youngest member, my ex-boyfriend, to give me the news.” She was too irritated at the council to consider the fact that James had probably been at least as uncomfortable as she was about the situation. I am so not voting for any of them again.
“Nice,” Dax snapped.
“Yes, I thought so, too.” Resting her hand on his thigh, she continued, “Sean and I called the rest of the crew, put up signs, and then came here to gorge on more chocolate than any ten human beings should eat.”
“Sean?”
Hoping he wasn’t the type to get jealous over nothing, she said, “The redhead from the library.”
“Ah.” He linked his hand with hers, giving it a squeeze. “I’m guessing he went home?”
“Yeah. His husband, Junior, picked him up about an hour ago.” This was her second test. She’d found that homophobes were not the sort of people she enjoyed being around. Besides, in her opinion, anyone who put restrictions on love was an idiot. As far as Maggie was concerned, as long as all parties involved were consenting adults, it was all good.
“Junior.” Dax shifted so he could see her face. “The cop whose real name is almost as bad as mine?”
Interesting ... the gay thing didn’t get a reaction. Cool. “Yeah.” Curiosity got the better of her. “Get a speeding ticket?”
“Nope.” He gave her a quelling look. “We met the other day outside the library. He was admiring Bertha.” Correctly interpreting her questioning look, he added, “My Jeep.”
“How did you find out his real name? He hates that name.” And had ever since they’d started kindergarten together thirty years ago.
“He asked about the name Dax. I asked his real name. When he spilled, I spilled.”
She gave him a soft poke in the side with her elbow. “So, spill. I’m curious.”
He pursed his lips as if he wasn’t sure of her, then yelped when she gave him a slightly harder poke. “Sheesh, you don’t have to get rough. My name ...” He winced. “... is Desmond-Angus, hyphenated, thank you very much, Xavier.”
“Desmond-Angus Xavier Hunter.” She tilted her head to one side. “Did your parents want you to get beat up every day in school?”
He snorted. “I was the smallest kid in my class until junior high. Believe me, I learned to fight dirty early on.”
“So did Junior.” She remembered the time Junior had been suspended for breaking an older kid’s nose. No one called him anything but Junior after that.
Crank, usually the shiest of her two cats, came out of the bedroom and jumped up onto the couch, making herself at home in Dax’s lap.
“Hello,” he said, rubbing her chin. He was rewarded with her squeaky purr. “That’s the oddest purr I’ve ever heard.”
“Wait until she gets warmed up. It sounds like she’s slipped a belt.” Rusty meandered into the room, jumping up to settle on Dax’s other side.
“What,” Maggie asked, only half kidding. “Is your fairy talent ‘friend to cats’?”
“Nope.” He winked at her. “Oral sex.” A wicked grin on his face, he added, “Cats just like me because I have a way with pussy.”
“Oh, you rat.” She pulled her hand free to run her fingers down his ribs.
“Hey,” he said, squirming away from her.
Maggie twirled an imaginary mustache. “So you’re ticklish. Be afraid, be very afraid.” Pouncing, she dug her fingers into his sides. He tried to retaliate, but she wasn’t ticklish.
He twisted away, laughing. “Help! Murder, fire, purple dinosaurs!” He batted at her hands, his own oddly gentle.
Even as she pressed her advantage, straddling him to hold him still, Maggie had the sense that he was being very careful with her. Finally, laughing uncontrollably, tears running down his cheeks, he stood up, with her in his arms. Instinctively, Maggie wrapped her legs around his waist. She realized that she was echoing the position she’d seen Sean and Junior in earlier, but she didn’t have a wall behind her to help brace her. Dax held her easily.
“You’re stronger than you look,” she said, sliding her hands up his arms to rest on his shoulders. Sudden arousal made her nipples tighten. She wasn’t used to feeling dainty.
He smiled at her, his face a study in confused determination. “Yes, I am.”
Still in his arms, she used a fingertip to wipe some of the moisture from his face. She tilted her head down and kissed him, tasting laughter and salt on his lips. “Be strong for me tonight?”
“Where?”
She pointed to the hallway. “Second door on the left.”
Being carried into her bedroom and set down on her bed was one of the most erotic things Maggie had ever experienced. She pulled the door closed behind them to keep the cats out. When they reached the bed, she unhooked her legs, sliding her body down his. The bulge in his jeans offered mute evidence that he was as aroused as she was. She perched on the edge of the bed and leaned forward, rubbing her face against his cloth covered erection. “I want you in my mouth,” she said, pressing open-mouthed kisses to his fly.
He shuddered against her. “I bought these this morning.” He fumbled his wallet from his back pocket and pulled out two foil packages, handing them to her.
Maggie kept her cheek pressed against him as she studied the two condoms. Strawberry and grape. She tucked the purple square into his back pocket, her hand lingering on his tight ass, then pu
shed him back just enough so that she could stand.
“Maggie?” he said, a quizzical expression on his face.
“Shhh.” She pulled her tank top off, and then her bra, tossing them toward the hamper in the corner. Her sweats and panties followed. Dax’s eyes devoured her as he fumbled with his belt.
She pushed his hands away. “Let me.” Blowing a fully clothed man had been a fantasy of hers that she wasn’t sure would ever be enacted. I hope it’s as good as I imagined. She opened his belt and the button on his jeans, then unzipped his fly, grinning when his cock pushed forward aggressively. Tugging his jeans and boxer-briefs down just enough to free his erection, she pressed a kiss against the satiny skin of his penis. The rigid flesh twitched against her lips, making her mouth water. Hoping it was as easy on a real cock as it was on a vibrator, she opened the condom, placing the strawberry-flavored circle in her mouth. Sending a prayer to the patron goddess of slutty girls, she pressed her mouth against him, using her lips and tongue to work the condom over the head of his penis. Unwilling at this point to attempt deep-throating him, she used her hand to roll the condom the rest of the way down, while she sucked on the head.
“Maggie,” he gritted out, his index finger tracing her lips where they circled him. “Sweet Maggie.”
With a mental apology to the political correctness police, she slid off the bed until she was kneeling in front of him. I wish I could see this; I bet we look hot together.
Dax made a strangled sound, and she could feel him trembling.
She pulled away, and looked up at him. He was biting his lower lip, his breath coming in soft pants. “Tell me.”
“What?”
“Tell me what I look like sucking your cock.” She took him in her mouth again, loving the texture of strawberry-flavored steel against her tongue.
“You, naked at my feet, your mouth on me.” His voice got stronger, more even as he spoke. Her pussy got wetter and wetter with each word. “So beautiful. Tousled, chestnut hair, skin like milky caramel, the long line of your back.” He growled low in his throat. “I wish I could see your tits. I bet your nipples are tight and hard right now.” Petting her hair, he added, “Imagine me playing with them as you suck me. I’m tugging at them, pinching them, and rolling your stiff little tittie peaks between my fingers.”
Maggie pulled away and licked his testicles, the lightly furred skin like hot velvet against her lips. She captured one in her mouth, suckling it like he’d nursed at her clit last night. Her hands cupped and caressed his butt cheeks, one teasing between them, the other rubbing the hot spot at the base of his spine.
“You look so amazing, pretty Maggie. Naked, kneeling in front of me, you should be vulnerable, submissive.” His breath drew in with a hiss when she nibbled at his balls. “But you’re so strong, so powerful ...” His words broke off into a wordless moan when her mouth closed over the head of his cock again.
She concentrated on breathing through her nose as she sank down on him, taking him into the back of her mouth and swallowing. Her gag reflex only gave a slight twitch as his cock glided into her throat. In some ways, it was easier than it had been with “David.” Living flesh had much more give to it than plastic did. She swallowed around him a few times, then pulled back, until just the head rested on her tongue. Adrenaline made her breathe hard, though deep-throating him had been easier than she’d hoped. Letting him slip from between her lips with a wet pop, she peered up at him. “Do you want me to finish you this way, or do you want to come inside me?”
“I want to fuck you.”
“Good.” She lay back on the bed and grasped her legs, holding them up and open in blatant invitation. “Can you do me without getting undressed?” His red-latex covered shaft jerked at her words, making her grin.
She saw his throat work as he swallowed a groan. “Oh, woman, what you do to me.” He pulled his pants and underwear up long enough to settle between her legs without killing himself, then pushed them back down. She felt a nudge, and his rigid cock was pushing into her with one long, inexorable plunge. “Mmmm, that’s so good.” He slid his hands underneath her calves, raising her legs until her knees rested on his shoulders.
She shivered as he shifted, pressing deep inside her.
“Okay?”
She nodded. “Oh, yeah.” He leaned back until he was kneeling upright, his hips driving his shaft into her in long, slow thrusts. The fine texture of his shirt teased the backs of her thighs and her ass. Her legs framed his cloth-covered torso perfectly, her pale skin a beautiful contrast against the dark green shirt. It felt so decadent to lie naked beneath him while his clothing was loosened just enough to accommodate the act.
Dax let go of her legs, his hands covering her nipples and giving each peak a swift, hard pinch. The almost-pain of it pushed her over the edge into her first orgasm. Chuckling wickedly, he began to torment her breasts, varying the intensity of pressure with each stroke, squeeze, and pinch. Not knowing if his touches were going to be too soft, edge toward too hard, or give her the exact sensation she needed, kept her on the knife edge of climax until she begged him, “Just do it, damn it, fuck me hard.”
“Pushy, pushy.” Grasping her ankles, he pulled her legs up and open until her knees were just barely bent. His thrusts got rougher and harder, forcing her into a brutal, soul-shattering orgasm. As everything fuzzed white, then faded into blackness, she felt him jerk against her, a low growl vibrating his chest with every jolt of his own climax.
* * * * *
“Come with me.” Dax was shocked to hear the words come from his mouth. He wadded up his jeans and put them on top of his shirt and boxer-briefs.
“Hmm?” Maggie stretched languidly, her eyes barely open.
For one, panicked instant, he was going to deny he’d said anything. Then, she smiled sleepily at him.
“Come with me tomorrow morning. I think I’ve figured out what’s going on with the ‘creepy place.’ At least part of it.” He slid beneath the covers, pulling her close against him. Her skin was warm and silky against his as she made herself comfortable, her head resting on his shoulder.
“Really?” She sounded a bit more awake. “I’m listening.”
The fizz-pop of chaos energy tickled through him, mingling with the warm honey of sexual satiation. “A cave.” He’d have to be careful not to give away just how much he knew about the place. “Maybe.” He blew out a breath. “I’m going to hook a cable winch to the big-ass boulder blocking what I think is the entrance to a cave, and see if I can pull it away.” Bertha wouldn’t let him down. If it was doable, she’d pull the rock away from the entrance. “Then, we’ll go inside and see what’s there.”
“I’ll be right beside you.” Maggie ran a hand down his chest, toying absently with the hoop in his left nipple.
Dax refused to acknowledge the spark her words ignited inside him.
“Why writing?”
Where had that come from? “Excuse me?”
“Why did you choose to become a writer?”
He ran a hand over her hip. “I’ve always been restless, wanting to stand in the center of the tornado while it twirled around me.” He’d done it, too, though not on purpose. It was an interesting experience, but not one he wanted to repeat. He’d liked that car. It hadn’t been as cool as Bertha, but the mustang had been a classic before it had been bent like a taco. Hitting a large oak tree while flying through the air sideways had been a hell of a rush. “Writing lets me do that. As a writer, if I’m doing my job correctly, my pieces spark discussion, maybe make people view things in a new way.”
“Sounds dangerous.”
He tilted his head up to see her face. “Why do you say that?”
“People don’t like change. Look at this town. As things have fallen apart, the domestic violence crimes have skyrocketed.”
“It can be dangerous. I wrote an article last year that made someone take a potshot at me.”
“Don’t think you’re not going to tell me the whole st
ory, buster.” She inched her hand toward his side. “I’ll tickle it out of you if I have to.”
He caught her hand, kissed her palm, and pressed it against his belly. “There’s a guy -- a Vietnam veteran -- who lives on the Oregon coast and rehabilitates injured sea mammals. Many of the seals and sea lions he treats have been shot by fishermen, who view them as competition for salmon and other fish. The fishermen don’t like him helping creatures they see as the enemy, and have sent him death threats. He’s also been shot at. That’s why I did the article.”
“Did they catch the person?”
“No. Most of the cops are related to fishermen. The shooting stopped, though.”
She lazily petted his abs, and he thought she was going to sleep.
“What’s your dream story? When you lay in bed at night, or practice your Pulitzer speech, what is the ultimate story you’d like to write?”
“What I hope will happen here.” It would happen; he could feel it.
“Oh? What?”
“I want to find something important. Some huge mystery, or eighth wonder of the world, or huge scientific discovery. Something that changes every person that sees it. The discovery that brings people to Keily and gives the town something to live for.” It was so easy to talk to her, tell her his deepest, most cherished wishes. A frisson of fear tickled down his spine. Maybe too easy. His mind screamed at him to pull away from her, get dressed, and leave. Instead, he pulled her closer.
“Wow.” She kissed his shoulder. “You dream big. I like it.”
I hope you keep that attitude. Change often held as much pain as pleasure. The town would pay a high price for salvation; he hoped it was worth it.
“And you? Why become a librarian?” He caressed her belly with his fingertips.
“That’s easy.” Her voice started to slur as sleep claimed her. “I love books. I love Keily. The library is my favorite place to be.” Maggie’s breathing slowed and she fell asleep.
Dax brushed a strand of chestnut hair from her face and kissed her cheek. “Sleep well, pretty Maggie. We’ll save the library and the town.” He just hoped he didn’t destroy his heart in the process.
