by Vivian Arend
“Stop looking around the room like you want to make heads roll,” Maggie ordered as they slowed their pace for the next song. “I’m not going to break because of a few snotty comments.”
No, she obviously wasn’t, and Clay tried hard to pull his caveman tendencies back under control, but it was damn impossible to hold back completely. He settled for shooting warning glares at the worst offenders.
By the time she seemed ready to call it a night, a layer of pleasure floated over a bed of banked coals. Something needed to change, and soon, but he wasn’t sure what. The people at Traders? He could mostly ignore.
His father was a far bigger dilemma.
“My place,” Maggie ordered as she pressed a brief kiss to his lips then tugged him out of the pub.
Clay didn’t protest. Just took her home and followed her into the living room, watching with amusement as she darted around the living room and dining areas, closing the curtains tightly. “Let me guess. You’re planning on killing me, and you don’t want any witnesses?”
“Don’t give me any ideas,” she said softly.
She met him in the middle of the room, her head tilted to the side as if she was thinking hard. As if she knew what she had to say but wasn’t sure how to say it. “Tell me the truth. Does it bother you that we’re together? Do you think it’s wrong, or that we should have waited longer?”
Clay shook his head. “God, Maggie, no. That’s not it at all.”
“Then I don’t get it. Why is it such a big deal to you that other people have a problem with it? Other people do a lot of things differently than we would, and when we disapprove they don’t turn around and try to live their lives by our rules.”
He caught her hands in his, trapped by loyalty and far too much history. “It’s not that simple.”
“It’s not, and yet it is. Taking care of me is one thing, and I know, damn, those early days after Cameron died, you helped hold me together. Back then what I needed was a big, strong protector, and that’s what you gave me, and I’m so glad.”
“But you don’t need me the same way?” The words came out brittle. What if she decided he was too much bullshit to put up with and it was time to end them? His heart pounded as if he’d been running a marathon.
Her expression softened. “You’re right, I don’t need you the same way.”
Fuck.
She hurried to finish. “Don’t look at me like that. What I’m trying to say is I need you more. And I need more from you, and I want to know—is that what you want too?”
“More of you?”
She nodded. “I don’t really need a protector, what I need is a partner. Someone who wants me beside them because we’re equals. Because together, we’re more than we are apart.”
The ice that encased him vanished, and he could breathe. It hadn’t registered exactly how far into his heart she’d managed to wiggle.
The truth burst out. “I can’t promise to stop protecting you.”
Maggie rolled her eyes before settling into a tolerant grin. “Look, I’m not going to object to you going caveman on me sometimes, but I’m not as fragile as I was a couple months ago. I don’t want you to feel like you have to be so…careful with me all the time.”
He caught the innuendo. “Is this about sex?”
A burst of laughter escaped. “Partly? But it’s also about everything. I’m not going to shrivel up because somebody at Traders gives me a dirty look for holding your hand. The only way other people are going to get over whatever issues they have— No, forget that.” She got right in his face and glared at him intently. “Us being together, this is a good thing, agreed?”
He nodded.
Maggie swallowed hard. “Then… Let’s be together. However we want and in whatever way that works for us. Sharing what makes us happy and what’s hurting us.”
Fuck. He knew exactly what she was hinting at.
He wanted to be a partner with her, God did he ever want to be completely and wholly together. And it didn’t matter what his father thought, because this was going to happen. Only…
If he shared what was bothering him, Maggie would forever carry that awful memory. Even if Clay knocked sense into his father, having that ugly judgment come out into the open could never be undone.
And that wasn’t what he wanted in his relationship with Maggie. It wasn’t what he wanted to be a part of his siblings’ memories.
So, fuck it all, he agreed with her and yet still had to choose to one final time do what he thought was best, no matter how much it might hurt.
He would talk to his father, in private and soon, and then deal with the fallout. He was choosing her.
Choosing them.
He caught her close and kissed her as an answer, because it was the best solution he could think of. She smiled against his lips before pulling back and tapping him firmly on the chest. “Stop distracting me. I want an answer. Can you do that? Can you sometimes be lovey-dovey and tender and romantic, and other times…”
“…and other times more energetic?”
Her eyes lit up, and a rosy flush spread over her face, this time not caused by fury. “If you’re serious, time to put your money where your mouth is. Or how about you let me put my mouth where the hell I want.”
He wasn’t quite sure what she was talking about until she dropped to her knees in front of him. Maggie tilted her head back to flash him a dirty smile as she reached for the button on his jeans.
Clay caught hold of her hands. “No, baby, this isn’t—”
She curled her fingertips into his waistband and held on tight. “The next fifteen minutes I’m in charge. You can have the fifteen minutes after that. Got it?”
It seemed this wasn’t the moment for careful. He released her wrists and placed his hands at his sides. Waiting to see where she would take this.
“You’re in charge, and no more holding back,” he agreed. “Maybe you should set a timer.” The words rumbled from deep in his chest as he pushed aside everything else and focused on this woman who knew how to drive him wild with barely a touch.
He’d been kidding, but Maggie popped up and headed to the kitchen, coming back with the digital one from off the fridge. “Brilliant. Until this goes off, you have to do everything I say, and that means everything.”
Maybe. “I’ll try.”
Sheer utter relief washed across her face followed by dirty anticipation. Maggie wasted no time getting back into position, the timer on the desk counting down. She was nearly vibrating as she stroked her fingers up his length to undo the button at his waistband. Slowly slipping down the zipper before tugging his jeans off his hips. She moaned with satisfaction, rubbing her cheek against the thick length of his cock trapped behind his cotton briefs.
A strangled gasp escaped his lips. Drive him wild? She was going to make him hyperventilate and fucking pass out in the first five minutes.
When she reached in and pulled out his cock, his entire body trembled. A first bit of come had escaped, and she lapped at it, her hot tongue and lips getting him wet as all the blood in his body rushed into one location. He was growing lightheaded. The minx showed no mercy as she hummed with delight, slowly licking, slowly surrounding him with her mouth before pulling back with a wicked suction that threatened to make him fall over.
His knees trembled, and he fucking gave up. Watching her, feeling her touch—she might be in charge, but he knew what he wanted to make this moment even better. Clay thrust his fingers into her hair and tightened his grip. A gasp escaped her, but this time instead of pausing he kept going, cradling her head so he could rock his hips forward and drive his cock deeper into the heated pleasure of her mouth.
He watched. Checked to make sure he wasn’t going too far, but he didn’t hold back as much either. Maggie gripped his thighs, fingertips digging into his skin as she blew his mind.
Fifteen minutes. He should be able to last that long and then turn the evening the direction he wanted, but her time had barely begun and
he was already worried about losing the entire shooting match in the next couple of seconds.
He forced them to a stop, breathing heavily as he fought the instinct to let go. Maggie pulled back, sucking hard as she went, separating from him with a loud pop.
“Had enough?” she said sweetly.
“Not fucking likely.”
She squealed as he scooped her up, shuffling his way out of the living room, kicking his jeans off behind him as he lowered her to the dining room table.
Maggie bit her lower lip as she waggled her brows at him. “Time flies when you’re having fun,” she teased.
“Screw the timer. Strip,” he ordered.
She placed her hands on the bottom of her dress, lifting it over her head willingly. He reached around and undid her bra, pulling the straps off her shoulders and tossing it behind him. One more wiggle and her panties joined the rest of their clothing abandoned on the floor
Maggie placed her hands behind her on the table and arched her torso toward him, her breasts displayed perfectly. “You’re still wearing your shirt,” she complained.
“So?” Clay leaned closer, leering down her body. “I didn’t say anything about leveling the playing field.”
He took her lips, possessive and controlling. Using his mouth to guide her back onto the solid oak table. As soon as she was laid out like a banquet, he moved lower, catching one pink peak in his mouth and sucking hard. Slipping his hands up to cup and caress her breasts as he alternated between her nipples.
And when he put his teeth to the tip, Maggie all but levitated off the table, her fingernails digging into his scalp as he continued to torment her.
He couldn’t stop touching her. One hand dropped to between her legs, his fingers slipping between her curls to find she was already wet for him.
“So sweet. I fucking love your pussy. I love the way you squeeze around my fingers. The way you clamp so tight around my cock, like you don’t ever want to let go.”
“Clay.” Her voice trembled as he slipped two fingers into her and placed his thumb over her clit, moving quicker and quicker as she writhed under him. Fucking her with his fingers as he went back and wrapped his lips around one nipple.
“Shall I fuck you on the table?” he asked, lips brushing the hard little peak. “I could flip you onto your stomach and drive my cock into you from behind. Or maybe we’ll stay right here in this position, with your feet over my shoulders so that when I’m pounding into you, you’re bent in two and can’t move. No way to escape until I drag every last fucking second of pleasure from you.”
Her hips slammed against his hand, and her wavering cry floated across the room.
Careful Clay would’ve stopped, slowing down to make sure he wasn’t pushing her too far. The Clay she claimed she wanted kept going, demanding more. Still holding back from taking everything he wanted, but only because when he finally gave in, it was going to be mind-blowing.
She was wrung out like a dishcloth and he wasn’t done with her, and the only thought in her head was a loud Ye-fucking-ha.
This was what she’d been looking for the past few weeks. This was what had been missing. As Clay pulled his hand from her body and licked his fingers clean, an absolutely filthy smile in his eyes, Maggie wanted to get up on the table and do a victory dance.
Only she couldn’t because he’d dropped to his knees, jerked her hips to the edge of the table and put his mouth against her sex.
Some noises escaped her. She didn’t think it was a complete sentence. Heck, not even a real word, more like a plea for him to never, ever stop. He jammed his hands under her ass and lifted her tighter to his mouth. Fucking his tongue as deep as he could then coming back and teasing her clit until she wrapped her legs around his head in an attempt to break away.
The only thing that stopped him was her orgasm, her body rocking so hard the table under her jolted and scraped over the floor.
She got a ten-second reprieve as he tore his shirt over his head, jerking it forward hard enough seams ripped. Then she was in the air, clutching his muscular shoulders as he carried her down the hall.
“I’d complain about being hauled around like a sack of grain, but I don’t think I can walk,” she teased.
She caught a flash of grin in the second before he tossed her on the bed. Literally tossed. Maggie stopped herself from rolling, twisting up to a sitting position as he grabbed a condom from the bedside table.
He paused for long enough to roll it down his length, staring at her the entire time. “You’re so damn beautiful you make my body ache. I can’t fucking believe that I’m here with you. That we’re together.”
“Believe it,” she whispered as he stalked toward her.
He trapped her with his body weight. Kissing her until she was shaking with need. They rolled on the mattress, bodies rubbing together until they ended up sitting on the bed, her straddling his hips, the head of his cock just inside her sex as he pressed his open hands to her bare back. Sealing her breasts to his muscular chest. Their eyes fixed on each other.
He pushed her onto his length, the thickness stretching her in a way that made every nerve in her body tingle with delight. She was more than satisfied, and more than ready for him to get his release. She expected him to increase his speed. To pound into her like he’d talked about earlier, but what she got was cautious touching and tender caresses as he rocked them together. Joining their lips in one passionate kiss after another.
It was perfect. This was exactly what she’d wanted. They didn’t need to swing from the chandelier, but she was glad he’d been willing to take it further than usual. Leaning her back as he rocked a little quicker, tugging their bodies tight together as if he couldn’t bear to be apart.
He came with his lips on hers, whispering her name.
Her entire body buzzed with pleasure. She was warm and protected, and listened to.
Maybe even loved.
Maggie smiled and leaned her head on his shoulder to hide the moisture in her eyes. She didn’t know what she’d done to deserve being blessed with two amazing men in her lifetime, but she wasn’t going to complain. And she wasn’t going to take it for granted.
She was going to hold on with both hands if necessary. Clay had taken the first step, and she was determined he would never regret it.
Chapter Seventeen
Clay transferred another full wheelbarrow load from the back of his truck to where Maggie worked on her hands and knees, positioning the first of the sturdier plants into the prepared garden plots.
She smiled at him, and a warm glow pooled all over him, not just desire but, pure honest affection.
Okay, a whole hell of a lot of desire too.
“You keep looking at me like that, and I might have to take you into the garden shed,” he warned.
“Scandalous.” She pretended to cover her mouth in shock. “You better make sure you get such wicked thoughts out of the way before the rest of the work crew show up.”
“When are they getting here?”
Maggie laughed. “In case it was a real question, Daniel said by nine o’clock.” She rose, brushing the dirt from her knees before coming to stand at his side. “The project is looking fantastic.”
He nodded. “It’s not your typical way to build, but at least now that the exteriors and walkways are done, you can finish making the outside look pretty while they wrap the interiors.”
“Do they have a lot to do inside?” she asked. “I haven’t been keeping track of that part.”
“Daniel said they’re on schedule for August 1. I’ll know more by the end of today.” He pulled her close and kissed her briefly before motioning to the load of plants. “Where do you want me to put these?”
She gave him his orders, and he happily provided the grunt labour, working at her side to turn the barren landscape into what would soon be four beautiful homes.
They’d committed to helping all day while the weather was clear, but Clay was already thinking about tracking hi
s father down. There was a long unfinished conversation that needed to happen soon.
As the sun beat down on the project and trucks rolled in with willing hands to complete the labour, Clay caught himself staring at Maggie with what had to be a goofy grin on his face.
An older gentleman paced along the brand-new sidewalk, moving slowly as he took in the activity. Clay searched for a name, finally recognizing the man as Bill Tiessen, one of the long-time locals who’d been around forever.
Maggie was working in the dirt right by the road, and she tilted her head up as Bill cleared his throat.
“Are those hosta you’re planting?” he asked, poking the garden bed with his cane.
She nodded. “A bit of groundcover. We’ve also got other perennials to put in, plus I’m leaving room for annuals for the people who like to garden.”
“That will make my Gillian happy.” He stared down the row of tiny apartments, nodding with approval. “And I like the bleeding-heart bushes—makes me think of my first house. Margaret had them planted everywhere. I used to tease her about what a horrible thing it was to come home and see these little hearts hanging on the line.”
Maggie laughed. “That’s my name. Is that your daughter?”
He shook his head. “Oh no, my first wife, God love her. She passed away from cancer five years ago.”
“I’m so sorry.”
He dipped his chin. “She was a lovely woman, and I miss her very much.”
Clay waited on the edges of the conversation, ready to rush forward at the first hint that Maggie needed him, but like always, she was a trooper, although there was a touch of sadness in her voice as she carried on the conversation. “Are you one of the people moving into the complex?” she asked.
“Yes, my wife and I are looking forward to it, her even more than me, I think.” His eyes sparkled. “There’ll be a lot less cleaning than in our old house.”
Maggie nodded. “So you’ve remarried?”
He smiled conspiratorially. “I should think so. When you know how good it is to have a true partner in this life, why would you not want that again?”
