“No,” she said, pretty much panting. “I don’t want you to stop.”
A smile spread across my face. I couldn’t help it.
I fluttered the flower down again, teasing her… drifting it over her pussy, her inner thighs, as she writhed.
“Zane…”
Then I got serious. I got down between her legs and swiped my tongue gently over her sweet flesh, lapping at her clit. Then I drifted the flower over her again. Her hands delved into my hair, trying to hold me down, to make me give her more. She bucked and moaned. But I took my time, holding back… even as it drove me insane. My tongue, the flower… Maggie’s cries.
Then my tongue deep inside her… Then the flower whispering over her clit.
Then my mouth on her clit and her cries growing louder.
Her clit tightened under my tongue, her pussy swelling, juicy and wet as my fingertip caressed her opening.
“Do you want me to stop?” I whispered, kissing her pussy, then caressing her with the flower.
“Do not fucking stop…”
I got up, and as quickly as I could I slipped a condom on. Then I went back at her… my mouth, the flower… my fingers… Maggie’s cries.
When I couldn’t take anymore, I moved up her body.
“I know you want me, Maggie,” I said, as I kissed her neck. My hand delved between her legs and she bucked against me; her arms flew around my neck and she held me tight. “Why do you fight it so much?” I licked my way up her throat. “You know we’re good together…”
“We aren’t together,” she protested.
“No?” I pushed her thighs farther apart and lowered my hips. I shoved my cock inside her, sliding in deep. She was so wet… she took me, hot and fast. “Sure feels like it to me…”
She moaned, but said nothing.
“I’m gonna fuck you all night if that’s what it takes… to get through to you…”
“The night’s almost over,” she said, breathless, gasping as I rammed into her.
“Then I’ll fuck you all morning. You’re gonna stay in this room, with me, and you’re gonna take my cock, every which way I wanna give it to you… until you see the fucking light…”
Her breathing got rougher as I fucked her, harder, my thrusts gradually picking up speed until she was crying out. I almost lost myself in those ragged, breathy screams of hers…
Music was coming through a wall. Loud. Arctic Monkeys… I wondered vaguely if someone had put it on to drown out Maggie’s cries.
At the moment, she didn’t seem to give one fuck.
Neither did I.
She was getting close and all I cared about, right now, was getting her there. So I slowed down. Because I knew, with Maggie, that would only get her there faster…
I put my hand on her face, gripping her chin, and made her look at me. “You sure you can handle this?” I challenged her as I looked into her gray eyes… as I pressed her thighs apart with my hips and gave it to her slow. I was almost out of breath as I held myself back, so fucking wrapped up in her I was forgetting to breathe.
“Can you?” she said, peering up at me, her voice just a whisper in the dark.
And the answer was no. I could not handle this.
There wasn’t a thing about this I could handle.
The thing about me was… I’d do it anyway.
Chapter 4
Zane
I fucked Maggie right to the edge, and when I felt her tensing up, her nails digging into my ass, her breathing getting all jagged and desperate, I whispered, “What if I can’t handle it?”
“What?” Maggie blinked at me, dazed and panting. “What? Why?”
“Maggie.” I ran the tip of my nose along hers, brushed my mouth against her full lips. “Because I love—”
“NO! No, no.” She twisted her head away and tried to push me off. “We need to stop.”
So I stopped. I stopped thrusting and just tried to catch my breath.
“I mean stop,” she said, shoving at me. “Pull out.”
I stared at her. “Are you fucking serious?”
She glared at me.
“Maggie.”
“Zane.”
“Christ, Maggs.” I pulled out. “Please tell me you’re fucking kidding me,” I said, panting, “and you’re about to shove me on my back and hop on for a ride. ’Cause I know you love going for a ride.”
She scowled at me, also panting, but it was true. Maggie loved being on top. Taking it on her back was not her usual style.
Neither was telling me to pull out seconds before she had a screaming, scorching orgasm.
“If not,” I added, “that was about the shittiest thing a chick has ever done to me. And I once had a girl stab me.”
“With a hair brush,” she said, totally unsympathetic.
“It was sharp.”
“I know. Who drove you to the hospital?” She shoved at me again and I sighed, shifting off her as she scrabbled to detach herself from me in every way.
“What’s the deal, Maggie?” I fell back on the bed beside her. “You want me. You don’t want me. Now you decide you don’t want me right in the middle of wanting me? What the fuck.”
“What I want,” she said, still panting, “is to fuck. And you just messed up a totally decent fuck by opening your mouth.”
“Yeah? Well, I’m so totally fucking sorry for sharing my feelings with you. I won’t do it again.”
“Yes, you will. You’re dying to share your feelings. But news flash, Zane: I am not gonna magically start trusting you just because you tell me you love me.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because you don’t love me.”
We locked eyes like a couple of bulls locking horns, and I wondered if I should take the condom off. My cock was still throbbing, and she just lay there glaring at me, gleaming with sweat in the firelight, her breathing gradually calming, her dark hair fanned out on the pillow.
I propped myself up on an elbow and looked down at her. “And how the hell would you know that?”
“Because,” she said, stone-faced, “you don’t know the meaning of the word.” But her gray eyes looked soft and vulnerable. She was pissed at me, but she was afraid. That much was obvious.
Maggie and her motherfucking wall.
My gaze trailed down her throat, where her heartbeat thrummed in a frantic rhythm. My hand drifted over, my fingertip tracing a line along her delicate collarbone.
“Is this, by any chance, about Dallas?”
She bristled, her body twitching in protest and her face screwing up like there was a rotten taste in her mouth. But she didn’t push me away. “No. It’s not about…” She stopped, unable to say the name, apparently, and swallowed. She wouldn’t look me in the eye, either. “Women named after cities have enough problems. Who am I to criticize?”
“Uh-huh.” My fingertip continued down toward her breast and around the slight swell.
“Or flowers,” she went on. “You know, like your little friend Daisy. And what was that other one, in Toronto? Rosie? Or was it Petunia? Who can keep track?” Her tone was cold, but her gray eyes sparked as she finally looked at me.
Fuck me. Maggie, jealous?
Total fucking turn on.
Shouldn’t be. I knew that. But my dick never lied to me.
Maggie was hot as fuck when she was jealous.
Slowly, I encircled her rosy nipple with my fingertip, and it tightened, rock-hard and begging to be licked. “I never cheated on you, Maggie.”
She scoffed.
I held her gray eyes. “You said so yourself. You’re not my wife.”
“I’m not.”
“Well, you can’t have it both ways, babe. You’re not my wife, then I’m not your husband.” My finger slowly circled her nipple again. “And if that’s so, doesn’t that make my dick a free agent?”
“Your dick can do whatever the fuck it wants,” she grumbled.
“Good. Because my dick wants you.” I leaned in to flick
my tongue over her nipple. As I licked her, she stirred and kind of growled in her throat.
So I took her hand and put it on my dick. I stroked myself with it, slowly, up and down. Then she squeezed her hand around me, vicious-tight. Probably meant to hurt me.
Didn’t work.
I looked up at her. “Do you want this or not?” I asked her, my voice low and raspy.
She licked her lip, slowly. “I want your dick.” Her gray eyes held mine, cool and controlled. Those eyes that said, I don’t want you.
But I didn’t believe them.
I never did.
So I grabbed her by her hips and flipped her over. She gave up a surprised squeal but she didn’t fight.
She didn’t tell me to stop.
I straddled her, my knees on either side of her hips, and lifted her ass toward me.
“You want this?” I ran my dick down between her legs, slick against her pussy.
“Yeah,” she breathed.
So I rammed myself in. Her hands clawed at the sheet, squeezing it in fistfuls as I sank into her. I leaned down against her, the curve of her back to my front, and ground my hips against her ass. She gasped as she took me, as I forced my way deeper.
I grabbed her neck and held her tight.
“This is all you want?” I asked as she moaned with each thrust.
“Yes…”
I fucked her, harder, reaching around to rub her clit with my fingers. Maggie pressed her face into the pillow, shuddering and moaning.
“Then beg for it,” I told her.
“Ung… Zane,” she groaned.
I slammed into her again, and again, until I knew her eyes had to be rolling back in her head.
“Beg me for it.”
“No…”
“Fuck, Maggie.”
I pulled out. I flipped her over and got between her thighs. Her legs went around me, her arms around my back as I lowered myself on top of her. Then I fucked her the way I wanted to fuck her most; the way that was always hardest to fuck her—face-to-face.
Because, as usual, she evaded that shit.
She buried her face in my neck. She refused to look at me, no matter how I gave it to her. Hard or fast or slow, didn’t matter.
She wouldn’t look me in the eye.
So I pulled out most of the way, until just the head of my cock was in her, teasing her. Her body protested, her thighs clamping around me, her nails digging into my back.
“Beg me, Maggie,” I said.
“Please,” she spat out.
I gave it to her, hard but not fast, and lifted up a bit so I could see her. So she couldn’t hide.
Her eyes were closed. But she was tensing up, her breaths cutting off, shallow and fast.
I leaned down and kissed her neck, licked my way up to her ear. She shivered beneath me.
“If this is all you want…” I whispered as I thrust into her, “then you don’t want me to stop… not when you’re right on the edge. I can feel it, babe. Know how you feel right before you go off.”
She opened her eyes then, just a little, looking at me under her lashes. Those gray eyes… Christ, those eyes.
She wasn’t the only one riding the edge.
“Say my name, Maggie,” I ordered, my voice harsh and ragged.
“Don’t—” she said, her breath catching.
“Say it. I wanna hear it when you come.”
I pounded into her, slow and deep, snapping my hips up, dragging my pelvis against hers, so she couldn’t resist it if she tried. Even if she just lay there and went limp, she’d go off. Because I knew just where to hit her, and how hard, and at what angle, and how many fucking times.
Maybe we hadn’t fucked more than a handful of times, but I paid attention.
As she started to come, she said, “Zane… please…” and a flare of victory went off in my gut, spreading heat through my insides, even as I shuddered with the force of holding myself back… just waiting for her to go first.
“Yeah, babe…” I held her down as she cried out. As her pussy clenched, choking my cock. As the pleasure rolled through her body… rolled through mine. “I’m gonna fucking blow. Tell me you want it.”
Her hazy gray eyes looked up at me. “I want it.”
“Fuck… yeah… Maggie… I’m gonna give it to you…”
Then I totally fucking lost myself as I blew into her. All I could see was her face. Those gray eyes… just Maggie, gazing up at me, as I gave her everything I had.
Three fucking months of it…
All for her.
“Let’s tell everyone.”
“Tell everyone what?” Maggie looked at me as I collapsed on the bed beside her.
I’d gone to get rid of the condom and discovered my legs were pretty wobbly. Not only had fucking Maggie left me weak in the knees, as usual, but the time of night was really setting in. I was fucking tired.
“You know what,” I said, closing my eyes. The idea had hit me in the bathroom, and it was fucking brilliant if you asked me. “We can do it today, at brunch. Our closest friends are here, and there’s no media, no internet. Perfect place to tell everyone and ask them to keep it private while we figure our shit out.”
“You’re kidding me, right?”
I opened my eyes and looked over at her. The firelight flickered on her pretty face, her full lips puckered in an angry pout. She had the sheet all wrapped around her like a cocoon, her head and arms the only bare skin in sight.
“I’ve never been kidding about this,” I told her.
She shook her head, slowly, making an aggravated noise in her throat. The kind that usually got me rock-hard, but all the fighting and fucking at four a.m. had really worn me out.
“Or not,” I mumbled, closing my eyes again. So much for that brilliant fucking idea. “It was just a suggestion, Maggs.”
“Uh-huh. And let me guess. You came up with it about two seconds ago.”
“So?”
“So, you think announcing to everyone, at Jesse and Katie’s wedding, that we secretly got married in Vegas almost a year ago, is appropriate?”
“Fuck if I know.”
“Zane.” She shoved at my shoulder and my eyes cracked open. “We are not doing that to them. This is their event, not ours.”
“Okay. Whatever.”
But Maggie was just ramping up. “Do you have any fucking clue how much work went into this wedding? How much they spent on it? How many people with other shit to do flew up here, just for them? Because I do. I can tell you what it cost and how much work went into it. A lot. Because when people really want to get married, that’s what they do.”
I sighed and closed my eyes. Here we go again. “Nice dig, Maggs.”
“I can also tell you what it means to Jesse and Katie,” she went on. “A lot.” She poked me in the ribs with her tiny finger. “And since, unlike you, I don’t think the entire universe revolves around me and my impulses, I can assure you that despite what you might think, pissing all over their parade with our fucked-up gossip is not an appropriate wedding gift. So I really fucking hope you got them something else.”
Finally finished, she flopped onto her pillow.
“Of course I did. A pool table.” I opened one eye. “You know, so I have something to do at their place when they disappear for a quickie, which they always fucking do.”
“So it’s a gift for yourself.”
I opened the other eye and rolled toward her. “They get to use it when I’m not there.”
“That’s so thoughtful, Zane.”
“I know.”
“And anyway, we’re not telling anyone about Vegas,” she said, not looking at me, “because we are not married.”
I sat up, rubbing my eyes. The music next door had suddenly shut off, and the silence was too fucking loud. Didn’t realize how loud the music was, actually, until the silence set in.
“Jesus Christ,” I muttered. “Enough of this shit.” First the wedding, for which I’d endured wearing a fucking su
it and tie, then the almost two-hour show I’d played after the wedding, many more hours of partying and jamming, a frigid skinny dip, and sex with Maggie—which meant feeling like I’d just gone twelve rounds in a cage match with a feral cat—and I was fucking done. “Yes,” I told her, “we fucking are.”
“Not if we get a divorce.”
I leaned down and looked her straight in the eye and told her, just like I already had, several times, “I’m not getting a divorce.”
“Because…?” she said. “It goes against your principles or something?” Then she scoffed, like I didn’t have any.
“Yes. We got married. Let’s fucking deal with it already.”
She rolled her eyes. And I fucking hated it when she rolled her eyes at me. “You call this a marriage?”
“It could be.”
“Just because we had a wedding doesn’t mean we have a marriage, Zane.”
I rubbed a hand over my face. “So maybe I don’t know what the fuck a marriage is. Maybe I don’t know how to have one.”
“Maybe you don’t.”
“Maybe I wanna try.” Was that really so fucking hard for her to believe?
“Well, excuse me if I’m not interested in playing house with you,” she said, sitting up abruptly and peeling off the sheet.
“The fuck does that mean?”
I watched her yank on Dylan’s giant shirt. Then she tossed me an accusing look. “It means, you wanna run a social experiment in monogamy and commitment, you can do it with someone else.”
I stared right back. “So I guess snuggling and pillow talk are out?”
There was a knock at the door and Maggie stiffened. She whispered, “Shut up!”
I didn’t even say anything.
“Do not say a word,” she hissed, grabbing a pillow and hugging it, like that could make her disappear. “Do not make a sound.” Then she reached over and her hand closed on my wrist.
She looked at me, her gray eyes wide—like the thought of whoever was outside that door seeing me here, with her, was the most appalling thing that could ever happen.
Which rubbed me way the fuck wrong. Especially since she’d just come all over my dick.
The knock came again.
Fuck it.
I got up. Because right now, I did not give one shit who was on the other side of that door.
A Dirty Wedding Night: A Dirty Rockstar Romance (Dirty, Book 2.5) Page 7
