Her Maine Man

by Owner

  “Like what? Please pass the salt and the missing years of my childhood you stole?”

  “He may say he’s sorry. Thank you for taking on his burdens. That’s what you want to hear, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” he admitted, “even though it doesn’t change a thing.”

  “It changes a lot if it helps heal your wounds.”

  He slid closer. Taking her face in his hands, he touched his lips to hers. He threaded his fingers into her hair and deepened the kiss. Her mouth and tongue reacted, molding, tangling, devouring. Her breathing quickened. She wanted him closer, inside her.

  “Let’s go in the house,” she mumbled, her breath feeding into his.

  He pulled away but held her head between his hands. “The red room or the yellow?”

  “Your choice.”

  “The yellow room.” He reached over to unlatch her car door before he opened his and hopped out. “I’d like to see your loon again,” he fibbed.

  As they walked up the steps leading to the front door, she reminded him, “Remember, no talking.”

  “Not a word.” He crooked a sexy grin. “It’s kind of erotic, isn’t it? When the other person can’t say a word, not even a protest.”

  Her stomach tickled. “That goes both ways.”

  “I’ll bet you crack before I do.” His voice held a provocative challenge she wasn’t about to pass up.

  “I’ll bet I don’t.” With confidence, she creaked open the front door.

  “Lucky I’m wearing my sneakers,” he whispered as they crossed the threshold.

  She clamped her hand over his mouth.

  When he nodded, she unclamped, and he said, “It doesn’t count until we’re in the bedroom.”

  Right. She rolled her eyes.

  They no sooner tiptoed inside, when he yanked her back outside to speak in a hush. “We have to stop at my room for protection first.”

  She nodded, and they proceeded back into the house. With a soft click, he closed the door behind them. Hand-in-hand, they sneaked across the marble floor. A noise clattered from the living room and they jumped. Light slivered from beneath the door. Barb was still up.

  Maddie tugged on his hand to speed him along. Halfway up the stairs, a door slammed from below, followed by the familiar whirr of the wheelchair. She squeezed his hand, and they took the remaining steps two at a time.

  By the time they reached his bedroom to claim the condoms, the chairlift had engaged and hummed loudly. Barb was on her way upstairs so they both ducked into the red room. Soon, the drone of the lift halted, and the motorized wheelchair started up again.

  Maddie leaned against the back of the door. Jon faced her, eyes wide with amusement instead of panic. He’d probably like an excuse to confront her mother and air all of Maddie’s grievances. Darn the man.

  “Is anyone home?” her mother sing-songed in a tone that seemed to expect no reply, her wheelchair gliding by the bedrooms.

  Maddie opened her mouth anyway, but Jon clamped his hand over it and shook his head. Barb didn’t ask again. Her bedroom door slammed.

  He was right. This was their last goodbye and her last chance at gratification until next year.

  When he replaced his hand with his mouth, all thinking stopped. His lips were heart-thuddingly tender and yet demanding, engulfing her in a whirl of want. Their mouths melded, teeth clashed, and tongues dueled. Quickly, the fabric of her dress became a too thick barrier to her desire. She needed to get skin-to-skin with Jon, feel the heat of his body against hers.

  Reaching up, she tugged the top of her dress down over her shoulders and arms. He helped slide the material lower until the dress fell in a small heap on the floor. All the while their greedy mouths never broke contact.

  His heated palm cupped her breast, her nipple stiff and aching beneath her flimsy bra. Deep in her throat, she held back the moan she would’ve used to hurry him over to the bed. He curled his fingers into her burning flesh, kneading and massaging. Exquisite leaps of pleasure pulsed through her.

  She ground into him, arching her hips, notching her cleft against the thick denim of his fly. The sensation of her silken panties against the roughness of his jeans nearly undid her.

  Torment soon replaced tease. Sliding her hands beneath his shirt and over the naked contour of his back to the hollow of his lower spine, she pulled him tighter against her yet. Torrid jabs of passion wicked through her. She slipped her hands around to the front of his waistband and fumbled with the heavy metal button. Finally, it gave and she moved on to his zipper. The grind of the metal teeth sounded loud in the quiet, dark room, where only the soft heaves of their breath broke any sound barriers.

  She tugged slower, trying to keep the groan of the zipper to a minimum. When she had him unzipped, she dragged his jeans and briefs down over his narrow hips and tantalizing buns, her fingernails raking his flesh.

  Her fingers grazed his erection, and he opened his mouth in a slight, but silent, moan. He felt hard and velvety in her palm. With slow, squeezing strokes she moved her hand up and down his length, stopping when he stripped off his shirt and kicked off his jeans. Soundless grunts and friction accompanied his struggle.

  Soon he stood in front of her naked. Moonlight filtered in through a slash of open drapery and cast a red, hot glow around the room. The plump head of his erection looked purple in the lighting. She circled her finger over the wet slit and spread a pearly drop of pre-cum around the crown.

  He gritted his teeth. Enough, his eyes said while he gripped her wrist.

  A smile of satisfaction curved her lips. She was so sure she was close to winning the dare and breaking his silence, she willingly dropped her hand away.

  Pulling her to him, he unhooked her bra. When he peeled it away, her breasts sprang free. Her nipples ached as he palmed the turgid buds, arousing and teasing them. Between his fingers, he rolled one nipple and then the other. Her belly clenched with want. Her hips undulated, slow, against his naked, hard penis.

  Her panties moistened and her clit pulsed. Her eyes fluttered shut and she lost herself to her sensual gyrations and his titillating manipulations. When he lowered his head and flicked at her nipples with his tongue, fire ripped through her and contractions tugged at her womb. He laved, switching from one breast to the other while cool air and his hot, moist mouth excited her to a frantic edge. She sucked in her bottom lip to contain her moan.

  His fingers nudged the crotch of her panties aside and crooked inside her, adding to the delight and torment wracking her body. When he touched her sweet spot, she mewled, inwardly, quietly. Heated pressure built. She needed release. She needed him, thrusting. Flicking her eyes open, she made scalding eye contact with his dark, dreamy ones. His desire was apparent in his dilated pupils.

  She mouthed the word, “Now.”

  He shook his head no.

  She cocked hers, asking, “Why?”

  His stare was electric with challenge as he hooked his fingers into the narrow waistband of her panties and slipped them down in one smooth move. While she stepped out of them, his brown eyes looked up at her, gleaming like mahogany in the reddish cast from the bedroom.

  The question thrummed between them, palpable. Who was going to buckle first and speak, ask for what they wanted?

  When he stood up, she reached out to the ancient writing desk and snatched up the antique quill. With a cocky smirk, he told her to go ahead and write down her demands.

  She laughed, soundlessly, and wriggled the feathery pen beneath his nose, tickling him with it. He twitched and smiled, but didn’t laugh. She ran the wispy tip over his mouth, outlining his top lip and then his bottom one before flicking back and forth, leisurely, along the crease of his lips. When they parted on a gasp, she trailed the feather down his jaw to his neck. His stance remained nonchalant.

  She trickled the end of the quill over his Adam’s apple, watched it bob, and continued downward through the wiry hairs on his chest, stopping at his nipple.

  He managed to kee
p his face still, but his skin shivered with tiny bumps. She circled and circled. His flat nipples tightened. Leaning in, she licked and blew lightly to add more stimulation. His throat thrummed, smothering a groan.

  Before moving on, she grated her teeth over each nub. He squeezed his eyes shut. His penis was rigid and ready, but he remained unwilling to make a sound.

  She trailed the tip of the feather over his stomach, which tensed and flexed beneath her teasing strokes. Circumventing his groin, she tickled one inner thigh and then the other. His leg muscles quivered in response, but the set of his jaw stayed determined. Finally, she flickered the feather along his erection with rhythmic, gliding strokes, just barely touching his penis, up and down, up and down.

  Her mouth went dry as she forgot the challenge for a moment and got caught up in the sensuality. She teased the tip of his arousal with the quill and fluttered it down the hard, pulsing vein to his scrotum and back up again. Replacing the feather with her fingertip, she circled the rim of his crown.

  His hand grabbed hers.

  When she looked up, his eyes were glazed and so dark they shone black. He let go of her hand to nab the feather.

  She grinned and fled.

  With Jon in hot pursuit, she scurried around the desk and chair with the speed of a tiptoeing gazelle. As she rounded the room, she made a diving leap over the moonlit bed and his hand grabbed hold of her ankle.

  Caught, red-handed.

  She kicked her foot and wriggled, but he held tight while he hopped on top of her and pinned her to the mattress. She swallowed her laughter and went still.

  His breath brushed the back of her neck in warm pants. His thick erection settled into the crease of her butt cheeks. The sensation erotic and tempting.

  His fingers wrapped around her wrists, splaying her arms, spread eagle. His knees nudged her thighs open wider. Her vaginal lips throbbed and pulsated, wet and open, aching for his penetration.

  Forgotten, the feathery quill drifted from the bed.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Jon had lost control long ago, and not just of the feather or the game. In spite of the garish red bedroom and the moonlight spilling across Maddie’s naked body, playing up her luscious curves and hollows, his heart overtook his libido, telling him to slow down and make love to her.

  This had nothing to do with getting his rocks off and everything to do with the age-old urge of a man to get closer to the woman he loved. Get inside her. Become one with her.

  He didn’t want to be in love while she insisted on her stupid rules. To hell with once a year. He was telling her how things really were, once and for all.

  After. After he made love to her. When they were outside the room and able to talk aloud. For now, he’d kiss her until she melted in his arms. No more feathered foreplay. No more frantic sex play.

  As tempting as it was to take her from behind, splayed beneath him as she was with her lush bottom against his stiff cock, he rolled her over to face him. Cradling her head in his hands, he sifted his fingers through her silky hair and caressed her lips with his mouth. Gently. Lovingly. Desire took on a softer touch. A deeper, unspoken meaning.

  His tongue swept into her mouth. She tasted sweet and sensual. His body hungered to make her his. Beneath him, her breasts crushed to his chest, the plump flesh torturously exciting, her stiff nipples stabbing through his wiry hairs to enflame him. Her crotch was open to his hard-on, the folds of her vagina wet and hot. The head of his penis nudged against her clitoris, swelling the nub, making it slick.

  When his desire and love for her became too smoldering to endure, he straddled her hips and protected himself. Her eyes were glassy and sultry, watching him in a drowsy way that forced his fingers to be quick and nimble.

  Soon, he covered her body with his and entered her. She felt wet and tight as her muscles flexed around his shaft. Her body softened beneath his. Warm, welcoming. She cradled him, hugging him close with her arms and legs…and her womanhood. They smiled into each other’s eyes as if they’d discovered a new world. And they had. New for them. He was sure nothing would ever be the same after tonight.

  He rocked his hips slowly and she responded. Give and take. Give and take. The movement erotic and intimate.

  Her wet folds stretched open to take his hard length as he filled her and withdrew, over and over. His pubic bone struck her mons, his shaft abraded her clitoris, his sac met her bottom with each stroke. Their pace quickened. His heart slammed in his chest. On the ragged edge of climaxing, he watched her face for signs. Her eyes dilated, her lids fluttered shut. Her lips parted as she spasmed and her hips bucked wildly.

  He tightened his arms around her, capturing her panting breath with his mouth. Kissing her like there was no tomorrow, like only this moment existed. Convulsions rocked her body, and when he could hold back no longer, he let go too, with an explosive eruption. His breath hissed. He buried his face in her silky hair. She smelled tart like Maddie and lust and love.

  When at last their breathing evened, he stared into her violet eyes and mouthed the words, I love you.

  After a pause, her lips formed the words he wanted to hear. I love you, too.

  Happily, he bounced up from the bed, pulling her along with him, twirling her around in a contra dance circle. She laughed soundlessly until with a loud thud he bumped into the desk.

  Her eyes rounded. They both froze in place.

  A voice called from down the hallway. “Is anyone home?”

  “Barbra,” he mouthed the obvious.

  The wheelchair motor droned as the woman moved down the hall toward the red room. It stopped outside the door.

  He felt Maddie’s short intake of breath.

  “There are no cars in the driveway and Rita and Ben have retired. But, Charles,” she said, apparently into her cell phone, “I could swear I heard a sound.”

  Jon frowned. Charles? Barbra’s consultant, Charles ‘Chuck’ Chambers? Could it be someone at Tolliver’s law firm knew of the defendant’s whereabouts? Knew where to address the lawsuit?

  After long seconds, the sound of the motor faded and a door banged shut.

  Whew. He relaxed, but Maddie remained tense. Her pretty blonde eyebrows tightened into a vee. She pointed to the anniversary clock on the desk. Close to two hours had passed since they’d left the dance. The last person either of them wanted to run into was the mayor.

  With slow, soundless moves, he disposed of the condom into the nearby bathroom and helped Maddie gather up her clothes. She slipped into her panties, and he hooked her lacy bra. She slid the blue dress over her head and arms. He smoothed down the hem. Each sultry movement in the shadowy bedroom made him ache for her to stay. If she were willing, he’d brave it.

  They crept to the window and peeked out. No cars in sight. Not even his. If he hadn’t parked behind the fir, her mother would’ve spotted the Jag long ago.

  “Stay,” he whispered in a last ditch plea when Maddie reached for the doorknob.

  She shook her head and kissed his cheek. Cracking the door open, she peeked out into the hallway. In a flash, she was gone. Jon glanced around the empty bedroom. Sleeping here wouldn’t be so bad after making love to Maddie. He flopped down on the bed where her fragrance mingled with the musky scent of sex. He propped his hands behind his head and smiled into the dim red night.

  Maddie loved him. No more once a year. A new deal and concessions would be morphed. He wasn’t leaving for home without her. She’d come back with him, attend the christening, and afterward they’d renegotiate their pact. He fell asleep still smiling.

  ****

  Maddie couldn’t sleep. Everything concerning everyone important in her life had taken a twist.

  Jon loved her. The declaration had been heart-pounding and unexpected. Granted, she loved him, but she hadn’t planned to tell him so. Not this year anyway.

  He’d surely want to do something about their newfound love. She didn’t want him here poking into her family life. Or lack of one. She co
uldn’t leave the island for any length of time. Not yet, not with her mother indisposed and her father splitting personalities every few hours.

  Every time she saw her father lately, he teetered somewhere between a doting husband and his normal self. Not that he was an uncaring man where Barb was concerned, but only a week ago he’d reveled in his love for Grace. His dual roles were sure to collide, and he’d need Maddie nearby when they did.

  And what was going on with her mother? She obviously hadn’t taken any sleeping pills. Had she lied to get Maddie’s father out of the way so she could talk on the phone to Charles?

  She shivered in the warm room. Was Charles the same man Barb’s friend, Delores, had alluded she had an affair with? The same Charles who’d pilfered the island’s funds?

  Amidst doubts and questions, Maddie finally drifted into a fitful sleep.

  Until Lyndsey’s phone call woke her bright and early. “Guess what? The wedding’s back on. Tim came over to the house late last night and we made up.”

  “How wonderful.” Maddie was glad happy endings were in the realm of someone’s possibilities as she pushed her sleep-tossed hair off her face.

  “There’s something else I have to tell you that isn’t so good. Everybody’s talking about your parents.”

  “My parents. Why?” She sat up in bed.

  “Jon’s been asking questions around the island about them.”

  “What kind of questions?”

  What kind of trouble could he have stirred up in so short a time?

  “I’m not sure, but they must be leading ones. Tongues are wagging. People are wondering if one of your parents is in some way at fault for hiring the disreputable consultant who ripped off the islanders.”

  Blood rushed to her ears like crashing waves.

  “Sue’s parents overheard gripes at the drugstore, and I got a call about the bad news from Mrs. Muttley. Tim caught wind of it at Cubby’s over breakfast this morning.”

  Maddie punched her pillow. Jon and his meddlesome ways. “My mother’s an attorney with the firm suing CC Consulting. My father’s the mayor. He’s worked for Bain Island’s best interests his whole life. Why would the islanders listen to a stranger?”