Easy Bake Lovin'

by Maggie Wells

  She took his hand and gave his fingers a meaningful tug. Thankfully, instinct took over. He moved to stand in front of her, glancing pointedly down at her crossed legs. Wetting her lips, Georgie slowly uncrossed them. He waited patiently until she parted them wide enough for him to stand between her knees.

  “I hear sex is like riding a bike,” she said with an encouraging wink. “There’s nothing to worry about here. No judgment,” she added with quiet confidence. “I’ll be me. You be you.”

  “I left the condoms in the car,” he blurted.

  She laughed and nodded to the nightstand beside the bed. “Luckily, I laid in a fresh supply.”

  He followed her gaze to the nightstand, then felt her trembling beneath him. “What?”

  This time, she actually was laughing.

  “Laid in. I laid in a fresh supply in case I have a chance to get laid.” Again, she hit him with the playful head tilt, smirky smile combo. “Did you ever think you might not be the only one coming off a bit of a dry spell?”

  No. Frankly, it hadn’t, because, for the life of him, he couldn’t imagine any man not wanting her. There was something so…elemental about her. As far as he was concerned, the woman was a walking, talking pheromone.

  Her brow ring glinted in the light. She shot him a meaningful look. “Think I can get laid here?”

  The question had the same effect as a smack on the forehead. He was all alone with the woman who’d haunted his every idle thought for a week. She was naked. And, damn, he hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d called her beautiful. Maybe not in the New York supermodel style, but she had an earthy sensuality that made those women seem bloodless.

  Unlike his ex-wife, Georgie had no sharp lines or fashionable angles. Her shoulders were narrow and rounded. Her breasts full and soft, tipped with large, flat pinkish-brown nipples. The very tips perked with a sort of mild interest. He couldn’t wait to tease them. Make them hard against his tongue. Blow on her wet skin until she squirmed and urged him to taste them again. Maybe if she wanted, if she asked nicely, he’d bite them.

  Lifting one knee onto the high mattress, he curled his hand around her shoulder and propelled her back across the bed. She went willingly. So willingly he almost lost what control he had. He’d been thinking about her so much, visualizing this scene in so many different ways, he wasn’t quite sure where exactly to begin. All he knew was he wanted to be inside her.

  Georgie ran her hands over his chest in a move so provocatively proprietary, he had to curl his fingers into her shoulder to keep from plunging into her without preamble. Because what he really wanted was to push her legs apart and fuck her hard and fast. No foreplay. Nothing other than the maddening fantasies that drove him to her door. But he couldn’t. He wasn’t an animal, for Christ’s sake. And he wanted more than quick relief. He wanted to sink into her vanilla-scented embrace and stay there. In a world where his only responsibility would be to get her off. And he would. He’d do anything and everything in his power to make sure she got what she needed.

  “Mike?”

  He blinked, and when the haze cleared, he saw he had her pressed deep into the fluffy comforter. The snowy white fabric billowed around them like a cloud. “Hm?”

  “You want me to drive?”

  He stared down at her for at least thirty seconds, his sluggish mind unable to reconcile the naked woman he had pinned under him and her desire to go for a spin. “What?”

  She gave his shoulders a surprisingly forceful shove. “On your back.”

  At last, her meaning and intentions clicked. For a second, he wanted to resist, but realizing he wasn’t doing such a hot job of staying on task, he let her take the wheel. Less risk of him fucking up if he was…fucking up. Decision made, he rolled over with a huff of gratitude. Georgie batted down the puffs of fluffy coverlet and scrambled over him.

  “First things first.” She lunged across the bed and yanked open the nightstand drawer so hard she had to catch it with a, “Whoops!”

  Somewhere in the back of his muddled mind, he registered the sound of a box being torn open and the rip of a perforated strip. He couldn’t be bothered with the details. Not when her every herky-jerky movement gave him the most tantalizing glimpse of sweet pink pussy along with the snowy temptation of her ass.

  He was reaching to stroke one rounded cheek when she rose with a triumphant, “Got one!”

  Disappointment ricocheted through him as he contemplated the missed opportunity. The crinkle of a foil packet being torn open chased any pangs of regret away. She beamed at him, her smile radiant in the rapidly dimming daylight filling the room.

  “I’m going to be so much better at keeping up next time,” he swore, his voice husky with suppressed desire.

  “You seem to be keeping up fine.” She grinned as she freed the condom from the wrapper. “But if you’re feeling self-conscious, I’ll give you some homework to do in the meantime.”

  She took his hand and wrapped his fingers around his stiff dick, and he laughed. Actually, he guffawed. An honest-to-goodness bark of laughter burst out of him so hard his chest ached.

  “Please.” He gave himself a perfunctory stroke, then let his hand fall away. “I’ve done so much homework it’s a miracle I can still see.”

  She threw a knee over his hips and settled back to sit on his thighs. Mike stared at her, trying to imprint the image onto his brain. They could talk this time and next time all they wanted, but afternoons like this were not the reality of his world.

  As if sensing his train of thought, Georgie wiggled as she began to roll the condom onto his cock, jolting him back to the here and now with each exquisitely brisk and purposeful stroke. “I meant tasks specific to this particular subject.”

  “Been working on those, too.” He twisted his mouth into a wry grimace. “Not that you can tell.”

  “Stage fright,” she whispered as she leaned down. She kissed him soft and sweet, her lips clinging to his until the contact was severed by the need to breathe. “Touch me,” she whispered, her hot breath ghosting over his mouth. “Squeeze my ass. My tits. Touch me in all the ways you thought about touching me, Mike.”

  He did as he was told, first sliding his hands down to cradle the plush curve of her bottom. Kneading the soft muscles, he pulled her higher, snugging the hot, damp folds of her pussy against his dick. There. Almost. Curling off the mattress, he slid his hands into her hair.

  Her mouth was hot. Carnal. She was the kind of woman who took big bites out of life, not tiny nibbles.

  With her slick heat pressing down on him, their kisses finally found their rhythm. He filled his hands with her breasts. Using his thumbs, he teased impossibly soft flesh into stiff, pebbled points. Licking, kissing, and sucking his way down her throat, he tasted her moans as they rumbled from her chest and escaped through parted lips. Georgie moved on him. Gliding back and forth on the shaft of his dick like a piston gaining momentum. He knew if he didn’t stop her soon he’d pop off, but she felt so damn good. The desperate thrust and grind reminded him of teenage make-out sessions. Except he and Georgie weren’t kids, and they weren’t wearing a stitch of clothing.

  Pushing her back, he bent his head to claim one nipple. God, she smelled incredible. Sugar and spice and hot, willing woman. He suckled hard, pulling the taut tip deep. Her skin softened in the heat of his mouth. He released her with a loud pop. She sucked in a sharp hiss when he blew cool air over the damp flesh. He watched with avid interest as her nipple tightened and puckered again. Georgie writhed and bucked. He gripped her hips in a lame attempt to control her maddening movements, but he was too late. She pushed high on her knees, then lowered herself onto him.

  “Georgie,” he gasped as he slid into her slick, wet heat.

  She gripped his hair, pulling at the roots as she rose and fell, riding him like a jockey surging for the finish line. Mike closed his eyes and clenched his tee
th, praying he could hang on to the end.

  “Oh, yes,” she hissed as she pressed the heels of her hands to his shoulders and shoved him back.

  Mike gave in when he saw her cup her breast with one hand. She slid the other down to the spot where their bodies joined, and he groaned long and loud. She plucked at the nipple he’d teased into a peak, but he couldn’t keep his attention focused on anything tangible. Not when her fingers brushed against his cock each time she circled her clit.

  “Fuck, yeah,” he groaned.

  “Yeah. Fuck, yeah,” she chanted, letting her head fall back.

  Mike lay there, his hands gripping her knees as she rose and fell. One breast bounced freely as she massaged the other with rough adamancy. Her ass slapped against his thighs. She fucked him fast and hard. No mercy. No restraint. Her thighs quivered with exertion. Hiccupping gasps and moans spilled out of her unimpeded, but he bit his lip to hold back his own groans. He couldn’t let them go. Not yet.

  Mercifully, she gasped, made an insanely erotic squeaking noise, then gave a shout that ended in a laugh. She laughed and laughed, coming completely unfurled as her pussy contracted around him.

  Squeezing. Pulling him deeper. Demanding he give in. Spreading his fingers wide, he closed his eyes and gave over to pure sensation. His orgasm slammed through him like a bullet train. He huffed and puffed. His body shook with each spasm of release. Her muscles continued to contract and release long after all movement subsided. Mike squeezed his eyes shut. Wanting the sensations to continue. Refusing to leave this hazy, lazy fantasy world. He liked it here. He’d stay. Pretend he didn’t have to hurry off to collect his kids.

  He was deep into a fantasy involving a dinner that didn’t feature white meat chicken pressed into dinosaur shapes or an argument over the necessity of green beans when he became vaguely aware of a weight pressing down on his chest. Unable to pull a deep breath, he brushed weakly at the pressure and found he had a handful of silky hair. He cracked an eyelid and watched in bewildered amazement as the blue-tipped tresses shifted through his fingers.

  “Georgie?”

  She roused herself enough to press her pointy chin into his sternum. “You sound surprised.”

  He chuckled. To say he was surprised would be an understatement. Amazed, was a better word. Afternoon quickies with women he barely knew weren’t a part of his routine anymore. Hell, they never actually had been. He was fairly used to waking with a girl in his bed, but his usual girl wore Disney princess nightgowns. She also had an unerring ability to contort into positions which resulted in a small foot pressed into the side of his face.

  “Dazed,” he admitted gruffly. He ran his fingers through her hair again. “How do you decide which color you want?”

  She gave a sort of side-eyed glance at her hair, then twitched a shoulder. “Whatever suits my mood.”

  Mike frowned at the vibrant tint. “Were you sad or something?”

  “No.” He felt the faint rumble of her laugh. “Why?”

  “Blue,” he answered with a shrug.

  “I was inspired by your eyes.”

  Her simple answer jolted him out of his post-coital haze. “What?”

  “I went blue because of your eyes,” she said without stirring. “Not as pale as yours. Hard to get a color so light.”

  He stopped breathing.

  Georgie sighed and pressed her cheek to his chest once more. “Don’t worry, not stalker stuff. Inspiration only. I usually stick to reds and purples, but I saw your eyes and thought, ‘Blue is pretty. I should go blue,’ nothing more.”

  Releasing a nervous chuckle, he gave her a squeeze. “Blue is pretty on you.”

  He felt the curve of her lips and cheek against his chest.

  “Thank you.”

  Taking a deep breath, he pushed through the fog of his fantasies come to life and stepped back into reality. “You know I can’t stay, right?”

  She nodded. “Kids.”

  Wrapping her tighter, he heaved a sigh. “Yeah. I have to get the kids.”

  Again, she lifted her head to peer at him. “But we can do this again, right?”

  “God, yes.” The answer popped out of him so fast he laughed. Long. Loud. And relieved. “I mean, I hope so.”

  “Good.” She settled back into the crook of his arm and exhaled, loose and languid. “I baked some cookies for them. You can take them with you when you leave.” Sliding her hand down his chest, she stroked the line of hair on his belly like he was her favorite pet. “But you don’t have to go right now, do you?” She glanced at a clock on the nightstand as her hand trailed lower. “It’s ten till four.”

  To his surprise, Mike found himself growing hard again. “No, I don’t have to go right now.”

  “Good.” Georgie treated him to a feline smile. “Good. Get rid of the old raincoat, and we’ll let it be your turn to drive.”

  Chapter 5

  Mike rocked in his chair as he and Colm watched James run through the proposal he’d drawn up for the Carson campaign a second time. He and James had been friends since college, almost in-laws for a split second, and partners for nearly a half-decade, but he was always amazed when his devil-may-care friend whipped out his smarts and actually put them to good use.

  The fundraiser James attended had gone well. He’d made contact with Gerald Carson Jr., and got them a foot in the door with Carson’s right-hand man. The foot in the door led to back-to-back meetings with both Carson himself and the people hand-selected to be his campaign team. Now they had a contract ready to sign.

  James played the social game well. Far better than either Mike or Colm. Unlike the two of them, he’d been born to the cushy life. He’d gone from prep school to Northwestern without need of a scholarship or letter of recommendation. Hell, there was a building with his maternal grandfather’s name carved into the cornerstone. While Colm sweated out his turn in the police academy, Mike toiled away in those hallowed halls, trying to maintain his GPA, juggling a part-time job and tutoring gigs, and feeling like an imposter. James had been referred to him by their economics professor, and the unlikely friendship between the frat boy and the scholarship kid began.

  “So, yeah, campaign headquarters and personal security. He says the system he has at home is adequate, but we can wriggle our way in there later. We’ll have our hands full enough with this, if we can land the job,” James said in summary.

  Colm nodded. “Yeah, definitely. We’ll have to do some rearranging.”

  Mike bobbed his head along with the two of them, but he was having a hard time hanging on to the thread of the conversation. The clock crept toward two. He had an official appointment at Getta Piece. This visit, unlike the two he’d already made this week, would actually involve business and not pleasure. But if he got there soon enough, they might be able to mix the two.

  “Well, I can handle most of the open projects on smaller accounts,” Mike said slowly, processing as he spoke. “Colm, if you can give me a list of the personal security details and the subcontractors, I can herd your pack of cats.”

  “Most everything is set,” Colm assured him. “Shouldn’t have any trouble with them. I’ve been vetting the new guys pretty hard. One good thing about wage freezes, they allow us a shot at the cream of the crop in off-duty cops. As long as the alarm guys are pulling through, we should be okay.”

  Mike pulled at his bottom lip as he digested the information. It was sore from where Georgie had bit him—without permission—but the shiver of pain that sliced through him each time he touched the cut got him hot. Maybe he wasn’t as vanilla as he thought he was, after all.

  “Four Star Alarm is working out well,” Mike reported. “Got them booked for Hearst Associates, the booze distributor, and Getta Piece in the next two weeks.”

  Saying the name of the bakery got him riled. Flicking the cover of the folder James had given him with his thumb
nail, Mike forced himself to focus on the task in front of him. Not on the woman he hoped to have under him. “I’ve got two more companies working on smaller projects to see how they work out, but I’ll do some shuffling. We’ll shift Four Star to the Carson gig. Better to go with the people we can trust.” He glanced at the time. “I’m meeting Ben from Four Star this afternoon. I’ll bring him up to speed and see where they stand in terms of other workload.”

  “We’ll have guys on duty, but I think we all need to attend the announcement and launch party. I sold them on the combined strength of our skills.” James ran a hand over his rumpled red hair. “Which means one of us needs to sell an internal organ and arrange for sitters for five kids.”

  “I’m down to one kidney and my liver hasn’t regenerated yet,” Colm chimed in.

  Mike sighed. Teenage twins who lived on his street were their go-to sitters for these situations, but when they’d relieved the girls the last time, they’d informed them they’d be charging double the previously agreed rate now that the kids had grown into ‘monsters.’ “I’ll call the Rogers girls and see if they’ll settle for an arm and a leg.”

  “Good.” James rose from his chair. “This is a high-profile job for the company.”

  “If Little Gerry wins,” Colm said with a smirk.

  James slanted a look at their cynical pal. “Is there any chance he won’t win? This town would elect Big Gerry’s dog if doing so got Palmer out of office.”

  “Palmer did well with the boys in blue. The smoke eaters, too,” Colm said as he rolled to his feet. “Big Gerry pissed some of the union guys off pretty good. Junior will have to do some fast talking to get in their good graces.”

  “He’s a good talker,” James assured him. “Believe me, I wouldn’t be this excited over a client if I didn’t believe he had a good shot at winning the bid.”