by C. C. Koen
His long cowlick covered his left eye, but she could still make out his determined expression. And even though his head was bent down, focused, he somehow still caught sight of her hand inching lower toward her lace bikinis, wanting, needing just a little relief.
Swifter than a lion on prey, he latched on to her hand, but instead of stopping her, he joined their fingers like that day in her office. He slipped them inside and all the way to her slick center, rotating them in a soft, erotic motion on her nub. Panties gone. Her head fell back and her eyes closed. She let him take her—from his knees. His mouth a bit of heaven on earth.
To steady her wobbly legs, she held on to his broad shoulders and registered every tingle, each lave, and the penetrating friction of his jaw rubbing along her folds as his tongue licked and flittered side to side. How she managed to stand, she didn’t know. It didn’t take long for her to fall onto the bed. When she spread her legs wide, he dove—consumed—owned.
Mine, all mine repeated in her head, but she could have sworn he chanted it too as he brought her to the top-of-the-charts-inspiring orgasm.
There, in Rick’s bed, and in each minute, hour, day spent with him, she discovered what love truly meant.
“The one” didn’t come close. Wasn’t even accurate.
A love unlike any other, inscribed onto her heart—for all eternity.
And the right, clear message came through.
The only—his and hers—the way it had been intended from the start, at creation.
Dear Readers,
This section provides a special glimpse into Maggie’s, Rick’s, and Cece’s future.
Enjoy!
One year later . . .
Rick couldn’t take his eyes off Maggie. Under the sparkly, bright lights above the altar, her strapless and braless lace gown stole the show.
Among a hundred-plus attendees, many of Rick’s employees, family, and friends, the anticipation of this day and of making Maggie his finally came to fruition. His greatest achievement yet—Mr. and Mrs. Rick and Maggie Stone.
Riches graced and blessed him, but it had nothing to do with money. Anyone who believed an answer came from how much a person made, how hard an individual worked, or how much stuff someone accumulated couldn’t be more wrong.
Family. That mattered. His mom and dad had it right all along. There wasn’t any greater fulfillment. Nothing came close. Being surrounded by them on this day brought an enormous amount of joy.
Rick’s exuberant mom sat in the front row, and Sophia and the girls next to her.
With a clean bill of health and as ornery as ever, Grandfather joined his side, serving as his dual best man next to Matt. Rick wouldn’t have prevailed and reached this momentous occasion without them.
Maggie’s mom, dad, aunts, uncles, grandparents, and cousins filled half the church. And of course, Kat, who positioned herself at her sister’s hip as the maid of honor.
Cecily Bryna Stone—the name change and adoption finalized this morning before the ceremony produced a radiant glow on her face. A stunning flower girl, her wispy red curls flowed over her earlobes, the majority of the thick strands pinned on top in a fluffy, bouncing bun. She trotted giddily down the aisle, tossing red rose petals over each shoulder until she joined her mama and daddy-in-training at the altar.
Their trio all together, he slid his hand across Cece’s shoulders and onto the hollow of Maggie’s back. With his heart standing less than a foot in front of him, Maggie’s love overwhelmed him and at the same time, humbled him.
First he recited the heartfelt vows of everlasting love and commitment to his wife, revealing the blessings bestowed upon him from the moment he met the auburn beauties. Then he crouched down, cupped Cece’s chubby cheek, and relayed his promises intended just for her.
He picked up the shamrock necklace resting along her collarbone and reminded her of his wishes. From right to left, he pointed to one petal then the next.
Faith—“I, Richard Maxwell Stone, will be by your side, whenever and wherever you need me. Have faith that I will always come when you call.”
Love—“My love . . .” His finger tapped his heart and he did the same to Cece’s. “Never, ever doubt it. You and your mama,” he smiled at Maggie who had tears in her eyes, “will always be with me.” He pointed to his temple and the middle of his chest. “And me with you.”
Hope—“Every dream you have, Cece, I will help make true. Your hopes are mine.”
He picked up a beaming Cece and pulled Maggie into the embrace. He placed a kiss on Maggie’s cheek then Cece’s. “I devote my life to both of you. Forever and ever.”
Margareta Cassidy Stone, a photogenic, dazzling knockout, graced local and national newspapers. Society pages carried their story, sensationalized the millionaire marrying a Texas born and raised, middle-class chef. It didn’t matter. Nothing could diminish Maggie’s glorious smile, the teeny gap in full view, gracing him with an expression of affection and devotion. The look remained on her beautiful face as she greeted him at the altar, when she recited her vows, and throughout the get-down-and-boogie-till-midnight reception. They danced into the wee hours, unable to keep their eyes or hands off each other. Their sensual touches displayed their eagerness and yearning for one another, and at other times, sly, tender assurances of more to come when they could sneak away from the celebratory crowd.
One year later . . .
There were no words to describe the sight. Maggie stared at her husband sprawled on the double-wide, feathertop sofa he insisted they purchase after a minor squabble in front of the salesman. Lucky for her, he adored her Irish temper and always rewarded her with fabulous make-up sex. Twelve weeks old, the twins took up their preferred spot on their daddy’s chest. Maximilian cradled under his left arm, and Katarina’s cheek nestled below his chin. His other pride and joy, Cece nestled along his thigh, head pillowed on his stomach. Her hand draped on top of his and sat protectively on her sister’s back. All of them sound asleep, sneaking their customary, lazy Saturday afternoon nap.
From behind Maggie, Kat rested a chin on her shoulder, pulled her into hug, and stated in a hushed tone, “Told ya he was right for you.”
God, Maggie adored her sister. Since Kat lived with them, in a private oasis and suite constructed in their enormous basement, Maggie couldn’t get away from her. Not that she wanted to. They’d always been like conjoined twins. Permanently affixed.
“Giving you any ideas?” Maggie prodded.
Kat’s snort came out loud and with a ton of protest. “You know me better than that, Magoopie.” And added a pinch to her ribs. “I’ll just sit back and let you do the work for a change.”
Maggie grinned up to her ears. “You might be missing something.” Her implication related to marriage, but she didn’t want to let her oversexed sister one-up her. So she spread her hands eight inches apart, in reference to her husband’s length.
“Now you’re just braggin.’”
“My point exactly. You can’t get the goods while hiding behind me. And I’m not just talking about sex. What’s with you and Alex anyway?” Oh, that remark clamped her sister’s lips shut. She faced Kat and crossed her arms, prepared to take on a battle if necessary. “Friends with benefits isn’t enough for you. It shouldn’t be.”
Spinning on her heels, Kat scuttled into the kitchen, ducking her head into the fridge.
After Maggie got situated on a stool at the butcher block island, she dropped her chin in her palm and watched her sister rifle through one shelf after another, indecision evident in her stiff shoulders and pinched, thinking-too-much brow. When Kat opened the freezer and stared, Maggie said, “I guess I can turn down the A/C since you’ve frozen me out and all of Alaska.”
From on top of Cece’s rainbow Popsicles box, Kat snatched a Snickers bar and hopped onto a chair. She bit a small piece of chocolate off the tip. As she chewed, Kat’s pointed look dared Maggie to back off. Ha! Those days were long gone.
“You like him?” A stup
id question but Maggie had to start somewhere.
Kat shrugged.
“He’s obviously into you since he practically lives here.”
Her eyes rolled, and Kat stuffed half the log into her mouth, hacking off a chunk. How in the world Kat did that without cracking her teeth, she couldn’t figure.
Tapping her lip, Maggie glanced through the windows similar to the fifteen-foot view in Emma’s kitchen and watched the ripples on the water. It took them forever to find a home that had a pond. It wasn’t common in most communities. Their three-thousand-square-foot house, located a few blocks from Matt’s, hadn’t been for sale when they started searching a month after their engagement. They were about to settle on something neither of them really wanted, but their real estate agent contacted them right before this property went on the market and they lucked out. Tricks of the trade she’d learned realtors hid. Homes in high-demand areas were often contracted in advance and listed as a formality.
“He wants more, right? Than . . .” Maggie didn’t finish. Her savvy sister could interpret the sexual insinuation.
Another shrug and caramel-coated-peanut crunching.
“Do you?”
Glares and a snarl were all Maggie got in return. Hmm . . . she must be getting closer to the heart of the matter. Should she play devil’s advocate, or stick with her blood-oath-sisterhood-supportive side?
“Dump him.”
Holy smokes. If steam could have burst through Kat’s ears, it would’ve. Her brown eyes blew open, and her gaping mouth displayed grotesque evidence of the smooshed remnants of a gooey center coated on her tongue. Yuck.
“Really?” Kat’s high-pitched voice quipped none too pleasantly.
Maggie’s shoulders moved up and down, as if it were an easy-breezy decision. “Sure, if he wants more and you don’t, why stick around?”
“Is that so?” Kat’s fist hit the butcher block. The candy she held in it splattered crumbles in the space between them, a tiny morsel catapulting onto Maggie’s knuckle.
Ignoring her sister’s pissy attitude, Maggie slurped the sliver into her mouth. “Mmm . . . very good.” Then she leapt across, grabbed Kat’s wrist, and bit off a huge chunk from the Snickers bar. “Yummy.” She patted her stomach, like Cece often did, and Alex too. He’d joined them for dinner almost every night, and after each meal never failed to tell Maggie that exact thing, rubbing his stuffed-to-the-gills midsection. The man always cleared his plate and consumed at least three servings.
To dig the knife deeper, Maggie’s cheek-popping smile aimed at Kat’s scowl proved that with a little more shoving she might get Kat off her ass and moving in another direction.
The babies’ crying didn’t give Maggie a chance to push the subject further. She left Kat to stew on those thoughts and jogged into the living room. Her repressed giggles were stuck behind her teeth as she chomped on her lower lip.
If Maggie said the sky was blue, Kat would deny it and call it black.
When Maggie turned right, Kat went left.
Just as her sister knew which buttons to push, Maggie did too.
As much as Kat gave the impression she didn’t want more, there wasn’t any denying the wondering gaze Maggie caught in her sister’s expression while Kat rocked the babies to sleep, dressed up in various costumes and role-played with Cece, and the wistful glances from under Kat’s lashes when Rick danced with Maggie anywhere and everywhere.
Somehow she’d crack that shell Kat hid behind. Romance-shmomance, Kat mocked often and got Cece to parrot the phrase too, adding their own version of loud smooching onto the backs of their hands and cackling like hyenas.
No matter the opposition, her sister wanted a monogamous relationship and commitment. Too bad she wouldn’t admit it. A tough cookie to crack, not many guys could handle Kat’s overpowering attitude.
But Alex could. After Maggie asked him a few probing questions, she sensed he wanted to take the next step with Kat. And if she could do anything to push her sister along, she would. After all, as happy as Kat seemed, Maggie knew her sister desired more and for some reason couldn’t take the leap. Marriage didn’t appear in Kat’s dictionary. A whole lot of other foul-mouthed terms did when Maggie brought up the subject, but not that particular one. At some point she’d get Kat to realize what she was missing. Even if she had to use a pitchfork to get her going.
There wasn’t anything better than the relationship she and Rick had. No matter how many times she watched him with Maximilian, Katarina, and Cece, her heart swooned.
The twins were wide awake. Rick had one tucked in each arm. Their big sister skipped happily toward the kitchen to warm their bottles. “Her job,” as Cece liked to remind them. Every day Maggie’s baby grew up, craving not attention, but responsibility. Her take-charge attitude on full display, Cece’s confidence shined through in her constant smile and tenacity, taking on any challenge and activity without batting a reserved eye. Ballet had been her first accomplishment. A blue belt in jujitsu another. She was well on her way toward her goal of the pinnacle red belt. And her most recent interest had become softball. Close by her side, her daddy displayed his obvious pride through loud clapping and whooping cheers. His positive reinforcement was never overdone though. It came from the heart—sincere and authentic.
As she plucked a squirming Maximilian from his arm, Rick pecked her cheek and whispered his naughty promises for later. In a thousand lifetimes she never could have imagined being married to such a man. Fairy tales had been vanquished from her mind long ago. Her amazing, compassionate husband was so much better than anything she dreamed up in her youth. Richard Maxwell Stone ensured her wishes were his command. As much as she wanted to give him everything in return, he always seemed a step ahead, putting her and the kids first. He leapt into the role of daddy and supportive partner as efficiently as he accomplished anything else.
So she had to get creative and find other ways to please him. A fantasy wrapped in reality, she enjoyed his luscious body first thing in the morning, anytime in the afternoon, at bedtime when the kids were asleep, or whenever she wanted. He was always primed and ready. With her active imagination, she had fun experimenting and driving him crazy. Since she’d always been a dedicated and hard-working student, he scored a lot. For her performance, she earned straight As, which her husband hand-delivered and recorded on every square inch of her body.
Love didn’t seem an adequate or sufficient description for her all-consuming feelings. She had more blessings than she ever could’ve imagined.
Their family and life together was as close to heaven as she could visualize.
Five years later . . .
“The place looks great. Everything will be fine. Stop fidgeting.” Kat grabbed her trembling hands, holding them firm and steady.
Maggie examined the twelve-thousand-square-foot restaurant in trendy NoMad Manhattan. One hundred fifty tables, a lounge that seated sixty, a tavern that accommodated thirty, and three private event rooms on the second floor ranged from a table of twelve to larger groups up to fifty. Her menu included international flavors from around the globe, providing service for lunch and dinner, and Sunday brunch. The grand opening tonight, a dream actualized. Seven originated from a free-for-all naming spree.
Emma had come over that night with her laptop and searched each title, making sure there weren’t any others in the city or surrounding area with the same name. Rick’s grandfather, a devoted and spoil-the-kids-rotten papa, lounged in a recliner and rocked four-year-old Maximilian and Katarina in each arm, reading fairy tales and ignoring the brouhaha. Once Cece called him Papa, he didn’t want to hear anything else. Another person succumbing to her charms.
After dozens of names were yelled out, Cece took charge and wrote them on a white board. The rowdy crowd argued and crossed out each one except Seven. As soon as the dynamic duo, Rick and Cece, suggested it, they had all agreed on the winner. It was a perfect representation of the wonders of the world, international flavors, and the number of
countries that would be featured on the menu each week.
“I’m gonna get a drink in your honor.” Kat saluted, humming a carefree tune and bee-lining her buzzing butt to the bar.
Her wits frayed, Maggie escaped to her office for a few solitary minutes to calm down before booked-solid reservations forced her into the kitchen in less than an hour. Bent over her desk, she rolled her shoulders forward and backward, trying to relieve the stress. She’d been puttering around her grandparents’ restaurant from the time she could walk. This should be old hat. Still, the pressure of owning her own business and taking on responsibility for forty-plus employees scared her to death.
Large hands tugged at her hips, and Rick’s chest molded to her spine. Even with her chin tucked in, eyes closed, she’d recognize him anywhere. “There’s somethin’ I want to show you.”
A messy bun on top of her head provided easy access to her neck. He took full advantage, scraping his stubble along it, shivers washing over her. Greedy, she tilted her head and laid it on his shoulder, exposing more flesh. He rewarded her by nibbling at the hollow, sucking along the ridge, and taking a nip at her chin. “Mmm.”
Always on the hunt, he found a gap in her chef’s coat, shoved her lace bra down and propped her breast up to his feasting mouth. His scruffy, scraggly hair bobbed below her chin. Her nipple caught between his teeth, he circled and flicked his tongue over the tip. “Very good, Mr. Stone.”
“I can do better.” He unbuttoned the flap from her shoulder to breast, revealing more skin. His fingers brushed along her collarbone as his eyes mapped and charted a course. “How much time do I have?”
“Hmm.” She couldn’t think, didn’t want to.
His rumbling chuckles belted out an erotic melody, melting her in his arms wrapped around her stomach. His erection delved into the crease of her behind. She gripped the backs of his thighs, letting him take charge while she reaped the benefits.
