Maggie Moves On(104)

“You sound surprised.”

“I’m just coming to the realization that I’ve had eleven houses, and I’ve never decorated one of them for me,” she said, sounding wistful.

“Why not?” he asked, taking her plate and stacking it on top of his own.

“Because they’re not mine. I fix them up to appeal to the broadest audience so I can sell them quickly and move on to the next one.”

“You seem to be doing okay in the furnishings department,” he noted. “Every time I walk through that front door, it looks more and more like a home.” It felt like it, too.

“That’s by necessity,” she said.

“You don’t have to need something just to treat yourself,” he pointed out.

She smiled, picking at the label on her beer bottle. “But what have I done to deserve the treat?”

“You were one of those clean-your-plate-before-you-get-dessert families, weren’t you?” he teased.

Her lips quirked. “Maybe. Aren’t most people?”

“Mama B always preached that, since life was uncertain, you should eat dessert first.”

“Then why did we just enjoy two perfectly grilled New York strips?”

“Because we need the protein to fuel tonight’s bedroom activities. And because I didn’t want my lovemaking to be overshadowed by the aftertaste of Dad’s apple crumb pie.”

She laughed. “I can’t fault your logic.”

He covered her hand with his. “You ever stop and wonder what if life isn’t about earning your way to pleasure? What if it’s enjoying it when it makes itself available to you?”

“Hmm.”

“That was some seriously deep philosophy, and all I get out of you is a ‘hmm.’”

“There’s another problem that arises if I start buying things for me and falling in love with windows and bathtubs and…” She looked at him. “Other things.”

“What’s the problem?” he asked.

“Then it hurts to walk away.” She was watching him, her expression unreadable.

He decided to lighten the mood. “I bet you five dollars that you’re gonna make us do these dishes before we head on into the bedroom for dessert.”

She eyed the plates in front of him. “Well, I do like clean dishes,” she mused. “But I also could use five dollars.”



TeddysMom99: The wrong tile! Maggie is right. This kitchen is cursed!

JstKpSwimming: Good thing she has Hot Landscape Guy to comfort her! #Milas4Ever

InternetsCreeper: Rumor mill in Kinship is all over #Milas hookup! We need a confirmation! And an engagement!





38



Maggie watched as Silas dipped a finger into his bowl and then swiped vanilla ice cream over her bare nipple.

“You’re insatiable,” she said on a gasp when he covered the bud with his hot mouth. Licking first and then sucking. She moved her bowl to the mattress and leaned against the pillows. She felt each long, lazy pull echoed in her sex, a place that felt empty and needy despite the explosive orgasm she’d barely survived an hour before.

He shifted higher on the pillow and pulled her onto her side.

“Your ice cream is going to melt,” she said, noting how shaky her voice sounded.

But Silas didn’t seem to care about melted ice cream. He was happy to enjoy it.

Once again, she watched his finger dip into the bowl and swirl. Without breaking contact with his mouth, he traced the ice cream over her other nipple. Around and around until a drip gathered at the tip. Only then did he move his mouth to that breast.

His tongue felt like fire as it lapped at her. Her fingers found their way into his hair, and she tugged on those blond curls until he did what she wanted. Fastening his mouth over the bud and sucking.

Impatient now, he grabbed her hips and dragged her on top of him. Reaching up, he closed her hands over the lip of the headboard. She understood his game when his erection prodded at her. It was her turn to ride, with her breasts in his face.

She shifted forward and then down until he was nudging at her entrance.

“You’re so fucking wet already,” he murmured against her breast. He gave a small, teasing thrust, and she purred when the first inch slid into place.

It was a long, slow slide that had him sheathed inside her.

Their dishes clinked as body weight shifted.

“Ride,” he commanded, switching his attention back to the other breast. He gave her an encouraging slap on the ass. She began to move. A slow, steady rock that felt impossibly decadent. His thighs were rock hard beneath her, skin so warm against her.

But slow didn’t feel like enough for her. And judging from the grip he had on her hips, Silas wanted speed, too.

Squeezing her thighs against him, she rode faster. His head came off the pillow, and he murmured unintelligible, erotic promises against her flesh. She felt too damn much. Overwhelmed by physical sensations, swamped by feelings and wonder and need.

She moved. She rode. She took until finally he grabbed her hips and held her still, buried to the hilt. Then, on a low growl, he began to pump his hips into her, fast and hard. She could only hold on and take. Her fingers cramped against the wood of the headboard.

But it was building. Building. Building.

A golden glow was melting into the cracks.