Always Loving You (Danvers #6)(55)
Mac coughed, looking as if someone were squeezing his windpipe. “Avie . . . you know you’re holding my cock, right?” he wheezed out.
She flexed her hand, marveling in the fact that he felt much bigger than he had just a minute ago. “Yes, I know. Is it okay? Am I holding Mr. Wood too tight or not tight enough?” Oh God, she was doing something wrong. His eyes looked ready to pop out of his head and his face was almost purple.
As she started to pull her hand away, he clamped down on it, holding it in place. “Mr. Wood?” he asked, sounding strained.
Ava sagged in her seat, completely disappointed. She’d done everything that the magazine suggested to seduce her man during dinner. She had flirted, touched his penis, and even given it one of the manly names that they had suggested. Nothing seemed to be working, though. Instead of looking madly aroused and ready to throw her across the table, he looked as if he was just seconds away from passing out. As tears of disappointment threatened, she whispered, “I’m a complete failure at this, aren’t I? I guess you can’t be taught how to be fun and sexy, because it’s not working for me. I’m more like the antidote to all that. I’m sorry, Mac. I tried.”
Mac looked horrified as a lone tear slid down her cheek. Reaching out to brush it away, he cupped her face in his hand. “Oh, baby, I have no idea where all this is coming from, but you just surprised me, is all. You don’t have to try to be any of those things. To me you’re already all of them and more.” Lowering his voice, he moved the other hand that was holding hers against his cock and pushed firmly down. “I get hard just being near you. I panicked when you touched me because I knew I was dangerously close to coming in my pants for the first time in my life. You have no idea how your touch, your smell—everything about you affects me. I lose what little sophistication I’ve acquired through the years, and I’m back to being nothing but an out-of-control, horny teenager.”
Feeling a flicker of hope, Ava asked, “Really? I do that to you—for you?”
As he grew even bigger under her hand, he lifted an eyebrow, saying, “You don’t have to take my word for it, Avie. That’s all for you . . . that’s what you do to me.” She beamed at him, thrilled to feel the evidence of his attraction to her. Chuckling, he added, “One thing, though . . . where did you come up with the name Mr. Wood?”
Ava started giggling, now seeing the humor in her hasty attempt at seduction. Maybe she should have left that step until later as well. “Since I don’t really have any experience—you know, with men—I’ve been reading a lot of magazines,” she admitted. “That was supposed to be something like a bedroom secret that was just between us. I guess some men call their . . . penises wood, like morning wood, and since you’re male, I added the Mr. part.” Grimacing, she asked, “Do you hate it? We don’t have to use a name if you don’t want to.”
“Baby, you can call my cock anything you want to as long as it doesn’t have the words small, little, cute, or sweet in it.” He gently removed her hand from his lap and flagged down their server. Giving her a look that had her clenching her thighs together, he said, “I wanted to make this a great first date for you, but we’ve got to go home or we’ll be doing something in here that’ll probably get us locked up.”
Mac grabbed the check from the server’s hand and hastily threw a stack of bills on the table. They left the restaurant in what was just shy of a run. He paced as they waited for his SUV to be brought around. Ava thought they both breathed an audible sigh of relief when the doors were closed behind them and they set off toward Mac’s house.
As he drove with one hand on the wheel, he used his other arm to push the material of her dress up. Soon, she felt an embarrassing flood of wetness gather between her legs. “Mac . . . ,” she moaned, unable to hide the desire racing through her body.
Never taking his eyes from the road, he shifted his hand to rest against the thin silk of her panties. She knew that he could feel the moisture soaking through the material, but she was past caring. When he pushed harder, pressing against her throbbing clit, she threw her head back, needing a release from the pressure building inside her. She moved her hips restlessly, wanting more. “That’s right, baby,” he rasped, “ride my hand.”
With those words, she lost her inhibitions. Moving her panties to the side, she pulled his hand into her damp folds and sighed in bliss when he immediately started stroking her there. “Touch me, Mac,” she pleaded, needing more of what he could give her.
“I am touching you, baby,” he said as he flicked her sensitive nub.
“More,” she begged.
When he continued to circle her aching flesh, she planted her feet on the floor, groaning in frustration.
“Still not what you want, Avie? Tell me . . . give me the words, and I’ll make it happen,” he prodded, giving her nothing but maddening strokes.
Finally, she snapped, needing her release as she needed to breathe. “Put your finger inside me, Mac, now!” When he immediately thrust one of his large digits inside her wet heat, she almost wept with relief. It felt so good. “More . . . please more.” He pushed a second finger inside her, and that was it. She was free-falling, spasms racking her body as she screamed his name. She had no idea how Mac kept the car on the road as she yelled like a wild woman in the seat beside him.