Maggie crossed her arms down her front, grabbed the hems of her borrowed sweater and the t-shirt underneath, and pulled them over her head. She dropped them on the floor next to Mac’s Henley and pressed herself against him. Maggie could’ve sworn she heard a sizzle as their bodies came into contact. He might not have had the ridged ab muscles and defined “V” cut like Dean, but Maggie discovered she didn’t care. He was hot under her hands and lips, and her body craved his. There was no one else she wanted to touch, wanted to be with.
“Shut up, Mac.” Maggie pressed her mouth to his, tangling their tongues and lips together.
Their kisses made her wonderfully dizzy, disoriented, and she found herself on her back looking up into his darling, frowning face. He bent forward to suck her aching nipple, rolling the pebbled tip on his tongue. He bit down on her sensitive bud, teeth pressing into her enough to sting, but not hurt, and Maggie arched her back, whimpering.
“I’ll slow down,” Mac said, his hand sliding down her front, sending tingles through her belly. He dipped under the waistband of her leggings. “We can stop.”
His lips trailed the path of his hands.
“Don’t stop.”
Maggie twined her hands into his hair and Mac paused. He looked up at her from over her hip bones, his pupils huge and his cheeks flushed. His tongue peeked out to wet his lips as his breath sawed out of his lungs. He looked as lust drunk as Maggie felt, like someone had taken a giant club and smacked them both upside the head with their attraction and hormones. Mac kept his eyes on her as he peeled her leggings down over her hips, spread her thighs wide, and shouldered his way in between them.
“Can I kiss you?” Mac asked and Maggie nodded, her head falling back against the dark blue comforter. “Words, Maggie.”
“Yes. Please,” she said, and he watched her as he laid a devastating kiss next to her belly button and slipped his fingertips under the waistband of her cotton panties. He continued watching her eyes as he pressed his mouth to the damp fabric covering her core. Maggie’s eyes closed, breaking their connection, but she was sure his eyes were still on her face as he pulled her underwear to the side and licked into her center.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Machadgivenherexactly what she wanted: an orgasm she didn’t have to work for. Two, actually. And if it was chemistry that brought Maggie to her second orgasm before Mac got his pants off, then Maggie wanted to kick herself for not putting more stock into it earlier. Or she would just as soon as she found her bones.
The hand she had shoved into Mac’s hair had gone from yanking to petting. The tremors that rocked her body were no longer tinged with desperation but with bone deep pleasure. Mac pushed himself up, bracing over her on his forearms. His mouth and chin were shiny and wet. His chest was heaving, which made sense, Maggie thought, since he was doing all the work. He wiped the back of his hand over his face and smiled down at her.
“Still with me?” he asked.
“Yes.” Maggie smiled back.
Lifting his hand, Mac pushed her hair back from her sweaty forehead, eyes crinkling at the corners as he watched her. “I’ll drive you home.”
Maggie frowned. “I drove here. And besides, we aren’t done.” She gestured at the crotch of his pants. His erection was straining the dark denim.
Mac looked at it and then back at Maggie.
“Ignore him.” His hand cupped her cheek, thumb sweeping over her flushed cheekbone. “I don’t want to rush you with this. We have time.”
Maggie pushed up on her elbows. It took more effort than she expected. Her muscles quivered like Jell-O. Mac straightened as her body pressed up towards his until he was kneeling between her spread thighs. Unable to resist touching, Maggie rested her hands on his stomach and slid them up towards his pecs, enjoying how the crisp curls of hair flattened under her palms. Mac’s pulse pounded under her hand, and there was a slight tremor in his muscles. He didn’t look as relaxed as she was. Maggie could fix that.
“I want this.” She slid the hand not pressed over his heart down to the button of his jeans, unfastening it. “I want you to feel the way I do.”
Mac lowered his forehead, pressing it against the top of her hair. His lashes above her painted dark half-moons on the tops of his reddened cheeks. From her angle, she didn’t know if his eyes were closed or if he was watching her hand on the waistband of his pants. His hands shook against the dark denim covering his thighs.
“If you don’t want to have sex, it’s okay,” Maggie said, her fingers dipping into the top of his underwear and brushing over the velvety head of his cock. With Herculean effort, she pulled back and rested her hands over the denim still clinging to his hips.
Mac covered her hands with his, bringing his forehead to hers. “You have no idea how much I want this. Want you. We’re just moving fast. I don’t want you to have any regrets, Maggie. None.”
Maggie smiled and intertwined their fingers. She brought his hands with hers as she shoved his pants down his thighs. The hair around his cock was as dark and crisp against her palms.
“No regrets, Tyler. None.”
At his name on her lips, Mac shuddered. He closed his eyes and bore her down to the bed, groaning as he fastened his mouth to hers. His lips sucked, pressed, and teased until she opened for him and took his tongue. A jet of white-hot need replaced the loose, sated warmth that had been soaking through her body. Maggie hitched her legs up around his waist, rocking into him with a sigh.
Mac’s kisses moved to her jaw, down her throat, down her chest, lower still. His fingers dipped between her legs and circled her with just enough pressure to make her gasp. She rocked her hips up, and his fingers slipped into her wet core. Maggie moaned, and Mac answered with a muffled growl against her breast. He bit down gently, sucking the soft curve into his mouth. It would bruise later, but all it did for now was make her blood hotter. She liked the idea of Mac marking her body. More than that, she liked the idea of someone else seeing it and knowing who had put it there.
Maggie dragged his head back to hers and bit down on his lower lip. Mac’s free hand came up to clutch the sheets next to her head. His other hand left her center and tilted her hips so that his hard cock was right at her entrance. All it would take would be a shift of his hips—or hers—and he’d slide right in.
His tongue stroked against her, trading deep, wet kisses as he held himself still against her. Funny how she didn’t mind his tongue sliding against hers. She didn’t mind the wet slip of saliva. She wasn’t a bad kisser at all, she just needed to be kissing Mac. Maggie canted her hips, and they shared a groan as the tip of him slid into her wet heat.
“Fuck,” Mac hissed and shifted his hips, pushing himself deeper. His voice was guttural, agonized with a hint of awe.