never actually had sex without a condom. But damn, she feels good. Now that I’m inside, there’s no way in hell I’m pulling out, not unless it’s what she wants. I suck in a breath and wait because I think she’s making the same conclusion in her own brain.
“Should I get a condom?” I finally ask.
“You can, but”—she bites down on her lip—“I kind of want to feel you tonight.”
It’s all the permission I need to rock my hips into her once more, slowly, enjoying every ounce of sensation as her walls grip my length. I reach around her and grab a couple pillows to prop her hips higher while never losing my rhythm. With my hands on her hips, and my eyes locked on hers, it’s only a matter of time before I feel the early tremble of her pending release.
I hover over her, taking her mouth with mine as she moans out her warning. “Flip me over,” she demands.
I don’t hesitate to obey. Wrapping my arm beneath her, I slide under her body while she climbs on top of me. Her hands are on my chest, and her hips are already working me at a faster pace than the one I had set. But this time, it doesn’t matter. I don’t try to control the rhythm. I don’t edge her to an orgasm the way I normally like to do. Because this time, it’s about more than the art of getting Maggie to her climax. We’re making love, and for the first time, I understand exactly what that means.
As our limbs tangle and our kiss grows stronger, I know there’s no other woman in the world who could own me so completely. No one but Maggie.
“I should have known I would find you in here, cooking.”
Maggie enters the kitchen the next morning, wearing a beautiful smile. My high school football jersey is tucked into a pair of black drawstring shorts she must have found in my closet. She looks refreshed and happy, and I can’t help but smile knowing that I am part of the reason for her happiness.
I pull the hot pan out of the oven and set it on the stove before wrapping her in my arms and kissing her square on the mouth. “Actually,” I say between kisses, “I’m baking, but don’t tell.” I wink and smack her ass before turning back to the stove. I slide in a second batch of guava turnovers while Maggie hops onto the counter to watch. “How’d you sleep?”
“Great, except that you’re a bed hog.”
I chuckle. “Sorry. Now you know why I have a king at home.”
She raises her brows as if to challenge my comment. “Is that why? I kinda thought your bed was like your version of a playground. You need all that room to do your tricks.”
I smirk and shrug. “I won’t disagree with that.” I pick up a turnover and step between her legs then hold it to her mouth. “You need to try this. You’ll love it. I swear.”
Her eyes are wide, and I swear drool is about to start pooling at the corners of her mouth. “How many calories do these things have?”
“Don’t worry,” I tell her with a smirk. “You worked them all off last night. But if you’re really worried, I can put you on another cardio program today.”
She narrows her eyes but opens her mouth anyway then leans down and takes a bite from the corner. Her body reacts exactly as I expect. Maggie experiences great food the same way she orgasms. Her entire body freezes, and her eyes roll into the back of her head, then she groans out her pleasure.
She takes hold of the small pastry and finishes it off before eyeing the rest of them on the tray. “What are those called?”
“Guava turnovers,” I say proudly. “My dad loves them. I thought we could sneak him in a couple and leave the rest for Rebecca.”
“Rebecca?”
Desmond smiles. “Zach’s mom.” Then I pick up another turnover from the tray and hold it in front of her. “You can have this on one condition.”
“What? You’re seriously going to hold food hostage from me? That feels wrong.”
“Let me photograph you eating it.”
“I should have known.” Then she laughs and plucks the pastry from my fingers. “Snap away.”
I use my camera phone, since I don’t have my professional lens, and shoot a series of photos of Maggie devouring her orgasmic breakfast. She’s chewing the last of it when Rebecca steps into the