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Maggie Moves On(82)

Author:Lucy Score

“Ahh, Maggie,” he breathed against her and squeezed.

Her knees buckled. She wanted to be embarrassed. She was thirty-four years old. This was not her first time running the bases. Enough men had made it to second base that her breasts should have been used to the attention.

But Sy’s attention was something else entirely.

It was otherworldly.

His eyes were going sterling as they bored into her, absorbing her every reaction to him. With expert deftness, he slipped finger and thumb under the edge of her bra to find the bud. It tightened at his touch, and she wanted more. So much more.

His voice was ragged against her ear. “My house is clean.”

She bit her lip, and he held his breath.

A smile spread across her face. “I shaved my legs.”

“Come home with me, Maggie.”

Maggie: Just checking in. How’s everything at the house?

Cody: Kevin, Dolly Parton, and Taco are asleep on Dean’s bed.

Maggie: Weirdest sentences for $200, Alex. That was a Jeopardy reference, just in case you didn’t get it.

25

Silas gave his front door a kick and, without breaking the lip-lock he had on Maggie, lifted her over the threshold and shut the door. He was dizzy with her. Obsessed with her every reaction to his touch.

“Stay,” he managed to murmur as he busied himself stripping her out of her jacket. He threw it in the direction of the recliner. Reveling at the softness of her sweater, knowing the skin beneath was even softer.

“It’s Cody’s first night at the house,” she said between kisses.

“We’ll make it up to him tomorrow,” he said, toeing off his boots. “I’ll buy him a car or an Xbox.”

When he reached for her, Maggie took a step back and held up a palm. “You stole my oxygen,” she confessed.

He waited, like an engine revving, for her to find her breath, her footing. She was so damn beautiful. He didn’t know how he’d survived the drive back with so little blood in his head.

Taking slow, deep breaths, she reached down and slid out of her sexy red platform sandals.

“You good?” he asked, trying his best to tamp down the beast inside that wanted to tear and shred and take. It was a losing battle, one he wasn’t sure was worth fighting.

Warily, she nodded. But he saw the need in her eyes. “Yes,” she hissed.

It was too much, seeing her need him, witnessing the depth of her want. He was on her in a heartbeat, mouth hard against hers, hands fast and desperate. He boosted her up and swallowed her surprised laugh with his hungry mouth.

When she wrapped those strong, lean legs around his hips, he felt invincible.

His hands and senses full of her, he headed to the bedroom, bursting through the door as if he were being pursued by demons.

“I don’t want to stop touching you long enough to get your clothes off,” he confessed.

“Then keep touching me while I strip,” she offered, giving his jaw a scrape with her teeth.

“You’re a very smart woman, Maggie. I want you to know that I respect you. I don’t want you to doubt that after all the dirty things I’m going to do to you.”

“Less talking, more dirty,” she said, yanking her shirt over her head.

He could love her, he realized on the spot. That smart mouth that made his blood sing. Her tentative trust in him. The body that tortured him every day and night since he’d met her.

“Finally,” he said, pressing his face to the valley between her breasts. Curves full and round, barely contained by the most useless bra in the history of breast support. The tiny swatch of sheer fabric in the middle begged to be destroyed. He wanted to buy her a dozen of them just so he could tear them off of her.

She felt like magic in his arms. Magic and a desire so deep he knew that once wouldn’t be enough. One hundred times wouldn’t be enough.

He toppled them onto the bed, pressing her into the mattress and reveling in the feel of her under him. His cock throbbed painfully.

Slow the fuck down, he warned himself. But that voice didn’t take into consideration just how many damn times he’d fantasized about this exact moment. Lying here on this bed, hand fisted around his erection, knowing it would never be as good as the real thing.

“Sy,” she breathed, rolling her hips against him.

He cupped a hand under each breast and slowly slid his palms higher.

Her back arched, pushing those perfect globes into his hands. He brushed both straps down her shoulders. It was the last gentle move he was capable of because Maggie raised onto her elbows and gave him access to the clasp of her bra.

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