Give Me More. P.J. Mellor
set off tingling between her legs, causing her to gyrate against him in an almost desperate attempt at satisfaction.
Drew groaned and increased the tempo. “Oh, baby, that feels so—”
Maggie froze and tried to shove him off. “Don’t call me baby!” She squirmed far enough to sever their connection and pushed herself the rest of the way out from under him.
Now standing next to the bed, breath heaving with the exertion, her gaze took in the magnificent body sprawled on her bed, his iron-hard, impressive erection still sheathed in Day-Glo orange, and wondered if she’d overreacted a tad.
After all, it would be a waste not to use the condom. Especially after he went to all the trouble of opening it and putting it on. It might even be construed as rude.
But, dang, she hated to be called babe or baby. So much.
Drew started to sit up, and she realized she needed damage control, or yet another opportunity to complete the sex act would pass her by.
“It’s just…” She placed her palms on his warm shoulders and pushed him back on the sheet. “When you call me baby, it makes me feel, well, anonymous. Yes, that’s exactly it. Anonymous, an anonymous vagina, like any vagina will do.” She climbed up to straddle him again. “And that makes me sad. I want to be sure, beyond a doubt, that you know exactly whose vagina you’re in.” She smiled down at him. “Now, where were we before I so rudely interrupted?”
Drew smiled back at her, his teeth gleaming in the dimness of the room. “I was about to tell you, Maggie, how much I want to fuck you and how sorry I am it has to be a quickie.” He pulled her down for a lingering kiss and then palmed her breasts. “But,” he whispered, “I plan to come back tonight and make up for it.” He flicked the hardening tips of her nipples with the pads of his thumbs, causing her breath to hitch. “If that’s okay with you?”
Grinning, she sat back until she’d taken him deep within, relishing the fullness. With a little shimmy, she said, “I guess. As long as you remember our deal? You’re supposed to talk dirty—”
“Damn, woman! Your mouth is driving me crazy. If I wasn’t so desperate to fuck your brains out, I’d stick my cock in that sassy mouth and get off watching you give me head.” He arched his back, driving himself deeper. “But for right now, I’m just going to have to fuck you hard and fast and hope to hell you come as fast as I do.”
He reversed their positions and pounded into her. Conversation disintegrated to a series of grunts.
She didn’t mind, relishing the intimate sound of flesh slapping against flesh, the combined smell of lotion, grapes and sex in the air.
In fact, she was so intrigued by the smell and sounds of the act that her orgasm took her by surprise.
Her breath lodged in her throat, every muscle tightened and tingled; her heart tripped. She was drowning, reveling in the sensation. Her uterus contracted so violently it made her whole abdomen ache. So wiped out by her body’s response, she could only lie there while Drew kissed his way off her body and pulled the sheet over her nudity.
Drew watched Maggie’s eyes drift shut, wanting nothing more than to crawl back in her bed and give her an instant replay. But he knew it wouldn’t be instant, and he really had to get back to work.
It took all his willpower to turn and stride into the bathroom to do a quick cleanup and dress.
He smiled at the brightly colored condom and wondered if they glowed in the dark. Might be kind of fun.
Cold water did nothing to wipe the stupid grin off his face.
“Damn,” he whispered, looking at his reflection in the mirror above the little sink. “I look like a guy who just had his clock cleaned.” Anyone—well, any guy—who saw him would know exactly what put the cat-that-ate-the-canary grin on his face. He stifled a laugh. What he ate was so much sweeter than canary. And he planned to eat it again and again for as long as he could during the cruise.
Reflected in the mirror, Maggie’s string panties caught his attention. He turned and blinked. What were they hanging on? A step took him closer and he picked up the little pink cylinder.
A purple padded clip held a pair of barely there white lace panties. From the other end of the cylinder dangled a soft-gel purple butterfly. He racked his mind in an effort to remember where he’d seen the two little cylinders before. Then he touched the dial on the bottom and the cylinder began to vibrate in his hand.
He swallowed a bark of laughter. Who knew his little Maggie had a wild side?
Back in the stateroom, he stopped next to the bed. Maggie hadn’t moved. Drawing back the sheet, he placed a soft kiss on each delectable nipple.
She gave a soft moan and shifted beneath the sheet.
Judging by his instant physical reaction, he knew he had to leave. Gently covering temptation, he walked to the door. He’d come back sometime during his shift to tell her where to meet him for dinner.
With a final glance at the wild woman sleeping so innocently in the big bed, he made a final adjustment and let himself out.
The end of his shift couldn’t come soon enough. And not only because he’d broken his long dry spell.
He’d never used nipple clamps.
6
Something nudged Maggie awake. She stretched, relishing the inner aches she hadn’t felt in a long time. The action pulled the sheet from her breasts, bathing the puckering tips in the cooler air of the stateroom. She smiled, enjoying the sensation.
“I’m not sure I trust that smile,” a male voice said close to her ear.
With a shriek, she clutched the sheet to her chest and scrambled to a sitting position; then she relaxed when she recognized her intruder.
“Drew,” she said, willing her heart to resume beating.
“Sorry to startle you,” he said with a grin that said he wasn’t all that sorry as he tugged the sheet from her grasp. He leaned forward and licked each nipple before sitting back on the side of the bed. “I love your breasts.”
“Really?” The money for the instant-cleavage bra had been wasted. Who knew?
“Yep.” He tapped the tip of her nose. “I’d love to crawl back in bed with you, and if you don’t cover up that bodacious body, that’s exactly what I’ll do.”
She let the sheet slip to her waist.
He groaned. “Maggie, I mean it.” He primly pulled the sheet back up and tucked it beneath her. “I don’t have time to do anything but frustrate us both. I just wanted to come back to get that jungle beat quieted and invite you to have dinner with me tonight. At eight. There’s dancing after dinner.”
“Are you allowed to dance with the passengers?” She tried not to squirm at the fire in his eyes brought on by her innocent question.
“Are you kidding? It’s required. Lucky for you, everyone is paired up—”
“Already?” Wow, while she’d been cleaning and sleeping, the gusto had passed her by?
“What?” He shook his head. “Never mind.” He waggled his eyebrows and grinned. “My point was we’ll be stuck dancing with each other. I guess we’ll just have to come up with something to amuse ourselves.” He leaned in to brush a kiss across her lips. “See you at eight.”
Stunned. Before she could think of an appropriate answer, he was gone.
Precisely at eight, Maggie entered the dining room. The tables, with their starched white linen cloths, reminded her of little islands, the colorfully dressed diners their surrounding sea.
Smoothing the skirt of her blue silk sundress, her gorgeous new scarf tied in a jaunty bow at her neck, she glanced around, more than a little