Arranging Love (4 page)

She could only respond with moans of bliss. Her internal muscles clenched, inviting him deeper into her. Though her breasts were pressed flat against the counter, her steepled nipples slid against the lace of the babydoll with each thrust of his body, adding to the sublime sensations pulsing through her. His fingers dug into the muscles of her ass. He breathed out oaths as his own orgasm seemed imminent. She wanted to come, to let herself fall into that wonderful abandonment of ecstasy, but he had told her not to.

“You’re so tight, Meghan. I’m sure your pussy’s just begging for release.”

“Please, I need to come,” she gasped.

He spanked her even as his hips pistoned, filling her, carrying her to the edge of fulfillment. “Not until I say. You don’t want me to stop, do you?”

She arched her back. “Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

His palms splayed on her ass, and he pressed his thumbs into the tight hole still slick with her cream. The pressure sent shockwaves of euphoria to her core and tingled in her nipples and then to her fingers and toes. There was nothing in the world except this man, his cock, and the intense pleasure he was causing her body. She wouldn’t have expected the naughtiness to heighten her desire, but here she was, bent over her kitchen counter, begging this man to let her come and loving every second of it.

When he spanked her again, the pain sent her soaring, and she couldn’t hold on. The ecstasy slammed her over the edge, and she pushed back on his cock, feeling the quaking of his thighs. She didn’t care what punishment would come. Meghan gave herself over to the mind-numbing bliss filling every cell of her body. She writhed against the counter, as wave upon wave of her heavenly climax rolled over her body. Her incoherent cries of ecstasy were joined by his, as he crested, and an orgasm pulsed through him. His fingers dug deep into her hips as he slammed relentless into her, his hot seed filling her and prolonging the joy for both of them.

Meghan had no idea her body could do that. She’d never experienced such an intense release. As he fell heavily on her back, she exhaled a long breath of satisfaction. “I love you, Peter Maddock.”

“I love you too, Meghan.”

Chapter 5

Meghan stretched her achy body in the bed. Peter had made love to her two more times, before falling asleep in her arms. It was good to have him home. Sighing contentedly, she rolled to snuggle into the heat of his body, but found his side of the bed empty. Meghan called his name, but no answer came from the bathroom.

The alarm clock winked out the number 12:00, sending eerie pulses of red through the pre-dawn light of the bedroom. Retrieving her silk robe heaped with her nightie and Peter’s cast-off jeans on the floor, Meghan slipped it on and padded down the stairs. Perhaps she could coax Peter back into bed, and they could spend the early morning hours huddled under the covers entertaining each other before heading off to their respective jobs. With the storm, people would understand if she got to the shop a little late.

“Hey, you,” she said to Peter as she entered the office. He sat in the dark, the glow of the monitor casting his face in an eerie light that brought out deep shadows under his eyes.

“Meghan.” He clicked several keys on the keyboard, sending a rapid flash of windows across the monitor. “I didn’t hear you come down the stairs.” Peter cleared his throat.

Meghan bent and turned on a side lamp next to the couch. “I missed you.”

Peter held out his arms. “I had work to do, and I didn’t want to disturb you.”

She settled into his lap, and he nuzzled her neck, immediately making her want. She missed the tickle of his moustache against her skin, but he had mentioned how much it bothered him. She wasn’t surprised he’d returned home without it. “What kind of work couldn’t wait until the morning light?” She turned to look at the monitor, but he cupped her face and drew her into a long, deep kiss that left her breathless.

“Nothing important. Just another project.” Peter reached around her and shut the computer down. “Trust me, babe, it’s nothing you want to hear about. Boring engineering stuff that nearly put me back to sleep.”

“No, probably not.” She nipped at his bottom lip, sucking it into her mouth and teasing it with her tongue. “I’m tired of work keeping you from me.” Her teeth grazed the cleft in his chin, and he hissed. “You’re crazy for having driven through the storm, instead of waiting to fly home.” Her fingers tangled in the soft fuzz of his chest. “But I’m so glad you did.”

“I couldn’t spend another night away from you. I missed you so much.” His hand slid up her thigh and pushed away the robe. “I thought about you while I was away and brought you a gift.” He nuzzled behind her ear. “We got a little preoccupied last night, and I didn’t get a chance to give it to you. It’s on the counter in the kitchen. I was going to bring it up with me when I came back to bed.”

“I love presents.” Meghan tried to stand, but he held her firm in his lap.

“Later.” His fingers tangled in her pubic hair, and she wiggled against the flannel of his pajama bottoms, the heat of his erection filtering through the material.

Peter’s voice was low in her ear. “How about if I take you back upstairs and make you my love slave?”

“I’m at your mercy.”

Peter pulled away, his eyes searching her face. “You mean it? Completely mine?”

Meghan could see, even in the feeble light, something truly naughty twinkled in the depths of his eyes. She had liked their little fantasy role play last night. Exploring more of her naughty side might be fun. She giggled. “Completely and without reservation.”

Peter scooped her up and carried her to the stairs. “I don’t know what to use for a whip, but I’m sure the belts from our bathrobes would hold you and…”

She grabbed the newel post and pulled him to a stop. “You’re joking, right?” The words came out on a quiver of disbelief. Peter set her feet down one stair above him, her eyes level with the confusion filling his.

“Meggie, I … well, last night you seemed so into it. The whole spanking, naughty girl thing, I…”

Heat flushed her cheeks. “Peter, making love in the kitchen is one thing. But playing tortured slave girl to your master fetish, well … I’m just not sure that’s something well-adjusted adults do.”

Peter flinched as if he’d been struck. “No, it’s not like that.”

She couldn’t hide the disgust contorting her face.

“Forget it.” Peter backed down the stairs, putting the banister between them like a shield. “I just thought it might be fun to try something different. But the way you make it sound all sordid and dirty … well, it’s lost all its appeal, anyway. Forget I mentioned it.”

He stormed into the kitchen, leaving Meghan to battle her uncertainty alone.

* * * *

Meghan waved absently at Peter as he backed the rental car away from the shop. The morning she had hoped would be filled with steamy lovemaking had become an uncomfortable morass of polite grunts and one word answers. Even the sun and milder temperatures couldn’t brighten her foul mood.

Unlocking the door, Meghan made her way around the myriad Christmas trees decorating her floral shop and into the back room. She checked her watch. It was much earlier than she’d expected to be here. It appeared neither of them had wanted to stay at the house and continue their conversation. But what exactly had Peter been thinking? Normal people didn’t indulge in fantasy role play—did they? She’d have to ponder that, perhaps ask Julie and Deirdre. She and her sisters discussed nearly everything. Curiosity about their sex lives wouldn’t be overstepping the bounds of their relationship.

Until then, the only thing to do was to plunge forward with the flowers for the Anderton wedding. Meghan stared at the door of the cooler. Stepping foot in there would require more courage than she could muster at the moment. Shopping around for contractors was on the top of her to-do list, as soon as their offices opened in another hour.

Chelsea wasn’t expected in until this afternoon. Meghan couldn’t wait until then to start the rest of the floral arrangements. She stared at the door, the fear gripping her.

“Hey, sis.”

Deirdre’s voice jumped her and turned her fear to anger. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, good morning to you too.” Deirdre stamped her boots on the floor, sending snow flying in all directions as she walked into the back office. “I’m dropping off some plow receipts and a couple of checks for Julie.” She poked her head back around the corner “Tomorrow’s Saturday, right?” Deirdre ducked back into the office. “Julie’ll be here to do the books.”

Meghan shouldn’t have lost her temper, after all this was her sister’s business too. “Yeah. Sorry, I’m a little grouchy. Peter came home last night, and I didn’t get much sleep.” She didn’t want to admit that going in the cooler was putting her a little on edge as well, but with
Dee here, at least there was no chance of getting stuck. Meghan grabbed the stool, propped open the door, and quickly retrieved a bucket of flowers. “He drove through that storm last night.”

“Yeah?” Deirdre laid her gloved hand on the door of the cooler.

“Yes, he couldn’t wait to get home to make made passionate love to me.” Meghan strutted by her sister carrying the heavy bucket of hydrangeas, trying to act more brave than she felt. The chill of the cooler had started her heart hammering.

Deirdre held up a hand. “Stop. Those buckets are heavy.” Her voice softened. “There’s no need for you to go in there, Meg.” She squeezed Meghan’s shoulder. “Tell me what you need. I’ll get them.”

“That’s silly,
Dee, I’m perfectly capable…”

“Just shut up, dear sister, I’m trying to be nice. How about if you let me?”

Relief relaxed her shoulders. Sometimes Deirdre did understand. “Thanks. All the buckets I need are in a little group by the first set of shelves.”

Dee disappeared into the cooler. “I was just over at the pharmacy, plowing. When who should drive up but none other than Doc McCarty.” She set a bucket of lilies on the floor. “He was picking up Daddy’s medicine and bringing it over to Mum.”

“Don’t you think that’s a little weird, even for a small-town doctor?”

Dee lifted a shoulder before heading back for more flowers. “Meghan, it’s what friends do for each other.” The same buckets of roses and cymbidium that Meghan had used last night joined the rest of the flowers.

“But he just seems a little
too
chummy with Mum when they’re together. Haven’t you noticed?”

“I think you’re seeing something that’s not there.”

Meghan lifted a shoulder. “I don’t know. It seems a little off, that’s all.”

“I think, big sister, that you’re reading more into this than is there.”
Dee pointed her thumb over her shoulder. “Anything else?”

“The mums and mint baby carnations.” Meghan wasn’t convinced. “It just seems he’s spending so much time at the house.”

Dee set down the rest of the flowers and looked at her sister, deep lines creasing the edges of her mouth and eyes. “Daddy’s sick, Meghan. We all do our best, but I think having Doc McCarty there is helping Mum with the whole situation. I, for one, am grateful for all he’s done.” She shut the cooler door. “Ayden and I are planning on having everyone over for Sunday dinner, and I extended an invitation to Doc.”

“I don’t think we should encourage their relationship.”

“Relationship? What the hell, Meghan?” Deirdre pulled off her glove and wiggled the diamond ring on her finger in front of Meghan’s nose. “Did you happen to forget what it means to be committed?” Deirdre and Ayden had only been engaged for a month, but Meghan had never seen her sister happier.

“Whatever. I wasn’t implying anything.” Embarrassment heated Meghan’s cheeks. “I’m not saying Mum would ever cheat.”

“I should hope not.” Deirdre crossed her arms over her heart, the volume of her voice rising with each word. “Some relationships aren’t meant to last, but a forty-year marriage doesn’t get knocked off-kilter because of an illness.”

“Forget I said anything.” Infidelity was a sore subject with Deirdre.

Deirdre shook a hand at the cooler. “Is there anything else you need from there?”

“Not that you need to get.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

Deirdre stalked to the door. “I’m plowing in town all day. I’ll swing by around noon to put the arrangements back in.”

“Don’t bother. I can do it.”

“Oh, screw you, Meghan.”

And with that, Deirdre stalked out of the shop. What the hell was that all about?

* * * *

Peter sat at his desk in his office, staring at nothing. Fridays were slow, anyway, but since no one had expected his return until next week, his work load was practically nonexistent. He should be grateful. All the traveling had backed up his projects, and with the lull he should be focused on playing catch-up. But between
Crystal and his fiancée, he couldn’t wrap his head around work.

He and Meghan had tiptoed through their morning, neither of them mentioning his little request. His gift hadn’t been on the kitchen counter when he’d come down after his shower, and he had no idea what she’d done with it. At this point, he wasn’t even sure he cared. Obviously, Meghan didn’t find the whole bondage idea a turn-on.

The thought of her strapped to his bed, her body opened and at his mercy, excited him like nothing ever had. But she’d turned her nose up in disgust at the first mention of his fantasy. Was his little obsession truly warped? Peter had had his own doubts, but when Meghan nearly gagged at the idea, he decided it wasn’t something normal couples delved into. He blew out a long breath. What the hell was the matter with him? Traipsing into that little BDSM party in
Boston had added fuel to a simmering fire. Now his desire to dominate trickled into all his thoughts, until even working without obsessing was becoming a problem.

He should be satisfied with what he had. Meghan was enough. Why had he opened his life to temptation? The whole Internet search for Crystal had introduced him to new and exciting forms of sexual gratification, but he didn’t want it if he couldn’t share it with Meghan—did he? He was beginning to wonder if his fiancée would accept that part of him. Would
Crystal and everything she represented always be on the outer fringes of his life?

Crystal
.

He stood and walked around his desk to shut the door. His secretary was at an early lunch for another half hour. He’d been battling his inner demons since arriving at work this morning, trying to forget about that woman. He shouldn’t want to find
Crystal. Peter thought he’d closed the door on that part of his life when he’d run from the hotel suite last night. Then, all he’d wanted was the safety of Meghan’s love. But reality had hit and sent him fleeing to the Internet in the early hours this morning. Meghan had very nearly caught him surfing for the Dominatrix. How stupid to be emailing
Crystal and searching for her in the chat rooms from his computer at home.

He couldn’t stand it anymore. The thought of living without her in his life was eating at his soul. The guilt of keeping it from Meghan was eating at his stomach. There was no winning this battle.

He logged into the BDSM site and found his way to the chat room.

He searched everywhere for her, but it seemed
Crystal had fallen out of touch. Even regulars to the sites didn’t know where she’d up and gone.

* * * *

It was nearly noon before Meghan stepped away from the discarded clippings on the floor and rolled her shoulders to loosen the knots. As much as she loved arranging flowers, seven identical bouquets did get a tad boring.

The bells over the door chimed.

Meghan dried her hands and hurried from the back room. A graceful woman stood near the door, her blond hair cascading to the hem of her leather bomber jacket. Excitement trembled at the corners of her smile, and she toyed with the ring on her left hand. The doe-in-the-headlights stare completed the picture of a nervous bride-to-be shopping for a florist.

“May I help you?” Meghan smiled at the woman.

“I’m Sarah. I’m just checking out florists within driving distance of the
Bangor area.”