Christmas Male (21 page)

"I'm trying to do right by you." His voice sounded strained. He looked strained, with the cords in his neck tensed and standing out, his jaw clenched so tight, he could barely speak. The muscles of his chest and arms looked rigid and ropy, as if the fibers of his muscles were stretched tight to the breaking point. "You've never had alcohol before and it's impairing your judgment. You need to trust me on this."

Oh, how those low, caring tones in his words got to her. They went straight to her heart.

"It's not the scotch," she told him, daring to lean forward, watching his gaze drop to her swaying breasts and then to her hand reaching out. "It's you."

"It's not really me," he said as if he alone knew the truth, as if what he wanted was what mattered here. "Your inhibitions are low—"

"Yes, they are," she interrupted, agreeing completely as she caught hold of his drawers and yanked them down by the ties. "But don't worry. I know what I'm doing."

His shaft bobbed free, arrowing upward with inspiring length and girth. Her eyes widened as she studied the fascinating purpled blunt tip, the engorged veins in his shaft and, goodness, it seemed to throb with each heartbeat. She reached out and curled her fingers around his thickness. Mesmerizing. It exceeded all expectations. How could something be so soft and hard at the same time, like velvet covered iron? She gave a little tug and a stroke, and Miles's hand wrapped around her wrist, stopping her.

"Trust me," he ground out, tortured. "This isn't what you want. Come morning, you will have nothing but regrets."

"Regrets? Because of you?" She pressed her free hand to the side of his face, feeling the heat of his skin and the rough texture of his whiskery cheek. "I want this more than you'll ever know. I want this with you. Please."

The cords in his neck looked tight enough to snap. Agony twisted across his handsome face and his erection throbbed hard in her hand. Unable to help herself, she gave a little squeeze. When his shaft seemed to enlarge even more against her palm, she squeezed harder.

With a groan that was more growl than consent, he released her wrist and pulled her down to the carpet with him and kicked off his trousers. She lay back on the carpet, trembling beneath him as he stretched out above her, his weight balanced on his hands. The heat and steel of him jutting against her hipbone, catching in her curls, leaving a slight trail of dampness.

Dizzy with excitement, she let her thighs fall apart, baring her aching center watching his eyes go completely black. His erection nudged against her inner thighs (getting closer) and breathless she stared into his eyes, his dark, passion-hazed eyes. There was no more control, they'd both tumbled over that dark edge. She moaned the instant his jutting hardness nestled up against her there, where she wanted him the most.

What a blissful sensation. She let her head loll back, felt her body relax, surrendering utterly to his invasion. Her entire world zeroed down to his hardness pushing against her, the pressure of her swollen folds giving way and the press of his penis into her virgin passage. She gasped, feeling stretched apart, feeling her tender area hurting sharply as he stopped, waited, letting her adjust to his girth.

And as much as it hurt, it felt good too, and getting even better.
Oh, my!
She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, needing more, so much more. This was just the start, she knew, the start of the most amazing pleasure she would ever know.

"God, you feel good." He groaned, the words torn from him as he settled completely over her, heated skin to heated skin, the movement spearing him a bit deeper inside her.

"So do you," she told him, arching up to catch his mouth with hers, to seal this amazing moment with a tender kiss, but the rock of her body drew him in deeper, the pressure becoming unbearable, both pain and pleasure. Her body was thrumming, her blood ringing with need. She wanted him deeper, she wanted everything. She ran her hands along his spine to the small of his back and pushed, lifting her hips.

"You are a needy one," he laughed against her lips, opening his eyes, his gaze penetrating hers as he thrust deeper, smoothly into her, and the pain gave way completely until he was buried deep inside her, as far as he could go, hilt deep.

"Oh, God," she gasped, wrapping her legs around his hips, feeling his incredible hardness against her inner muscles, sparking all kinds of unbelievable sensations. "Don't stop. Oh, Miles, oh, please."

"Is this what you want?" He smiled against her lips as he began to move, pinning her down, driving deeper. The friction of him within her, the unparalleled pleasure it gave her brought tears to her eyes.

"Yes," she told him, clinging to him, surrendered utterly to his every thrust and withdrawal, letting him rock her hard and then harder until the world faded away and there was only the two of them, moving together. Every muscle she owned tensed and stretched to the breaking point, besieged by the assault of lightning-bright streaks of sensation gathering there, where they were joined, and radiating outward.

Her entire body began to tighten. Helpless, she held onto Miles as her abdomen and her inner muscles cinched around his thickness, ever tighter. She felt ready to fly apart, gasping for breath, as his thrusts deepened, quickened. Exhilarated, she gave in to the building sensations, the heat and the sweetness, to the friction so spellbinding she rocked harder up against him, craving more.

Then it happened. Her inner muscles began to throb, clenching his shaft, squeezing as white-hot sensation streaked through her like lightning, unrelenting, scorching her from the inside, where they joined, and then rocketing through her in thrilling, ecstatic waves of pleasure. Above her, Miles stiffened, groaning in a primal male way as he climaxed, thrusting hard and deep, so deep, so urgent. His shaft throbbed, pumping his seed against her sensitive walls and womb in wet, hot bursts. She kissed his jaw, his throat, his face with wonder as he gave one final thrust, one tortured-sounding moan, and collapsed over her, spent.

What a man, she thought as his mouth found hers. He kissed her more tenderly than anything she'd ever known. His shaft was flexible inside her, hot and heavy. It felt comfortable and intimate lying with him like this, his weight holding her down, the arch of her hips holding him in.

"You are going to be the death of me," he murmured against her lips, and they smiled together. He brushed back a ringlet of her hair, pushing it gently out of her eyes. "We shouldn't have done that. I just ruined you."

"Thank you for that." And not a moment too soon. She pressed her hand against his jaw, gazing up at him, at her dear Miles. She would remember this moment and this experience for the rest of her life. This new awakening Miles had caused within her. She felt his penis twitch inside her and she gave him a little squeeze, felt him surge, thickening.

"Maybe you can ruin me a little more," she said with a sly smile. "Since we're here."

"It would be my pleasure." He rose up over her, thrusting deep, spreading the wetness inside her. His seed, she thought with a shiver. It felt so intimate as his erection grew, stretching against her, giving her all kinds of pleasure.

What a way to spend a night, she thought, smiling against his shoulder. That was the last coherent thought she had as he thrust into her over and over again.

"It's getting late." Miles broke the hush, his voice grating low and gravelly in the near dark. The fire had burned low, tossing a dark orange glow over the carpet and onto the blanket he'd dragged over from one of the sofas to cover them.

Maggie gave a contented moan and stretched, loving the way her body felt. Sated and intensely relaxed and yet every nerve ending remembered everything that had happened—every caress, every throb, every orgasm. Yes, lying like this at his side, with her head on his shoulder was the second best thing she'd ever known (with making love to him being the first).

"I don't want to move," she confessed. "Because that will mean our night together is over."

"Pops is a light sleeper. He'll hear the bed ropes squeaking if we move this upstairs." Regret and a dash of humor rumbled deep, vibrating in his chest. "I can't imagine his reaction if he knew what I just did to you, so I'd better get you to bed. Your own bed."

"It's a tragedy," she gave a throaty laugh as he eased his arm and shoulder out from beneath her. "But I guess all good times have to come to an end."

"Sad but true." He sat up and the blanket fell away with his movement, exposing her breasts. With a wicked smile he leaned over to capture one sensitive tip with his tongue, drawing it into his mouth. He gave her nipple a suckle and a final, sweet kiss. "And it
was
a good time."

"Gee, you're smiling." She sat up, a little gingerly considering all the activity her lower region had been through. "I don't think I've ever seen you really smile. You know, like a normal person."

He stood, pulling on his denims. "I am a normal person. I just don't want it to get around. I like my reputation the way it is."

"Then your secret is safe with me." She considered standing, but it would take a lot of effort. Besides, the blanket was warm from their combined heat. Goosebumps rose up on her skin, proof of exactly how chilly the air was.

Brrr.
She pulled the blanket up to her chin and watched Miles slip on his shirt, leaving it unbuttoned as he knelt down in front of the hearth to bank the fire. As he shoveled ashes over the gleaming coals, she admired the strength in his shoulders, the muscled contour of his back and the tousled thickness of his hair. A shock of hair stood up straight at the crown of his head, and her fingers ached to brush it down. Every part of her ached, eager to touch him again.

That was the problem with making love to a man like Miles. She wanted to keep doing it, when this was only a one-time thing, a forbidden night of passion. Oh, Emma would faint dead away if she knew about this.

"There, fire's banked." He came to her in the dark, the pad of his step, the heat of his body, then the glory of his touch. "No, don't get up. You're warm where you are. I'll just pick you up with the blanket."

"But my clothes—" she started to protest, but he scooped her up neatly into his lap as if she weighed nothing at all, tucking her against his chest and folded the blanket around her.

"Can you grab them?" he asked, kneeling, lowering her just enough for her to slip an arm out from beneath the length of wool and snag her dress and undergarments. She dropped them on her stomach as he rose, standing full height and carried her from the room.

She pressed against his chest, feeling his heated skin against hers. The grandfather clock began to strike as they passed by. One bong, then two, then three. Well, they'd been at it for quite a while, she thought, gratified. It had been a night she would never forget, not for as long as she lived.

They didn't dare speak as he climbed the stairs, making his way in the dark. It felt as if they'd brought the warmth of their lovemaking with them, as if they were still somehow connected, joined, as if he would always be a part of her. Too bad it can't last, she thought as he snuck down the hall, in front of Winston's door and then John's. He carried her to her door.

"Can you grab the knob?" he asked in a low whisper.

"I thought I already did that," she joked, liking the sensation of his muffled laughter vibrating through her.

"Yes, you did," he answered, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. "A nice proper woman shouldn't have been so eager to grab me like that."

"I am a nice proper woman," she whispered back, as she gave the door a push. "I just had a momentary lapse. Lucky me."

"No, lucky me." He strode into the room and set her on the bed. The blanket fell away to reveal the mounds of her breasts and the flat of her stomach, places he'd touched and kissed.

She smiled, remembering all the quiet, intimate things he'd murmured to her in the dark. As if he were remembering too, he knelt beside the bed, brushed her hair out of her eyes, just let the silence settle between them. He kissed her with a light brush of his lips.

"Sleep well, beautiful." He pressed his forehead to hers and in that instant, she let herself believe that he loved her, that he could trust her that much. She cherished his words. She no longer felt undesirable or that life was passing her by. She had Miles to thank for that as he strode away, nothing but shadow as he left the room, taking her heart with him.

It wasn't the first time he'd ruined a woman, Miles thought as he stopped in the hallway. But it was the first time he hadn't been engaged to her first.

He opened and closed his door softly, careful not to wake Pops in the next room. For a few moments, he stood there in the dark, letting the chilly night wrap around him until goose bumps covered his skin. What had he been thinking with Maggie? He rolled his eyes to the ceiling, shaking his head, trying to figure out exactly how he'd lost control so fast.

Oh, right. She'd grabbed a hold of his penis and wouldn't let go. That would do it. He blew out a sigh, deeply troubled. Maggie wasn't distraught over losing her virginity to him, a commodity very important to a quality woman seeking a good marriage. In fact, she seemed to like it too much. All kinds of memories filled his head as he ambled over to his bed. Memories of her head thrown back, caught in the rapture of orgasm. Of her kissing her way down his belly. Of her taking him into her mouth before climbing on top of him and sheathing him deep.