House Calls: Callaghan Brothers, Book 3 (11 page)

He reached out and ran his hand over the blanket where she had been.  The spot beside him still held warmth, so she hadn’t been gone very long.  He rose to add a few more logs to the dwindling fire.  George was snoring loudly in front of the hearth, but Maggie was nowhere to be seen.

Outside, the storm continued to rage mercilessly.  Some nor’easters could last up to several days, and this one certainly appeared to have that kind of staying power.  Not that he minded in the least.  The thought of being stranded with Maggie was about the best possible way he could think of to weather out the storm.

After ten minutes passed and she still hadn’t returned, Michael’s unease grew.  The kitchen was dark, and the door to the downstairs bathroom was wide open, the candles she’d lit flickering softly.  A check of all the other rooms on the first floor came up empty as well. 

He grabbed a flashlight and went toward the entrance to the basement.  Perhaps she had gone down to check the circuit breaker.  “Maggie?” he called softly, opening the door.  There was no answer, no telltale glow down below, only silence and darkness.

A slight noise had him glancing upwards.  Closing the basement door, he made his way slowly up the steps, trying to make as little noise as possible.  He didn’t want to startle her, or impose on her privacy.  He just needed to make sure she was okay, then he would slip back into the living room to wait for her.

Michael ran one hand through his hair.  When had he become so protective?  What was it about this woman that turned him inside out? 

The snow and ice continued to pelt against the side of the house.  Below, the fire crackled and sizzled as the sap from the new logs heated and popped.  But there was something else, too.  A low, barely audible hum.  What the hell?  He turned at the top of the stairs, trying to pinpoint the source.  After one full turn his eyes landed on the door of what was probably a bedroom.

The soft glow of a candle spilled from the slight opening beneath the door.  Like a ghost, Michael drifted silently down the hallway.  The closer he drew, the more fixated he became on the sound.  Laying his ear against the door, he heard the soft hum.  It was muffled, as was another sound.  One that had his heart beating frantically in his chest and his lungs suddenly incapable of functioning properly.

His hand turned the doorknob slowly so as not to make a sound.  It was unlocked and swung open noiselessly.  Michael stepped inside, quickly closing the door behind him.  The hum came from the far corner, back in the shadows, beneath a pile of blankets.  Dear God, he prayed fervently, don’t let that be what I think it is.  He wouldn’t survive it.

The top of Maggie’s head was barely visible, but her soft, whispered moans were as loud as if someone had hard-wired an amplifier directly into his auditory system.  Each one was like a stroke to his body, making every nerve ending stand up and take notice.

He moved forward without conscious thought, operating entirely on autopilot, until he could see her.  Her body undulated rhythmically beneath the blankets.  Her eyes were closed, her lips parted slightly. 

Whether he made a sound or she sensed his presence he didn’t know, but suddenly her eyes flew open and locked on his.  She froze, the horror of being caught evident in her eyes.

“Don’t stop,” he begged, his voice as rough as sandpaper as he tried to speak through his tightened throat.  “Please, Maggie, don’t stop.”

She eyed him warily as he took another step closer, then another, until he was directly beside her.  He slowly pulled the covers away from her, sucking in a breath when he found her naked from the waist down beneath them, hands between her thighs, the gentle hum of her mini-vibrator suddenly much clearer. 

He’d been so good.  He was a strong man.  But this was just too much.

“Sweet Jesus, you’re beautiful,” he said in awe as he sat down on the bed.  He place one of his hands over hers and cupped it over her sex.  “Don’t stop,” he whispered again, the wonder in his voice unmistakable.

Slowly, tentatively, she obeyed him.  He watched, fascinated, as she sought to satisfy her own deep-seated need.  Her eyes widened as he slid his hand down into the waistband of his pants and gripped himself.  With a new hunger sparkling in her eyes she threw her head back and arched before him.  He groaned.  “Jesus,” he muttered, unable to tear his eyes away from her.  “That is the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.” 

“Show me,” she commanded softly, her husky voice a hard tug on his cock.

That voice was pure fantasy.  Deep and throaty, breathless and thick with desire.  Her gaze dropped from his face to the hand concealed within his pants.  Obediently, he pulled them down over his hips.  Her eyes widened at the sight of his fully erect manhood straining toward her.  He began to stroke himself in perfect synchronization with the roll of her hips.

Michael leaned over and took one hard nipple into his mouth.  Her whispered moan became a soft cry that nearly did him in.  He scraped the diamond tip with his teeth, then sucked. 
Hard
. 

* * *

I
t felt so good; so damn good.  Her initial embarrassment was nowhere to be found, shoved aside with brutal force by the wave of desire Michael had created.  It continued to build, lifting her higher and higher.  She wriggled wildly beneath him, the lift of her hips becoming increasingly erratic as rational thought ceased and she just
felt
.  Felt his lips.  Felt his teeth.  Felt the press of his heated flesh in the chill of the room.

He tortured her with his mouth, sucking and biting with hard little nips that made her cry out, followed by long, slow licks that made her shudder and moan.  There was no doubt about it; this man knew more about what she needed than she did, and she would willingly surrender to his expertise.

She felt the wave beginning to crest, but it was so much more powerful than anything she had experienced at her own hand.  The tension, the pressure continued to rise and she was afraid to open her eyes.  Her movements became wild and desperate, her breaths shallow and ragged.  And then, just when she was about to break into a thousand tiny pieces, that was when, in one swift motion, he pulled the vibrator from her hand and spread her legs, burying his face nose to chin against her sex.

She cried out again in surprise, but welcomed him by burying her fingers in his hair.  No man had ever gone down on her before.  She’d read about it, dreamed about it, imagined it - but the reality was so much better.  He murmured against her soft folds, curses and praises that only partially registered in her fevered brain.

* * *

“A
h, Maggie,” he moaned.  “That’s it, baby.  So sweet.”  He pulled her legs up over his shoulders for a better angle as he gave her one long, slow lick.  Her entire body shuddered beneath him and he smiled wickedly.  Michael glanced at her face, saw her looking at him with half-lidded eyes heavy with desire, desperate with need.  He knew then that it was a look he wanted to see over and over again.

“Michael,” she gasped, opening herself to him.  The sound of his name in that breathless, pleading voice sent a fresh wave of need through him.  “Michael, please.  Don’t stop.”  Happy to oblige, Michael dipped his head and continued where he had left off. 

Ah, fuck
, he thought as he filled his mouth with the taste of her.  Like candy, like some decadent dessert.  He could be happy here, suckling her forever, filling his mouth and nose with nothing but Maggie.  Possession fired through his body. 
His
Maggie.  Her scent, her taste was a part of him forever now, burned into his senses like a brand.

His lips kissed hers, tugging lightly.  His tongue dipped inside her, coating itself with her sweet cream.  His long arms reached around her legs and fondled her breasts, so full and heavy, spilling over his palms.

“Oh, God, Michael, I’m coming...  I’m coming...”  Her cry was a sob, a desperate plea.  He redoubled his efforts, sliding his tongue across and around her most sensitive spots, then dipping inside her as he felt the first tremble.  He held on tight as her legs squeezed around him and began to shake uncontrollably.  Dear God, her whole body seized as the powerful orgasm overtook her and she grabbed for him as if he was the only thing that could keep her from blasting away.

Michael had never felt such a raw, primal need.  Before she finished, he placed himself between her legs, his thick, swollen head pressed against her entrance.  Her eyes widened again but she reached for him.  He pushed against her, into her, inch by glorious inch as she stretched around him, thankful for the deluge of wetness that eased his passage.  With each deepening of his penetration, she cried out again as it prolonged her climax.

Finally seated balls-deep, Michael slipped his arms underneath her and held on as she continued to seize around him. Each contraction was powerful, gripping him in rippling waves.  He clenched his back teeth, fighting against the seed rising within him.  Just a little longer.  He needed just a little longer.

Her eyes were pleading, needy, for him and him alone.  She stopped shaking as he kissed her, long and deep and tender.  She was so unbelievably tight, clenching him, spasming against his intrusion, cradling his body as no one ever had.  Her hands reached up and grasped his shoulders, cupped the back of his head. 

Nothing,
nothing
, had ever felt so good.

Michael remained still and deep, fighting the animalistic urge to pound into her.  He stretched her to her limits, filled her as far as possible.  That in itself was amazing to him – that she had taken him – all of him.  He hung heavy against her slick folds, filled to bursting, tight with need and aching for release.

He was lost.

He let his eyes rake over her.  No hard, tight body here, just all feminine curves that made his heart pound against his chest and his cock harder than iron.  Round, full breasts that spilled over his palms; breasts that he could spend hours, days, nuzzling and fondling.  A sweet, soft waist with the tiniest swell that trembled when he kissed it.  Perfectly proportioned hips that he could grab on to as he took her over and over again.

He loved that he could grasp her flesh in his hands, that he could squeeze and knead and suckle it.  His body sank into hers as all of her soft swells and dips yielded to his harder planes.  This,
this
was a woman made for pleasing a man, for making him forget everything except the most basic and primal of all urges.  To be inside her, to possess her so fiercely and thoroughly that no other man ever breached her thoughts again.  Even now, buried deep inside her, he continued to swell and harden, anxious to get on with it, but he refused to hurt her.  He would allow nothing to mar this perfect union.

She rolled her hips, just a tiny movement, but one that let him know it was okay for him to move.  With infinite care, he pulled back, every muscle tense from the effort of restraining himself.  A slow stroke in, impossibly deep, until he felt his tip hit her cervix.  Another stroke, and another, slow and controlled as she became accustomed to his thorough possession.  Despite the chill of the unheated room, sweat broke out on his brow, across his back and chest.  His seed began to pool in his shaft and he forced himself to stop, almost sobbing with the barely leashed hunger he felt.

Maggie cupped his head, and looked into his eyes.  “Don’t stop,” she whispered.  And in her eyes he saw the same savage need.  The sweet, gentle, caring doctor was gone.  In his place was a man, needing only to claim this woman.  His woman.  The need went so deep, way beyond logic or conscious thought.  It just was, as ingrained and primal as anything he’d ever felt.

“Take me,” she begged, saying the words he needed to hear.  “Take me like you need to.  Like I need you to.”  Something snapped inside him then, and the leash with which he had tethered himself ripped right in half.  He pulled out and slammed into her, hard and commanding.  She cried out with the fierceness, the pure need of it. 

“Yes, Michael, like that, just like that.”  Her nails dug into his shoulders, marking him, even as her legs wrapped around him, pulling him deeper. 

Hearing her cry out his name, feeling her score his flesh did something to him.  He pulled out and did it again, and again, pounding into her so deeply she would never be free of him.  He would care for her later, pamper her and soothe her and coddle her, but now everything else ceased to exist, just him, deep inside her. 

“Take me,” he rasped, his voice barely recognizable.  “Take me, Maggie, please.  Oh, God...”  His plea broke off in a gasp as he felt his seed rising.  He couldn’t stop it this time.  If he had to pull out it would kill him.

“Yes,” she whispered, and tilted her hips, accepting him.  She wrapped her legs around his hips and cried out his name.  Michael felt her clamp down around him, milking him, drawing him into her as she was consumed by her own powerful orgasm.  He almost sobbed in relief as he finally let go.

It was impossible to get deep enough, to hold her close enough.  Her body arched and seized against him, the pleasure, the ecstasy nearly unbearable.   

An eternity later, his cock drained, her cries now sated purrs against his ear, weakness overwhelmed him.  He shuddered and collapsed, barely catching himself on his elbows as her arms and legs clutched him to her.

For those few minutes, Michael knew true happiness.  His mind, body, and soul were in perfect harmony as he lay in Maggie’s arms.  Her heart beat strong through her chest and right into his; each breath she exhaled resulted in a warm, moist sensation against his neck, where her face was buried.  His body still tingled from the earth-moving orgasm he’d just had, the one he held inside her as he twitched against her sheath. 

He rolled to the side, taking Maggie with him, until he was beneath her and she was spread across him again.  He loved the way her body blanketed his; loved the way his hands fit perfectly over her perfect ass.

Eventually his mind began to function again, along with his capacity for speech.  Maggie had been so quiet, so still; he worried he had hurt her.  Tenderly, he pushed some of the hair from her face, but he still could not see it.  “You okay?” he asked.