Midnight Encounters (12 page)

“Don’t worry, I’ll stop before you come,” she said in a sexy whisper, as if she’d read his mind.

A second later, her mouth clamped down on his neck. She sucked on his skin, the pressure of her lips causing a shiver to sizzle down his spine and grab hold of his balls. Closing his eyes, he lost himself to sensation, to the feel of Maggie’s lips trailing wet kisses along his skin. Her mouth traveled down to his chest, where she nibbled on one flat nipple, then down to his stomach, where she licked the line of hair leading down to his crotch. When she finally reached his cock, he was harder than ever and so close to exploding he could barely move.

One lick, one soft kiss to his pre-come-soaked tip, was all he was willing to allow. Any more and he’d be shooting his load in her mouth, when all he wanted to do was bury his cock inside her wet heat.

Laughing quietly, she put him out of his misery and climbed back up, straddling him with her long legs.

“You’re close, aren’t you, Ben?” She leaned toward the nightstand and reached for one of the condoms in the box she’d placed there.

“What the hell do you think?” he growled. His cock twitched as she covered it with a condom.

Her laugh deepened, a melodic sound that made his erection harden even more, if that was humanly possible. “I expect my boy toys to possess stamina,” she said with mock disapproval.

Before he could respond with a comeback, she sucked the breath right out of his lungs by impaling herself onto his dick. White-hot pleasure sliced into him like a knife.

“Still close?” she teased.

He managed a nod, and then lifted his head in an attempt to kiss her.

Like the teasing vixen she was, she shifted her head so his lips connected with her cheek, and then made a tsking sound with her tongue. “None of that,” she said. “I’m still having my way with you.” She dipped her head and pressed her mouth to his jaw, planting light, barely-there kisses along his skin.

Nibbling on his earlobe, she ground her lower body against his but didn’t ride him the way he wanted her to, just rotated her hips slightly. When he made another attempt to kiss her, she allowed it, but this time her tongue was in charge, exploring his mouth with precision.

He groaned, the guttural sound filling the bedroom, and Maggie broke the kiss with a faint grin. “You know,” she mused, “I recall you telling me I wouldn’t be so smug once you had your way with me…and yet I’m still feeling pretty damn smug.”

“Yeah, what about now?”

Without giving her time to react, he dug his fingers into her hips and thrust upwards, driving his cock deeper inside her.

She gasped, her eyes wide with pleasure and surprise. “Now…I’m feeling less smug,” she admitted, then cried out when he gave another hard thrust.

“And now?”

“Now…I’m…oh God…” Her eyes had glazed over and she looked like she was struggling to speak.

He lifted his hips off the bed again.

“And now?”

She gave a breathy moan. “Now I just want to fuck you.”

And she did. She rode him so hard he could barely see straight, her pussy clamped so tightly over his dick he was almost in pain from the pleasure swirling inside him.

He locked her gaze with his and watched as her expression changed from aroused to blissful, and then she was coming again, her inner muscles squeezing his cock and triggering a climax so intense his vision became hazy.

With one last shudder, the wave crashed and subsided, leaving them limp. Maggie collapsed on top of him, her breasts crushed against his damp chest, her breathing ragged.

After a moment she moved off him and lay flat on her back, her gorgeous breasts rising and falling with each breath. He stayed quiet, trying to control his own breathing, trying to recover from the body-numbing orgasm that had just crashed into him like a hurricane.

“So anytime I want it?” she finally murmured.

He found himself laughing again. “That’s what I promised, didn’t I?”

“Good.” She rolled over, pressed her face against his chest and promptly fell asleep in his arms.

“You look strange,” Trisha said matter-of-factly when Maggie walked into the Olive the next evening.

Feeling her cheeks grow warm, Maggie met her friend’s curious gaze. “Strange?”

“Yeah. Are you sick? You’re kinda flushed.”

It didn’t surprise her that she looked flushed. She
felt
flushed. Before she’d left the apartment to come to work, Ben had worked his magic on her again, once with that wicked tongue of his, the second time with that thick cock she couldn’t seem to get enough of. For a moment she was tempted to tell Trisha all about it, but quickly quelled that urge. If Trisha found out she was currently shacked up with a movie star, the entire world would know about it in a matter of minutes.

So all she said was, “Maybe I’m getting sick.”

Her co-worker looked her up and down, those eerily-perceptive brown eyes piercing into her. Finally, Trisha gave a brisk nod. “You had sex.”

The flush returned to her cheeks. “What? Of course not.”

“Liar. You had sex. It’s written all over your face.” Trisha’s eyes lit up. “Tony’s still in town?” Since it was the perfect out, she quickly nodded in confirmation. “Yep. Still here.”

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“I want details! You obviously got laid last night. I, on the other hand, went to a high school basketball game with Lou. I can’t even remember the last time I had an orgasm, so I really need to live vicariously through you.”

Fortunately their manager walked over and put an end to the conversation before she could answer.
Un
fortunately, Linda’s brisk strides and the frown on her face told Maggie that her manager wasn’t happy.

“Trisha, tend to your tables,” Linda said in lieu of greeting.

Looking puzzled by the older woman’s harsh tone, Trisha simply nodded and hurried away.

Linda turned to Maggie. “I need to speak with you.”

She was feeling a little puzzled herself. Straightening out the bottom of her apron, she leaned awkwardly against the counter and shot her boss a quizzical look. “What’s up?”

“A complaint was made about you.”

“What?”

“A customer filed a complaint after you left on Saturday.” Linda’s frown deepened. “Apparently you were ridiculing his drink order. He was very unhappy with your behavior.” Ridiculing a drink order?

She ran over Saturday night’s events in her mind, trying to remember everyone she’d served. She didn’t recall being particularly rude to anyone. It wasn’t her style to be rude and she honestly couldn’t think of what she might have said to warrant a complaint.

Obviously sensing her bewilderment, Linda added, “The customer said he felt you were belittling his masculinity.”

Oh.
Oh.
The memory of Wayne the daiquiri man entered her brain. She’d been thinking about Ben at the time, distracted by the fact that he was waiting outside for her and demanding to stay at her apartment, but she’d apologized for the remark, hadn’t she? No, of course she’d apologized. Evidently the customer hadn’t been satisfied with that.

“I wasn’t belittling him,” she said in her defense. “I was distracted and said something—to myself. I explained to him that I wasn’t referring to him or his drink.”

“Regardless, he was unhappy, and unhappy customers are bad for business. I know you’ve been busy with your school work, Maggie, but try to stay focused when you’re here at the Olive. I’m not going to put the complaint in your file, but I just want you to be aware of it.”

“All right. Um, thanks for letting me know.” She played with the tie of her apron, adding, “It won’t happen again, Linda.”

“Good. Don’t forget, Jeremy will be here next week, so everyone needs to be on top of their game.

Best behavior, okay? Don’t antagonize customers.”

She wanted to protest that she hadn’t antagonized anyone, but Linda was already walking away.

With a small sigh, she grabbed her tray and headed for the couple who’d just seated themselves at one of her tables. She pasted a smile on her face and diligently took their order, all the while thinking about how she couldn’t wait to get home. Ben Barrett might be a movie star, not to mention a huge headache, but he was damn good in bed. And right now, she could really use another orgasm. Or two. Or ten.

It only took three days for Ben to realize that Maggie Reilly needed a lot more than sex. She needed a goddamn vacation.

He honestly couldn’t understand how she lived the way she did. Her life revolved around work and school, and her self-discipline was almost mind-boggling. She spent the mornings studying and writing papers, and the afternoons at the community center where she volunteered. Then she came home and buried her nose in a textbook for a couple more hours. By the evening, she was getting ready to go to work, where she spent the night waiting tables. She came home around two a.m. and went straight to bed. She ate only when he forced her to, and shot down his suggestions that she take a walk or watch some television with him. In fact, the only time she actually seemed grateful for his company was when they were in bed together.

It almost made him feel slutty—that she seemed more interested in his body than in his attempts for them to get to know each other. Not that he was complaining about the sex. If anything, the sex only got better each time they got naked.

But it seriously bothered him, the way Maggie didn’t make any time for herself. He didn’t think the words ‘relax’ or ‘unwind’ were even in her vocabulary. And he was growing more and more distressed each time he found her asleep at the computer desk and had to carry her back to bed at four in the morning.

Not that he didn’t appreciate a solid work ethic, because he did. Despite what Maggie thought, he worked hard for the money sitting in his bank account, the money he’d earned before Gretchen had shocked him and the world by leaving him a part of her fortune. Acting wasn’t all fun and games, and when he was in the middle of an intense shoot, Ben didn’t even leave his house.

Still, he always took breaks, always made sure his work didn’t monopolize his life. He’d seen a fair amount of actors crash and burn, make six films back to back and get so lost in the work they didn’t even know who they were anymore.

Maggie might not be in the movie industry, but she was a workaholic through and through. She needed to slow down and unwind, and he’d officially dubbed himself the man who’d help her do that.

It was time to step in. He’d promised her he wouldn’t complicate her life, but this was just plain ridiculous. Sure, he loved having a quiet place to hide out, but how much longer could he really watch Maggie waste her life away?

At the moment, she was sitting on the other end of the couch, devouring a book about autism, and she hadn’t gotten up in three hours. He wanted to suggest they order a pizza or something, but he knew trying to get her to quit when she was still absorbed in her work would get him nowhere.

Instead, he flicked on the television, instantly groaning when he saw what was on.

For the first time all afternoon, Maggie glanced up from her book. Her gaze followed his and rested on the screen. She made a face when she saw the entertainment show. “Don’t these people have lives?” she grumbled.

He ignored her and turned up the volume.

“Ben Barrett’s newest flame must be keeping him very busy,” the host said with a mischievous grin. “The sexy bad boy has been off the radar for nearly a week now and everyone is wondering how he’s been spending his time…”

“Should we tell them?” Maggie said with a tiny grin.

“Was that an honest-to-God joke?” he returned with mock-amazement. “I didn’t think you were capable of anything but working.”

“Ha ha.”

“Early in the week, Barrett’s car was found vandalized in front of a New York City strip club,” the host continued. “It was later revealed he had spent the night in a hotel with an unidentified woman…”

“They make you sound like a sleazebag,” Maggie said, rolling her eyes.

“Although rumors are swirling that Barrett is out of sight due to an impromptu elopement with his mysterious new lady—”

Maggie burst out laughing.

“—a source close to the actor admits that Barrett is keeping a low profile because of the Gretchen Goodrich scandal. Goodrich, who was the wife of Oscar-winning director Alan Goodrich, recently left Barrett a sizable fortune after—”

Ben turned off the television with an angry frown. Damn vultures. Why the fuck couldn’t they just leave him alone? Why couldn’t they let Gretchen rest in peace?

“So…” Maggie’s quiet voice broke through his troubled thoughts. “Are you ever going to tell me about what happened with Gretchen Goodrich?”

“Sure.” He turned his head and stared her down. “If you agree to take a damn break for a couple of days.”

“I don’t take breaks.”

“Then start.”

Annoyance flickered in her emerald eyes. “We’ve been through this already.”

“And I still don’t think it’s healthy, the way you bury yourself in work and school.”

“It doesn’t matter what you think. It’s my life, Ben.”

“Yeah. Sure. It’s your life.” He rose to his feet, unable to stop the scowl from creasing his mouth. “I’m taking a shower. I’d ask you to join me but you’ve still got, what, three hundred more pages to read?” He stared pointedly at the textbook in her lap before walking out of the living room.

She didn’t follow him, and he hadn’t expected her to. The past three days had taught him that Maggie shut down the moment he criticized her lifestyle.

He strode into the bathroom and ripped off his T-shirt and jeans, then turned on the water and stepped into the shower stall. As the warm water slid down his body, he dunked his head under the spray and released a low groan. Why was he letting Maggie’s workaholic ways get to him anyway? The television segment he’d just seen confirmed that the media storm surrounding him was still going strong, which meant he definitely needed to stay out of sight for a while longer. That’s what he’d wanted, a place to hide out for a while, and he was getting that from Maggie. He was also getting some pretty incredible sex, which was just another perk.