Losing Control (12 page)

“Oh God,” Maggie cried out and tensed against him as her orgasm swept over her.

Wanting to push her farther, Spence moved one hand forward and slid one finger inside her tight, spasming sheath. He stroked in and out then added another digit. As he fucked her with fingers, he quickly circled her clit with his tongue, then drew it into his mouth again, a hard pull that set her channel rippling violently around his fingers again and again. But he didn’t let up. He worked her clit relentlessly until she arched off of the bed and cried his name brokenly.

After one last, lazy sweep of his tongue, Spence lowered her legs and straightened. Staring down at her, he felt satisfied with what lay before him. Maggie’s skin glistened with a light sheen of sweat, and she trembled and gasped as she struggled to catch her breath. His satisfaction was short-lived, though. His cock throbbed, ached to be buried inside her. Bracing his hands on either side of her, he covered her body.

Maggie’s mind was a riot of emotion, her body a mass of overwhelming sensation. She took Spencer’s face in her hands and, eyes locked with his, brought his mouth to hers. Her taste clung to his lips and tongue, and the fire in her core kindled again. Gasping slightly, she broke the kiss as she reached between them. His cock was heavy against her palm as she wrapped her hand around its girth.

She traced her thumb along the slit, and when moisture clung to her, she briefly regretted not having him in her mouth longer. Though there was time for that later. For now, all she could think of was him filling her. She positioned him at her entrance, moved her hands to his shoulders, and wrapped her legs around his hips. Spencer lowered himself slowly until the fat head of his cock entered her. Not enough, not nearly enough. She pulsed up, taking more of him in.

On either side of her, Spencer’s arms shook. Maggie opened her mouth, but she couldn’t say a word. He surged forward, burying himself, stretching her so lusciously. The pleasure-pain of his rough entry stole her breath and had her heart skipping a beat. Maggie cupped his cheeks and pulled until he lowered himself onto his elbows and met her lips with his. She opened immediately and deepened the kiss as he started moving within her. Her muscles tightened around him; she was on the edge. His cock pumping in and out, the force of each stroke on her clit was overwhelming and almost too much to take. And yet, somehow, again, not enough.

“So damned good,” he whispered against her lips. “So hot, so wet, and so mine.”

Instead of panicking at the word “mine”, Maggie felt something bloom inside her, something more than the orgasm that loomed. He kissed along her jaw then nuzzled her neck, murmuring nonsense as he continued to push her higher. He slammed into her over and over. Maggie just let go, let herself slide into the mindless bliss Spencer filled her with. Sensations engulfed her as his breath tickled her sweat-slick skin. He grasped her hips, fingers rough, gripping as she tried to take it all in.

His groan vibrated against her as he pushed his hand between them. Maggie pressed her lips together to stifle her cry as he found her sensitive clit. She lost the battle when he tweaked the tiny bundle of nerves once, then twice. The third time pushed her over. She fell through the orgasm—unbelievably hotter and more intense than the last. She contracted around him, milked him until he exploded inside her. As he filled her with his seed, he pinched her clit harder. Maggie bit his shoulder, as she jolted up again. Her entire body quivered as she held on to him tightly. Spencer kissed her neck, his body trembling as well, murmuring her name again and again.

She closed her eyes and ran her palms up and down his back. All too soon, Spencer shifted and, reluctantly, Maggie untangled herself from him. He rolled onto his side next to her and rested his hand on her stomach.

“We finally made it into a bed,” he said with a sleepy grin.

She laughed. “Yeah, we did.”

“So,” he traced his index finger around her navel, “are you staying over or do you need to go?”

Maggie pursed her lips a moment. She didn’t want to leave, but a part of her was telling her to go home, to not get too emotionally involved. Of course, another part of her was taunting,
Too late, dumbass
.

“Because, now that we aren’t fighting this anymore,” he continued, “I think we should take advantage of the privacy we have now. And, we should also take advantage of the impressively large shower in the bathroom.” He kissed her shoulder. “I’ll wash yours if you wash mine.”

He stood next to the bed and held out his hand. After a moment, she grasped it and let him pull her to her feet. God, help her, she wasn’t going anywhere.

“Deal.”

Chapter Eight

“Hey, you want something to drink?”

Maggie looked up from where she sat on Spencer’s sofa, laptop resting on her knees. He stood with the fridge open, peering at her over the door.

“Sure, a bottle of water if there’s any left. Thanks.” She smiled then turned back to the spreadsheets before her. It was technically her day off, but she wanted to get some things straight before she actually relaxed.

Spencer walked over and handed her the cold bottle. Accepting it, she twisted off the cap and took a long drink.

“So,” she licked her lips, “what’s your day look like?”

It’d been a couple weeks since Maggie had started her get-Spence-out-of-her-system strategy. By all accounts, it was a huge failure—she was no closer to being done with the man than she had been at the beginning—but she couldn’t bring herself to care. The time with him had been…in a word, awesome. She found she truly enjoyed being with him, and not just in the bedroom—or against the wall—department. The best days the past few weeks had been just in his company, lazy mornings in bed, long afternoons watching baseball on the couch, just coming home after work to him.
Home
. She rolled the word around in her head. Spencer’s apartment had been more home to her lately than her own house.

He ran a hand over her hair absently before strolling back into the small kitchen. Rummaging through the fridge again, he straightened, apple in hand.

“Busy afternoon,” he commented, then took a crunchy bite. He seemed to be running down a list mentally as he chewed. “Cal and I are meeting with a group of kids from the community college. They’re interested in doing a showing later in the summer. Also have a high school student coming in to look at studio space. He seems a bit concerned about the cost, but we’ll work something out.”

“Really?” She leaned back.

“Sure. I’ll cover some of it, if need be, but I’m sure we can find some work or something to help him pay it off.” He shrugged. “Kid needs a place to work, and it’s not always easy when you’re living in someone else’s house—especially if they aren’t particularly supportive.”

“Softie,” she teased, then sobered. “Is that how it was for you? With your parents?”

“Sometimes,” he admitted. “They didn’t necessarily discourage my art, but they sure didn’t back me a hundred percent. And I remember when we first met, you seemed to agree with their opinions on the matter.” He winked.

Maggie cringed and shook her head. “I’m all for encouraging and supporting your child to do something they love. I just also see how a parent would worry about whether they could support themselves with it. I think in most cases, it’s concern and love coming through—maybe not in the best way…”

He chuckled, tossing his core in the trash then leaned against the counter. “Someone can actually be successful and support themselves with art. It’s not unheard of.”

“But that’s the exception to the rule, normally, though, isn’t it? The phrase ‘starving artist’ is around for a reason,” she pointed out.

“Sure, but that’s why these kids need a place and encouragement. The odds are already stacked against them; adding disapproval and negativity isn’t going to help.”

She set the water bottle and computer on the coffee table and stood, stretching her arms above her head. “And we’re arguing about this why?”

“Not arguing,” he said, stepping toward her, hand out. When she took it, he pulled her close. “Discussing.”

“Ahh, discussing.” She smiled up at him, warmth spreading through her. “When do you have to go down?”

He shifted, obviously glancing at his watch behind her back. “Ten, fifteen minutes.”

“Ooooh.” She drew out the syllable. “Pity.”

His hands settled on her ass, massaging gently. “And why is that?”

“Hmmmm. I thought we might have some time,” she rose up and nipped at his lower lip, “to play.”

“Darlin’, there’s
always
time to play.” He gripped her hips and lifted, and she immediately wrapped her legs around his waist, humming in pleasure as his erection nudged her mound.

He turned and stepped forward until her back was pressed against the wall, circling his hips roughly as he took her mouth.

The kiss was brutal, crushing, and stole her breath. Maggie buried her hands in his hair and held on as he made love to her mouth. Hard lips pressing and demanding. His tongue probing, coaxing hers in a hot, seductive dance. When he released her to continue his assault on her neck and collarbone, sucking, nipping, licking, her head lolled back and to the side to give him easier access. She ground against him, loving the friction against her clit. God, she could come from this alone, but she didn’t want to. She wanted him to fuck her, to lose control.

“You, me, against wall,” she gasped, “clearly this is an irresistible combination.”

Suddenly, the world blurred around her. He moved so quickly, the next thing she knew she was on her feet facing the kitchen counter with him at her back. He grabbed her hands and placed them on the edge of the counter, the movement causing her to bend over and her ass to press against his cock.

“Spence—”

“Last thing I want to be is predictable, darlin’.” He dragged his palms up her arms, over her shoulders and down her back. His hands came around, and lightning fast, he had her shorts undone and was yanking them and her panties down her legs.

She opened her mouth to throw a witty comeback at him, but then his hand was between her legs, fingers strumming over her clit, and all she could manage was a strangled cry.

“I love how you respond to me.” His voice was low, gravelly. He dipped his fingertips in her heat then swiftly pushed all the way in.

Maggie rocked back, her pussy already beginning to ripple around him. Desire coiled tightly in her core, almost painful in its intensity. She dragged in a breath and dropped her head down between her outstretched arms.

“That’s it, baby,” he crooned as he stroked in and out faster and faster. “Come for me. Come. For. Me.”

Eye squeezed shut, Maggie let herself go. The tight spring of need unraveled and burst through her, but Spencer didn’t let up. If anything, his thrusting fingers moved deeper and harder within her, keeping her soaring high.

“That’s my girl,” he praised. Pushing her shirt up slightly, he pressed a kiss on the small of her back.

As her legs began to tremble, he pulled his slick fingers from her and circled her sensitive clit. Maggie whimpered as her pussy spasmed again.

“Now,” he nudged her legs with his knee until she widened her stance, “let’s see if we can do that again before we run out of time.”

“Over-achiever,” she gasped.

“Nah, just want to feel you coming around my cock—selfish bastard that I am.” He laughed as he crowded her from behind. His erection nestled in the crack of her ass, and Maggie’s eyes nearly rolled back.

His palms skimmed up her back and down again as he pumped his hips against her. Then, after shifting and positioning his cockhead at her pussy, he took her hips in a bruising grip and surged into her. The force of the stroke pushed her forward slightly, and she braced her arms more firmly on the countertop. He set a fast pace, slamming into her over and over again, unrelentingly sending her right back up into ecstasy. And she could do nothing but hold on for the ride…and revel in it.

His fingers bit into the flesh of her hips as he held her still for his sensual assault. With each thrust, Maggie was lost in the sensations he elicited. Her skin was ultra-sensitive to everything—his touch, the air on her exposed skin. Even her nipples rubbing against her T-shirt as he fucked her was almost too much to take in.

“Fuck, Maggie,” he ground out. “So good. I’ll never tire of it. Love feeling you sucking me in… Your pussy around me, gripping me like a fucking vice…”

He grunted and cursed again and his movements lost a bit of their rhythm, becoming jerky and wild. She knew he was close, and she was too. Just another hard stroke and… She let out a hoarse scream as she was consumed. She was drowning, unable to breathe as myriad pleasures overwhelmed her. Her entire body vibrated with need and…something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

“Oh yeah,” he drawled. “Just. Like. That.”

Then a knock sounded, and he stilled. Maggie’s heart jumped into her throat and she looked back, wide-eyed at Spencer. For a moment, she forgot what had stopped them and just drank in the sight of him, sweaty, hair wild, eyes dark with need.