Maggie's Five ...the first in a LOVE story

Maggie’s

Five

…
the
first in a LOVE story

Sandra
Fitzgerald

Copyright: 2013
Sandra Fitzgerald

Publisher: Sandra
Fitzgerald

First
Publication: 2014

Second
Publication: 2015

Cover Image:
Copyright Can Stock Photo Inc

Cover: Copyright
S Fitzgerald

Cover Design:
Sally Syle at Create by Sally

Editor: Meg
Hellyer

All rights
reserved.

Smashwords
Edition Licence Notes

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purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of
this author.

This book is a
work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either
the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, events or locals
is entirely coincidental.

N.B: This book
does contain mature subject matter and is not intended for those
under 18 years of age.

Acknowledgements

For my boys who
constantly support and

encourage me to
reach outside of my comfort zones.

And always, for
my husband.

Table
of Contents

Prologue

MY NAME IS Maggie
Cartwright.

I live in the
same suburb as you, up the road, just around the corner. My house
is not unlike yours; it’s modest in size, brick, has windows and
furniture, a driveway, plants in the garden.

My family is not
unlike yours either, made up of a husband and two daughters, though
you may have boys, or one of each. The point is that you’re happy.
You have a happy, full life filled with all the trimmings that we
take for granted. Those very trimmings that we think we appreciate,
but don’t realise until it is too late that we’ve missed the true
meaning of, by the barest of margins.

Not because we
intend to, no, of course not. We don’t make conscious decisions to
not truly appreciate the good - it’s because of the various complex
tangles and weaves our lives form as they grow and develop. We get
busy with work, distracted by arguments, caught up with
activity.

Because of life
itself.

I’M MAGGIE
CARTWRIGHT, and this is my story, but I’ll warn you now, my journey
may not have the happily ever after you dream of.

one

Chapter I

CHRISTMAS EVE.

The absolute
greatest day of the year.

If you don’t
count Christmas day of course, and the girls birthdays. They’re
kind of great, oh and Brendan’s birthday… and fine, Mother’s Day is
sort of okay too.

Please, allow me
to rephrase.

Christmas
Eve:

One of the top
ten, absolute greatest days of the year.

There, much
better.

I’m standing at
the kitchen sink, watching the girls bounce around on the
trampoline that’s knocking from side to side, precariously balanced
on the firm dry grass at the back of the yard. No matter how much
time Brendan spends watering, the summer seems to slowly be getting
the better of him and our little patch of heaven.

The girls are
leaping about, colliding into each other, squealing and giggling
just as little girls should: with the precise pitch to rattle the
sturdiest of fillings and, on more occasions than my eardrums would
prefer, have the true potential to shatter champagne
glasses.

I slosh my hands
around in the soapy water and retrieve a plastic Dora the Explorer
cup. It makes me smile every single time I see it. Brendan, the big
softy,
‘absolutely had to buy it’
for Ella the day after she
was born. He said he saw it and knew she would love it, so bought
it. As it turns out he was almost right. She prefers Diego, but it
turns out Mattie loves Dora, so we’re good.

Lost in my
thoughts, I automatically rinse the cup out under fresh water to
remove the excess soap and lay it on the drying rack, then dive
into the suds to see what comes up next.

“
You
always use too much soap.” Brendan says, wrapping his arms around
my waist, pressing soft kisses over the back of my neck.

“
I
know.”

It’s true, I do.
Every single time.

I tilt my head
to the side, giving Brendan room to nuzzle and relish the feel of
him.

“
I
love you.” His lips brush against my skin, causes a flourish of
goose bumps to spread, heating my already warm body.

“
I
love you.”

Holding on to
the counter top, I lean further back against my husband, my
wonderful, beautiful husband, who lets me know just how much he
loves me every chance he can.

Resting his chin
on my shoulder to gaze through the kitchen window, which I notice
in true house wife fashion, could use a clean, “The girls playing
outside?”

“
Mm-hmm,” I nod, wishing he would get back to work on my neck
while I wash the dish in my hand.

“
Really?” Brendan’s voice deepens. “They been out there for
very long?”

“
Since they finished brekky,” I reply nudging him with my
elbow and tilting my head to the other side so he can start working
his magic again.

“
So
they’re going to be out there for a while then?”

He starts
working on the tender flesh behind my ear, and,
man
he’s
good. Within seconds I’m holding onto the counter so I don’t land
in a puddle on the floor. Brendan really does have a very talented
mouth.

I peel my moist
hands out of the rubber gloves and wrap them over Brendan’s
backside. “Most probably.”

If I were able
to hug Brendan with my heart, I would. I’d wrap my husband in as
much of my love as I humanly can and never let go.

I feel his
growing erection press firmly against my back.

It’s one of my
favourite things, feeling my husband grow hard for me, because of
me. My breath catches as Brendan slips one of his hands under my
cotton singlet, beneath the wire of my bra and massages my swelling
breast, causing my nipple to instantly pucker.

I bring one of
my hands between us and rub him through the denim of his loose
fitting shorts. I love that he can’t stop from groaning and how his
stomach hollows out as he flexes his pelvis to the rhythm of my
stroke.

Slowly releasing
him, I run my fingers up to the waist band and slip them inside to
take him bare. I get high just from the way he feels, hard as stone
and soft as silk at the same time, and wish he was inside me
instead.

The more aroused
I become, the more my vision focuses onto our children outside. I’m
close to not wanting to stop, so we have to make a decision.
“Brendan?”

He gently sucks
on my earlobe, wanting me to turn my head so he can kiss me. I
hesitate, but end up giving in far too easily as I always do when
it comes to my husband and our love making. I can’t help be
distracted; slowing drawing my tongue from Brendan’s mouth to
ensure the girls are still in the yard.

“
They’re safe out there Maggie… and we’re in here…”

My stomach
bottoms out when he cups my jaw and kisses me with everything he’s
got. Our tongues brush, teeth nip, mouths suck. And it’s
wonderful.

He loosens his
hold and trails his fingers between my breasts, over my curves,
past my bellybutton, all the way down to cup my sex over my cotton
shorts, rubbing firmly to compensate for the clothing separating
us. Growling quietly, he impatiently pops the button on my pants
and slides his large hand inside.

He brushes back
and forth over my folds before circling my nib teasingly. “Always
so wet for me.”

He sounds
amazed. I love that even after all these years, he’s still
amazed.

Brendan releases
my mouth so we can catch our breath, chests heaving then returns to
my neck, pressing his fingers over my nib. The sublime sensation
causes me to whimper and my eyes to dart back out through the
window.

Good, they’re
still out there bouncing around, laughing.

Brendan starts
strumming and circling, knowing all the right places to explore,
precisely when to penetrate me and how to rub my internal walls to
cause me to gasp in blissful hunger.

My body moves,
seeking, climbing higher. Brendan’s breathing heavily against my
neck, rubbing his hard erection against my backside, grinding as I
squeeze him tighter. He pinches my nipple with his other hand,
creating a perfect combination of pleasure and pain sending me
blissfully over the edge.

Hissing, he
releases his hold on me to shove at my shorts and underwear. I step
one leg out and shake of my foot when they catch then open my
stance.

Brendan gently
coaxes my hips back, whispering, “Hold the bench Maggie Mae, and
bend over.”

I hear his zip
lower and feel heavy cotton brush the back of my legs as he frees
himself.

I love
this.

I love that even
with the changes in my body from having our children, Brendan just
has to have me as much as I have to have him.

My body’s
impatient, fervently anticipating the feel of him inside. But he’s
prolonging the moment, because it’s one of his favourite things: my
swollen flesh wrapping around him the very first moment his
erection enters me. It gets him every single time. And I love it.
Taking hold of my hips Brendan nudges the head of his penis at my
opening, brushes it back and forth, then I feel it. The perfect
moment of penetration.

At a sublimely
frustrating pace, he slides his length through my wetness and
enters me. My body stretches and fills, overheating as he gradually
pushes deeper until there isn’t any more room for him to go. My jaw
clamps, catching the whimper begging to escape when he slowly draws
out, pausing, then thrusts firmly to fill me completely, pauses and
groans, slowly pulls out and drives straight back in
again.

He rasps “I
can’t wait, Love,” and I don’t want him to. Brendan starts pounding
into me, and cups my sex again, quickly bringing me to a toe
curling climax that I try with all my might, honestly I do, to
suppress the sound of, but still a choked whimper escapes. Seconds
later I hear Brendan groan into the back of my hair, freezing as he
begins, jerking as he fills me before collapsing over my
back.

As the sex fog
clears, my eyes widen and dart through the window to where our
children are supposed to be.

“
Shit, Brendan. I can’t see them.”

Pulling apart,
Brendan quickly and unceremoniously pulls out, dripping a little
something down the inside and back of my leg. I grab a clean tea
towel from the top draw at my side and wipe away the mess, then
quickly step into my underwear and shorts, turning to see Brendan
closing his fly.

“
Mummy, can I please have a drink?” Mattie begs in her
chirping toddler voice.

Mortified, I
hastily fix my clothing, “Of course Sweet Pea. Juice sound
good?”

I’m aiming to
sound composed even though my heart is pounding from both our love
making and how close we came to being busted again. Christ, if
we’re not careful, Brendan and I are going to give the girls a live
and uncut version of
‘The birds and the bees’
talk.

“
Sounds gwate, Mummy,” Mattie agrees, climbing awkwardly onto
one of the stools at the breakfast bench.