Pushing Her Boundaries (6 page)

Still not touching, Mace placed a hand on the wall on either side of her head. “Anything I want?” His voice sounded low, throaty. “No recriminations?”

“Yes.”

“Then turn around and face the wall.”

Maggie shivered. She tried to read his thoughts, but Mace kept his eyes veiled. She licked her lips and did as she was told. She felt a hand on the side of her head and Mace turned her face, pressing her cheek to the wall. His breath tickled her ear, warm and soft, and then his mouth was gone. The hand moved and his fingers traced a gentle path across her shoulder and down her back, finally settling on the zipper of her dress. His movements slow, tortuously slow, he drew it down, his free palm trailing along her exposed skin, leaving goose bumps in its wake. His fingers caressed the small of her back. One finger slipped lower, into the cleft between her buttocks, and she sucked in a breath, her body growing hot all over. She arched her back against his hand and he stopped her.

He pressed his palm to the small of her back, gently but firmly forcing her stomach against the wall. “You don’t move until I say.” His voice was nothing more than a soft growl.

Oh. My. God
. Maggie’s knees felt weak.
He’s barely touched me and I’ve never been more turned on in my life. Maybe this is a bad idea.

His hands slid up and stopped beneath the straps of her dress. He pushed the scant fabric from her shoulders and down her arms. The dress fell, baring her to the waist. Maggie heard the pace of his breathing increase. She wanted to back against him, to feel the size of him. She remembered what she’d felt before, beneath his jeans, when she’d fallen into his lap and he’d stared at her exposed breasts.
I want to feel him again
.

“Lift your arms.”

“Wha…what?”

He didn’t bother to repeat the words. He simply lifted her arms over her head and placed her palms flat against the wall. His hands never left her. He slid them down the length of her arms, the pads of his fingers trailing cool fire in their wake. His hands stopped at her breasts. Maggie sensed he wanted to touch her nipples. She could feel the tension pulsing throughout his body, even though only his hands touched her. She tried to move away from the wall, to give him access.

“No. Stand still.”

“Please…”

“No.”

“Mace, please.”

“Maggie, hush.”

His lips brushed her bare shoulder as his hands caressed the sides of her breast. A sob escaped her. Her body was warm and wet and willing.
He’ll make me beg. Oh god, he’ll make me beg and I’ll do it. I’ll do whatever he wants me to do.

“I want to see your ass,” Mace growled, fingering the twin dimples just below the fabric of her dress.

Maggie moaned as he slid the dress over her hips and let it drop to the floor.

“Step out of it, but keep your hands on the wall.”

She did as instructed. Glancing down, she watched his booted foot kick it away. His hands were on her hips now, though he continued to hold his body away from hers.

“Hands up, Maggie. Pay attention.”

Where are my hands? Oh…
She slid them back up the wall. “Sorry,” she whispered, and she bit her lip to keep from moaning.

She heard him drop to his knees behind her, both of his hands on her ass, squeezing her rounded flesh, separating the two mounds. A finger returned to the cleft in between, followed by a warm, wet tongue. Maggie couldn’t help it. With a groan, she pressed her rear end against his mouth. With a quick motion, Mace smacked her hip. Giving a little jerk, Maggie squeaked.

“Did I say you could move? Stand still or I’ll smack you again.”

The pace of Maggie’s breathing increased until it seemed as if she was gasping. Nobody had done this sort of thing to her, ever.

“Stay,” Mace said, rising to his feet. He walked away from her. Nervous now, she heard the sound of his booted feet on the linoleum floor in the small kitchen. The refrigerator door opened and closed.
What is he getting? Ice? What?
Her heart began to pound.

The feel of the man drawing near to her, the heat his body gave off, was every bit as tangible as the sound of his footsteps. Maggie waited in agony. Behind her once more, Mace knelt down. Although the sound was muffled by the carpet, she heard him set something on the floor.
Dear god, I hope it’s not a cucumber
. He rose to his feet and his mouth settled on the back of her neck, beneath her short hair. “Don’t worry.” His lips grazed her skin; his voice was a caress. “I won’t hurt you. I promise. Maggie, turn your head, give me your mouth. I want to kiss you.”

“N…no,” she stuttered.

“You said I could have whatever I want, and what I want is to kiss you.”

“No.”

“Why not?” His mouth continued to move along her neck. He nibbled on her earlobe.

“Because…because I’m afraid.”

A finger slid beneath her chin, and Mace turned her head toward his face. “You have nothing to fear from me, not tonight, not ever. Kiss me, Maggie. Kiss me with that luscious mouth of yours before we go any further, so I know you trust me to take care of you.”

Maggie whimpered, but she didn’t resist as Mace turned her head and slanted his mouth over hers. His lips were hot and soft, his tongue hard and demanding, and he forced his way into her mouth, plundering without mercy. Maggie had never been kissed like this, not by a man who seemed to be starving, ravenous, for her.

Desperate to wrap her arms around him, forgetting his instructions, she lowered her hands to reach for him. His lips still locked on hers, Mace grabbed for her hands before she could touch him. He threaded his fingers through hers and held them away from his body. “Not yet,” he muttered against her mouth. Mace lifted his head. “You’ll touch me, Maggie, when I give you permission.” Their eyes met. Tugging on her hands, he turned her to face him and he smiled. “Nice.”

Maggie thrust her breasts forward, praying that he’d see her need, that he’d touch her, suck her, do something, anything to give her relief, but all Mace did was look. He looked her up and down. Pupils dilating, his eyes lingered for a few moments on her puckered nipples. As she watched, they drifted lower, down to her waist. They followed the curve of her hips and finally settled between her legs.

“I like the wax job,” he teased. Then his voice deepened. “Spread your legs. Spread your legs, Maggie, and let me see more.”

She did.

* * * *

Fuck me. That wax job points like a sign saying ‘eat here,’ but damn, I won’t be crude enough to say that. I’ll get around to doing it.

A narrow line of neatly trimmed pubic hair led from her mons to the delicate lips hiding her clit and her vagina. Most of the hair had been removed from those sweet lips, and when she spread her legs for him, he could see the pink-crimson-colored, silky inner flesh, glistening with her arousal. Thanks to the waxing, there were so many more soft, vulnerable places exposed, waiting for him to explore with his eyes, his fingers, and his mouth. He bent down and kissed the top of each thigh and inhaled. Maggie was going to taste like a slice of heaven.

The woman was a bloody feast. He took his time, studying the high, round breasts tipped with ripe, rosy nipples just begging for his mouth. He was entranced by the taut, athletic waist that flared into slender hips. She had those long, oh so long, slim, shapely legs that she could spread wide apart. Mace let go of her and ran a hand over the thick ridge of his dick pressing against the front of his jeans and he watched Maggie’s eyes narrow as she followed his movement. Her hands clenched into fists and he knew she wanted to touch him, to see him. He rubbed himself again and again. She bit her lower lip, that luscious lower lip he’d just sucked on.

Later. I have plans for now
. He stepped close to her and, with a quick movement, restrained both her hands in one of his. She gasped and tossed her head back, as he slid a finger into that enticing soft satin between her legs. He had to touch her, had to know her there, in her most intimate, secret part. Maybe she wouldn’t give him her heart, but, by god, she would give him her body. He planned to make this one night memorable enough that, with luck, her heart would follow. Mace closed his eyes, exploring her sensitive skin, feeling the swollen bud of her clitoris beneath his finger, recognizing how turned on she was. He wondered if he should change his original plan or just make a temporary detour. The idea of tasting her tempted him.

He let go of her hands and dropped to his knees before her. He pushed her legs farther apart. Spreading her labia with his fingers, he leaned his head into her and licked her as if taking his first taste of an ice cream cone. Her knees bent slightly and she gasped. He felt her fingers in his hair, and he thought about ordering her to withdraw them, but fuck it, he wanted her fingers there. She tasted sweet, and the feel of her beneath his tongue, against his lips, was like soft, warm silk.

Mace licked her again, and this time his tongue grazed the edge of her vagina. Her knees began to buckle and he lifted his head, dragging his tongue over her clit as he did so. “Don’t you dare fall, Maggie, stay upright.”

He reached around her for the pat of butter he’d pulled out of the fridge. It was going to feel cold for a second or two, but her tight little ass would warm it up. He’d planned to do this from behind, but now that he’d sampled her, there was no way in hell he’d move from the spot he presently occupied.

Mace dipped his middle finger in the cold butter, making sure to coat it well. If he’d had lube, he’d have used that, but butter worked just as well in a pinch. He looked up to find Maggie watching his every move. Her legs trembled again.
Maybe I should prop her against something. No, she can stand.

“I won’t hurt you, Maggie, but you gave me permission to do whatever I wanted. Are you withdrawing it now?”

She licked that enticing lower lip and shook her head. Sliding his butter-coated finger to the cleft between her buttocks, he sat back on his heels to watch her face. “Maggie.” His finger circled the tight aperture, coating her with cold butter. “Maggie.” She looked down at him just as he pressed his middle finger upwards, past the tight ring of muscles and into the velvet softness of her ass.

“Oh god…” She gave a little jump and let out a whimper. He thought she might faint.

Tempted to let out his own appreciative groan at the heat of her, Mace instead rose up on his knees and, wrapping his other arm about her hips, drew her back to his mouth. He flattened his tongue against her clit and applied pressure, licking her up and down, from the opening of her body to the tip of her labia as his buttered finger moved in and out of her ass. He listened to her cries. She made helpless sounds, mewing like a kitten, and that’s what he wanted, strong, irritable, independent, annoying Maggie Anderson, helpless, reduced to begging and pleading for him to fuck her.

Her breathing quickened and she pressed her wayward body against his mouth, her hands buried in his hair, moving his head, positioning him exactly where she wanted him. Turned on as hell, Mace allowed it. He pressed inward and upward with his finger, hearing her sob, feeling the tiny muscles contract, hard, as her climax began. The thought occurred to him that if he stopped right now, it would be torture for her and he almost did stop, just for the fun of it, but fuck, it would take Superman to pull his mouth away from Maggie’s warm, wet, willing pussy.

She screamed as she came, knees buckling. Mace caught her with one arm, careful to cushion her fall. He lowered her to the floor and reluctantly pulled his finger from her backside. He moved between her legs, forcing her thighs apart with his own. Mace had too many fucking clothes on, but he didn’t care. He had to get inside her. He unzipped his jeans and, shoving down his boxers, freed himself. Maggie reached for him, but he pushed her hand aside. Propping himself up on one arm, he used his own fist to guide the head of his swollen penis back and forth through her wetness. He positioned himself at the opening to her body and shoved. Her tissues were so swollen that he met with resistance and she jerked beneath him.