WakingMaggie

Waking Maggie

Cindy Jacks

Maggie’s just decided she’s been stood up when she bumps
into hard-bodied guitarist Calvin—literally. Once the shock of their abrupt
meeting wears off, Calvin asks Maggie out for a drink and she figures, why not?
She’s all dressed up for a date…just not this one.

She enjoys his company, even if he’s only twenty-seven and
she’s forty…something. And while witty conversation’s all good, they’re just as
compatible in bed. One drink turns into multiple romps between the sheets. He’s
old enough to know how to make love to a woman and young enough to look damn
fine doing it…and doing it. He even manages to convince Maggie she’s still
pretty hot herself.

Now if he would just stop serenading her with that infernal
Rod Stewart song.

Chapter One

The sound of a gently strummed guitar roused Maggie from
sleep. Eyelids flickering open, she saw Calvin sitting in the tufted chair next
to the bed, his acoustic guitar on his lap. A lazy smile tugged at her lips.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Good morning, babe.” He shifted his grip on the fretboard
to strike a chord and then slid his fingers back to another. “I’m serenading
you…obviously.”

“Is it after ten?” Maggie sat up, stretched.

“Of course. And there’s coffee on your nightstand.”

With delight, she picked up the steaming mug and
inhaled—Viennese roast, her favorite. The first sip slid down her throat,
smooth as velvet.

He turned his attention to the guitar again and started
singing under his breath.

She rolled her eyes. “You know I hate that song.”

Calvin chuckled, a boyish gleam in his hazel eyes. “But I’m
sure Rod Stewart wrote it for you.”

“Contrary to popular belief, I am
not
that old.”

Continuing to strum the melody, he shook his head. “That’s
not what I meant.”

As Maggie’s gaze roamed over the young man’s taut, muscular
body, she noticed he was sitting there stark naked, the guitar covering some of
his most admirable attributes.

Her eye grew wide. “What have I done to deserve a morning
serenade with you
au naturel
?”

“You don’t remember?” he asked, plucking individual notes.

A gust of wind outside the bedroom window drew her
attention. The great oak out back danced, shaking loose a few vermillion
leaves.

“Of course I remember,” she murmured, setting down her cup
and rising from the bed. Smoothing her silk nightie over her ample curves, she
padded across the shag carpet and kissed his soft cheek. “Happy anniversary,
baby.”

He stopped playing and set aside the guitar, revealing a red
ribbon around his cock. “Are you ready for your present?”

Clapping a hand over her mouth, Maggie let out a yelp of
amusement. “You’re certifiable, you know that?”

She caught a glimpse of herself in the dresser mirror. Messy
blonde curls cascaded down to her shoulders and her eyes looked a little puffy
from sleep. Skin not quite as fresh and tight as his—maybe the morning sun
really did show her age, as the song stated. Still, not bad for a women of
forty-something.

Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her onto his lap.
She twined her fingers through his longish bronze hair. A hungry smirk on his
face, he brushed his lips over hers. She felt his cock twitch against her
thigh.

“We should unwrap you before you cut off your circulation,”
she said, pulling one end of the ribbon.

He sank to the floor, holding her body against his and
tucking her beneath him.

Pressing her lips to his, she wrapped her arms around his
broad shoulders. The scent of his woodsy cologne filled her nostrils. He tasted
like peppermint mouthwash.

Holding his full weight off her with one arm, he slid his
other hand slowly up her thigh, pushed up her nightgown and worked her panties
down her legs. She wiggled them the rest of the way off and kicked them aside.
He trailed tiny kisses from her mouth down to her abdomen, nuzzling and kissing
each of her stretch marks.

“Stop.” She chuckled and ruffled his hair. “It makes me
self-conscious when you do that.”

“Shh.” Another flurry of kisses along her hips and thighs
and then he kissed her sole ticklish spot—the crease between her thigh and
pubic area. Giggling, Maggie tried to squirm away from him but he held her
fast.

“You’re not going anywhere.” He licked at her clit and she
held her breath, lest he touch anything other than the tight nub. Slowly she
relaxed, enjoying the heat building with each swipe of his tongue. A little at
a time, he pressed his mouth to her pussy, but as expected, fits of laughter
overwhelmed her and she begged him to stop.

Wiping her eyes, she said, “I told you you’ll never be able
to give me head. I’m too ticklish.”

He nuzzled up to her neck, planted kisses there, then
glanced at his watch. “Hey, seven minutes this time—we’re getting better. We’ll
get there.”

Undeterred, he slipped a hand between her legs and ran a
finger from her clit down the length of her moist lips.

“No giggles now, huh?” A satisfied grin lit up his face.

“Mmm…
no
.” Maggie sighed, melting into the rug.

He continued the slow stimulation, punctuating each upstroke
by brushing his thumb over her clit. Goose bumps dotted her arms and thighs and
her nipples drew into tight buds. With careful pressure, he eased two fingers
into her and covered her mouth with his as if to drink in her sighs. He plunged
his fingers deeper, flicking and twisting, toying with the different ways he
could make her gasp and moan. The more he played the more impatient she became.

“Cal…”
she moaned, but he didn’t change his tactics.
It was his little game that he played—she belonged to him and he knew it.
Panting and moaning, she writhed against the floor. His gaze roamed over her
and he bit his lip. Just like when he played guitar.

Her eyes watering, her pussy throbbing, she slid a hand over
his rippled abdomen and gripped his hard cock but he caught her wrist and
pinned her arm to the floor.

“Tsk, tsk. Always in a hurry,” he teased.

Hooking a leg around his hips, she flipped him onto his back
and straddled him. The strap from her nightgown slid down her shoulder, baring
most of one breast. Without hesitation, he sat up and engulfed it with his
mouth. Maggie lowered herself onto his shaft. A nipple still between his teeth,
he sucked air in sharply.

“No fair,” he mumbled.

Riding him slowly, she let her head loll back and moved her
hands down the landscape of his back. Long ago she’d memorized each peak and
valley, but she never tired of exploring his body. She pulled her breast free
and, tilting forward, ran her mouth from his ear over his sculpted neck, coming
to rest at the base of his throat. He moaned, caressing her cheek with the back
of his hand before skimming the side of her breasts, running his palms along
her rib cage. Arching back, she pressed her torso flush against him.

He held on to her waist and thrust upward. A burst of
pleasure spread through her.

“Ohhh, like that.” She spread her legs wider.

Her praise seemed to spur him on and he picked up speed and
force. Delicious tension drew her abdomen taut and she clung to him, taking all
of him inside her.

The tip of his nose grazed past her ear, his lips hovering
there. “You’re beautiful.”

The emotion in his voice tugged at her heart. Flames licked
at her pussy, fire coursed through her veins. She was already awash with
arousal when a fresh wave of ecstasy broke over her. Trembling atop him, her
thighs burned and she struggled to keep up with the pace he’d set. Calvin
rolled them over, cradling her as he laid her back onto the floor. She wrapped
both legs around him and threaded her fingers in his hair. His breath shallow
and rapid, he moved in for a kiss, searching out her tongue with his.

His scent and his taste enveloped her. Unable to tell any
longer where she ended and he began, she yielded control of her body to him. He
was her Apollo and she his lyre.

Every thrust took her higher; guttural moans passed between
them. She could hardly catch her breath, but each inhalation pushed her closer
to coming. His rhythm faltered.

“Don’t stop,” she murmured.

“I’m close.”

She moved her hands to his hips and set the pace again,
moving upward to meet his downward thrusts. Her orgasm began as little tremors
that shook her legs and then tore through her, shaking her whole body. He too,
quaked, his cock twitching, hot spurts mixing with her own juices. She clung to
him until her trembling slowed and eventually subsided. Still buried inside
her, he came to rest on top of her. He brushed the locks of her hair from her
eyes.

“Hey, you.” He dotted her nose and forehead with gentle
kisses.

“Hey,” she said, her tongue thick.

After withdrawing, he slumped to one side and rolled onto
his back, his chest pulsing up and down as he tried to catch his breath.

“God, I love you.” She let out a long exhalation.

He cast a smile up toward the ceiling. “You hated me when we
first met.”

“I didn’t
hate
you. I was upset.”

“I know.” He gave her a playful pinch.

She settled her head on his chest and listened to the
pounding of his heart. “Can you believe it’s been a year?”

“Yes and no. It’s like time flies when I’m with you, but I
feel like I’ve known you forever too.”

“Do you think we have another year in us?” She traced his
nipples and moved her fingertips down his torso to the soft patch of hair below
his bellybutton.

“Don’t overthink this, Maggie. We’re doing fine. More than
fine.” He stroked her hair and kissed her forehead. “Come on. I’ll make you
some eggs.”

He shifted his weight to get up but she caught his hand. “I
do love you, Cal.”

“I love you too.” Rubbing her jawline with one thumb, he
tilted her chin and pressed his mouth to hers. The kiss ended with a sigh.
“Breakfast?”

She nuzzled his cheek. “Breakfast.”