WakingMaggie (3 page)

He shrugged, rubbing his hands on his thighs. “Sounds fine.”

Studying the stain on her dress, Maggie knew she had to
change before they left for a drink. Not crazy about leaving a stranger alone
in her home, she chewed at the inside of her cheek.

Well, if he wigs out, there’s always Mr. Shock-Shock
,
she thought of the stun gun in her nightstand.

Once she’d retrieved his drink from the kitchen, she handed
it to him with a glass. “I’ll be back in a jiff. You need another, they’re in
the bottom drawer of the fridge.”

“Thanks.” He stood immobile, a tight grip on the glass and
bottle.

“Relax. Have a seat. I promise, the furniture doesn’t bite.”

“Right.” He walked over to the leather sofa and sat. Well,
more perched than sat.

Maggie ran upstairs and ducked into the master bedroom.
Stripping off the dress and her ruined bra, she looked through her closet. What
in the world should she change into? This wasn’t really a date and she had no
idea where it might lead. Should she put on another dress? Would that seem as
though she thought of their “one drink” as a date? Lord almighty, she had to
shut out the little voice in her head that overthought everything.

As she changed into a fresh bra, she inspected her wardrobe.
She selected a black pencil skirt and an emerald-colored turtleneck…and just in
case, she’d leave on her naughty-girl undies. A pair of black calf-high boots
completed the ensemble.

A quick inspection of her hair and makeup revealed
everything still in place. She freshened her red lipstick and blotted her lips.
Throwing herself a wink in the mirror, she turned to join her guest downstairs.

She found Calvin still seated on the edge of the sofa. He’d
poured the lambic but hadn’t drunk much of it. Aw, and he’d put coasters under
the bottle and glass. His momma brought him up right.

“You don’t like it? I know fruit and beer isn’t everyone’s
cup of tea.” She furrowed her brow at the analogy. “Well, whatever. You know
what I mean.”

“I like it. It’s good.” He took a sip. “Damn… You look
great.”

“Thank you.” Her hand strayed to the barrette holding her
hair back. “Really, you don’t have to drink that if you don’t like it.”

“I like it.” Judging from the flash of heat in his eyes, he
wasn’t talking about the lambic.

“Good. Then I’ll get one for myself.”

“Sit. I’ll get it.” He jumped up. “Bottom drawer, you said?”

“Uh huh. Thanks. And I don’t need a glass.”

Maggie settled into the other corner of the sofa, crossing
her legs.

When he returned, he’d undone his tie and the top two
buttons of his shirt. He sat down and handed her the drink. From what she could
see, his chest was smooth. His heartbeat vibrated the soft spot at the base of
his neck. A small burst of electricity coursed through her. She looked away and
opened her bottle, chucking the cap onto the coffee table. Sneaking another
glance at him, she noticed he didn’t seem to know where to settle his gaze
either.

He cleared his throat. “Where would you like to go?”

“Doesn’t matter to me. There are a lot of places. We could
just walk up the block and duck into the first place that looks good.”

“Okay. Or…nah, never mind.”

“What?”

“I was just going to say we could stay here, but that sounds
wrong. I don’t want you to think…you know.” He combed his bangs out of his
eyes.

“It’s up to you. I’m perfectly comfy here, but if you’d like
to go out, that’s fine too.”

“I’m comfortable here too.” He took a sip from his glass.
“And we have this tasty raspberry beer, so why leave, right?”

She chuckled. “You hate the lambic, don’t you?”

He nodded enthusiastically. “I hate the lambic. I’m so
sorry. I tried to drink it.”

Taking it from him, she said, “I told you, you didn’t have
to.”

“I didn’t want to be rude.”

“You’re sweet.” She shook her head and got up to dispose of
the offending beer.

“I have wine or vodka. Gin? Whiskey?” she called from the
kitchen.

“Nah. I’m fine.”

She snagged a bottle of water and headed into the living
room again. Settling onto the couch, she set the bottle in front of him. “In
case you get thirsty.”

“Thanks.” He picked up the water, scooted deeper into the
sofa and looked a little more at ease. Twisting open the cap, he said, “Here’s
to a better night.”

“Cheers.” She tipped her drink toward him then took a swig.

Their gazes locked, Maggie noticed the rapid rise and fall
of his chest, his fingers gently cradling the bottle, his exquisite bone structure.
She longed to inch closer to him. Should she? What would he do? Only one way to
find out…

She edged closer. “So, if I may ask, why’d you get fired?”

He didn’t move away, in fact, he leaned closer and raised
one shoulder, an unconvincing half-shrug. “Dunno.”

“You don’t want to talk about it. I get it.”

“It’s kind of embarrassing.”

“Gotcha. Well, if it makes you feel any better, I was stood
up by a guy I met online.
That’s
embarrassing.”

“Aw, that’s nothing. Nowadays, who hasn’t been stood up by
someone they met online?” He grazed his hand over hers.

The tiny touch sent a jolt of excitement through her, her
heartbeat picking up speed. She struggled to keep her voice even. “I suppose.
I’m new to this Facebook thing. I got an account after the divorce.”

“Well, just so you know, what’s-his-name’s an idiot.”

This close to him, she could smell his spicy cologne mingled
with his natural scent. Breathing him in, her mouth ran dry. The dim lamplight
seemed to grow brighter.

“Yeah,” she replied, “that’s what I keep telling myself.
Frank’s an idiot.”

“Frank?” He lolled his head backward and pretended to gag.
“You don’t want to date a guy named Frank anyway. What’s that short
for—Francis?”

She laughed. “I think so.”

“And what if it had worked out? Francis and Maggie. Sounds
like a lesbian couple.”

“I hadn’t thought of that. God, I dodged a bullet tonight.
Not that there’s anything wrong with lesbian couples.”

“Of course not.” He nudged her gently. “I love lesbians.”

“Most guys do.”

She covered his hand with hers and gave it a squeeze.
“Thanks for making me feel better.”

The physical connection, the warmth of his skin emboldened
her. A throbbing ache built between her legs. She wanted more.

He scooted to face her, drumming his fingers beneath hers.
“It’s the least I could do after I tossed a glass of wine on you.”

“I think we’re even. I did force-feed you raspberry lambic.”

Edging closer until their shoulders touched, he said, “Now
that you mention it, I’m not sure the punishment fit the crime.”

Maggie fell quiet. She could smell the fruity beer on his
breath. What if he kissed her? What if she kissed him first? Swallowing hard,
she moved her hand away, pretending to smooth her skirt, but he caught it
again. He interlaced his fingers with hers and she stared at his hands. Those
hands that moved over his guitar as if it were his lover. She wondered what
those hands would feel like on her body. The thought incited a burst of
excitement, the pulse between her thighs pounding harder.

“When did you start playing guitar?” she asked, clearing her
throat.

“I was eight or nine, I think. My dad gave me one for
Christmas. He plays and taught me how.”

“You’re very good.”

“Thanks.”

“Was the restaurant your only gig?” She scooted closer,
pressing her shoulder against his hard chest.

“No. I have other places I play and I teach at a couple
community centers too. My dad gave me the best gift—any time I’m down or
frustrated or confused about how I feel, I pull out my guitar and I make music.
It quiets my mind and everything’s all right again. I like paying that forward,
teaching someone else.”

“That’s wonderful, very sweet.”

“Argh, no. Not sweet, anything but sweet.” He feigned hurt.

“No? What adjective would you accept then?”

“How about ’crazy sexy’?” He eased an arm around her. Heat
surged from her pussy outward, warming her thighs. Squeezing her legs together,
she noticed her panties felt sticky.

She dipped her head in concession. “Well, of course you’re
that. You’re a guitar player. Isn’t that in the job description?”

“It is. You totally get me.” A crooked grin tugged at his
lips.

She spread out his hand and compared it to hers. It was
huge. “I like your hands.”

“I like
you
, Maggie.” He toyed with her fingers.

Rubbing her palm against his, she said, “I like you too.”

“Can I kiss you?”

She shot him an amused look. “If you promise next time to
just do it instead of asking me.”

“Right.” He leaned nearer and tilted his head, looking from
her eyes to her mouth and then back again. She closed her eyes and touched her
nose to his.

The kiss started out soft and uncertain, still more of a
question than a kiss, as if he expected her to rebuff him. But then he snaked
an arm around her and drew her closer, parting her lips with his. His tongue
was gentle and playful; he tasted like raspberry. She nipped and sucked at his
bottom lip. As the kiss tapered off, he pulled back slowly, finishing with a
couple delicate pecks.

She laid the back of her hand against his cheek. His skin
was like whipped cream or a rose petal, all velvety smooth. She liked touching
him. As if it had a mind of its own, her hand traveled down his neck and she
found herself running a couple fingers over his thick collarbone. Still,
uncertainty seemed to plague him.

Too late to turn back, Maggie took control, unbuttoning his
shirt. He lay back on the sofa and pulled his shirttails out of his pants. The
fabric fell open and she scrambled to her knees, poised over him. She slid a
hand over his carved abdomen, muscle tensing beneath her fingers. So gorgeous.
She couldn’t help herself, she swooped down and planted little kisses on his
torso. Already hard, the tip of his cock peeked out of the waistband of his
low-cut slacks and she ran her tongue over it. He sucked in a sharp breath.
Excited by his reaction, she unfastened his pants and pulled them off along
with his underwear.

She ran her tongue over the tip of his cock again and then
down the shaft to wet it. Positioning her lips around it, she eased her mouth
to the base and then came back up. With each stroke, she ran her tongue along
the underside. He groaned and panted his approval. Then she decided to mix it
up.

Only the tip in her mouth, she ran her tongue around the
soft fleshy head several times.

He shuddered and grunted. “Easy…hold on. I’m gonna…”

But she didn’t stop. Instead, she took all of him in again,
sucking hard at the base of his shaft. An explosion of cum flooded her mouth
and she swallowed each hot spurt. Calvin bucked and shook until finally the
muscle spasms quieted.

One deep, cleansing breath and then he asked, “Why’d you finish
me off?”

She gave his cock a kiss and sat up. “We’ve got all night,
don’t we?”

“Yeah, we do.” A lascivious grin lit up his features as he
still struggled to control his breathing. Rolling onto one side, he made room
for her to lie on the sofa with him. “Come here.”

“Why don’t we go up to my bedroom?”

He snagged his boxer shorts from the floor and put them on.
“Sounds like a plan… Wait—gimme a sec.”

Making a fast trip to the foyer, he rummaged around and came
back holding several condoms. “You said we have all night, right?”

Charmed at the prospect, Maggie clasped her hands together
and laughed.

Chapter Four

Taking his hand, she led him upstairs. Calvin shed his
shirt, splayed himself out on her king-size bed and rolled around. “This is
what I’m talking about.”

Suddenly aware of her overdressed state, she sat on the edge
of the bed and bent to remove her boots.

“No.” He caught her hand. “Leave the boots on.”

“You like them?” she asked, holding up a foot for him to
admire.

“I do. But this,” he pointed to her sweater, “I could do
without.”

She took off the offending garment, baring her bra.
“Better?”

“Hmm.” He studied her and slipped a hand under her skirt,
hooking a finger in her panties. “One more thing.”

He worked her undies down her legs and over her boots.
Hopping onto the floor, he knelt in front of her. “Payback time.”

Pushing her skirt up, he kissed his way up her thigh. Maggie
writhed, trying to hold back a fit of giggles. “This doesn’t work for me.”

A look of disbelief on his face, he asked, “What do you mean
‘doesn’t work’?”

“I’m ticklish, I mean seriously ticklish between my thighs.
No one’s ever been able to go down on me.”

“Really? Sounds like a challenge to me.” He resumed the path
of kisses he’d begun.

Shaking with laughter, she pushed his head away. “I’m
serious. It doesn’t work.”

“You just need to be desensitized.” He nuzzled between her
thigh and her groin and she let out a yelp.

“Please. You have to stop. I can’t take it.”

But he didn’t. Changing tactics, he spread her legs wider so
only his tongue made contact with her clit. No more ticklish sensation, just
heat and…
oh, pleasure.
Her head lolling backward, she moaned her
approval. Pussy burning for him, she squirmed. Mistake—Calvin’s hair brushed
her thighs. She squealed, pushing him away.

“I’m sorry.” She put the back of her hand to her flaming
cheek.

“It’s okay, let’s try again.”

“Or we could just fuck.” She gave him a wry grin.

With his lips pursed, he stared at her for a moment and then
conceded. “I’m not giving up. We will come back to this issue.”

“Another day, I promise.” She pulled him onto the bed and
climbed on top of him. The moonlight filtering through the curtains highlighted
the crests of muscle beneath his taut skin. With one finger, she traced the
shadows on his face.