Now or Never. PENNY JORDAN
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verbal criticism that was as unprovoked as it was unfair. Backing him into a corner or demanding an apology only resulted in him retreating into an iron-hard sulk, from which she would patiently have to coax him and right now … Right now she simply did not feel like doing any such thing!
‘You’ll never guess what happened this evening,’ she said calmly instead, going to fill the kettle. ‘Maggie told us that she’s pregnant. She gave us all a shock, especially Nicki.’
Alice tensed as Stuart came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her and nuzzling the side of her neck.
‘You never change, do you, Alice?’ he told her as he bit sensually into her skin, oblivious to her rigid tension. ‘We could be invaded by green men from outer space and you would still be more concerned about your own little life.’
Alice could hear the familiar note of mockery in his voice. It seemed to her sometimes that Stuart had spent most of their married lives mocking her or putting her down in one way or another.
‘Come on,’ Stuart demanded. ‘Let’s go to bed. I’ve missed you.’
Just for a second Alice was tempted to refuse, to pull away from him, but he was already taking hold of her hand and tugging her towards the hall door. To challenge him to dare to mock her again! But typically she stopped herself.
And, after all, what was the point in deliberately creating a difficult mood between them? Didn’t it make more sense to give in, to keep him happy? Wasn’t that what her mother had always taught her by example? As she had taught Zoë. That men were people who needed to be pandered to and coaxed, pampered and protected. That either they or their love or both simply weren’t strong enough to bear reality …
‘You prefer the twins, you always favour them!’ How often had Zoë accused her of that? Had she ‘favoured’ them or had she in reality done them anything but a favour?
The others considered her to be a perfect mother, a role model, but what was a ‘perfect’ mother?
‘Where did you eat?’ Stuart was asking her.
‘The new wine bar. The food’s Italian,’ Alice replied.
As Stuart kissed her he smiled. ‘And you didn’t have garlic! Good girl!’
Good girl! Alice could feel her jaw tensing and her body chilling. But Stuart was as oblivious to the signals her body was sending out as he was to the fact that he was patronising her, Alice recognised.
‘No, leave the light on. Please,’ Oliver demanded softly as Maggie swung her legs out of their bed and at the same time reached out to dim her bedside lamp.
It had been Dan who had encouraged her to sleep naked, but, despite the praise Oliver heaped on her body and their lovemaking, she was still self-consciously uncomfortable about him seeing her unclothed in a way she had not been with Dan. Because she was older than Oliver and her body was no longer that of a young girl?
‘I’m only going to the bathroom,’ she told him.
‘Why is it that you always want to hide yourself from me, Maggie?’ Oliver asked her quietly. ‘I love looking at your body. I love looking at you.’
He watched as she veiled her expression from him, dropping her lashes. She had so many small endearing habits that entranced him. She called herself old, but she wasn’t. Her body was slender but softly curved, her skin creamily pale—as a redhead, she had told him ruefully, she had never been able to sunbathe successfully. The natural curves of her body aroused him in a way that shrunk, dieted-down, or unnaturally enhanced supposedly ‘perfect’ female figures never could.
When they had first become lovers he had tried to persuade her to wear soft loose clothes—and no underwear. Although she had tried to hide it, he had seen from her expression that he had shocked her. A little grimly, he had reflected then that at least there was something that she had not experienced with her ex-husband. His request had not been motivated by anything demeaning or controlling, but simply by his overwhelming feelings of love for her. Just to watch her move, just to see her lift her hand and grab at her wild curls—a habit she had—and to see her body move naturally and sensually flooded him with appreciation and desire. And now knowing that her body was holding and nurturing their child added a dimension to those feelings, to his love, that ran so deep and so powerfully that it went way beyond anything he had ever imagined he might experience.
In the bathroom Maggie looked silently into the mirror as Oliver’s reflection joined her own. Standing behind her, he wrapped his arms around her, bending his head to breathe in the scent of her skin.
‘I love you, Maggie,’ he murmured to her as he turned her round and kissed her. A slow, gentle, gifting kiss that melted away her hesitation.
‘I love you too,’ she answered, and meant it. How could she not love him? She closed her eyes as he stroked her skin. His hands cupped her breasts, his mouth caressing her throat. Desire ran through her veins, hot, heavy, drugging. In the mirror she could see her breasts swelling and lifting, her nipples taut. This pregnancy would change her body for ever. In about eight months a baby would be suckling greedily on the nipples Oliver was now gently plucking. The thought made her tremble with awe and excitement.
Here, protected by Oliver’s love and desire, she could ignore the outside world, but she knew that Nicki wouldn’t be the only person to criticise her.
There had been an increasingly antagonistic reaction to pregnancies like hers in the press over recent months, a passionately attacked and defended debate on the moral implications of such situations.
The irony of what she was doing was not lost on Maggie. As a girl, her generation had made full use of the contraceptive pill to prevent and delay pregnancy, thus interfering with the cycle of nature. And now that same generation was interfering with nature once again, only this time …
She heard Oliver groan as he reached for her hand and placed it against his body.
His erection was hard, his penis bulging and full, the veins standing out against his skin—a young man’s erection. The sight of it made her shiver with sensuality. Slowly she caressed him with her fingers, fiercely barricading her mind, her memory against the intrusion of another life and another man.
Without releasing him she knelt down and took him slowly and skilfully into her mouth, caressing the head of his penis with her lips as she savoured the taste and feel of him before sliding her tongue along its stiff length.
Above her Oliver groaned out loud, burying his hands in her hair without constraining her, allowing her the freedom to dictate their intimacy.
Still holding him, Maggie licked teasingly around the distended head of his erection, using her lips and tongue to deliberately make him shudder with need before she took him back in her mouth. Holding him in its wet warmth, she caressed him with increasing intensity, taking him deeper and deeper, relishing the feel and taste of his flesh in this the most intimate of lover’s ways. As she had known he would, he withdrew from her before he came, finding her own wetness with gentle fingers before he eased himself carefully into her.
No matter how often they made love it always surprised her that she climaxed so quickly and easily with him. Somehow it was as though the deepest part of herself and her body refused to accept the shackles of inhibition imposed by a society that said that she ought to feel ashamed of the maturity of her body.
Oliver had gathered her up before he entered her, supporting her body, and now as he let her slide back down to the floor he paused for a moment before finally releasing her to kiss her mouth with deeply tender passion.
In the early days of their courtship when she had often refused to allow him to give her oral sex, he had demanded, ‘Why won’t you let me?’
Somehow she couldn’t explain to him that for her generation such an act from a man to a woman had been a much rarer pleasure than it was for his generation; a gift given on special days, at heightened moments of desire, rather than an accepted part of a familiar