His Longed-For Baby. Josie Metcalfe
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Maggie!’ he groaned, and she was certain that she felt him quivering with the same onslaught of pleasure. Then he turned to brace her against the tiled wall of the cubicle, leaning back just far enough to gaze his fill at the way they fitted in each other’s arms.
He was so broad and strong against her slighter frame, his muscles and sinews standing out in stark relief as he supported her, every swell and hollow slick with rivulets of water that eventually disappeared between their bodies.
‘Give me your breast,’ he demanded hoarsely.
She hesitated momentarily, stunned to feel everything inside her clenching in response to his raw command. Lack of experience made her waver, but a glimpse of uncertainty in his gaze was enough to restore her courage and she cupped one hand around herself and offered her breast up to him.
He nuzzled his face against her and the smoothness of his jaw told her that he must have shaved recently. He was so warm against the chill of her skin that she was briefly reminded about the necessity of taking the heat out of their recent scalds, then he opened his mouth to take her inside and nothing else mattered.
She’d never dreamed that she would be so in tune with him, every move so well choreographed as if they’d already been lovers in fact rather than in her imagination. Finally, when she could bear his teasing torment no longer, she took control, tightening her legs around him as she impaled herself to the hilt and shattered around him with a high keening cry.
Even as her body clenched rhythmically around him she felt him follow her into the maelstrom, and he gave a wordless shout of ecstasy as his release exploded into her secret depths.
For several moments it seemed as if neither of them could have moved if they’d wanted to, their arms wrapped tightly around each other as they panted for breath. Maggie was absolutely certain that if Jake hadn’t been pressing her against the tiled wall she would have slid bonelessly down its slick surface into the puddle in the bottom of the bath.
She was totally stunned. Was this what she’d been missing all these years? Or was it something special, just between the two of them? She chuckled when she realised that there was only one way to find out.
‘Wow! What do you do for an encore?’
‘Encore?’ Was that disbelief in his voice? It was hard to tell when his face was buried in the curve between her neck and shoulder. ‘I’m still waiting to find out if I’ve survived the overture.’
She gripped her legs around his waist then squeezed the muscles that surrounded him where he was still buried deep inside her. She laughed again, a throaty, husky sound that she’d never heard herself make before, when she felt the burgeoning proof of his returning arousal.
‘Take it from me,’ she whispered, ‘you’ve definitely survived. I’ve got the evidence to prove it.’ And she deliberately tightened her internal muscles around him again.
He groaned, apparently helpless to stop himself thrusting in response, and she felt a surge of feminine power.
‘You say you’ve got evidence?’ he demanded hoarsely, finally straightening up enough to meet her eyes. ‘Well, how about taking this somewhere warmer and drier to explore that evidence?’
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