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The limited choice would have amused her, if she wasn’t so damned desperate for the coming penetration.
“How about hard and fast?” she moaned. “God, I don’t care, just do it, Joe. Now…”
She screamed at the penetration. It was hard. Fast. In three strokes he had buried himself to the depths of her needy pussy. Coming over her, his arms tucked beneath her shoulders, his elbows holding the majority of his weight from her as he began to move.
“Hell yes. Take me, baby. Take all of me.” The harsh demand, voiced in a tone desperate with pleasure, had her breath lodging in her ch
est.
All of him. She needed all of him. His body, his heart.
“Joe. Oh God. Joe.” Her fingers clenched on his shoulders as her legs lifted, wrapping around his pounding hips and locking in the small of his back as he drove her to insanity with the pleasure burning through her.
“There, baby,” he crooned, as his head lowered to her neck. “So sweet and tight.” His voice was guttural, throbbing with lust. “I could fuck you forever, Maggie. Never stop. I never want to stop.”
The fierce rhythm was too much to contain. Nerve endings untouched in more than two years rioted with the intensity of the sensations stroking over them. Explosions of nearing orgasm began to ripple through the tender tissue, as Joe groaned roughly at the further tightening around his plunging erection.
He liked that, she remembered. The way she tightened around him before climax, the feel of her racing toward completion.
“Come for me, Maggie.” He nipped her ear erotically. “Come for me, baby, let me feel you milk me. Now, baby. Now.”
He moved faster, impossibly deeper. Maggie felt the sensations splinter inside her as a stronger, harder orgasm gripped her. She couldn’t scream, there was no breath to scream, no strength to fight the rolling explosions tearing through her as Joe’s male cry filtered through her mind.
He tensed above her, driving deep in one last plunging thrust, before she felt the convulsive throb of his cock inside her, felt him spilling himself into the condom he wore.
“Maggie. God, Maggie. I missed you…”
Her heart clenched at the words, at the emotion she fooled herself into believing she heard. She loved him. She had always loved him. In that moment, Maggie knew that nothing and no one would ever replace Joe in her heart.
chapter 7
“did you really love him?”
Joe’s question wasn’t unexpected. Hours after the lust and hunger had burned itself down to a dull glow, sleep had stolen their strength. Now, awake, he held her, her back against his chest as she watched the day lighten beyond the bedroom window.
He wasn’t confrontational this time, not as he had been when he questioned her about Grant before. He was quiet, reflective. Unfortunately, it was also when he was at his most dangerous. And she was very aware of the fact that right now he had no intentions of allowing her to brush the subject away. And maybe it was time to face it, to face the truth of the mistakes she had made.
“I thought I did,” she finally answered. “I wanted to, until a few weeks after the wedding. Had he been the man I thought I married…” She paused. She didn’t want to break the fragile peace between them.
“You would have,” he answered for her.
He sounded accepting. There was no anger in his tone, he wasn’t tense. She hadn’t expected that. In the past two and a half years she had seen Joe only once, at her wedding, where he had been best man. It had been hell. The moment she whispered her vows to Grant something had shattered inside her soul.
She should have walked out then; she admitted that to herself long ago. When the vows had stuck in her throat, and the tears had flowed, not from happiness, but from sadness, sorrow, she should have turned and walked out.
But she hadn’t wanted to hurt Grant. She had cared for him deeply.
“I could have,” she amended. “If I had let myself.”
“Would you have let yourself?”
That question no longer haunted her. At first it had, in those first weeks when she had questioned herself so deeply, before Grant had shown himself for the bastard he was.
“If he had been the man I thought he was.” Admitting it to herself was the hardest part. “Then I would have loved him.” She would have lived her life loving two men, rather than just one.
“You wouldn’t have.” His answer had her jerking in his arms, turning until she could face him.
“I married him,” she pointed out, ignoring the dark look he flashed her. “I cared for him then, Joe. Deeply.”
