Then we did this thing where he went to kiss me just as I was pulling back. Then I went in for a smooch and he was rubbing his lips together. I planted a quick kiss on the corner of his mouth before retreating. I was a total klutz when it came to sex, apparently.
“Maggie, get the hell over here,” he finally growled, wrapping his hand around the back of my neck. He pulled me close with just enough roughness that I squealed out of sheer delight and launched myself into his lap.
His touch was gentle yet electrifying. My heart thumped against my ribcage as his fingers caressed my cheeks with a delicate grace. In that moment, time ceased to exist, and our lips finally found one another’s.
This time, there was no awkwardness. We melded together seamlessly, as if fate had orchestrated this perfect moment, just for us. Our tongues tangled, and he let out the sexiest groan.
“You’re so damned beautiful, Maggie,” he whispered against my mouth. “I’ve wanted to do this since the first moment I saw you.”
He wrapped his arms around me and cupped my ass, drawing me closer to him. I was fully straddling him now. He seemed to like the flimsy shorts that didn’t cover much, from the way he sucked in his breath as he squeezed my flesh.
He shut his eyes for a second.
“What?” I asked.
“Your ass feels perfect in my hands.” He gave it another squeeze, then slapped it lightly.
I laughed and went in for another kiss. This was different from our moments in the wing restaurant. It was slow and dirty, intense and passionate.
“You’re an incredible kisser,” I told him, in between gasping for air and kissing him back.
He responded with a sexy growl.
I ground my hips into his, and within seconds he’d flipped me onto my back on the daybed. I immediately ran my hands under his T-shirt so I could feel his back muscles. They were even more glorious than in my fantasies.
I opened my legs and he settled between them. Now it was his turn to thrust as we kissed.
“Are we dry humping like teenagers?” I asked, then nibbled on his ear.
“We certainly are.”
“I like it. A lot.” The daybed, which wasn’t new or well-constructed, shook and creaked under our weight and motion. Neither of us cared.
He thrust into me and lightly bit my neck. Oh yeah, this was getting good. Too bad we had our clothes on. I responded by pulling up his T-shirt, which he shed in record time. We resumed kissing. It was as if we were auditioning for a gum commercial, with our lips performing a perfectly choreographed routine. It was super hot.
Just as he was sliding his hand up my shirt, teasingly exploring my neck with his lips, the unexpected happened. He stiffened and abruptly raised his head, accidentally whacking me square in the chin. Ouch!
A symphony of startled cries ensued, echoing through the sunroom. I wriggled out from under him and promptly found myself sprawled face down on the floor. Super classy, I know.
“What the—” I began, trying to make sense of the chaos.
Jack sat up, confusion etched on his face, while Catsy, the feline mastermind behind this debacle, circled him, rubbing her face against his elbow while shooting me a nasty look, as if to say,this man is mine, bitch.
“She jumped on my butt,” Jack explained, his voice a mixture of pain and amusement. “I was concerned she’d go for the exposed skin on my back. Are you OK? Sorry about my head.”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” I burst into laughter, unable to contain myself. “Foiled by a kitten. Now that’s a new one.”
However, as the laughter subsided, I looked at Jack. This kind of situation would have sent my ex spiraling into a foul mood, but here was Jack, grinning and shaking his head. His response was refreshing.
He extended his hand toward me, and I took it, rising with a grunt from my undignified position on the floor. I combed my fingers through my disheveled hair, while Jack retrieved his T-shirt and put it back on.
I couldn’t help but let out a nervous laugh. Maybe he wasn’t as good-natured about the interruption as I had initially thought.
“I’m truly sorry. Catsy’s never pulled a stunt like that before,” I apologized, feeling a pang of guilt.
The kitten stared at me, seemingly unfazed by the mayhem she’d caused or the lust she’d interrupted. She hopped down onto the cool tile floor, flopping onto her side and observing us with an air of self-satisfaction.
Jack took hold of my chin, gently tilting my head to meet his gaze. “No need to apologize,” he murmured, his lips brushing against mine.
