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Chapter Forty-Eight
Maggie
Iknock on his door. I can’t help but rub my inner thighs together as I wait. I’m itching for him, impatient for him to open the door.
He opens the door and smirks. “Need something, Buttercup?”
He hasn’t called me that in ages.
I step into his apartment, kick the door closed, and grab a fistful of his shirt.
“Less talking.”
I pull him over to the kitchen counter. As I lean against it, I place my hands on his chest.
“What do you want, Maggie?”
I slide my hand down his torso until I reach the front of his pants. I feel him grow under my touch. “Just this,” I whisper.
I whirl around and press my ass back on him. He groans as he feels me grind into him. He reaches his hands around to squeeze my breasts. I gasp. It still amazes me how sensitive they are.
“I can’t wait,” I say, leaning forward and resting my hands on the counter.
“Already? Are you sure you’re ready?”
I look at him over my shoulder and laugh. “Oh, I’m ready. Why don’t you find out for yourself?”
He chuckles and pulls my pants and panties midway down my thighs. He slides his hand between my thighs.
“Christ,” he hisses when he feels my moisture.
I give him another look over my shoulder. “What are you waiting for?”
He hesitates and then says, “I have to taste you first.”
He grabs my hips and turns me around. Before I can react, he’s lifted me onto the counter and jerked my pants and panties off. I lean back onto my elbows and spread my legs. He grips them tightly and buries his face between my thighs. I drop my head back and moan. He’s eating me like a man starved, and I am shamelessly grinding myself into his face. He licks and sucks until I shatter beneath his tongue. I drop my head back onto the counter when I finish, panting and struggling for breath. He rests his head on one of my thighs, squeezing his hands into my legs even tighter as he listens to me pant and moan. After a few minutes, he says, “Can you take more?”
I nod. He pulls me off the counter, spins me around, and bends me over again. He plunges himself into me. I’m desperate to grasp onto anything, but there’s nothing for me to hold. My hands are splayed on the counter, and he leans forward and rests his hands over mine as he thrusts into me. He fucks me until my legs give out, and he has to grab onto my hips to hold me up.
We sink to the floor when we finish, both of us naked from the waist down. I lean my head against the kitchen counter, close my eyes, and gasp for breath.
“Thank you,” I say after a minute.
He lazily turns his head toward me. “Glad to be of service.”
I nudge him a little with my shoulder. “Where are my pants?”
He grabs them and tosses them over.
As I’m pulling them on, Declan says, “Have you done any work on the mural?”
I tie my drawstring and say, “I’ve sketched everything with a pencil on the wall. I was going to start painting next weekend.”
