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He stands with his mouth open and his eyes closed, looking like he’s in pain while the bed adjusts. When the sound stops, he looks at me with a hunger I’ve never seen in a man’s eyes.
Without speaking, his T-shirt and shorts hit the floor. His cock strains against his boxer briefs. I nod and bite my lower lip so hard that I wince when he sets himself free.
Stirling lays down facing me and runs a line of massage oil over his own tense muscle. Then he strokes himself.
I’m squirming, throbbing, needing to touch him and be touched by him.
“Can I?” I pant, more than ask.
He tilts his hips and thrusts his cock closer to my outstretched hand. I take him in my palm and copy his long, slow strokes while he stares at my nipples, which are as hard as he is, barely hiding beneath my light summer dress.
“Fuck me.” His eyes close and he bucks forward once before covering my hand with his to stop me from stroking. “I’m going to come. I don’t want to ruin your sheets,” he gasps.
“Come on me,” I say, short of breath.
He pulls away and sits up, then easily lifts my shoulder and pulls my dress out from under my side. He reaches behind me to unclasp my bra, but I’m already working the front clasp. My breasts fall free and now Stirling is panting. The way he looks at me makes me feel like a goddess.
“So fucking beautiful.”
He sits up on his knees and I roll onto my back just enough to offer him a view of both breasts. I take his cock in my hand and he covers it again, guiding my movement, squeezing, releasing, varying between long strokes and quick vibrations near his tip. Until … I feel his cock harden even more. He releases my hand and pushes his hips toward me, shooting a ropey stream onto my chest.
Again, he covers my hand, this time to stop my strokes. I release him and run my fingers up my belly to my breasts. Then, I rub his cum round my nipples, which are as hard as I’d ever felt them.
Nipple play is not allowed on bedrest, but no damned doctor is going to stop me from getting what I want next.
CHAPTER12
Stirling
Afew hours every afternoon turns into me staying full time with Mags. Once I cross the line from professional (except for my thoughts) in-home chef to living out my fantasies with this succulent woman, there is no going back.
When she admits that she’d been having the same ideas I’d been having, we get straight to exploring each other’s interests and limits in a visceral way.
She checked in with her midwife to make sure any play that leads to orgasm—which is all of it—would be okay, even if it sends her into early labor. Mags gets the green light to resume life as normal since the babies are strong and the assurance that even if they come a couple of weeks early, they will be just fine. So, in addition to having more sex than either of us has engaged in in years, we also go for short walks and long dinners.
Conversations with Magdalena feel like talking to an old friend. There’s an ease. I feel safe being open and vulnerable with her in a way I’ve never experienced before. I don’t know what it is about her that allows me to share my hopes and fears so readily, but I like it.
“I know what you can do for your next career,” she says, interrupting me mid-sentence as I read one of her romance novels out loud to her. “You could be an audiobook narrator.”
I laugh.
“I’m dead serious. I could listen to your voice for days. The story doesn’t even matter. In fact, the one you’re reading? I lost interest chapters ago.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I drop the e-reader on my lap.
“Because I just love hearing you read. Oh! What if you became an elementary school teacher?”
“You’re crazy,” I laugh.
“I think you’d be fantastic with kids. You’re patient and a great listener and if you can teach me to cook, you could teach any child any subject.” She juts her chin toward me and I lean in for a kiss.
Imagining myself as a teacher isn’t the craziest idea, though it isn’t one that’s ever occurred to me.
“Can you imagine me going back to university to get a teaching degree? An old man in a class full of kids in their early twenties. I’m old enough to be a college student’s dad.”
“How come you and your ex-wife never had kids? Did she not want them?”
That was a touchy subject. I sigh. “Apparently, she didn’t want them with me. I wanted one. Maybe two. She said she didn’t. But she’s remarried and has three now.”
