Oh, she was naughty.
Maggie looked around the Castillo and fought not to giggle. What would all the lovely Las Vegas people think if they knew she’d left her panties at home? She rolled her eyes and strode across the hotel lobby floor. She’d be surprised if half of the people present were wearing undergarments. Saturday night in Vegas didn’t lend itself to excess clothing, and that night, panties were definitely excessive.
Being new in town, with so many different and exciting opportunities, Maggie finally had the start of everything she’d ever wanted. A boyfriend and dating didn’t make her short list of desires, but she had needs. Maggie time started after work ended, and she really needed half a dozen orgasms in the next few hours. More, if Mr. Samuel Peterson proved all Madame Evangeline promised.
A sexy night out, that’s what Maggie needed. Though her credit card had squealed for ten seconds after Madame Eve’s fee went through, she believed, the expense would be justified.
She looked around the crowded bar, an image of what she desired in mind, but not an actual face for the man she was meeting. The concierge would direct her to the right man, a very safe and regulated meeting to make sure she didn’t fall into the arms of a weirdo. She’d spent way too much of her hard-earned money to have that happen. Still, looking and dreaming didn’t hurt. Black leather on one guy. In the desert? Dumb. Next, her attention shifted to a man in a fabulous gray suit. She’d seen those before, though. She had exes who looked fantastic in gray suits and had happily taken them off for other women. There were so many men to choose from, and though Maggie usually took the lead in what she wanted, she liked that for once, the cards were already on the table.
“Madam?”
Maggie turned and smiled at a huge man in an equally huge black suit. She looked up and up until she found a set of ears she would be all too glad to wrap her ankles around.
“Hello there.”
“Maggie Chase?”
“That’s me,” she said, adjusting her purse higher on her shoulder. The big tote didn’t quite match her outfit, but the sexy clutch she preferred wouldn’t have held a change of clothes and her toothbrush.
“Follow me, please. Madame Evangeline has arranged for your caller to meet you in the lounge.”
Lounge. Which meant they were going to the super-fancy part of the Castillo. She loved how decadent she felt within the expensive, gorgeous walls of the hotel. Rare art and beautiful fabrics surrounded her at every corner. As an interior decorator, she recognized them for the treasures they were. Could they have held back on the gold plating? Sure, but it suited the hotel and Vegas lifestyle.
As they meandered through the crowd, Maggie wondered why she wasn’t more nervous. One-night stands and paid escorts never entered her normal strategies for getting laid. Not that she expected the guy waiting for her to be some gigolo, but still, hooking up with a stranger to get string-free sex should have felt at least a little wrong. And maybe it did. Maybe that little bit of naughty provided the catalyst making her so hot.
Her escort stopped short, and Maggie nearly tripped. She grabbed the booth end before she fell on her ass and embarrassed herself, while forcing her heels to stop before she impaled the poor man. The stilettos were tall and wickedly sharp. They were plain wicked, but that didn’t mean she wanted to draw blood with them.
“Mr. Peterson, allow me to introduce Ms. Chase. If either of you have a need, wave from here. I’ll be watching.”
With those instructions, the liaison walked away. Despite the dim light, Maggie could see the man across from her. A stranger. A hot stranger wearing a gray shirt too nice to be called casual but far from fussy. He stood and offered a hand, showing a slim-to-the-point-of-scrawny frame, but when he leaned forward, his face, lean like the rest of him, made her breath catch.
***
“May I call you Maggie?”
The goddess in emerald green smiled and nodded. “Absolutely. And you’re Samuel?”
“Sam works.” He motioned her to sit though staring at her in the painted-on dress tempted him. “Have a seat. Can I order you a drink?”
“Sure. What are you having?”
“Scotch and water,” he replied, flagging down the waitress.
“Not my favorite. How about an amaretto sweet?”
Sam placed the order, aware of Maggie’s intense regard. She didn’t even pretend to be coy or shy, and he loved her confidence. Being new in Vegas, he’d hoped to meet some new people, but so far, everyone was as fake as the jewelry sold on the Strip. The women he worked with all seemed to be after his money, and even when he tried blind dates with friends of friends, he found the driving distrust he felt for each and every one of them made him back down before he could get close to anyone. When his secretary mentioned Madame Evangeline’s services, he’d been suspicious, but after extensive research, he’d made initial contact. Seeing who the mysterious computer woman had chosen, Sam couldn’t have been more thrilled.
The waitress returned while they were still looking at each other. Sam would bet his bank account Maggie didn’t have a shy bone in her body, and he didn’t either. He’d never been presented with the opportunity to take in a date so directly. He liked it.
“Here’s your drink.” The waitress, all perky boobs and bright blonde hair smiled. “Let me know if I can get you anything else.”
Maggie lifted the drink to her mouth as Sam paid the bill, and the long, slow sip she took sent shocks of lust through his system. Her pretty mouth—so damn sensual. She set down the drink and discretely licked her lips. She could have been more obviously sexy if she’d wanted, but the tiny showings of her tongue did plenty in making his pants very uncomfortable.
“So, Sam. It’s so nice to meet you. I’ve been on Madame Eve’s waiting list for a few weeks, and I have to admit to getting a little anxious.”
He nodded, lifting his drink for a small sip. He didn’t delude himself into thinking his action compared to the sexiness of hers, but she watched him move. What made her observation of him so damn enticing?
“Actually, I’ve been on the roster a month, so I’m glad she finally made the match. Have you eaten? The lounge serves a limited menu, mostly tapas and appetizers, but all very delicious.”
A foot brushed his ankle. The sweet come-on piqued his interest higher.
“Hmm,” she said, and lifted the tiny menu from its place near the wall. “Do you know what I find tedious about fancier places like this?”
“What’s that?” he asked as her foot slid up his ankle and stroked the inside of his knee.
“The garlic and scallions in nearly every dish.”
He laughed, though her foot continued to distract him. “How about some fruit then? I think I saw an appetizer with fresh mango.”
“Good idea. Sweet mango would help keep a nice balance for tonight.”
“Oh?” he asked, flagging down the waitress. “Did you have something salty earlier today?”
“Nope, but I plan to have a lot of something salty very soon,” she said, and Sam thanked his lucky stars he looked over because that nimble tongue of hers darted across her lips again. “Why don’t you forget that order for now. We can get room service later. Something more…specific.”
He waved the waitress away. She looked surprised but went on to her next table.
They were talking an awful lot. Actually, Maggie hadn’t stopped talking, and Sam thought she might be nervous. Taking time for flirting and playing before heading upstairs worked for him, but perhaps somewhere in the first moments, he’d insinuated the need for speed.
Her foot met his groin. No shoe to hit or scrape anything, merely the top of her foot, gently massaging his cock through his slacks. Maybe nerves, but maybe she liked talking dirty and really did want them to head up to their room, where she would commence sucking his cock, followed by room service, followed again by him returning every naughty favor she had offered.
She took another sip of her drink, as if unaware of her foot thoroughly invading his space. “My napkin is going to hit the floor in about two minutes if you don’t make a move here, Sam. I hate to be pushy or bossy, but I really, really want to go fuck.”
His eyebrow flew to his hairline. The horrible habit proved uncontrollable when genuinely surprised. She noticed, of course, and blushed slightly.
“That is, if you’re still free this evening.”
Sam finished his drink and gently dislodged her foot, sad to feel it go, but hoping very soon to have something else of hers, something warmer and wetter, in its place.
“I’m ready when you are.”
***
The elevator moved too slowly, but at least Sam touched her. He felt nice. Skinny, but nice. Maggie didn’t usually chase the string beans, but there was a first time for everything. His height provided all kinds of possibilities. A slim girl, Maggie watched her figure, but at nearly six feet tall, feeling petite beside a man didn’t happen often. Pressed close to Sam, she felt feminine and perfect.
He had one arm around her shoulder, a very appropriate sign of affection, she thought. His classy manners probably prevented him from lifting her against the elevator wall and fucking her silly. What a damn shame. The intrusive camera in the front corner of the car would have stopped her from even proposing something so risqué…probably.
“Our room is the first on the right,” Sam said, his voice so calm and normal, Maggie worried he might not be as affected as she.
Then she looked down. His black slacks tented in the front with a ferocity the very nice cotton/polyester blend couldn’t contain. She wondered about his control level. If his business background offered any clues, he probably liked control and power in his life. She loved to press men like that and really test their limits. How fun would it be to be in a corvette with the top down, driving way too fast with her mouth on his hard cock? Just the thought made her mouth water.
They stepped out, Sam’s strong arm guiding her in a very nice way. Not pushy or rude, guiding like he knew what needed to be done, and, holy smokes, did she want someone who knew how to take charge.
He used his card key to open the door. Like a gentleman, he held it open and stepped aside, inviting her in. If he’d had a tie, the moment would have been perfect. She would have grabbed him by it and tugged him in behind her. Still, Sam once again proved to be a very wise man, already unbuttoning his shirt before the door closed.
She should have been nervous, but Maggie stripped. First her shoes. They were wicked sexy, but stepping out of them relieved a lot of pressure on her toes. She wouldn’t mind being sore in the morning, but she sure as hell didn’t want to blame it on her shoes. Sam’s shirt draped over one of the room’s several chairs. A mini-suite, perfect for a weekend of sexy fun, and Maggie hoped they would be taking advantage of every amenity. She hated turning away from Sam, but the room’s central feature called to her. The lovely bed couldn’t have looked more perfect with its mounds of pillows and opulent duvet.
“Housekeeping left several sets of sheets, extra blankets, and more pillows than a sultan’s harem,” Sam said, and Maggie turned back to him, enjoying his grin. “I don’t imagine you would know why they would do something like that.”
“Those darn invasive questionnaires,” Maggie said, tongue in cheek. “So, where do we start with all of this, Sam?”
He paused, his slacks still in place, but his long, tanned, muscled torso completely exposed. For someone who looked so slim, his muscles were ropey layers of sinew that spoke of strength, and even more of unfailing endurance. She hoped he’d brought a whole bucket of that endurance.
He settled his hands on his hips.
“Good Lord, do you swim?” she asked.
His friendly, sexy chuckle warmed her even more than his hands. “Yes. I like to participate in triathlons when I have time, but otherwise, I swim long distance.”
“Wow, I bet your lung capacity is amazing.”
He winked, an incredibly charming move she hadn’t seen in men her age, ever.
“We’ll have to test that bet in the Jacuzzi tub later. About where to start, that’s entirely up to you. I know we’re both here for fun—”
“Oh, let’s have more than fun,” she broke in.
“Okay, we’re both here to do our best to walk away limping from exhaustion and friction burns,” he allowed. “But for my peace of mind, I need to hear exactly what you want and how far we can go. As you know from my survey, I’m open to everything, and Madam Eve gave me a few details as well, so I know we’re on the same page, but still, I’d like to know your comfort zone.”
What a gentleman. Maggie shimmied out of her dress as he looked on, enjoying the feel of his eyes on her skin. She’d chosen her undergarments very carefully. Bra with gorgeous cups that made her boobs absolutely overflow…and nothing else. He didn’t make a sound when she slipped her dress past her ass and off her legs, but when she looked up at him once again, she couldn’t help but notice how still he stood. She had his attention.
“Well,” she said, slowly sliding her palms up the ultra smoothness of her left leg. She’d gotten a Brazilian wax three days earlier and had been babying her skin since. “There’s so much I can’t wait to do with you. I’m also very open to exploration. I’m an any position kind of girl, don’t mind a little spanking when the mood is right, and Madame Eve said she’d have the room stocked with the proper condoms, since I do have a pesky latex allergy.”
“I’d hate for you to be uncomfortable,” Sam said, and though Maggie didn’t look at him, the tone of his voice had undeniably changed to something deeper, sexier.
“Thanks. Let’s see, what else. Well, I love sex in the shower and bath, so those are definitely in, and I’m really hoping we get to anal—I haven’t had good anal sex in too many years to count, and I find myself craving it now.” She stood straight, resting her hands on her hips, giving a slight tilt to them to present her very bare, very sensitive pussy to his searching eyes. “And not to be forward or pushy, but I want to get my mouth on your cock right now. Can chatting time be over?”
***
If that’s what she preferred, he’d never request chatting time again, Sam thought, shedding his slacks. He tried to stay cool and not show too much excitement. Any more adrenaline in his body and his cock would blow on its own, not the first impression he wanted to present the beautiful, sexy Maggie. Hell, a woman who could talk about sex like she did, who looked like sex and yet had a sense of humor about all of it…He’d already decided not to let things end at a single evening, but he hadn’t even touched her yet and didn’t know if the whole weekend would be enough to satisfy everything in him at the moment.
“You’re so darn tall,” she said, looking him up and down.
“And you’re not so short yourself,” he muttered. Her height was one of the first things that had drawn him to her description. Short women made him feel like a towering giant. Being noticeably taller than Maggie suited his needs. “How would you like to do this? If having your mouth on my cock is what you want, I am willing to indulge you.”
“Oh really? Indulge me?” She laughed. “Take a seat on the bed, String Bean.”
“At least things are moderately proportional,” he said, setting aside the slacks, socks and briefs he’d shucked.
“Moderately?” She licked her lips, and pride filled Sam, as he managed not to trip over his feet. “I think we’ll both be grateful that I’ve been training my gag reflex for years.”
He laughed—the sheer practicality of her words and tone tickling him somewhere no woman had ever touched. Aside from her gorgeous bra and the wicked expression on her face, her beautiful body waited for him. He’d seen naked and wicked before, but not in such perfect combination and never with Maggie’s touch of sweetness. Somewhere in the big talk, her earlier blush came to mind. A woman who knew what she wanted, but still a woman with feelings and emotions and well, those were things he hadn’t realized he wanted.
She sauntered to him—a naked woman with her swagger could never be described as simply walking—and ran her finger up his chest. He hadn’t been called a string bean since his tenure as a super-skinny nerd in high school, but from her, he saw it as a compliment rather than an insult. Maybe she saw the term as an endearment.
“You are incredibly sexy,” she said, taking her time to trace each slight bulge of his six-pack abs. “But, unfortunately, you’re also a little slow.”
She pushed him with more strength than he’d have given her credit for, but the bed caught him.
“Oh, talk about perfect height,” Maggie said, as she bent down between his sprawled legs.
Gorgeous standing—sitting she took his breath away. But something about Maggie on her knees, between his legs, with her mouth making a determined descent onto his straining penis, put her outside any means of categorization.
“Mmmm.”
Her murmur of appreciation rocked his cock and though Sam considered himself very much in control of himself, his fingers dug into the bedspread for an anchor. A lifeline; the only thing remaining to hold him to the earth while Maggie worked her magic on his dick. The long licks were nice, but the suction, pure and simple, made black dots float at the edges of his eyes. Her tongue did things, incredible things, in the way it circled, while she still managed to keep the suction and pressure going.
“Hell,” he groaned, wishing he could hold back the sign of weakness, but release loomed. He’d been close to coming since the moment he’d seen her across the bar.
Thankfully, she didn’t feel the need to acknowledge his outburst and kept up the intense work. When she swallowed, all of his control flew out the window. The second he lost control, he wanted to die.
Maggie didn’t seem to mind, though, didn’t pull away when he unloaded down her throat. In fact, she took extra moments to take long, leisurely licks of his cock. He wanted to kiss her brains out, wanted to turn her on her back and return the favor, wanted…a brief nap so he could rejuvenate his poor, drained penis.
“Uh uh,” she said, lightly slapping both of his thighs and shocking him out of napping thoughts. “You’ve got a lot of damn work to do tonight, Mr. Peterson. Let’s hit the shower. The water will perk you up, and after you’ve made me scream, I’m betting you’ll find your second wind.”
Sam pushed himself to his elbows, eyeing her with a mix of disbelief and wonder. She was awesome.
“A shower it is.”
***
Lube. Two condoms. More lube. Towel. Fresh sheets.
“Do you have a checklist you need to consult?”
Maggie jumped and laughed when she saw Sam watching her do her mental checklist over the proper supplies for their next endeavor. The low-slung towel at his hips did little to cover more than his essential pieces. “Well, would you rather we go spontaneously and be disappointed when something crucial is missing?”
Her practical side had reared its ugly head in relationships before and turned men off. Sam might not know it, but his line of questioning put him dangerously close to undoing all his good work in the shower. He’d shown off his killer oral and breathing skills while steaming up the beautiful bathroom, but if he kept on picking at her, they’d be done.
He strode across the floor, his long legs eating up space until he stood beside her and surveyed the offerings she’d set out on the nightstand. After a long moment, he opened the drawer and added another condom. She looked at him, confusion certainly in her expression.
He shrugged. “I like how you think, and this way if we decide to do any more switches, we’re covered and don’t have to go rummaging at an inopportune moment.”
He likes how I think. Her heart stuttered a little. Appreciating her personality quirks took a special person. Sam seemed to be one of the few, fantastic people who fit the bill.
“Do we need anything else?” he asked. “I don’t mind calling down to room service if there’s anything you’d like.”
She smirked. “Really? No problem calling down for strawberries, whipped cream, champagne and some better lube?”
His eyebrow arched in a move she’d come to adore. Challenges didn’t seem to bother him, which worked for her because she loved a challenge.
“I’ll make the call.”
She sat on the bed and crossed her legs at the ankles, not exposing too much, but not exactly covering up—tough to pull off naked. Maggie didn’t know where the kick from pushing him came from. She had no intention of keeping him, so making any deep connections or plans for improvements would be futile. Yet, when he sat on the chair beside the phone and settled his ankle on his opposite knee, definitely exposing his cock to her in the process, she found herself wondering where his tipping point really would be.
“Hello, this is Sam Peterson in room fifteen-ten. I need two orders of strawberries and whipped cream sent to my room, along with a nice bottle of champagne and also, what brands of lube do you have on hand?”
Maggie snorted, and at his superior look, she laughed. As he began casually discussing oil and water content with room service, Maggie found every part of her funny bone tickled by him. She laughed so hard she started rolling around the bed in pleasure. She’d stripped back the blankets, so her bare flesh rubbed against the soft and silky sheets as Sam continued to talk.
“So I can expect those things in twenty minutes? That’s the best you can do time-wise? All right. Thanks.”
He hung up, but Maggie continued laughing, still thrilled to be in the room, thrilled to be with Sam, with more promise for the rest of the night. The bed dipped and with the muscles she’d spent an improper amount of time adoring in the shower, Sam flipped her to her back, straddling her thighs.
“You seem very pleased with yourself, madam,” he said, humor twinkling in his dark brown eyes.
“You’re pretty outrageous, you know that?”
He smirked. “This from the woman who wore no panties tonight? Not that I’m complaining of course—I thought that particular wardrobe choice was brilliant.”
“I am rather brilliant,” she agreed, running her fingers up his abs, past his pecs until she massaged his shoulders. “Twenty minutes, huh? My brilliant mind is telling me that’s not enough time to make good use of my supplies.”
“With that much forethought, I’d have to agree that any measure of haste would be completely unacceptable.”
He sounded so stuffy, she started laughing again as she pulled him closer. “Well, I’m sure we can find a way to make sure the time is well spent.”
He didn’t require much tugging to get him where she wanted him and while his lips delighted her when he spoke, in kissing they were amazing. She would have liked to wrap her legs around him, but he had her pinned. Maybe they needed a wrestling match. Maggie didn’t think she’d win in a test of strength, but she’d sure have a lot of fun losing.
She bucked her hips hard, taking him off guard and using the moment to turn them both until she bounced on top. Unfortunately, he still had his knees locked around her thighs, limiting her win. She pulled away from the kiss to demand release or gloat, but his tongue slipped between her lips, demanding her attention. Dancing and kissing…was there anything better? Kissing while naked with Sam Peterson—better.
Her position on top, Maggie realized, did not put her in charge. Not only did Sam keep his legs locked around hers, he kept her entranced with his lips. So talented, so distracting, so…damn sexy. She ran her hands up and down his sides, letting her breasts press against his amazing chest while she indulged. He moved his hands to her hips, and she hoped he would free her legs so she could straddle him and ride him until they were both sore and happy. She pressed her hips deeper into his hands, encouraging him to do whatever he wanted, but without warning, she found herself on her back.
“You’re insatiable, aren’t you?” he asked.
The fact that she wanted his lips back to where they had been and needed his cock driving into her pussy with force and abandon provided the evidence for a positive answer. “Are you complaining?”
He grinned and leaned down, kissing her hard once more on her lips. “Get under the blankets, beautiful. I’ll get the door.”
She heard the subtle knock then, and didn’t know whether to groan or applaud at the quick work of the kitchen. Her stomach chose that moment to rumble, and Sam smiled, kissing her once more before grabbing the discarded blankets and tossing them over her body.
“Behave.”
Maggie rolled her eyes. “Me behave? You’re the one who’s going to give the poor waiter an eyeful when you open the door.”
He wrapped his tiny, indecent towel around his hips and headed for the door. Sam turned the knot to the back, and Maggie very much appreciated the view. She could watch him walk away all day. Maybe his butt was a little on the skinny side, but all those muscles more than made up for the lack of anything else. Besides, big butts on guys always seemed silly to her. She preferred skinny men to pleasantly plump. Not that she had plans of being seen with him, she thought. No, not going to happen after they finished business.
“Strawberries, whipped cream, champagne and lube.” Sam presented the cart full of goodies, breaking her thoughts. “I believe the food might be a good place to start.”
“Oh my gosh,” she said, looking over the spread. “Those strawberries are beautiful. I’m game for a snack.”
***
He wanted to feed her. Sam took one of the bowls of strawberries and also brought the bowl of fluffy, creamy whipped cream. It had the creamy-golden color of the real thing, and while he usually kept tabs on his diet, he figured the pace he and Maggie were keeping would long burn off any calories. Maggie wasn’t trying to be sexy on the bed, but she couldn’t help it—she was sex on a stick, without the stick, but before long, he knew that would change. She reached for a strawberry and didn’t even bother with the cream, just took a big bite of the fruit. Red juice trickled from the side of her mouth, and she quickly caught it with her pinky.
Having been in the strawberry’s position not long before, Sam found himself incredibly jealous of the fruit being treated to time in her talented mouth. The food held less and less appeal to him, but he knew she needed to eat, so he bided his time, pouring them both glasses of champagne. She took hers and smiled in thanks, her mouth full of strawberry. She looked from cream to wine and dipped the remaining portion of her berry in the champagne before taking another bite.
The champagne tasted delightful. The cream looked good. The berries were succulent, but none of them tempted him like Maggie did. He sat on the bed near her feet. She’d shifted higher to rest her back against the headboard, still nibbling and sipping, making happy noises as she worked through her third berry. He really should have offered her more, and before the night ended, he wouldn’t mind calling room service for something more substantial. He took a smaller berry and smiled when she instantly offered him the whipped cream.
Sam dipped the strawberry in cream and did a second dip to coat it before letting it slide over the inside of her knee. She jumped a little, but her pleasure-happy eyes turned instantly naughty. Her legs casually opened, and all sorts of possibilities flooded his mind. She kept nibbling though, with a slight challenge once again in her expression. He loved how they seemed to be on the same plane with their desires. Hell, there were some he’d never thought of, and couldn’t wait to try them all.
He followed the berry’s cream trail with his tongue as he moved closer to the cleft of her open legs. With miles of smooth skin to cover, he took his time, meandering the creamy path to the most sensitive flesh of her thigh before finally letting the berry’s inquisitive tip drop into the glossy slit of her vagina. He didn’t have to look at her face to see the way her body smiled at his attention. After lapping the cream away, Sam tugged the sheets slightly and settled in. The awkward angle made him hesitate, but once he got a taste of her, the ache subsided.
Sweet, sweet woman. He licked in long, thorough strokes. From the bottom of her slit to her clit, he made the journey over and over, wishing to never meander from his chosen path ever again. Between moans, he could hear her still nibbling her strawberries and that was fine with him as long as she kept on moaning. More juices flowed, and Sam did his best to keep up, licking furiously as the reward for his labors met his tongue. He couldn’t wait to get his cock back inside her. They wouldn’t need the lube if he could keep her so wet, and if he could, he’d be a damn proud man.
***
Not going to scream. Maggie bit into another strawberry, hoping the sweet treat would distract her from the intense pleasure growing between her thighs. Still only his tongue. He hadn’t added his fingers or penetrated her at all and maybe that’s what made the act so erotic. What kind of man had the patience to lick and lick and, gosh, lick?
“Sam,” she cooed, not screaming like she’d been afraid she would. “Sam, Sam, Sam.”
He didn’t look up, stop, or acknowledge her calls, and she didn’t mind being ignored. Little, tiny orgasms spasmed through her vagina and up through her belly, warming her where the champagne and berries had cooled her. The tiny orgasms made her pussy clench, and when that sensation turned painfully intense, she knew the time for strawberries had passed. She needed his cock before she got too desperate. She grabbed his shoulders and tugged him up. He followed her silent instructions and when he immediately reached for a condom, she shook in relief.
Sam slipped on the condom without any fuss, and safely covered, he filled her. His height gave amazing leverage to his cock. It hit places she wasn’t sure should be hit, but the new, intense sensations were addicting. She’d take the discomfort in the morning, especially if he’d move slightly to the left and do—
“Oh Sam. Sam. Oh, damn it. Fuck. Harder.”
He took her mindless commands at face value, and Maggie thought she’d black out when he did pump harder and faster, using his cock with more power than finesse. Her muscles clenched and shook, trying to draw him deeper even as they tried to hold him tight in self-preservation. Maggie swore, the cursing all she could make pass her lips as her entire body quivered.
Impossibly, he moved quicker and harder, and she knew his end approached. She wrapped her legs around his hips and egged him on, wanting him to join her in the orgasmic stupor. He growled and launched so deep within, her back arched of its own accord.
Sam fell on top of her with no grace or concern for her comfort. Not that Maggie minded. He felt good on top of her and with her champagne within reach, she had absolutely nowhere else she wanted to be. She took a deep drink from her glass and chose another berry while Sam continued to catch his breath. Feeling inordinately pleased, she patted his head lightly and then started eating again, sure she’d need the added nutrients for the next round.
She kept eating until her stomach all but sighed in berry contentment and wondered if Sam had gone fully catatonic, because after ten minutes, he still hadn’t moved from his place snuggled between her breasts. She never passed on cuddling, but she’d been hoping for more va-voom. He couldn’t be tapped out. Maggie frowned at the thought of his snake being completely drained of funness already. She poured herself another glass of champagne and grinned when she found ice still in the bucket. She took out a piece and ran it up Sam’s spine.
He jerked and threw himself away from the sudden cold. She laughed at the overreaction but realized he’d probably fallen asleep to be that surprised.
“Are you awake now, big boy?” she asked, fighting a smirk in case he mistook it as mean.
“Just resting my eyes,” he defended and stretched. “Damn, that was good.”
“It was good,” she agreed, offering him a sip of her champagne.
He took the glass and took a long, deep drink. “Ah. Thank you.”
“So now what?” she asked, crossing her ankles while he tossed his condom in the trash. “Do you need another shower to perk things up again? I hope you don’t think we’re done, Sam, because I’ve got plans for the rest of the night.”
He took her glass again and drank deeply before lying flat on his back beside her, offering her the empty glass in return.
“Sam?” she asked, when he didn’t move and didn’t open his eyes.
“How about we spend our recovery time down at the Little White Chapel? I’ve got the strongest urge to marry you and test out our chances for happily ever after.”
***
Sam waited for it. He didn’t open his eyes, didn’t move, merely waited, and five seconds later, she rewarded him with a pillow slamming on his face.
“You butt! We were doing so well this time! No calls from the office, no calls from the babysitter, and they even had strawberries in season this year. You couldn’t go along with the rest of the night?”
He sighed and pushed up on his elbow to look at his beautiful, albeit miffed, wife. For their sixth anniversary, like the last five, they were recreating their first night together. That night they really hadn’t hit the chapel, but they had decided to see each other even after the sun rose on Sunday morning. He’d fallen in love with her spirit in only days, and within six months, they had been married. Six months after that they’d jumped into parenthood and never looked back. These nights, done once every year, were a time to remember, a time to enjoy each other and a time to relive the moments that had brought them together in the first place.
“We even had Angelo meet us to get things started in the club. The only thing missing was all the messing around with Madame Eve, and even she sent us a congratulatory email,” Maggie complained. “Wait—anal is next on the docket. I can’t believe you would break character now.”
He sat up and grabbed the blankets, wrapping them both in them again as the sweat dried on their skin. “I agree. I wish I’d been able to stay in the moment, but I haven’t really eaten since before lunch. I had a meeting go late, and dropping Max and Ellie off with my mom made me even more behind, so I didn’t have time to eat. If you want me to finish the night, I need something more than a little champagne, berries and cream. Though, I do have more ideas for that cream.”
His admission had the desired effect. Even though Maggie might want the night to go a certain way, her practical side wouldn’t let him starve. She picked up the room phone, but he didn’t miss her scowl.
“Hi, this is Maggie Peterson in room fifteen-ten. Could you have a grilled chicken salad with a side of French fries and orange juice sent up please? And could you rush it? Thanks.”
His favorite meal, except for the juice. “Why the OJ?”
She rolled her eyes. “Instant sugar boost. I don’t want you eating heavily and falling asleep on me. I’m all for making sure you eat, but I’m not ready to call it a night.”
He chuckled and crawled closer to her. His stomach growled in misery, but anticipation of the good meal on the way helped him bounce back from being drained so completely by their love play. He snuggled on top of her, his cock doing nothing, but his pleasure soared. Even after six years of replaying their first night, he still felt the same initial excitement of good things to come. During the rest of the year they didn’t always make enough time for fun behind bedroom doors, but he couldn’t think of anyone else who could compare with his Maggie.
“Oh no, big boy,” she said, putting a hand over his mouth as he descended. “I don’t want you passing out from low blood sugar or something. We’ll wait until after you have something more to eat and then we’ll jump back to where we were. We’ve only got tonight, and there are three more distinct sex acts I absolutely want accomplished before checkout.”
He licked her palm and laughed when she instantly pulled away with a screech. “Oh come on, that’s not what you’ve been saying when I’ve licked you other times tonight.”
She gave him a warning look and wiped her hand over his chest. “Behave.”
“Okay, I’ll be good.” He rolled over and pulled the blanket all the way to his chest, hoping dinner came quickly so he could come shortly after. “Oh, wait a second. You said three more distinct acts.”
She poured more champagne into her glass, and he listened to her take a sip before she answered. “Yes, three more.”
“But if we go by the night we met, we went on to have your organized anal, another shower and then we both crashed until Sunday afternoon.”
He tried to turn on his side to watch her when she straddled his hips. His cock, exhausted and malnourished, still had the decency to salute, and her little grin said she knew it.
“And don’t you remember Sunday evening?” she asked. “Sex against the wall next to the door.”
“Sweetheart, are you trying to kill me? I’m not as young as I used to be,” he protested, though memories of that particular fuck—hard, fast and desperate—did what no chicken salad could for his energy levels.
She bent down, her gorgeous breasts rubbing against his chest. For a second, he thought she’d deepen things and indulge in a new addition to the night. Something sweeter, less intense. Instead, she kissed him hard, her teeth biting at his lips and tongue with playful violence. She pulled away as a knock sounded from across the room. She grabbed a blanket and headed for the door.
“I know it’ll be a challenge, String Bean. Another reason I ordered you orange juice.”
Sam stretched as he listened to her interact with the waiter. Promises of the hot, naughty things to come filled his mind, and he grinned. Sweet and mellow could wait for another time.