“Wait until I tell you what happens next!”
“Let me guess—he can’t grow a new penis.” I give a heavy sigh. “Tragic.”
“After the male has been separated from his appendage, he dies.”
My mouth gapes in shock. “No! It’s too cruel!”
“Mother Nature can be a bitch.”
“She can when necessary,” I concede. “But that particular setup doesn’t make any sense in evolutionary terms.”
“It does, if you consider that the female argonaut octopus is ten times bigger than the male. Without his penis, he’s useless.”
“Poor guy,” I repeat, drawing a mental picture of the male argonaut octopus. “Poor, little guy!”
She laughs at that, and I laugh with her, loving the sound of her laughter. It hits me how much I enjoy Margot’s company. I’ve never met a woman who stimulated me the way she does, both physically and intellectually. Which explains why, instead of making sure that I get a good night’s sleep before tomorrow, I’m sitting here with her discussing the sexual life of the argonaut octopus.
As our laughter dies down, I stare off at the wall while my thoughts take a vexing turn. Tomorrow is the big day. I should be focused on my mission, on my game plan for getting Giselle Fisher to show me the key and then sell it to me.
I’d resisted my attraction to Margot for two weeks, and then I blew it. Having sex with her tonight, of all nights, was a monumental mistake.
But here she is with her libido and her clitoris, as she put it, and I’m a slave to my desire for her.
I nuzzle her neck. My eager, suckling mouth explores her throat, shoulders, collarbone and breasts. Her body responds to my every touch, and I relish it. My dick aches. I rub it against her thigh. The purring of delight that escapes her brings a smile to my face.
Lightning fast, I roll on a condom and tug the duvet off her.
God, what a dazzling sight!
A part of me wants to take the time to admire her, explore every nook and cranny of her body, lick her all over, and then concentrate on her clit until she comes. Another part of me wants to fuck her—now. To my shame, that part wins. I crawl on top of her, our limbs and breaths tangling. My chest flattens her soft, plump breasts. Never unpleasant, that trivial experience elicits a dizzying joy in me. I find it odd, almost suspicious. Something I’ve now said a bunch of times as Mr. Darcy springs to mind.
You have bewitched me.
I can hear Margot’s heartbeat ratchet up as I run my hands up and down her body, before settling one on the velvety skin of her lower abdomen. My other hand and elbow rest on the mattress, supporting my weight and allowing some wiggle room between us.
She whispers my name and spreads her legs wider.
Again, not an uncommon occurrence in my life, and perfectly within the range of female sexual behavior. But, accompanied by the warmth of her sweet breath on my face, and the fact that this female is Margot, the gesture affects me much more than it should. Our gazes lock together for a moment, before my mouth descends on hers.
As I fuck her with my tongue, all I can think of is that I need to get closer still, eliminate any remaining distance, insert myself as deep inside her as her body will let me.
Breaking the kiss, I grit, “I want you way too much, woman! That can’t be good for me.”
As her eyes regain focus, her lips inflamed from my kissing, paint a smug smile. “Take comfort in the knowledge it could’ve been worse.”
“In what way?”
“If you were a male argonaut octopus, you would’ve just signed your own death sentence.”
“True,” I admit. “Thank you for helping me maintain a positive outlook on life.”
“Anytime.” She warps her legs around me.
I lean down to kiss her again. As our tongues dance together, my need for her grows to an octopussian level of desperation. I’m going to fuck her now. I’ll do it thoroughly this time, until she’s clenching and screaming beneath me.
Without issuing a warning, I ram into her eager vagina. Her center lifts off the bed as she arches upward. With her arms and legs wrapped around me, she anchors herself to me as tightly as she can.
“Oh, God, yes!” she pants.
