“Tell me what you want,” he ordered as he fingered the hem of her shirt, lifting it only slightly to expose the band of her sports bra. He knew, as he’d known for a long time, that he would do whatever Maggie asked of him.
Their whole walk back to the truck, he’d watched her thinking entirely too hard about what their night in the tent meant. “I want…” She trailed off, and he could see her thinking now, so he leaned forward and nipped at her neck, licking and kissing the spot he’d bitten to soothe the ache. She braced herself with her hands on his shoulders, rolling her hips and leaning into his lips on her neck.
“Don’t be shy now, Maggie.”
“Take me upstairs,” she told him. “And fuck me in my bed.”
Arthur groaned into her neck, bucking his hips again and kneading Maggie’s ass with his fingers. He reached behind her to turn the car off, pressing her soft body against his chest, and opened the door until they spilled out.
They could barely keep their hands off each other long enough to make it up the stairs. He didn’t want to let her go again, not now that he’d been given permission to do what he’d wanted for weeks. It had been long hours of imagining her splayed on his desk at work, on that damn couch. The glimpse he’d gotten of her bed the last time he was in her apartment, smelling of her lavender shampoo and delightfully unmade, had fueled his fantasies for days. And it was just beyond this door, the one that Maggie couldn’t quite seem to open because he had pushed her hair out of the way to keep kissing the spot on her neck he’d bitten in the car.
“I can’t focus when you do that,” she said, exasperated.
“I’m sorry I’m such a distraction,” he muttered, not sorry at all, just as she found the right key and opened the door. They fell into her apartment, and Maggie slammed the door behind them.
He pressed her into the door, and she rewarded him by lifting his fleece and T-shirt over his head and running her fingers over his stomach, planting sweet kisses on his bicep. He cupped the round swell of her hips and was about to slide his fingers along the band of her leggings when she said, “Wait.” He took a step back, giving her a little bit of space. “We’re showering first. We smell like smoke and sweat.”
Arthur grinned, remembering one of the translations ofBranagh’s Aubadehe’d read. “Isn’t that how Niamh describes Branagh’s smell? ‘Something earthy, like woodsmoke.’ ”
“Branagh and Niamh did not have running water. We do,” Maggie said playfully. She grabbed his hand, tugging him toward the bathroom. “Come on.”
Arthur slid his sweatpants off, but Maggie hesitated. He looked at her curiously, and she said shyly, as a beautiful flush spread across her cheeks and the part of her collarbone he could see, “It was dark last night…”
If she was implying that he wouldn’t want to see all of her, laid bare in the muted sunlight that cast through the windows of her apartment…he wanted to see every dimple on her skin, every freckle, every birthmark. Didn’t she understand? “Please,” he said, unafraid of the desperation in his voice. “Let me see all of you.”
Slowly, she discarded her leggings and the sweat-drenched T-shirt. Arthur grabbed her by the hip, pulling her toward him. He dragged his hand up her side, goose bumps trailing in its wake. “Can I?” he asked, his fingers grazing the clasp of her bra. She nodded, gasping lightly. “Gods below,” he breathed as he unhooked the band, releasing her heavy breasts, which came to points in delicious mauve nipples. “You’re stunning. You must know that.” She shook her head slightly, and he groaned as his fingers found her nipples, rolling them between the pads of his thumb and index finger. “I want to kiss every inch of you.”
“Not until every inch of me has seen soap,” she said with a small laugh, dragging him into her bathroom and turning on the water.
When it was scalding, they stepped beneath the stream and let it wash away the previous day. Every inch of dust and sweat they hadn’t been able to rinse off last night by the Dismal fell down the drain, their skin soap-slick as they sneaked grazing touches of each other. Arthur’s cock throbbed whenever it rubbed against Maggie’s skin, but he stopped himself from reaching down and stroking it.
Maggie leaned up into Arthur and gave him a gentle kiss, soft and slow, as if they had all the time in the world and weren’t racing against the ancient water heater he’d heard her complain about more than once. It was an aching, tender kiss, and it made something burn in Arthur’s chest.
She pulled away first, reaching down for her bottle of shampoo, as if looking for a distraction. “Let me,” Arthur said, turning her around until her back rested against his torso. He wanted her to melt into his touch so he could relieve all the worry he saw in the scrunch of her nose, the arc of her shoulders. He wanted her to forget, for a moment, every fear she had about what they were doing. His fingers lathered with the lavender soap that had tormented him for weeks, he massaged her scalp, her temples, dragging them along behind her ears and down to her neck, where he kneaded out the tension that seemed to live there permanently until she was moaning.
“Why are you so tense, Maggie?” he whispered in her ear.
“I’ve had a lot of stress at work lately,” she muttered.
“Oh?”
“A very aggravating colleague.”
He grinned, though she couldn’t see it. “I’ll tell Jim to shape up.”
She laughed as he rinsed the shampoo from her hair and began working conditioner into the ends. He lifted a strand, pulling his fingers through it gently until the tangles were gone. “When the Beltane spell broke, I was so glad I got to remember the way your hair glowed in the firelight,” he said.
“What else do you remember?” The shower was starting to cool as the hot water ran out, but every inch of Arthur felt like it was on fire.
Maggie’s eyes darkened with lust as he turned her around and dragged her against him, his cock hard against her soft stomach, his arms wrapping around her body. “The way we fit together,” he said, grinding out the words. It was getting harder and harder to keep from losing control, and all he wanted was to see her undone again. “The way you tasted,” he added, leaning down and taking her mouth with his, darting his tongue between her lips.
—
Above and below,Maggie wanted him. She wanted this. More than she’d wanted anything in a long time. They barely stopped to dry off before Maggie was tumbling into her bed and Arthur knelt at the foot, wrapping his large hand around her calf to pull her toward the edge. She leaned up on her elbows, watching him as his eyes roved over her body slowly. The hand on her calf reached up toward her thigh, and he spread her wide with a sharp intake of breath. He admired her, every inch of her, like she was a work of art.
“Beautiful,” he whispered, leaning over her to kiss her again. His mouth traveled down her neck, each kiss and lick sending shocks to her core until he reached her breasts. He brought one nipple into his mouth, rolling the point of it gently between histeeth. She arched her back and gasped, sure she had never been this wet for anyone before.
And then his head was between her legs, fingers of one hand digging into her hip and the other entering her, filling her. His tongue parted her, gentle tastes at first, until he found her center. “Arthur,” she moaned. “I’m—” She gasped again, her hips lifting off the bed to chase the pressure she needed as he slid another finger into her. With her other hand, she reached up and grabbed her breast, pinching the nipple herself. He stroked his fingers inside her as his tongue worked her clit, driving her higher and higher, and his other hand on her hip brought her back down, pressing her into the mattress.
