Gently, Michael helped her down from the kitchen counter. When her knees threatened to buckle, he pulled her close. “Oh, Michael,” she breathed.
He chuckled indulgently, lightly brushing his lips against her temple. Maggie responded by finding his lips with her own, kissing him fiercely as she ran her hand down his body to the place where his arousal was still evident. She gripped him, stroking him through the cotton of his jeans and he groaned into her kiss. She stepped back and cocked her eyebrow impishly before sinking to her knees between his bare feet.
He watched as she unbuttoned his fly, reached into the top of his grey boxer briefs, and released his massive erection. She gazed up at him, wry smile on her face. Her open grey blouse framed the globes of her tits, still pushed out of the top of her bra. The sight made him even harder.
Michael reached down to stroke her hair. “Jesus, Mags...” he sighed.
Maggie leaned forward to lick upward from the base of his rock-hard shaft toward the head and he watched as she did, waiting in anticipation. With her tongue, she flicked at the tip, lapping up his arousal that had pooled there. Michael leaned his head back in pleasure as she took the whole of him in her mouth.
“Oh... Jesus, Mags...” he repeated, as she slid her mouth up and down, adjusting her suction as he responded to her movements.
Moments later, he placed his hand on her head. “Stop, baby,” he said. “I want to fuck you proper.”
Maggie smiled up at him as he helped her o her knees. “Do you have any...” she began.
“In the right-hand drawer of my bathroom sink,” he replied. He kissed her before sending her on her way. Michael sank onto the couch and leaned back, his erect cock still waiting for release. She’s amazing. Who would have thought she’d be so passionate?
She found what she was looking for in the drawer he’d described. Grabbing a foil packet, she closed the drawer and looked up, catching herself in the mirror. She looked wanton, her blouse open, her tits hanging over the cups of her bra. Her skirt was wrinkled from being shoved up around her waist.
Quickly, she removed her clothes and left them on the bathroom floor. In Michael’s bedroom, she found the dress shirt he’d taken off. It still smelled like his cologne. She pulled it on without bothering to button it.
Entering the living room, she stopped, striking a model pose. “I hope you don’t mind,” she said, turning to give him the full effect.
He smiled lazily. “I completely approve. My shirt never looked better.” Maggie knelt before him again, tearing open the packet and removing the condom. Winking mischievously, she placed the tip of it in her mouth and she kept her eyes on his as she lowered her face to his cock, sheathing him using only her mouth.
“Holy shit, Mags, that’s fucking hot!”
She gave him another wry smile. “I have many skills of which you were heretofore unaware,” she said as she straddled his lap and covered his mouth with hers. Michael took advantage of his open shirt to fondle her tits, squeezing them, pinching her nipples and bringing them to attention.
Maggie placed her hands on his shoulders and shifted herself over his cock, gently sliding down over him. “Oh, God, Michael,” she breathed as she sheathed him, taking him deep inside. They stayed like that for a moment, lost in each other’s eyes. en she began to rock up and down, her breasts brushing against his face.
Michael caught her left nipple and suckled voraciously, causing her to groan. He could feel her arousal soaking his lap and he began to thrust from beneath her in unison with her movements. Maggie began to clench around him. “Oh, shit!” she cried out.
“I want you from behind,” he growled, as he lifted her off of himself. He placed her on her knees leaning over the back of the couch and he stood behind her, gripping her hips. Abruptly, Michael thrust back into the warm space he’d just le and she gasped.
As he pounded into her, he noticed the tattoo on her hip he’s seen those years ago. The memory pushed him to the edge as once again he felt her contract around him. They cried out their release in unison and he continued to thrust until they collapsed against the back of the couch.
They stayed that way, gasping for air. “Holy shit, Michael,” she breathed.
He pulled aside his shirt to plant a kiss on her shoulder. “Let’s take this into the bedroom for the next round,” he said, gently pulling out of her. He helped her stand and they headed toward the bedroom hand in hand. As they passed the bar, he picked up their glasses of bourbon.
In the bedroom, she waited while he set down the glasses on the bedside table and removed the platinum satin-covered European pillows and deposited them on a chair by the window. He returned to Maggie and kissed her tenderly before sliding his shirt from her shoulders and letting it drop to the floor.
Michael stepped back to look at her. “Jesus, Mags,” he breathed. He pulled back the grey coverlet to reveal crisp white sheets and Maggie slid into the bed, lying on her side with her head propped on her elbow.
Michael unfastened his jeans and slid them down, followed by the boxer briefs. “Jesus, Michael,” she said, only half-mockingly, as she took in his toned masculine physique. He gave her his signature slow smile and she could feel the moisture pooling again in her private space.
“Now,” he grinned as he slid into bed beside her, “where were we?” Michael pulled her close, gently moving his hands to explore her body, lightly caressing her from her neck to her shoulders and breasts, down her arms to her hips, cupping her full ass, then moving to stroke her inner thighs to that place that she couldn’t imagine could still be needy, and yet was.
As he did so, Maggie did some exploring of her own, tangling her fingers in that luscious smattering of salt and pepper chest hair, moving down to the defined abs that looked like something out of a fitness magazine, to his erect cock which stood ready to please. She used the bead of his arousal to wet his tip as she lightly circled it with her thumb and she was rewarded by a growl from deep in his chest.
Michael rolled over and reached into the drawer of the bedside table, removing another foil packet. He tore it open and grinned at Maggie. “When you put on the last one...” he began, rolling it down over his massive and ready member, “Holy fucking shit that was hot!”
Maggie giggled lightly. “I’m glad I got your attention.”
“Oh, you have my attention,” he said, as she moved onto her back and he held himself over her, sliding his legs between hers. He held himself that way for a moment just gazing deeply into her bright green eyes. Maggie leaned up and kissed him tenderly. Michael teased her opening with his tip and she moaned softly, resting her head once again on the pillow. Keeping his eyes on hers he slowly entered her once again, and he held her gaze as he deliberately moved the length of his hard cock in and out.
While the last time had been rushed and frenetic fucking, this time he wanted to make love to her, taking the time to enjoy her sensuality. He could feel her nearing her edge as her pussy began to involuntarily grip him harder, but she kept her eyes on his, even when her climax came, causing her to cry out.
“Oh, shit, Michael!” Her excitement pushed him over the top and he came loudly as his essence shot out of him once again.
He rested his forehead on hers for a moment before gently rolling off of her, coming to rest on his back, gasping for air. Maggie breathed in deeply and chuckled lightly. Michael pushed himself onto his side and gave her a curious look. “What?” he asked.
She giggled again. “First of all, I’m dying of heat stroke under these covers,” she said. Together they managed to kick the coverlet and sheet off of themselves.
“Is that better?” he asked.
“Hell, yes!” she laughed, rolling onto her side to face him, left arm curled under the pillow under her head. She gave him a shy smile and he grinned back at her. “I’m also dying of thirst.” Michael leaned up to hand her one of the glasses of bourbon and took the other for himself. They both sipped appreciatively.
“Being a sex god really does take it out of you,” Michael quipped, and she giggled again. He put the glasses back on the table and they lay just gazing at each other. He reached to lightly trace her outline with his fingers, from her shoulder down her side to her waist. When he reached her hip he stopped, pulling her forward onto her stomach. She lazily bent her knees bringing her feet to rest over her ass, ankles crossed. He leaned up to look at the sun tattoo on her hip, tracing his finger over it. “So this really is the only tattoo you have?”
Maggie giggled. “Are you disappointed?”
Michael smiled. “Not disappointed, exactly. The way you talked that time... I imagined all sorts of ink in all sorts of places.”
She looked at him slyly. “You imagined my body?”
“I’m a guy. It’s what we do.” He looked at her curiously. “Is that bad?”
“I don’t know,” Maggie blushed. “It’s just that, well, I’ve imagined being here, in this bed with you, for a long time.”
He smiled wryly. “Have you, now?” Michael looked thoughtful. “Why haven’t we ever done this before?”
Maggie sighed deeply. “Because you are you. And you’re leaving tomorrow. With Vivian.” There was a sad glint in her eyes.
Michael breathed out. “I’m leaving tomorrow.” He met her eyes, searching. “But we’re here together now. Are you sorry?”
She shook her head sharply. “Of course not!” She leaned over to kiss him lightly.
He took her hand and held it to his lips, watching her carefully. “How about I go refresh our drinks before the next round?” he asked impishly.
Maggie laughed out loud. “Seriously?!”
“Does that mean no?” he asked innocently.
“It means hurry up before I change my mind,” she laughed.
Michael eased out of bed, pausing to slip into his jeans before he headed to the living room to refill their empty glasses. “Be right back,” he said over his shoulder.
Maggie grinned and rolled onto her back, gazing up at the modern silver chandelier hanging over the bed. Unbelievable. After all this time... Of course, he’s leaving tomorrow. She grimaced slightly. He’ll be in the Maldives for two weeks. With Vivian. She sighed deeply, wondering if she remembered exactly which one was Vivian. They were all fairly interchangeable. Stop analyzing it. Just enjoy the moment. We’re adults here.
She could hear him putting ice in the glasses. The cold clink of ice cubes was replaced by the ringing of the doorbell. Frowning, she glanced at the bedside clock and saw that it was 11:30. Then she heard voices.
“What are you doing here?” she heard Michael ask. “It’s nearly midnight.”
“You called me, remember?” replied a female voice.
“That was hours ago. I’m not alone,” Michael countered.
Alarmed, Maggie tiptoed to the bedroom door. Her mind flashed back to Doc Watsons. Michael was checking his phone all evening. Realization dawned suddenly. He was trying to find a ‘victory fuck.’ And nobody was available. When he couldn’t find anyone else, he settled for me. She felt a cold buzzing numbness wash over her.
The woman laughed. “Glorious. We haven’t had a threesome in ages.” Maggie didn’t wait to hear his reply. She went into his bathroom and quickly dressed. Shit! My panties and shoes are out there. Shit!!
She hurriedly combed her fingers through her hair and straightened her blouse and skirt as best she could. In the mirror, she saw the wild look in her eyes, the one she got when she tried to hold back tears. Her eyes fell to the bracelet on her wrist. Mechanically, she undid the clasp and lay it gently on the bathroom counter. Then she pulled herself up as tall as she could and made her way out into the living room.
Michael, still shirtless in his jeans, was standing beside a chic-looking blonde in a long black trench coat. Because Maggie was avoiding Michael’s eyes, she saw the woman smirk at her.
“Oh, my, what have we here?” the woman said.
“Shut up, Gwen,” Michael warned softly.
Silently, Maggie picked up her jacket from the couch and crossed to the kitchen counter, grabbing her shoes and panties where they lay on the floor just beneath it.
“Mags, don’t go,” he said.
“No, don’t go. Stay,” the woman chuckled. She opened her coat and dropped it to the floor. Gwen had arrived at Michael’s door wearing a sheer black lace bustier with black stockings and a matching g-string.
Maggie gaped at the woman briefly before turning toward the door. “I’ve gotta go,” she muttered.
Michael followed her. “Mags, please...”
Maggie couldn’t look at him. She felt too foolish. The last thing she wanted to do was to break down and cry in front of the two of them. As she pulled open the door, she heard Gwen’s laughter.
“Really, Michael. Don’t you think a pity-fuck is beneath you?”
“Shut up, Gwen!” he repeated, more forcefully this time.
Maggie stopped for an instant, then continued toward the elevator without looking back.
Maggie didn’t answer her phone that night. She didn’t answer it the next day. In fact, she turned her phone off and left it that way all weekend. On Saturday, she couldn’t find the strength to crawl out of bed. She felt as though she’d been hit by a truck. The scene kept playing over and over in her mind.
I am an absolute idiot. I know what he does. I know that none of his women mean anything to him. I mean even less. I was simply available.
She thought about how things at the office would be when he returned from vacation. He’ll probably act like nothing happened. Because in his mind, nothing did happen. We fucked. End of story. Except that it meant so much more to her. Well, it had. Until she realized...
I can’t face him. I can’t possibly go on at work like nothing happened.
Late Saturday afternoon, Maggie forced herself out of bed and went into the living room where she’d dropped her purse the night before. Picking it up off the couch, she rummaged around inside it and took out the business card Rance had given her.
When you decide to leave the dark side, give me a call.
She perched on the edge of the coffee table and glanced at her switched off phone. She put down Rance’s card and stalked to the kitchen where she poured herself a glass of wine and stood staring across the room at the phone on the coffee table as if it were a snake. Thoughts of the LeRoi case swirled through her mind, intertwined with memories of last night in Michael’s bed, in Michael’s arms.
“I can’t do this anymore,” Maggie murmured to herself. She chugged the wine and returned to her phone, ring it up and ignoring the eight missed calls and ten texts. She took a calming breath and dialed Rance’s number.
On Monday morning, Maggie knocked on the open door of Brian Murphy. He looked up, grinning in surprise. “Hey, Maggie! What are you doing on the 48th floor?”
She forced a cheerful smile. “Hi, Brian. Sorry to bother you. Can I talk to you a minute?”
“You’re not bothering me, come on in. What’s up?” he asked. “Is the 50th floor in shambles with your fearless leader away?” Brian laughed heartily.
Maggie sat across from him gripping her leather folio. “I need to give you my two-week notice,” she said.
Brian’s mouth fell open. “You... what?”
“I’m taking a job with the DA’s office. I start there two weeks from today.” She handed him her formal resignation.
He looked down at her document as though something there would alleviate his confusion. “But... I mean... What did Michael say?”
“He doesn’t know yet,” she said. “The resort where he’s staying doesn’t have phone or internet service.”
“Doesn’t know?” he echoed. “I don’t understand, Maggie. I thought you were happy here. You’re a valuable part of the Murphy, Rannigan team. This seems so sudden.” He looked pleadingly back at Maggie.
She shook her head. “This last case, LeRoi? It really did me in. I did things I didn’t like,” she explained. “Michael knows I was unhappy with the position I was in. I don’t think he’ll be surprised. You know, before I accepted the job here, I was planning to work for the DA’s office. I just sort of got side-tracked for a while.” She tried to smile reassuringly.
“I don’t know, Maggie,” he said. “I hate like hell to lose you. I can’t think Michael won’t feel the same way.”
She shrugged. “It’s time for me to move on,” she said simply.
Pandora Spocks is a sassy ginger and hopeless romantic, living her happily ever after in South Florida. She enjoys reading and writing literary erotic romance. She is the author of the three-novel epic romance Rannigan’s Redemption, and a naughty little romantic novella, Just One Night. The Dream Dominant Collection, a series of light BDSM stand-alone novels, includes Luke & Bella, Lost & Bound, and For Sparrow.
Pandora is currently at work on her next spicy romance. In the meantime, you can find more of her work, including what happens next for Michael and Maggie, through Amazon and Goodreads.