Waking Maggie
Cindy Jacks
Available now at
Ellora's Cave:
Blurb:
Maggie’s just decided she’s been stood up when she bumps into hard-bodied guitarist Calvin—literally. Once the shock of their abrupt meeting wears off, Calvin asks Maggie out for a drink and she figures, why not? She’s all dressed up for a date…just not this one.
She enjoys his company, even if he’s only twenty-seven and she’s forty…something. And while witty conversation’s all good, they’re just as compatible in bed. One drink turns into multiple romps between the sheets. He’s old enough to know how to make love to a woman and young enough to look damn fine doing it…and doing it. He even manages to convince Maggie she’s still pretty hot herself.
Now if he would just stop serenading her with that infernal Rod Stewart song.
She covered his hand with hers and gave it a squeeze. “Thanks for making me feel better.”
The physical connection, the warmth of his skin emboldened her. A throbbing ache built between her legs. She wanted more.
He scooted to face her, drumming his fingers beneath hers. “It’s the least I could do after I tossed a glass of wine on you.”
“I think we’re even. I did force-feed you raspberry lambic.”
Edging closer until their shoulders touched, he said, “Now that you mention it, I’m not sure the
punishment fit the crime.”
Maggie fell quiet. She could smell the fruity beer on his breath. What if he kissed her? What if she kissed him first? Swallowing hard, she moved her hand away, pretending to smooth her skirt, but he caught it again. He interlaced his fingers with hers and she stared at his hands. Those hands that moved over his guitar as if it were his lover. She wondered what those hands would feel like on her body. The thought incited a burst of excitement, the pulse between her thighs pounding harder.
“When did you start playing guitar?” she asked, clearing her throat.
“I was eight or nine, I think. My dad gave me one for Christmas. He plays and taught me how.”
“You’re very good.”
“Thanks.”
“Was the restaurant your only gig?” She scooted closer, pressing her shoulder against his hard chest.
“No. I have other places I play and I teach at a couple community centers too. My dad gave me the best gift—any time I’m down or frustrated or confused about how I feel, I pull out my guitar and I make music. It quiets my mind and everything’s all right again. I like paying that forward, teaching someone else.”
“That’s wonderful, very sweet.”
“Argh, no. Not sweet, anything but sweet.” He feigned hurt.
“No? What adjective would you accept then?”
“How about ’crazy sexy’?” He eased an arm around her. Heat surged from her pussy outward, warming her thighs. Squeezing her legs together, she noticed her panties felt sticky.
She dipped her head in concession. “Well, of course you’re that. You’re a guitar player. Isn’t that in the job description?”
“It is. You totally get me.” A crooked grin tugged at his lips.
She spread out his hand and compared it to hers. It was huge. “I like your hands.”
“I like you, Maggie.” He toyed with her fingers.
Rubbing her palm against his, she said, “I like you too.”
“Can I kiss you?”
She shot him an amused look. “If you promise next time to just do it instead of asking me.”
“Right.” He leaned nearer and tilted his head, looking from her eyes to her mouth and then back again. She closed her eyes and touched her nose to his.
The kiss started out soft and uncertain, still more of a question than a kiss, as if he expected her to rebuff him. But then he snaked an arm around her and drew her closer, parting her lips with his. His tongue was gentle and playful; he tasted like raspberry. She nipped and sucked at his bottom lip. As the kiss tapered off, he pulled back slowly, finishing with a couple delicate pecks.
She laid the back of her hand against his cheek. His skin was like whipped cream or a rose petal, all velvety smooth. She liked touching him. As if it had a mind of its own, her hand traveled down his neck and she found herself running a couple fingers over his thick collarbone. Still, uncertainty seemed to plague him.
Too late to turn back, Maggie took control, unbuttoning his shirt. He lay back on the sofa and pulled his shirttails out of his pants. The fabric fell open and she scrambled to her knees, poised over him. She slid a hand over his carved abdomen, muscle tensing beneath her fingers. So gorgeous. She couldn’t help herself, she swooped down and planted little kisses on his torso. Already hard, the tip of his cock peeked out of the waistband of his low-cut slacks and she ran her tongue over it. He sucked in a sharp breath. Excited by his reaction, she unfastened his pants and pulled them off along with his underwear....
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Non-practicing alcoholic and domestic violence escapee who lives with her lovely young boyfriend, snarky teenage son, ex-husband (the nice one of course), 2 large neurotic dogs and 2 indifferent kitties. Trying to get my sh*t together for the umpteenth time. Pretty sure it's never gonna happen, but hey, no f@#ks given, right?
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