Page 118 of Wag More Bark Less

“Really?” I chuckled, tossing back the covers and crawling into bed with a towel wrapped around my waist. I was too fucking tired to locate my sweatpants, but I didn’t want Maggie to assume I wanted sex. “You wouldn’t hear a wrecking ball hitting the house.”

“It’s different when it’s you,” she said, snuggling up to me. She hovered above me, dropping a soft, sensual kiss to my lips. She was wearing one of my T-shirts again, and I couldn’t help but wonder what, if anything, was beneath it. I was fucking exhausted, yet I was already at half-mast.

Ellie let out a soft groan and hopped off the bed, retreating to the second dog bed beside the dresser. I told Maggie I borrowed it from Kira, but really, I sneak-bought it at the hardware store when I picked up the paint for the float earlier this week.

Maggie’s fingertips traced lazy lines across my chest, along my shoulders, and up my neck.

“Everything okay?” she asked.

“Yes.”

A flash of hurt shone in her eyes, but she recovered quickly.

“The bad guy’s in jail, and no one was hurt.”

“That sounds like the version you’d tell Ollie and Carson,” Maggie said. “But I understand if you don’t want to talk about it.”

“It was a hard night,” I added. “I really don’t want to think about it anymore tonight.”

“Then let me help you forget about it instead,” she said, her hand moving south beneath the blanket. When her fingertips bumped into the towel, she pressed them beneath the fabric, stopping only when her hand wrapped around my length. “Unless you need to sleep.”

“Oh, I’ll sleep much better this way.”

A devilish gleam flashed in her eyes. “I thought so.”

She pulled off the stolen T-shirt, revealing there was once again nothing underneath. Fuck, I could get used to this. I wanted to get used to this.

Maggie pushed the blanket aside, loosening the towel tied around my waist, and swung her leg over mine. She bracketed her knees on either side of my hips, sitting back on her thighs as she stroked my cock. She was a sight to behold with all those delicious curves bathed in moonlight.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful, Maggie.”

“Shh. Just let me take care of you.”

She rocked her hips forward, pressing my shaft between her folds. Her wetness enveloped me instantly, and I cursed. She lifted again, gyrating her hips against me, coating my length in her nectar. She moaned each time my tip ground against her clit.

“Make yourself come, Maggie,” I demanded in a low growl.

“I’m supposed to be taking care of you.”

“Then do what I say—get yourself off using my cock. I want to watch you come apart.”

She scooted closer, pressing her palm flat against my shaft to trap it in her folds. She rocked her hips faster, crying out as her climax built. I leaned forward, reaching for her tits and squeezing them in my palms as she exploded above me.

I slid my hands to her hips, lifting her to position my cock at her entrance.

She sank down slowly, her body still convulsing from her first orgasm. I held her hips down, desperate to feel the last of her climax pulsing against my length. When her breathing went from labored to shallow once again, she let out a sated laugh.

“I’m never prepared for how hard you make me come.”

I flipped her on her back so quickly she squeaked out a laugh.

“Then you better hold on tight. Because I’m about to make you come even harder this time.”

She wrapped her legs around my lower back, threading her arms around my neck. I pumped into her slow and deliberate at first. Her hips met me each time, inviting me in deeper. Fuck, at this rate, I wouldn’t last long.

I claimed her mouth and the rhythm went from languid to frenzied in a heartbeat. She clung tighter. There was nothing better than the sensation of her naked body pressed against mine. If I lived a thousand lifetimes, this feeling of oneness would never be topped.

I loved Maggie Holland.