Mastering Maeve (8 page)

He pulled her in and kissed her again; she lifted his shirt, running her hands along his muscular torso. She heard his breath quicken as she trailed her fingernails along the waistband of his pants. With trembling fingers, she undid the popper and zip. She was surprised by her nerves; it wasn’t like she had never done this before, but this time it seemed to matter more. Maybe his prior rejection still stung. She wanted everything to be right, more for him than for herself. He pulled the half-opened shirt over his head. He was a joy to look at. All man. Next came the pants and Maeve had a silly shy moment where she almost didn’t want to look at him naked. She buried her face in his neck, kissing and nipping to hide her uncertainty.

His clothes were removed; there was nothing between them now but naked honesty. He led her to the bed and guided her to a lying position, his fingers gently trailing her body, familiarising themselves with her shape and texture. The shovel-like hands that had produced such pain moments earlier were tender and loving as they brought goose-pimples of pleasure to her skin. He gently palmed her breasts and nipples and wave after wave of pleasure rose through her body. She reached for his engorged cock.

“All good things to those who wait, Maeve,” he said firmly. “I want to get to know your body first.”

Larry leaned over to reach his pants and pulled a packet of condoms from his pocket, unopened and with a price tag that she recognised as the chemist at the airport.

“Sure of yourself, aren’t you,” Maeve commented with a grin and squealed again at the light slap that followed to her pussy. She certainly hadn’t been expecting that. But immediately, the sting passed and it just added to her arousal and need for him.

“Smartass! I was sure of nothing, but I was not going to keep that charade you had started going. I didn’t know what would happen but I knew what I wanted. I hoped you still wanted it too.”

As Larry trailed his hands from her breasts, down her body to her tummy and hips, she arched her back impatiently, wanting more, mentally begging his fingers to move down lower, to soothe the scorching desire his light spank had inflamed. She felt him lightly tickle her small mound of trimmed black pubic hair and her body screamed with anticipation as she silently urged him to hurry. Finally his fingers found her aching core, slick with moisture and anticipation. She groaned in pleasure as he applied pressure against her swollen eager clit with his palm while gently probing her slit with his finger. She was in pleasure overload as her body tightened and tensed. He held her in that state of heightened arousal for almost too long, teasingly increasing the pressure until she could bear it no longer. Maeve had just discovered the benefits of a spanking as her body was hypersensitive. The intense shock of her orgasm caused her to cry out. It was like nothing she had ever experienced before. She was immediately a convert.

She moved her hands along his chest to his tummy again, this time refusing to be deterred. She tentatively took his engorged shaft in her hand. His groan told her it was good and she massaged it up and down, lubricating it with a mixture of her saliva and his own pre-cum juices. She encircled the purple head in her palm and stroked to and fro until he stopped her.

“Make love to me, please,” she begged.

She really wanted to tell him to fuck her, as that was what she needed most in this state of excitement, but she was afraid that the crudity would put him off, making him think she was taking it too casually. But Maeve knew she didn’t want casual, not this time. She had never felt so right about anything and she wanted it to go on and on. For the first time since she had lost her parents, she felt like she was some precious gift, treasured above all else and she was secure in his embrace. She felt at home. She took a condom from the package and rolled it on his hard cock, pausing only to brush the tip with a featherlike kiss. He coaxed her down onto her back.

“I want to be able to see your face when I’m inside,” he told her when she resisted. He entered her slowly, with a tenderness that belied his bulk. She urged him on by forcing her hips upwards. She wanted to feel the full of him. Her wet pussy was aching for him to conquer it. His penetration was simply the culmination of an erotic victory, body and soul. She shuddered in another climax as he thrust the final piece of his shaft fully inside her, claiming her as his own. His thrusts grew in intensity and urgency as she tightened around him. They found their unified stride and he pumped harder and faster, thrusting as deep inside as he could, savouring every inch. Her arousal was too much for him and soon he could hold off no longer; his orgasm came hard and fast as he growled his satisfaction.

He flopped down on the bed beside her, and Maeve lifted her head to rest it on his chest, savouring the closeness. Yes, she was absolutely certain this was what she wanted, she decided. And out of the blue she was overwhelmed by sadness at the realisation Larry was probably right in his assumptions two weeks earlier; how could this work? He lived in Texas, she lived in Ireland and they both had commitments in their respective countries. No matter how much she cared for him, it seemed doomed to failure.

Chapter Five

Larry became aware of hot moisture trickling on his chest followed by a soft sobbing.

“Are you crying, Maeve?” he asked in surprise. “What on earth is wrong?”

“No, I’m fine,” she lied.

“Tell me,” he warned ominously. “We agreed no more charades, remember?”

“How long before you have to leave again? And what then?”

“Oh, is that all,” he chuckled softly. “Don’t worry. We’ll find a way to work something out, if that’s what you want. It is what you want, isn’t it?” he asked, surprised at the thudding in his chest as he waited for her answer. It would have been so much easier if he could have felt that way about Emily, he thought ruefully, but love didn’t always come calling in convenient locations. And although he had only known Maeve for such a short time, he was already pretty sure he did love her. The pain he felt during the couple of weeks’ separation when she wouldn’t communicate with him had taught him that. He needed her in his life; maddening, infuriating woman that she was.

“You know it is.”

“I’ve learned to take nothing for granted with you. You rock the very foundations of my existence. It’s something wonderful when we work together, but very frightening when we pull apart. I hated being away and despaired when you shut me out. I had to come back.”

“I’m really glad you did. I missed you, but I was too proud and offended to admit it. When you stopped me before, I thought you weren’t interested. It took me all of my courage to make a move and then you knocked me back. I thought I’d just made a great big eejit of myself.”

“I’m real sorry, sugar, I didn’t want to mess it up and just made it worse.” Larry silenced her insecurities with a kiss. Then, realising the time, he reluctantly released her as she had to go on duty. Much and all as he would have liked to keep her to himself, his business head reminded him that the one hundred and fifty thousand euro he was about to hand over equated to approximately two hundred thousand dollars, a sum not to be sniffed at in any currency. He couldn’t afford to distract her too much.

He watched her as she pulled on her clothes. Her long muscular legs were surprisingly sexy; he always thought he favoured a softer figure. While hers was full and curvy, the football field had made it really strong. He laughed aloud at the thought of her wrestling him; big and all as he was, he reckoned she’d put up a fair fight. Just as well she seemed to prefer to be submissive.

“What?” she asked accusingly.

“Nothing, honey, I’m just happy,” he lied. He didn’t dare tell her in case she took it as a criticism; he’d mucked up too badly already. She accepted his sweet talk as truth, kissed him, and left.

Larry stayed right there on the bed where Maeve left him, drowsy from the lovemaking and jetlag. As he drifted off to sleep, he was praying that when he saw her later, she would still be warm and sweet. The danger with a spitfire was one never really knew. When she had time to think, she might just regret what had happened.

Hunger woke him three hours later. And horniness. He had been dreaming of that sweet white ass turning pink under his touch. With much trepidation, he decided to head for the dining room. He was pleased to see she was no longer waiting tables but getting on with what she should be doing—checking customers were happy, resolving difficulties, managing the place basically. Even her attire had changed; she wore a suit rather than a skirt and blouse. She looked the part. He smiled with a certain amount of self-satisfaction; it was partly his funding that effected the transformation in her and that made him feel good.

He noticed she was cautious when she approached him. Cautious but not shut off. Her smile was nervous.

“Good evening, Larry. Would you like to sit by a window?” she asked in a professional voice. But the very brief touch of her hand made him realise it was another charade, this time a professional one. She wanted to keep business and personal separate. Smart lady, he conceded mentally. He would play by her rules, but might just have a little fun in doing so.

“I’d like to recommend the chef’s dish of the day, pan-fried sea trout with garden vegetables,” she rattled on as she led him to his table.

“I’d prefer something meatier, a rump steak perhaps?” he replied, enjoying her blushes. “I do like a little rump.”

“A waitress will be along with a menu momentarily,” she replied, refusing to look him in the eye. He was so tempted to touch
her
rump for effect but knew that would be going too far.

“Maeve…” he stalled her as she was about to leave the table, “…it’s real good to be back again.”

“It’s really good to have you back, Larry.” Her brief but sincere smile dazzled him. Hell, she was a beautiful woman when she smiled.

Of course he selected the trout, and the earlier activities had given him quite an appetite. He ate alone, hoping that soon he would have the pleasure of her company all to himself once more. He wasn’t normally a jealous-minded person, but when he saw her bestow her smiles on other guests, he envied them. He wanted all of her attention. He noticed that while she personally avoided him while he ate, she had ensured that the waiting staff was one hundred per cent attentive. It was only when he finished his dessert that she returned.

“Everything was to your satisfaction, I hope,
sir
?” she asked. He knew she was teasing him, but the word ‘sir’ from her lips was so erotic, so subservient. He wanted her there and then.

“Reasonably so,” he replied coolly.

“Oh, what weren’t you happy with?” she asked with concern.

“I’d have preferred a more personal service,” he said in a low voice. He was rewarded by a devilish twinkle in her eye.

“Maybe later if you’re not too tired after the journey,” she whispered.

“I won’t be,” he promised.

He left the dining room feeling every inch of his six-foot-three height. The relief he felt knowing it wasn’t just a once-off for her was immeasurable. In a way he was annoyed at himself; at the age of thirty-three, he should know better than to have his head turned by a woman, but he couldn’t help his elation. He was like a silly, spotty, teenage boy again.

When she joined him in the bar later she was still in her work clothes, which really pleased him; that prim, business-like look did something to him. The images it put in his head were unnatural. He wanted to fuck her over a desk with that lovely crisp skirt rolled up over her hips, panties at her knees. And in his mind’s eye her bottom wasn’t her natural milky white colour; it was a deep red. He tried to get his thoughts under control. They had so much to work out and yet he was racing ahead of himself.

“I’m finished in an hour if you can wait up,” she promised with a wink after checking there were no watchful eyes.

He wanted to say something encouraging, but what spilled out of his mouth was so crude he was disgusted at himself: “I’m up already.”

He tried to backtrack, but the more he said, the more she laughed at him. He didn’t know what possessed him; he was normally so reserved. The little minx had turned him into something he barely recognised. And he hated that she enjoyed seeing him flustered at his loss of control. But notwithstanding her condescending amusement, he quite liked how she made him act. For too long he had allowed the ranch and responsibility make an old man of him. He enjoyed the liberation of her youthful exuberance and being away from home. He was reborn. He wanted to tell her all of that, but it sounded so trite to his own ears that he didn’t have the nerve to say it aloud. He kept it all inside as a secret indulgence. He waited in the bar, nursing a single, solitary pint of Guinness until she came back.

“Go on up, I’ll be there soon. Don’t worry if you fall asleep, I can get in,” she whispered as she pretended to clear the table. His dick twitched. Jesus, she really knew how to get to him. He loved her capability. She could enter any room in the hotel at any time and even though he knew that, the way she said it made him feel so special. Chosen. And at the same time aggressively male, as he wanted to show her that despite her independence, she
would
be his, whether she liked it or not. Never before had a woman aroused such strong emotions in him. He wanted to possess her totally, to squash that brattiness, but he didn’t want to ruin her. The things that riled him were the very things he loved. Talk about confusing! Of course he was wide awake when he heard the click of the lock. Maeve gave him her million-dollar smile when she saw him lying on the bed waiting.

“I thought you’d be asleep,” she said softly.

“Time zone thing. I slept earlier and now it’s only evening in Texas. Come here,” he ordered. He was going to be the controller, not the controlled. He was impressed as she approached the bed unquestioningly.

“Undress,” he continued in the same tone.

He watched as she undid her jacket and laid it carefully over the back of a chair. Ditto the skirt; she undid the button and it slowly slid down her voluptuous hips, pooling at her feet. She bent down to pick it up and her ripe bottom nearly sent him through the roof. Damn, she had those delicious lace panties on again, the ones she was wearing that day when he first spanked her. He was amazed to see that even after the good walloping he had given her earlier, her behind was back to its snow-white hue. Naturally, his immediate inclination was to want to redden it again.