How Do You Like Your Eggs? Pt. 03

Hello, my loves!

Again, I thank you all for taking the time to read my little love story. Thanks for all the comments.

Find below the next installment. This one's a little more racy but, hopefully, still just as romantic.

I fucking adore Maxie and Nathan right now.

Love always,

~EJ~

***

We spend the next hour or so in easy conversation. Nothing major or particularly deep. Nathan is funny. Still supremely charming. When I talk, he's focused on my eyes or the movement of my lips, his dark brows coming together to form a shallow well of concentration. He laughs at my stupid jokes and doesn't seem to mind that I cuss so much, something Anaya has been trying to break me of since we were 14.

I make us grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup. I haven't had the opportunity or energy to go to the grocery store lately so, I apologize, embarrassed that the only food I have in the place seems solely fit for consumption by small children. He says it's the best he's ever eaten. Even if he's just being kind, I'm glad for it. It gets a smile out of me.

Nathan's sitting at the kitchen table now, his elbows bent and resting on the tabletop as he finishes what's left of the soup. His suit jacket hangs on the back of his chair. The sleeves of his white dress shirt are rolled up. He looks relaxed and even more handsome with his lightly tousled hair and glinting eyes. Carefree.

My gaze lingers on the lean, tanned muscles of his forearms, on the smattering of dark hair there. The sensation of those strong arms banded around my back while I rode him echoes through my body, and I nearly choke on the sip of beer I'm in the middle of taking.

Sheesh, when did I become such a horny ass?

When he's finished - bless him, he ate every last bite - I gather our dishes and carry them to the sink, partly in an effort to be polite to my guest, but mainly because being this close to him again is doing a number on my libido. I want him. Damn, do I want him. He smells amazing - crisp and clean and completely masculine.

There were several times over the past couple weeks I've imagined he was here with me, his big body taking up the space my small one couldn't. Anxiety and want warred inside me every night. I've chided myself on not sticking around, for not staying long enough to say... something. Anything, really. It had been so long since I'd been willing to enjoy myself, to wallow in the feel of another person's flesh against mine. Work took up most of my days, and what little time I had to myself was often spent with Anaya and the Three Little Monsters.

The fact that he'd shown up, gotten my attention when he could have easily pretended to have not known me, is some consolation. Makes me feel less cheap and desperate.

Nathan is incredibly sweet and calm. Self-assured. That accent makes me want to lick his face. It so subtle. Barely there, really. An easy, loping cadence which rolls over me in a warm, decadent wave. His voice makes me think of tall grass swaying in bright afternoon sunlight. I want to wrap myself up in the sound of it.

And the fucker owns the Linden Towers. Yes, he'd let that bit of information slip, and I'd stared at him for a long moment in absolute horror. One of the richest men in the city is sitting in my kitchen and I'm offering him grilled cheese and tomato soup! Laughable, right?

Anaya would definitely laugh. And possibly punch me in the face for being so shallow, for allowing my own insecurities to possibly cloud my judgement so soon in this... whatever it is.

Anaya and I are from the same sad, lower-middleclass neighborhood. We lived nearly identical lives of only children raised by single, working mothers. We grew up, went to college with the same drive to never follow in our mothers' footsteps. Anaya vowed to never be poor again, by any means.

While I didn't relish the idea of being poor, my main concern, what drove me, really, was to never be in a position that would give any man the power to be able to take anything away from me. No matter what I did, I'd decided long ago that I would never give any man the opportunity to tell me what he'd done for me.

But, I'm thinking much more than I should be right now. This man isn't offering a ring and marriage. He's offering me... fun. No harm in that. Right?

Nathan pushes back from the table and comes to stand beside me at the sink. Steam wafts up into our faces as I scrub our dishes.

"Don't clean up after me, Maxie. You just spent the night cleanin' up after people. Lemme do it."

I catch myself before I drop the bowl I'm holding and it shatters in the sink.

Not fair. Not fair at all. So much for keeping an emotional distance.

"Tonight, you're a guest," I reply as I place both of our dishes in the drain to dry. "Next time, you're on your own."

He leans his hip against the counter. I can see his smile at the edge of my vision, teasing and just a bit lascivious. "You're already plannin' my next visit, huh?"

I hadn't realized what I'd said until he pointed it out. It's my usual line, the one I give to anyone who spends any amount of time at my place, but this time, with Nathan, it carries so much more weight and meaning. So much more possibility.

Warmth blooms in my cheeks and I wave the dish towel at him threateningly. My heart jumps inside my chest, then settles heavily when the back of his hand brushes my hip. The nerves I hadn't had an opportunity to feel that first night with him are making themselves known.

His fingers move higher, barely grazing the thin strip of flesh exposed between the hem of my t-shirt and the waistband of my lounge pants. Heat flares at the point of contact and I almost whimper. Need slithers through my stomach, heavy and sharp and ready for attention.

I want him. Yes, dammit, I want him.

"So, are you staying, or what?"

The words spill out before they've fully formed in my hazy brain. My voice is just this side of breathless and I bite down on the edges of my tongue.

Nathan shifts closer. His thigh softly brushes mine. He uses his fingers cupped beneath my chin to lift my gaze to his.

"I'd like to stay."

His green eyes have darkened; they're the color of a spring sky just before a storm, a bit of gray mixing with the green. I can feel myself getting lost in them, ignited by them. The tips of my fingers are tingling. The insides of my thighs, as well. I have a vision of myself rubbing up against him like a cat.

His full lips are flushed.

Ripe.

Kissable.

"Where do you want me, darlin'," he drawls.

***

I sit on the edge of my bed, listening to the sound of running water as Nathan takes a shower. Any other time I might have been weirded out at the thought of a man I hardly know being so close to my personal things. However, there's something oddly comfortable, and comforting, in it being Nathan. In fact, it's a bit of a turn on.

When he comes out of the bathroom, a large beige towel cinched around his waist, I nearly melt into a warm, throbbing puddle next to the bed. One man should not be so gahtdamn sexy.

He is a work of art in this low light, all sun-kissed skin and smoothly sculpted muscle. Broad shoulders and a lean waist. Strong legs and deceptively strong arms. Believe me, I know what it's like to be pinned down, caged in, by those arms.

Water glitters like tiny jewels on the skin between his pecs, enticing, begging for my tongue to clear them away. He grins that boyish grin of his and I know he knows exactly what I'm thinking.

"Fucking tease," I accuse, slipping backward and tunneling beneath the blankets.

He laughs and saunters toward me. My bed takes up a great deal of the small space and he has to edge slowly around the opposite side.

"Oh, baby, you may recall that when I tease, I definitely follow through."

This is fun, this sexually charged banter. Surprisingly easy and comfortable. That all shifts when he drops the towel, giving me the briefest view of the glory that lies beneath, and slips under the covers.

I'm tempted to say something about him leaving his wet towel on the floor, but then he's staring down at me with those impossibly green eyes, his head resting in his hand.

"How old are you, Maxie?"

I have to swallow a few times before I can form the proper reply around the battering of my heartbeat. The image of his swinging cock is imprinted in my brain for all eternity.

"32. You?"

"39. I'll be 40 in a few weeks, actually."

"40?!?!" I practically squeal. He looks fucking fantastic. I wouldn't have pegged him as a day over 35. Slightly older man. Even more drool-inducing. Holy hell.

"What the fuck is your secret?"

"Dear God, woman," he groans, then chuckles. "I'm not much older than you."

I'm thoroughly enjoying teasing him. I like his crooked smile and the way his eyes focus on me, as if he's not sure if he wants to kiss me or cover my mouth with his hand, whatever will shut me up faster.

"You are. You're a dirty old man. Where's your life-alert bracelet so I know who to call in case of emergency?"

He's laughing full out now, the entire bed shaking with the force of it. I laugh with him and it feels so good. Normal. Impossibly familiar.

"You are vicious," he says when he's finally caught his breath. He snakes his arm around my waist as if it's the most natural thing in the world, and roughly tugs me to him. His skin is warm and slick from the shower, and I'm immediately reminded he's completely naked, the only barrier between us my own stupid clothing.

He dips his head and nuzzles his nose into the soft spot just below my jaw.

"So, tell me," he says, his breath fanning hotly over my skin, causing me to shiver involuntarily. "Why did you decide to become a librarian?"

I squirm, wanting more of his heat, his breath, his lips. This small talk could have happened while he'd been devouring four grilled cheese sandwiches at my kitchen table, not when he's holding me so tightly and his cock, which is now at full attention, is pressed into my hip.

I turn my head toward him and his lips slide lower, the tip of his tongue tracing the skin just above the collar of my shirt. I can't function when he's so close, when I'm aware of what his body can do to mine.

"I asked you a question, Maxie," he says. His fingers slip easily beneath the fabric of my t-shirt and trace smooth circles over the soft flesh of my stomach.

"Oh, um..." I gasp when his teeth sink lightly into the skin of my neck. Fucker. "Well, I'd always wanted to be a writer... mmmhh..." His hand has moved lower, his index finger tugging rhythmically at the waistband of my pants and the panties beneath them.

"What happened?" Another soft kiss, and the back of his fingers brush the patch of curls at the very top of my mound.

"Are you serious?"

There might be a bit of an edge to my tone, but who can blame me, really? All I can think about is his hand dipping lower, his fingers slipping inside me. My cunt pulses and clenches, my hips rocking with every pass of his digits.

Another laugh. He shifts, letting me feel more of him, teasing me with his proximity.

"I'm just tryin' to get to know you. Now, tell me how 'Maxie, the Writer' became 'Maxie, the Librarian'".

I lick my lips. "Touch me, and I will."

He kisses my chin. My temple. Lazy kisses that have me leaning more fully into him. "I am touching you."

I huff, impatient and beyond needy. I'm hungry now. I need him. All of him. "You know what I mean, old man."

In the space of a breath his hand slips below the constricting fabric of my clothing and two fingers are swiftly imbedded into my cunt.

The pleasure is sharp and immediate. Staggering.

"Shit!"

He twists his hand slightly, his nails grazing my wet, fluttering walls. He pumps the digits slowly and liquid heat flutters through my stomach, my chest. For a moment my brain short circuits, focused solely on the slow, delicious slide of his fingers inside my pussy.

"Tell me," he urges, and uses the heel of his hand to press down on my clit.

I whine helplessly.

"Okay. Okay. I was never good at it... ungnnh... Shit! And, I don't have the patience. I love books. The end."

His laugh is dark and teasing. "Was that so hard?"

"Yes!"

He rises up a little higher and brushes his lips over mine.

"You're so wet, Maxie," he rumbles. "You've been ready for me, huh?"

I'm melting. I can't think past his tunneling fingers. I close my hand around his wrist, try to coax him harder, deeper - needing, more than anything, to come.

He won't allow it. He's got his own agenda, and it, apparently, involves driving me absolutely crazy.

"Tell me somethin' else, Maxie," he murmurs. He traces the corner of my mouth with the tip of his tongue. I try to turn to meet his lips, but he pulls back a bit. I grind wantonly against his hand. I want to scream.

He follows the movement of my rocking hips, finally pressing harder, deeper. Finds his rhythm. A slow slide out and a solid push back in. "Tell me," he says, "When you ran out of my room that morning... still sticky from my come, my cologne still on your skin..."

Holy shit, if he starts up with this filthy talk again, I will surely lose my mind. My whole, entire mind.

"Nathan," I breathe. "Nathan, please..." I don't know what I'm begging for. My brain is a muddled mess, filled with swirling deep red. Flames of arousal lick at my skin, pulse in my cunt where his fingers curl and beckon me closer.

"Tell me, baby... did you think of me later? Did you touch yourself and imagine it was me touching you? Making you come?" His voice is rough, dangerous, in my ear. He's turning me inside out and I don't think he's even trying.

"Oh, fuck...nnnhhh..." I lift my hips higher, begging, pleading for more.

He fingers plunge sharply. Roughly. I can hear the rapid thumping of my heart in my ears, can feel it in every pulse point in my body.

"I want to know if you fucked yourself and thought of me while you did it, Maxie. I want to know if you screamed my name the way you screamed it for me that night."

I'm done. I've been teetering on the edge since he started touching me, and can only gasp now as the orgasm slices through me. It forces my back to bow, and when it does, Nathan immediately latches on to my nipple through the fabric of my shirt. He bites down, adding a bit of pain to the pleasure pounding through me. With the heel of his hand still pressed against my aching clit, he pulls the pleasure from deep within me and spreads it through my limbs. My toes curl. My fingers lock around his wrist.

I see stars. I'm not ashamed or afraid to say it. They flash and pop behind my tightly closed lids. After what seems like an eternity, I collapse onto the bed, breathing deep and heavy, and just a bit dizzy.

Nathan pulls his hand from my pants and circles his arm around my waist once more. He places soft kisses on the slick skin of my throat while I can only whimper and try to curl myself in against his body.

"I'll take that as a yes," he says. My eyes are still closed. I can't see it, but I know he's smiling.

I feel warm and weightless, vestiges of the orgasm still rippling through me.

He's in trouble. As soon as I catch my breath and get some semblance of control over my trembling limbs.

***

We're silent a long time while Maxie comes back down. I hold her close, inhaling the spicy sweet scent of her sex. She is absolutely stunning when she comes

My cock is hard as steel where it rests against her hip. No. Resting is definitely not the word. Every part of me wants to devour this woman, and my cock would love to lead the way. But, for now, we're willing to wait until she's somewhat back to her senses.

When she opens her eyes to gaze up at me, I nearly laugh at how glassy and distant they are. She looks sated. Almost delirious. Pretty. Pleasing her does something to me. Makes me feel big. All those wonderful words used to describe a man's pride.

She smiles softly and appears on the verge of saying something, but whatever she's about to say is silenced by my lips. She moans, low and shuddering in the back of her throat, and I dive deeper, reveling in the warm honey taste of her kiss.

This woman may very well be the death of me. Already, I can't seem to get enough of her. Desire shifts inside me, coiling tightly in my stomach.

Maxie raises up, uses a hand at my shoulder to shove me onto my back. Her lean legs bracket my hips. She gazes down at me

"That was some small talk," she says, one delicate brow arched. She swipes her tongue over her lower lip and I fight the urge to pull her down to me.

"I aim to please," I drawl.

My hands smooth over her thighs, squeezing lightly, loving the give of her flesh beneath my fingers.

A devilish smile quirks one corner of her mouth and I watch as she shimmies down the length of my body. Her knees are on either side of my calves now, her body barely brushing mine. I know where she's headed and my cock gives a pulse of approval.

I nearly buck off the bed when she drags her tongue across the crease of my hip, then bites down. I consider myself to be a somewhat experienced lover, yet I had no idea that spot could send such a rocket of pleasure through me. She chuckles and I growl at her in response.

"Easy, darlin'," I warn. I'm doing my level best to not flip her over and pound the hell out of her wet cunt. The sight of her bent over me, her wonderful mouth so close to my cock, is frying the synapses in my brain.

She laughs again, and presses her silken cheek against my jumping dick. "Relax, old man. Enjoy the ride."

I shouldn't have told her my age. She's going to use it against me every chance she gets.

But, then, none of that matters, not when she's brushing those soft, full lips up the length of my cock. She purrs appreciatively and my chest swells.

"I did dream of this, Nathan," she murmurs, and the combination of her hot breath and slick lips on me has me fisting the sheet. "Almost every night."

Her tongue laves the sensitive spot just below my cock head and I rock my hips in a useless effort to get myself into her mouth.

"I touched myself while I imagined sucking it. Licking it. Riding it. Mmmm..."

Her beautiful lips close around me, just briefly, but enough to shoot a flash of electricity up my spine

"But I couldn't get deep enough. Hard enough."

Another lick and I hiss her name. Her dark eyes lift to meet mine and the devil is in her gaze. This is payback.

"Did you do the same?"

I can only nod. My tongue sits like lead in my mouth.

She fists the base of my cock in one small hand and squeezes ever so gently.

"Can't hear you."

"Dammit, Maxie." My hips are still rocking, pushing into her hand.

Still, she smiles.

"Tell me," she urges.

"Fuck, yes. Dozens of times, baby." My voice doesn't sound like my own. It's hard edged and needy.

"Good."

And then she sucks me in. Her mouth is so incredibly hot and wet. Her tongue laps and swirls in dizzying patterns that my mind can't follow. Can barely fathom. It feels so fucking good.

She takes her time, bobbing her head on my cock, alternating between shallow sucking, and deep plunges that tap the back of her throat. Pleasure shudders through me. With her crouched over me, I can't move my legs, can only try to follow her as she drives me to the edge.

I try to breathe when she finally pauses. She jacks my cock with her hand, her spit and my pre-cum giving no resistance.

"When you're ready, there are condoms in the side table to your right."

I can hear her laughing as I practically lunge to get them. I can't see what I'm doing, need and hunger have clouded my gaze, and I pretty much grab whatever's in the drawer, whatever feels like it might be a condom wrapper.

Maxie rises to her feet. I watch her as I rip the packet, sheathing myself in record time. Even though the mattress isn't stable, she rids herself of her clothing easily enough.