Maddy was shaking from head to toe, and she honestly didn’t know if she could take any more. She had never—not in her entire life—had an orgasm like that. It was still echoing through her body, creating little waves of sensation that shivered through her with each and every breath she took.
And there was still more. They weren’t done. She was glad about that. She didn’t want to be done. But at the same time she wasn’t sure if she could handle the rest. But there he was, above her, over her, so hot and hard and male that she didn’t think she could deny him. She didn’t want to deny him.
She looked at him, at the broad expanse of his shoulders and chest, the way it tapered down to his narrow waist, those flat washboard abs that she could probably actually wash her clothes on.
He was everything a man should be. If the perfect fantasy man had been pulled straight out of her deepest fantasies, he would look like this. It hit her then that Christopher had not even been close to being a fantasy man. And that was maybe why he had been so safe. It was why Sam had always been so threatening.
Because Christopher had the power to make a ripple. Sam McCormack possessed the power to engulf her in a tidal wave.
She had no desire to be swept out to sea by any man. But in this instance she had a life preserver. And that was her general dislike of him. The fact that their time together was going to be contained to only this weekend. So what did it matter if she allowed herself to get a little bit storm tossed. It didn’t. She was free. Free to enjoy this as much as she wanted.
And she wanted. Wanted with an endless hunger that seemed to growl inside her like a feral beast.
He possessed the equipment to satisfy it. She let her eyes drift lower than just his abs, taking in the heart, the unequivocal evidence, of his maleness. She had not been lying when she said it was the biggest one she’d ever seen. It made her feel a little bit intimidated. Especially since she had been celibate for so very long. But she had a few days to acclimate.
The thought made her giddy.
“Now,” she said, not entirely certain that she was totally prepared for him now but also unable to wait for him.
“You sure you’re ready for me?” He leaned forward, bracing his hand on the headboard, poised over her like the very embodiment of carnal temptation. Just out of reach, close enough that she did easily inhale his masculine scent. Far enough away that he wasn’t giving her what she needed. Not yet.
She felt hollow. Aching. And that, she realized, was how she knew she was going to take all of him whether or not it seemed possible. Because the only other option was remaining like this. Hollowed out and empty. And she couldn’t stand that either. Not for one more second.
“Please,” she said, not caring that she sounded plaintive. Not caring that she was begging. Begging Sam, the man she had spent the past several years harassing every time he came around her ranch.
No, she didn’t care. She would make a fool out of herself if she had to, would lower herself as far down as she needed to go, if only she could get the kind of satisfaction that his body promised to deliver.
He moved his other hand up to the headboard, gripping it tight. Then he flexed his hips forward, the blunt head of his arousal teasing the slick entrance to her body. She reached up, bracing her palms flat against his chest, a shiver running through her as he teased her with near penetration.
She cursed. The sound quivering, weak in the near silence of the room. She had no idea where hard-ass Maddy had gone. That tough, flippant girl who knew how to keep everyone at a distance with her words. Who knew how to play off every situation as if it weren’t a big deal.
This was a big deal. How could she pretend that it wasn’t? She was breaking apart from the inside out; how could she act as though she weren’t?
“Please,” she repeated.
He let go of the headboard with one hand and pressed his hand down next to her face, then repeated the motion with the other as he rocked his hips forward more fully, entering her slowly, inch by tantalizing inch. She gasped when he filled her all the way, the intense stretching sensation a pleasure more than it was a pain.
She slid her hands up to his shoulders, down his back, holding on to him tightly there before locking her legs around his lean hips and urging him even deeper.
“Yes,” she breathed, a wave of satisfaction rolling over her, chased on the heels by a sense that she was still incomplete. That this wasn’t enough. That it would never be enough.
Then he began to move. Ratcheting up the tension between them. Taking her need, her arousal, to greater heights than she had ever imagined possible. He was measured at first, taking care to establish a rhythm that helped her move closer to completion. But she didn’t need the help. She didn’t want it. She just wanted to ride the storm.
She tilted her head to the side, scraping her teeth along the tendon in his neck that stood out as a testament to his hard-won self-control.
And that did it.
He growled low in his throat. Then his movements became hard, harsh. Following no particular rhythm but his own. She loved it. Gloried in it. He grabbed hold of her hips, tugging her up against him every time he thrust down, making it rougher, making it deeper. Making it hurt. She felt full with it, full with him. This was exactly what she needed, and she hadn’t even realized it. To be utterly and completely overwhelmed. To have this man consume her every sensation, her every breath.
She fused her lips to his, kissing him frantically as he continued to move inside her and she held on to him tighter, her nails digging into his skin. But she knew he didn’t mind the pain. She knew it just as she didn’t mind it. Knew it because he began to move harder, faster, reaching the edge of his own control as he pushed her nearer to the edge of hers.
Suddenly, it gripped her fiercely, down low inside her, a force of pleasure that she couldn’t deny or control. She froze, stiffening against him, the scream that lodged itself in her throat the very opposite of who she usually was. It wasn’t calculated; it wasn’t pretty; it wasn’t designed to do anything. It simply was. An expression of what she felt. Beyond her reach, beyond her completely.
She was racked with her desire for him, with the intensity of the orgasm that swept through her. And then, just as she was beginning to find a way to breathe again, he found his own release, his hardness pulsing deep inside her as he gave himself up to it.
His release—the intensity of it—sent another shattering wave through her. And she clung to him even more tightly, needing him to anchor her to the bed, to the earth, or she would lose herself completely.
And then in the aftermath, she was left there, clinging to a stranger, having just shown the deepest, most hidden parts of herself to him. Having just lost her control with him in a way she never would have done with someone she knew better. Perhaps this was the only way she could have ever experienced this kind of freedom. The only way she could have ever let her guard down enough. What did she have to lose with Sam? His opinion of her was already low. So if he thought that she was a sex-hungry maniac after this, what did it matter?
He moved away from her and she threw her arm over her face, letting her head fall back, the sound of her fractured breathing echoing in the room.
After she had gulped in a few gasps of air, she removed her arm, opened her eyes and realized that Sam wasn’t in the room anymore. Probably off to the bathroom to deal with necessities. Good. She needed some space. She needed a moment. At least a few breaths.
He returned a little bit quicker than she had hoped he might, all long lean muscle and satisfied male. It was the expression on his face that began to ease the tension in her chest. He didn’t look angry. He didn’t look like he was judging her. And he didn’t look like he was in love with her or was about to start making promises that she didn’t want him to make.
No, he just looked satisfied. A bone-deep satisfaction that she felt too.
“Holy hell,” he said, coming to lie on the bed next to her, drawing her naked body up against his. She felt a smile curve her lips. “I think you about blew my head off.”
“You’re so romantic,” she said, smiling even wider. Because this was perfect. Absolutely perfect.
“You don’t want me to be romantic,” he returned.
“No,” she said, feeling happy, buoyant even. “I sure as hell don’t.”
“You want me to be bad, and dirty, and to be your every fantasy of slumming it with a man who is so very beneath you.”
That, she took affront to a little bit. “I don’t think you’re beneath me, Sam,” she said. Then he grabbed hold of her hips and lifted her up off the mattress before bringing her down over his body. A wicked smile crossed his face.
“I am now.”
“You’re insatiable. And terrible.”
“For a weekend fling, honey, that’s all you really need.”
“Oh, dammit,” she said, “what if the roads open up, and Christopher tries to come up?”
“I’m not really into threesomes.” He tightened his grip on her. “And I’m not into sharing.”
“No worries. I don’t have any desire to broaden my experience by testing him out.”
“Have I ruined you for him?”
The cocky bastard. She wanted to tell him no, but she had a feeling that denting the masculine ego when a man was underneath you wasn’t the best idea if you wanted to have sex with said man again.
“Ruined me completely,” she responded. “In fact, I should leave a message for him.”
Sam snagged the phone on the nightstand and thrust it at her. “You can leave him a message now.”
“Okay,” she said, grimacing slightly.
She picked up the phone and dialed Christopher’s number quickly. Praying that she got his voice mail and not his actual voice.
Of course, if she did, that meant he’d gone out. Which meant that maybe he was trying to find sex to replace the sex that he’d lost. Which she had done; she couldn’t really be annoyed about that. But she had baggage.
“Come on,” she muttered as the phone rang endlessly. Then she breathed a sigh of relief when she got his voice mail. “Hi, Christopher, it’s Madison. Don’t worry about coming up here if the roads clear up. If that happens, I’m probably just going to go back to Copper Ridge. The weekend is kind of ruined. And...and maybe you should just wait for me to call you?” She looked up at Sam, who was nearly vibrating with forcibly contained laughter. She rolled her eyes. “Anyway, sorry that this didn’t work out. Bye.”
“That was terrible,” he said. “But I think you made it pretty clear that you don’t want to hear from him.”
“I said I would call him,” she said in protestation.
“Are you going to?”
“Hell no.”
Sam chuckled, rolling her back underneath him, kissing her deep, hard. “Good thing I only want a weekend.”
“Why is that?”
“God help the man that wants more from you.”
“Oh, please, that’s not fair.” She wiggled, luxuriating in the hard feel of him between her thighs. He wanted her again already. “I pity the woman that falls for you, Sam McCormack.”
A shadow passed over his face. “So do I.”
Then, as quickly as they had appeared, those clouds cleared and he was smiling again, that wicked, intense smile that let her know he was about ready to take her to heaven again.
“It’s a good thing both of us only want a weekend.”