Page 37 of Deception & Daylight
Maggie adjusts her position, draping her legs across my thigh and leaning back against the pillows. “What makes you think I’m writing a book?” She pulls her lip between her teeth, pinning me with an inquisitive stare that sends a rush of heat through me. She’s distracting; always has been.
“For starters, you spend damn near every day tapping away on that typewriter, but your assignment for the festival isn’t until next week. Then there were the little bundles of paper you left on the porch — I had no idea you could say cock and pussy so much in one paragraph.”
Her eyes narrow, and I see that flash of amusement, mixed with a bit of defiance as she crosses her arms over her chest.
“And that scene you tucked away in your back pocket was strikingly similar to our date.” I keep my eyes trained on hers, gauging her reaction to every admission slipping off my tongue.
“Miles Bartholomew Barlow. You stole my shit!” she shrieks, pinching my chest. I flinch at the small bite of pain, but I take it as a victory that she’s coming out of her shell again.
“That’s not my middle name, and it’s hardly stealing. I just… borrowed it. But now that I know how much you enjoyed our adventure behind the bar, I’ve got some other ideas for our next date.”
“Fakedate. And who said there’s going to be a next one?” She stands her ground, a curious glint in her eyes as the corners of her mouth turn upward.
“There will absolutely be another one. Lean into it Mags.”
“What does that mean? ‘Lean into it’?”
She squeals in surprise when I reach out and pull her onto my lap, feeling the warmth of her body against mine as she straddles me; then I gently brush a lock of hair from her forehead. “Let’s throw away the rulebook. Forget the past. Let me help you find your humanity again. You’re not broken, just a little bruised.”
I let the words settle between us, hoping she’ll hear what I’m not saying — the things Ineedto say, but can’t. Not yet.
Her arms wrap around me, toying with the hair at the nape of my neck. Her tongue darts out to lick her lips as her eyes bore into me. “I’m listening. But I think we still need rules. At the very least, there needs to be an expiration date.”
“Meaning?”
“Fake boyfriend with benefits. Just until I leave. Then we never speak of this again.” Her words burrow under my skin, leaving behind a prickling sensation. If I agree to this, it’ll buy me some time to convince her to stay.
“Ok. Rules?”
“No feelings. No sleepovers,” she says matter-of-factly.
Too fucking late on that first one, but I can’t say that, so I simply nod my agreement and push through the noise. What I have to say next might scare her away, but we can’t move forward with our arrangement if she’s unprepared. “I can get behind that. Do you have any limits?”
I’m not sure what I expected, but it wasn’t the sparkle in her eyes or the amusement in her voice. “Miles Barlow, are you into some kinky shit?”
“So what if I am?” I cup her cheek, my thumb tracing the delicate curve of her jaw in a surprisingly tender way. She doesn’t look disgusted — if anything, she’s intrigued. “I like to be in control. If that’s not something you can handle, tell me now.”
“What does that mean for you?” Her breath hitches as I trail my hand to her neck, not squeezing,just resting it there in a possessive grip.Her heartbeat thrums beneath my palm, beating out a steady rhythm.
“It can mean a number of things. Mostly it’s about an exchange of power. I’ll set the pace, decide what we do, when, and how. But it’s never about causing harm. In order for this to work, it has to feel good for us both. I won’t accept anything less.” I release her neck and slide my hand down her arm, watching the goosebumps erupt over her flesh. Her body’s reaction tells me everything I need to know, but I need her verbal consent if we’re going to do this, so I wait for her to speak.
Her round eyes bore into me as if she’s trying to see beyond what I project to the world, and it’s unsettling how this woman can unravel me so completely. She curses under her breath. “I should’ve guessed.”
“I won’t push you into something you’re not ready for.”
A hint of something I can’t quite place crosses her features and I worry she might be changing her mind. “I’m not completely unfamiliar with kink. Giving up control doesn’t bother me. But…no blindfolds and no somnophilia.” A wave of protectiveness washes over me, but I suppress it just as quickly as it appeared. It’s glaringly obvious why those two things would be out of the question, and it takes every bit of self-control I possess to keep the anger from showing on my face. I want to burn the world down and find the man who tried to break this woman.Mywoman.
Stealing myself, I continue, “Hard limits. Good. What about spanking, choking, and restraints?” Her hands coast along my chest, tracing patterns over my shirt as she contemplates my question.
“Yes, yes, and maybe? I’ve never tried it, but I’m open to exploring that with you if it’s something you’re into.”
“Ok, we’ll call that last one a soft limit. We can explore other things if there’s something you want to try, but we need to communicate first. Are you on birth control?”
“I have the implant. Should be good for two more years, and I’m clean. The doctors ran a panel when…” I cut her off with my lips on hers, not just to save her from having to say it out loud, but because I can’t bear to consider the implications. She deepens the kiss, letting out an adorable mewling sound when my tongue tangles with hers. When we pull apart, she’s slightly breathless.
“I’m clean too. And I’ve never not used a condom.” My thoughts trail off, trying to remember the last time I had a woman beneath me. I can’t even recall a name or a face. When I close my eyes at night and take myself in hand, it’s to visions of Maggie Watson riding me. “I haven’t been with anyone in a long time,” I admit.
Her brows draw together in confusion. “Did you know the whole town thinks you’re a man whore?”
