Page 48 of Man Cuffed
“Oh you know it,” he growls, lifting me higher up on his body. Then I’m truly airborne, and Mac is carrying me toward the door to the kitchen. He flips it open with impatience bordering on violence.
Two seconds later I’m set down on the kitchen counter. Good thing I cleaned up earlier today, because I’m seated right on the prep surface while Mac tugs down my tank top and bra all in one go, exposing my breast. Before I’m ready, he dips his head and applies his tongue to my nipple.
“Oh, damn,” I gasp. “More.” I pull his head closer. His hair slides between my fingers. And I feel like I can’t get enough of him. Like I want him to fill me up and possess me from the inside out. I feel like I want to crawl inside him...like...“Yes!” I cry.
And then...
No.
Mac jumps off me, yanking my top up to cover my breast again. And I can’t even figure out why for a moment. How can we go from me with my nipple in his mouth to me fully clothed in two seconds flat. And why? Whhhhhyyyyyyy?
Then Cassidy tumbles through the front door. “Meg! You won’tbelievethis bullshit!” She stops to let out a sob. “By the time my Lyft pulled up at Greg’s, he was already deep into someone else’s hand-washables!”
Mac and I are both still gasping for breath. He’s stepped back a goodly distance, and is playing it cool, leaning against my sofa. But our eyes are locked on each other, with identical expressions of shock and longing.
“Wait, am I interrupting?” Cassidy bleats.
“Not at all,” Mac grumbles. “I really shoulda been out of here a while ago.”
Well, ouch.
“Night, Meg,” he says cooly.
“N-night,” I stammer, trying to interpret his Mac-speak. Did he really not notice that Earth moved a little just now? Or is he just being Maguire?
A moment later my front door opens and shuts again. That door is seeing a lot more action than I am tonight.
My heart rate hasn’t even slowed down yet. But now he’s gone.
“Can you believe that?” Cassidy is saying, and I realize I missed the first part. “He saidI’mboring! Me! I have two masters’ degrees! I speak three languages! I can tell the difference between Californian wine and French in one sniff! That last thing isn’t useful. Fine. But I am NOT the boring one in this relationship.”
“Of course not, sweetie,” I say, hopping off the countertop. “How dare he.”
She bursts into tears.
13Use Your Glue Stick
Maguire
“So that’s it? You kissed her and then left?” Lance asks me this while eating a meatball sub in the passenger’s seat. I wish he’d asked meafterhe’d finished that sub, but no. He’s mid-chew.
I can’t believe I even brought it up. But it was either that or listen to him spout off more of his “research.” He’s currently binging an erotic motorcycle series. So I spent the morning hearing about the biker jacket with a patch on it that he just bought. Now he wants to find his old lady. The dude can’t even ride a motorcycle. He has a Schwinn 10-speed.
Where was I?
“Come on! You kissed her and then what? Just walked out?” Lance has no patience, but I’m grateful for the reminder of the question.
“No I didn’t just walk out. I kissed her and then we did some scrapbooking. What do you think? Yeah! I just left. She’s my neighbor. You know my rules about that. I shouldn’t have even touched her to begin with, but...I mean, you’ve seen her, right?”
Lance wiggles his eyebrows and I have the sudden urge to thrust that meatball sub down his throat. I don’t like the idea of Lance anywhere near Meg.
I take a sophisticated slurp of my lemonade to calm myself. We need to get back on the road in a minute anyway.
“Oh, I’veseenher all right,” he pants. “Gorgeous. Amazing. She’s smart too, which, don’t tell anyone, I think is probably of higher value than the looks. I mean you want a girl you can grab ahold of and all, but you also want one who can solveWheel of Fortunewords better than you. Competition is good for the libido.” He chews, swallows, and then crinkles up the spaghetti-stained paper. Thank God that’s over. Maybe I’ll get my appetite back. “Also, I was waiting for you to tell me scrapbooking was one of them whadayacallits? Eugenics or something.”
“Euphemism?” I ask.
“Yeah. Euphemism. Like I could go home and do somescrapbookingright now.”
