Page 21 of Forgiveness
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Maggie
“Whoa! Shit, Duchess,”Flux spoke through her eager kisses, but Maggie barely paid any attention, only knowing that she wanted to lose herself in this moment and scrub away the nastiness that Chet had left behind with something she chose—something that made her feel things were good and in control.
She angled her head again and laid a small trail of kisses along his neck leading down toward his pushed up T-shirt. “Do you really want me to stop?” Her words were muffled as she enjoyed the surprisingly soft, yet hard planes of his body against her mouth. “Please, Flux.”
“I don’t want you to stop, darlin’.” Flux groaned and threaded a hand through her hair, bucking his hips. “Far from it. I’d love to pick up right where we left off earlier in the stables.”
“Okay, good,” she murmured before placing her teeth into his shoulder, eliciting a small moan from him.
“But hold up a sec,” Flux grabbed both her wrists just as her fingers were tracing down the fine lines of his abs heading straight below the belt. “Duchess, before we do this, I … uh … Fuck. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but fuck it. I need to be sure you know what you’re doing, okay?”
Maggie blinked down at him, her lips still buzzing from the delicious contact with his skin.Why does he want to stop this? Am I doing something wrong?A million scenarios flew through her mind.
“No strings, right?” She breathed out, ragged breaths drawing through her lungs as her heart beat like a caged bird behind her chest. “We’re both adults, and I want this, Flux.” She ran her finger along his jaw. “I want you.”
Maggie made sure she caught his gaze, and even though his pupils were dilated and his fingers formed claws into the bed covers, Flux looked as if he wouldn’t touch her until he got an answer that satisfied him. It was sweet, very gallant, but not at all necessary. All she wanted him to do was rip her clothes off and give her a real man to think about for the next hour or so, not the one who haunted her nightmares.
“You don’t think we’re going too fast after what—”
Maggie stole his words away with another passionate kiss. She must’ve been doing her job right because a trickle of a growl escaped from Flux’s throat as he wrapped his arms around her back and flipped them over so he was on top.
“Fuck, darlin’,’” he gritted against her ear, his hard dick already digging into the denim fabric of her skirt as she wrapped her legs around him, silently begging for more. “You won’t regret it in the morning?”
“No. Will you?”
“No fuckin’ way.” He crushed his mouth on hers at the same time he struggled to rip his shirt off. Then he guided her palms back to his chest. “Have your fill, Duchess. Tell me exactly what you like and take what you need from me.”
Kind words. Much nicer than she ever expected from the intense, introverted biker, who dodged death for a living. His even tone, so sure and certain, ripped all hesitation away. While Maggie’s fingers tripped down his chest, trembling for an entirely different reason than before, she ignored Flux’s racing heart and smiled against his lips.
Lost in the dark, earthy, and leather scent of him, Maggie glided her hands down the taut muscles in Flux’s back. They tangled together like two people forbidden from one another. A part of it felt illicit, dangerous, and yet he would no more hurt her than anyone else she kept in her inner circle—and she knew that with certainty. Maggie didn’t know why or how she was so sure of him, but her gut knew that this man, though broken, was genuinely good.
“Duchess, tell me what you like,” Flux grated out the words, hissing as she lightly tugged on his nipple with her teeth. “Tell me what you want.”
Maggie moaned and leaned her head back against the pillow, biting her bottom lip. “Take me. I just … needyou.”
“That’s not gonna work for me, Duchess. I need you to do the dirty work. You’ve gotta speak up, or this stops now.”
Every nerve ending in her body went on high alert as she gave him an incredulous expression. A slow, wolfish grin broke across his face before his intense eyes darkened, and he took each of her hands from his body and pinned them over her head. Maggie’s breath caught in her throat, her voice tight. Flux was taking away all her control, yet he wanted her to take it back from him: a weird power struggle that she’d never engaged in during sex. Nine times out of ten, she was used to being the aggressor, but she never had to … speak.
“Flux,” she whimpered in warning, squeezing her thighs around his waist.
“Duchess,” his dark tone mocked her before he kissed the tip of her nose and meandered down the sensitive skin of her neck with the flat of his tongue.
She hissed and arched against his touch, hungry and desperate for more of him.
“Just say the words and it’s yours …” His warm breath lingered along her collarbone as he pinned her to the bed with his body weight, lightly squeezing her wrists with his one hand. “I know you’ve got it in you, darlin’.”
Maggie gulped, strung out on the scent, the touch, and the taste of him as he completely engulfed her small body. Flux’s free hand roamed idly over her exposed stomach, a light touch that belayed all of the sexual aggression he would unleash on her if only she learned to use her words.
“I need you to …”
“Yeah?” Flux’s voice became coaxing, his finger easing along the line of her skirt, barely brushing over the top button before he curved his palm around her breast through her bra.
Even that small touch sent a shockwave of sensation through her, and she writhed beneath him unable to do a damn thing so long as he had her pinned to the bed.
“Put your mouth on me,” she whispered as she ground herself against him. “I need your mouth on my breasts … everywhere …”
