Vivian Arend - Turn It On

He chuckled. “Yes, ma’am.”

Long stroke followed long stroke, the slow withdrawal teasing his nerve endings as he dragged out of her tight passage. Each forward thrust tapped the end of his cock into her cervix, and it was enough to start his ears ringing. It felt so overwhelmingly fabulous he fought to maintain tempo. He wasn’t going to last much longer in this position.

So he swung them around, placing Maxine in the driver’s seat. She sat up and he slid even deeper and she gasped.

“Oh, my.”

“Set the pace, sweetheart.” He clasped her hips, lifting and lowering her, showing the range of motion. She took over, strong thighs flexing as she set a smooth pace designed to torment him. Slow enough she controlled the movement, fast enough his cock felt gripped in a hot hand, stroking and massaging him to the breaking point.

He cupped her breasts, tweaking the pouting nipples to hard points, twisting gently until Maxine’s breathing deteriorated to ragged panting. Then he dropped his hand and found her clit, priming her for combustion.

“More, oh please, a little more,” she begged, and he thrust with his hips, increasing their speed, pressing hard on her clit. With a cry she threw back her head, and the forceful squeeze of her climax exploding ripped a response from him, tore his seed from his cock to spurt into her pulsing depths. Maxine collapsed onto him, heart pounding, body shaking with tremors. He held her close, still buried in her heat, his shaft jerking in response to her convulsing channel.

She sucked in a deep breath and let it out in a slow exhale. Pressing her hands to his chest, she leaned back to sit on his cock, wiggled her hips and smiled. “I like this position.”

He brushed her cheek with his palm, sliding intimately down the length of her torso to finish cradling her hips in his hands. “I could tell. I like it too.” She flushed red and he chuckled. “What are you thinking to make you blush?”

“Not going to tell you.” He tickled her gently and she squirmed away with a smile. “No fair, no torturing answers from your victim.”

“Hmm, victim. I could have some fun with that idea.” She swatted him on the arm and he tackled her to the mattress, rolling together until they were both laughing and giggling like children. Then he kissed her soundly, nestled her in his arms and held her close.

She sighed contently. “You’re a marvelous lover.” Her stomach growled and they both laughed.

“It’s not my fault we didn’t have supper. Really, this time it’s yours,” Ryan explained seriously, as they rolled off the bed to find their clothes.

Maxine smiled at him from across the room. “I believe you, but I do need food. Have to keep my strength up.”

“Hmmm, any reason why?” he teased, raking her body with his gaze.

She raised her brows at him. “Insatiable, that’s what you are.”

Ryan shot his hand in the air. “Guilty.” He paced over to hold her close and drop a kiss on her uplifted lips. “As far as you’re concerned, I can never get enough.”

Thanksgiving Day dawned far too bright and early. Maxine crawled out of the warmth of her bed with reluctance to get the turkeys in the ovens on time. Everyone joining the celebration would bring a casserole or dessert, or a bottle of wine, but as hostess she was responsible for the main course.

Ryan shifted as she tried to sneak away, reaching out to pull her back. She attempted to avoid him. “I need to get up,” she whispered, biting back a yawn.

“It’s still the middle of the night, come back to bed.” He tugged the wrist he’d captured and for a second she was tempted to crawl back and snuggle against his firm body. Let his warmth cover her and seep in again. But cuddling would inevitably lead to sex, and there was no way she wanted to live through the same disaster Aunt Maximina had experienced two years ago, when the turkeys were still half-raw by dinnertime.

“I need to get up,” she pleaded, kissing his fingers.

He squeezed her hand before releasing it and pushing back the covers. “I’ll put the coffee on, you can grab a shower.”

She shook her head and let the yawn overtake her for a moment. “Once things are cooking we can come back to bed. Everything else is ready. In fact, you don’t need to get up.”

Ryan closed the distance between them and kissed her tenderly, his hands soft on her body as he held her in a close embrace. He’d spent almost every night with her this past week. “I want to get up. Let me help, I promise not to burn anything.”

She laughed and grabbed her robe. As they made their way downstairs she wondered at how much difference a week made. Since she’d discovered Carl’s existence, the mood between her and Ryan had changed. The strange sadness haunting him had fled. His decisive manner and tender touches remained, yet there was an extra component accompanying not only his lovemaking, but also his teasing and his companionable silences.

Whatever had exorcised his ghosts, she liked it. Liked it a lot.

They hadn’t solved everything. She’d created a royal mess telling the nurses she was his fiancée. A couple of times already she’d been asked to make an official decision regarding Carl’s care and she’d quickly deferred to Ryan.

Carl was overjoyed when she joined Ryan twice on his visits. The times she hadn’t gone, the youth had been satisfied with the promise she would return another day.

What it all meant for the future was still up in the air—Maxine wasn’t ready to talk about more than the commitment they had right now. A couple who enjoyed each other’s company. She was beginning to hope there might be the potential for more, but it was too early for serious discussion, and with Carl content, Ryan’s fears had settled as well.

Setting both the wall ovens to heat, Maxine turned to manhandle the massive birds to the island to finish stuffing them only to find Ryan had everything including the premade ingredients lined up in rows waiting for her.

“Wow, you’re efficient,” she complimented him.

He wiggled his brows at her. “You said something about going back to bed when we’re done, so I’m willing to make the chores go by as rapidly as possible.”

She shook her head. “You’re bad.” Picking up the bowl with stuffing she made a face before grabbing a handful and sticking it into the first bird. Ryan stepped behind her. His hands caressed the sides of her torso, skimmed her breasts then slipped around to loosen the knot of her robe. “Stop it, you’re not helping get the job done any quicker.”

She wiggled but his grasp remained firm. “You go ahead and do your job and I’ll do mine. I won’t get in your way,” he promised. He licked her earlobe and she smiled in spite of it all. She had her hands full of savory bread and raisins, and her belly was tight with waking desire. Ryan stroked her breasts before sliding his hands down her belly to bury his fingers in her crotch and lightly massage her slit.

“You’re a bad boy, and if you keep this up you’re getting nothing but a lump of coal for Christmas. Oh my God, what are you doing?”

He had slipped his hand around to her butt, his fingers slick with moisture as he prodded the rosette of her anus. “It’s Thanksgiving. It’s time for stuffing, right? I have a little present for you.”

She had no way to stop him, no way to protest unless she took her sticky, stuffing-covered hands out of the turkey to defend herself. “You’re not really going to… Ryan, I know I told you the other day I was willing for you to teach me about anal sex, but not now. Oh God!”

He suckled on her neck as he slipped his finger in. Her heart pounded. It felt far better than she wished, because she really wanted a reason to get angry.