Marie Harte - Working Out

Mac wanted to keep her. Fuck. To have her, hold her, own her.

Love her.

But he needed to be able to offer her something. He had money he’d saved, but no real path for the future. The gym was temporary. She had her art to pursue, but what did he have except a sexy slave he wanted to keep? For the first time he questioned his worth. He’d found a woman worth holding, but would she want to stay? Eventually the spice and dirty talk and D/s shit might get old. What would they have together? Aside from the obvious physical chemistry, he liked everything about her. But did she like him without the sex?

He hated that he didn’t understand women. If he had, he’d have reasoned out what the hell he’d done to scare away his mother and Julie. But he didn’t know, and he didn’t think he could handle it if Maggie left him too.

Maybe he’d do better to take it slow. Though they’d been battling this coming together for months, only recently had they started to see each other for more than sex, but a relationship.

He was startled to realize she stared back at him.

“Good morning,” she whispered.

“Morning.”

She kissed him, and he kissed her back, prepared for the morning-after bullshit. Would she take back all the tender crap she’d fed him? Now that the holiday had ended and she’d gotten her present, was her enthusiasm for him gone?

Her kiss left soon after the thought, but instead of moving away from him, she continued to kiss down his body.

He tensed. “Maggie?”

“Let me,” she murmured against his belly.

She continued down his frame to his hard-on. When she breathed over his shaft, he moaned. But she skirted his dick and sucked his balls instead.

“Yeah, baby. That’s so good.” He put his hand in her hair and petted the soft blond waves over his belly. He’d dreamed about this, but the reality was so much better. She stroked him while she sucked his balls, and then her mouth covered him, and he forgot everything but Maggie.

She drew him deep, all the way to the back of her throat, and then she skated her finger under his balls and back, where she rimmed his ass.

The gentle touch, followed by her finger pushing deeper, pushed him past reason. For once he was helpless to control himself, and he flexed and pumped, shouting her name as he released down her throat.

It wasn’t until he finished that he realized he’d been gripping her by the hair.

He let her go, hazy from coming so hard, and tried to shake free of his euphoria. “Sorry, baby. But shit. That was amazing .”

She smiled at him, her eyes so blue he wanted to drown in them. “You liked it.”

“You think? I forgot my own damn name.”

She laughed and kissed him, and he tasted himself on her lips. So fucking sexy.

“Now who’s the master?” she teased.

But he answered honestly. “You are.”

Later in the day, after Maggie left Mac’s and hurried to shower before her brother realized she’d been sexing it up with “that Marine,” Maggie dried off and dressed before noticing the message on her home phone.

After playing it, she had to sit down. She played the message again. And again. Then she raced out the door to the gallery.

She came back home later, in shock and awe that her life seemed to be changing at the speed of light. She’d fallen in love with Mac, and though still alarmed about how much she cared for him, she’d decided to let it happen. Her brother prepared to live close, in Seattle . Her best friend had plans to get married, and the art buyer— who’d arrived a month early—interested in displaying her work at several of the galleries he owned up and down the East Coast wanted not just some, but all of the Maggie’s work Kim had at the store.

With his contacts, Kim had informed her excitedly, Maggie could stop working as a retailer and focus on making her art, not selling other people’s. She could do what she loved for a living .

Maggie didn’t know what to think. She was so stunned she feared jinxing the good news, so she decided to keep it under her hat until she inked the deal in a few days, just before New Year’s, when she’d accompany Evan Stringer back to Philadelphia to see his main gallery and talk figures.

More exciting than just having her own show was having Evan back her. He bought art for high end corporations. Fancy hotel lobbies and boardrooms. And he liked her style. He was talking maybe six figures to commission her talents, and from what he’d said, she would have full control of what she designed as long as it adhered to the color schemes the clients wanted. According to Kim, the man was fantastic, honest, and a hell of a businessman.

When Mac called to see what she was doing in the evening, she invited him over to hang out with her and Trevor. She wanted the pair to get along and see them interact.

Unfortunately, she’d chosen the night’s entertainment poorly. The Scrabble game nearly ended in a fistfight…between her and her brother. She should have remembered how competitive he could get. The following night she tried to be on her best behavior, except Mac insisted on a rematch of game night, this time over some stupid rummy game with tiles. When he beat her twice and rubbed her nose in it, she went for his throat. Trevor had to pull her back because Mac was laughing too hard.

He had the nerve to call her a sore loser.

So the next night she left Trevor at home and met Mac at the gym, where she tried to wear him down in her step class. All the hard-corps steppers joined in, but Mac refused to fade. He did flag a bit in the end, so she counted it a win. But the people in her class acted as if he’d done the impossible by keeping up with her, and he acted victorious, which made the point of all that strenuous exercise moot.

Mac was still laughing when he walked her back to his office and shut the door behind them. “You’re a sore loser. I never would have expected that out of Ms. Sweetness and Light. This is too funny.” He pulled a bottle of water out of his mini-fridge and tossed it to her before grabbing one for himself.

“You know, I’m just trying to show you that you’re not better than me at everything.”

He looked surprised. “Who said I’m better? I’m stronger, sure, but you’re probably quicker. You’re definitely prettier. Smarter… not sure there, but you’re no dim bulb.”

“Thanks, ever so much.”

“And I’d have to say you give better head than I do.”

She deliberately misunderstood. “You’ve blown guys? Really?”

He scowled. “No, blondie. I meant you get me off better than I do you, orally. Jesus.”

She started laughing at the look of disgust on his face and couldn’t stop.

He stepped around her and locked the door, then fixed the shades on the windows on either side of it. This late at night, not many were at the gym. So why would he…?

He had that look in his eye, the one that told her she was about to get fucked. Hard.

“Wait a minute.”

He shook his head.

“I work here,” she whispered harshly, worried someone might know what a locked door meant. But messing around in the office? So naughty.

“I work here too.” He glanced at his desk and calmly cleared it. He crooked his finger.

“No.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

“Oh?” Mac’s grin widened. “Look, Miss. If you don’t want to lose your job, you’ll come here.” He lowered his shorts and showcased a mouthwatering erection.

“You’ll fire me?”she asked in a husky voice, totally turned on despite her astonishment at his threat.

“And I know how much you need this job, what with you looking after sixteen brothers and sisters. You’re so desperate, I can do whatever I want with you.”