Dream Maker Page 23
He pulled in a deep breath.
And then he whispered, “It gets worse than that.”
“All right.”
All right?
“Honey, you gotta—”
She shook he head. “Stop it, Danny, we’ll handle it when it happens. We’ve handled enough for today, doncha think?”
Yeah.
He thought.
More than enough.
“And we’re here,” she continued. “We might be a little worse for the wear but we’re here. Let’s just eat ice cream, watch TV, I’ll get you some water to take your pill and then tomorrow is another day.” She smiled. “And another day off because I can’t strip with a shiner.”
His eyes moved over her face thinking that he already knew he could fall in love with this woman.
What he was figuring out was he was about to head into free fall.
And he was not going to reach out a hand to grab hold of anything.
It was coming clear he was good to just…
Drop.
Mag opened his eyes and saw dark.
But he felt nagging pain in his shoulder.
He also felt Evie’s head resting on the other one and her arm along his gut.
He was still up on the pillows, and it hit him that he’d fallen asleep in the middle of ice cream. Then she’d obviously turned out the lights, switched off the TV, and snuggled up to him on top of the covers, probably so she wouldn’t disturb him.
And she hadn’t.
He hadn’t woken up.
He also hadn’t taken a painkiller, which right then he knew was a mistake.
Last, he was a stomach or side sleeper and he needed to move, but couldn’t, because Dr. Baldwin told him to sleep a few days in the sling, on his back, elevated.
But he was uncomfortable.
The only good thing about his position was Evie cozied up to him, though she’d trapped his arm against his side with her warm softness.
To try to fool his body into a semblance of comfort, he stretched his legs and carefully pushed his arm under her so he could wrap it around her.
He didn’t go careful enough.
Her head moved on his shoulder, her body shifted against his, pressing closer, and her hold across his stomach tightened.
Fuck.
Just that from his Evie and he was getting hard.
She tipped her head back and he felt her push her face to his neck.
“You awake, honey?” she mumbled.
“Go back to sleep, baby,” he replied.
She moved again, which meant he had more of her weight, including her tits pressed to his side.
Jesus.
“You sound really awake,” she said.
“I’m fine. Go back to sleep.”
She lifted her head. “Are you in pain?”
He moved his hand to run the tips of his fingers soothingly along her back.
The problem with that was, her cami had ridden up and his fingers hit soft, smooth skin.
Christ.
“I’m good, promise,” he lied.
She misinterpreted the tightness in his voice and shifted again, murmuring, “I’m gonna go get you a pill.”
But Mag curled his arm around her and clamped tight. “Don’t want you to move.”
“Is my moving hurting you?”
Everything about her was agony right then, but not that way.
He should have known he wouldn’t be able to make it through a night with Evie in his bed.
He’d agreed to it because she didn’t want to be alone.
And because he wanted her in his bed.
“No,” he grunted.
He must have communicated something in that grunt because her voice went soft and sweet in a way he felt right in his dick when she whispered, “I think we’re gonna get up to some shenanigans.”
That tone in her words?
Her body pressed to his?
Oh yeah, they were.
She pushed up as he turned, and when her mouth slammed into his, she only smushed his lips a little against his teeth.
But to be fair, it wasn’t all her.
He was right there with her.
Though Mag didn’t mind because, right after, when he offered his tongue, she sucked it deep.
As usual with his Evie, the heat shot through the stratosphere the moment they tasted each other.
He’d never had that with a woman. That zero to ten thousand with a taste.
But there it was again.
In his bed.
This meant the sling had to go.
He pushed away, she heard the click of the clasp, whispered, “Danny” uncertainly, but he slid the fucking thing off, tossed it, and went back in.
He took her mouth, tangled himself up in her and her protests were gone.
When she was pressing close, seeking his now rock-hard cock with her hips, her hands all over his back, in his hair, and her mouth got greedy, he put his hand up her cami to go for her tit and he knew he already had her way in the zone when she didn’t let that happen.
Oh no.
Her arms went right up so he’d pull the cami off.
This he did, then cupped her breast and lifted it, bending to it, the nag in his shoulder only a nuisance in his bid to get his mouth around her nipple.
He pulled deep, felt his gut tighten when it budded on his tongue and felt the sound of her moan blaze right through his balls.
Her nails scraped his scalp, her other hand dove into the back of his shorts and curled into his ass.
Fucking hell, she was hot.
Sweet and hot.
He returned to her mouth and she breathed, “Danny,” against his lips, rubbing up against him, using her hand at his ass to press him closer, and on instinct, his hand went to her belly, down into her shorts, and in.
Oh yeah.
Fuck yeah.
His Evie.
Sweet.
Hot.
And wet.
She whimpered and started riding his fingers before he even got one to her clit.
“Baby,” he growled appreciatively.
“Yes…yes, that feels…nice,” she gasped.
Nice didn’t cover it.
It felt so nice, he wanted more.
So, he glided a finger hard over her clit and up inside her sleek wet.
Her head fell back, her nails dug in and she started riding that.
Christ.
She was perfect.
That said…
“Evie,” he slid his finger out and lazily circled her clit, “let’s slow it down, honey.”
Her response was to slide her hand that was in his shorts over his hip and latch onto his dick.
All right.
Fuck yeah.
Guess they weren’t going to go slow.
With her hand at his cock, he was way down with that too.
She stroked.
He groaned.
She kissed him.
He took over and pressed her to her back.
He returned to finger fucking her and she jacked him while they went at each other’s mouths like kissing was going to be outlawed.
He was about to call it and move on to the next portion of the festivities, his choice, going down on her, when she moaned a warning, needy, “Danny,” against his mouth.
All right.
He’d go down on her in the morning.
He rolled off, at the same time tearing her shorts and panties down her legs.
She went after his shorts as he went after a condom in his nightstand.
They were both naked and she had her mouth all over his chest and neck, her hands all over his stomach and nipples as he tore it open and rolled it on.
And then Evie…
Christ, his Evie…
He barely got the condom to the root, and she was up, swinging on to take a ride.
Mag couldn’t stop his smile.
He did stop her from taking over by angling up, ignoring the flash of
pain in his shoulder, and grabbing her hips as he rolled them in the bed.
When he had her on her back with him on top, between her legs, he ran his hands over her ass, down the backs of her thighs, lifting her knees.
She dove between them and commandeered his cock.
There was humor in the thickness of his tone when he said, “Baby.”
“Hurry.”
“This isn’t a race,” he pointed out.
“It’s been a long time, Danny. A long time.”
Well then.
It was his job to take care of his woman.
And something like that needed to be taken care of immediately.
He took her mouth, wrapped his fingers around hers at his dick, and they both guided it where it needed to be.
Their hands moved away, and with a slow, smooth glide, he was seated deep in her tight sleek wet.
Good Christ.
Good Christ.
Yeah.
She was perfect.
His Evie, she fit like a glove.
In so many ways.
Mag slid his mouth to her ear and whispered, “You good?”
“Yeah,” she panted, her hands roaming his back, hot and urgent. “You?”
“Oh yeah.”
“Honey?” she called.
“Yeah?”
She turned her head and nipped his earlobe with her teeth, which sent a shiver down his neck and over his back before she begged, “Move.”
He smiled against the skin of her neck.
Then he moved.
He didn’t want it wild, and not because of his wound.
This was good. This was right. This was them.
The beginning of them.
He wanted them both to be present. He wanted them both to be aware. To fall into the experience in a way they’d remember it.
Evan had other ideas, he knew it when she jacked a long leg up high and pressed it tight to his side, wound her other leg around his ass, clamped on with both hands, also at his ass, and squeezed her demand.
She wanted it that way?
Mag was all about giving his girl what she wanted.
So, he let go and rode her wild, the forearm of his healthy side in the bed to hold some of his weight, his other hand between them to make certain she got there.
She got there, fuck, and it sounded almost as good as it felt, with her dragging her nails up his spine and moaning his name low and long, her pussy closing like a fist around his cock.
And all that meant she took him there, his world minimizing to his bed, his woman, their connection, groaning his orgasm into the skin of her neck.
When he came down, he heard her heavy breaths mingling with his labored ones, felt her cunt still spasming around his dick, and the fire in his shoulder made itself known.
This meant he rolled, keeping them connected, so she was on top, and the pain eased.
Her breath breezed across his throat, her hair had come out of its knot and was all over his face, and her little tits pressed against his chest felt almost as good as her pussy wrapped around his cock.
“You didn’t answer,” he told the dark ceiling, “so I will. It’s official. I’m your boyfriend.”
She was still a second before she giggled and tilted her head to press her nose against the underside of his jaw.
“Should I make you a plaque?” she asked.
“I’ll set it on my workstation,” he answered.
She giggled again.
He gave her ass a squeeze, lifted her off and rolled her to her back beside him.
He pressed a kiss to her chest before he rolled the other way, moved through the dark to the bathroom, dealt with the condom and switched on the lights. Blinking away the bright, he had the lights on only long enough to check his bandages to make sure there was no blood and in their “shenanigans” he didn’t do any further damage.
All he saw was white, so he switched off the lights and rejoined Evie in bed.
She cuddled into him and he took her in with his hands, noting she’d put her cami and panties back on, not the shorts.
“You need your sling,” she whispered into his throat.
“Yeah,” he agreed reluctantly.
“Do you need a painkiller?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he told her even more reluctantly.
She didn’t say dick.
She kissed his jaw, slid away, left the room and he found the sling and was putting it on when she came back with a glass of water.
He clicked the thing in place. She handed him the water then reached beyond him, her body brushing his, to nab the bottle of pills.
She shook one out, handed that to him too, then did the reaching thing again to put the bottle back.
All of this even though that bottle was closer to him and he could do it.
But he sensed he shouldn’t.
This was Evie.
Like him, she needed to be taking care of somebody.
He slugged down the pill and she grabbed the covers to pull over them when he was setting the glass aside.
They settled back in, just as they had been when he woke, except with the covers on, and Mag found nothing uncomfortable about it anymore.
“That was really…wow,” she whispered to his chest.
He smiled into the dark and tightened his hold on her.
“Danny?” she called.
“Right here,” he answered.
He couldn’t see it.
But he could feel it.
His brief answer was another Toothpaste Moment. He knew it with the way she stiffened, then settled, offering him more weight.
So he was shocked as shit when she shared, “You’re really so not my type.”
He took a beat.
Then busted out laughing.
She lifted her head and he felt her watching him through the dark.
He stopped laughing when she laid her hand on his cheek, he felt the new vibe of the room and stared at her shadowed face.
“Words obviously don’t suffice. But thank you for getting shot for me.”
“Baby, it shouldn’t have gotten—”
She interrupted him to say, “You see it as a failure. What you need to see is, I’m a woman who spent her whole life twisting myself into knots trying to make people I loved love me. And now I find myself with a man who’s not only willing to take a bullet for me, he does that and ends the day throwing a shot glass across the room, angry at himself because someone harmed me.” She moved her hand to stroke his jaw and continued, “I see it from your perspective, honey. What you need to do is see it from mine, what that means to me, especially with the life I’ve led and then,” she dipped to brush her lips against his before she finished, “just let it go.”
Just let it go.
With a guttural noise, he slid his hand into her hair and held her mouth to his.
The kiss he gave her had depth, it was wet, but there was only a little heat because they’d both just come, she’d gotten him over his fuckup, she’d had a tough day, and he needed to let his girl sleep.
So, he ended it and tucked her face into his neck.
“You good?” she asked.
“So good,” he answered.
“Good,” she whispered and snuggled closer. “’Night, Danny.”
“Goodnight, baby.”
It didn’t take long before the pill started working, but Mag fought it.
Until he felt Evie slide into dreamland.
Only then did he let go and join her.
Chapter Sixteen
Cinnamon Marshmallow Clusters
Evie
I woke up with Mag’s mouth on my neck and his hand gliding over my belly.
When I opened my eyes, I saw dark and I didn’t know if it was because it was still night or it was early morning.
I didn’t care what it was, not with Mag touching me the way he was.
“Honey?” I called sleepily, reaching for him.
“You were snoring,” he murmur
ed against my neck.
Oh my God.
Oh no.
Snoring was bad.
I knew people who broke up with a partner who snored.
And there I was, snoring during our first sleep-together!
“Fuckin’ cute,” he kept murmuring as his fingertips slid under the elastic of my panties and skated across skin.
Oo.
That felt nice.
Apparently, my snoring wasn’t a turnoff.
My hands encountered skin too (which almost felt better, but not quite) as I whispered, “Only you would think snoring is cute.”
“Mm,” he hummed.
Okay.
He was in a mood.
And I was totally in that same mood.
Oh yeah.
My hips shifted to give nonverbal instructions to his hand.
But it only served to make Mag give verbal instructions.
“Take these off,” he growled, tracing his fingers to my hip and tugging my panties.
I did not hesitate a nanosecond.
He pulled away and removed his sling.
I got those panties gone.
He tossed the covers from us and rolled back to me.
Just…
Lower.
Oh.
My.
God.
Yes!
An important thought pushed through my sleepy-morning-sex-Mag-was-about-to-go-down-on-me haze and I started, “Your…”
I was going to finish arm but didn’t because his mouth closed over me.
Yes.
Yes.
Yesyesyesyesyes.
He was good at that.
Right from the get-go!
I slid my fingers in his awesome hair.
Mag ate me, and he did it tremendously, and he kept doing it until I exploded, bursting into molecules, and it felt so good, I didn’t care I was nothing but a loosely connected mass of happy atoms, floating in the air.
When I was still coming down, he rolled off and up to lie back on the pillows.
I rolled over and on.
“Baby,” he murmured, his hands tracking up the tops of my thighs that were straddling his hips.
“Condom,” I mumbled, sliding my hands all over his freaking phenomenal chest.
Good to look at.
Way better to touch.
“That was for you. You don’t have to—”
I put my lips to his and demanded, “Condom.”
He didn’t make me ask again.
In fact, I had to lift up because he reached to his nightstand.