Page 86 of Sirens
“Townsend Harbor has always had more secrets than a speakeasy, see?” Trent quipped in his best Edward G. Robinson voice. “And you, Maggie Michaels, are just the dame to crack ’em wide open, read all about it, yeah.” He flicked a fake cigar.
Her laughter bubbled over her irritation, genuine and rich, and for a moment all the aloofness that clouded her earlier melted away, leaving behind a woman whose passion for history was decorated by the curves she wore so confidently.
“How about you cut yourself a break?” he suggested, pulling her from outside into the insulation of the indoor walkway, where the window ledges were just wide enough to lean against. The man-sized red light turned and turned on well-oiled axles at shoulder height, making them appear as disembodied torsos standing above a black void. “You’ve uncovered more truth about this town’s past in a couple weeks than anyone could have in a century. Just because you didn’t find an answer here, doesn’t mean you won’t follow your impeccable nose to where it hides.”
He pressed his lips against the tip of that nose, if only to warm it.
And damned if the sprightly woman didn’t turn the innocent gesture up to ten.
As her lips met his, Trent felt a shiver run down his spine. Her soft, luscious mouth was supple as velvet against his own, electrifying every nerve ending in his body. He couldn’t help butdeepen the kiss, hungrily exploring her mouth with his tongue, seeking out hers in a passionate dance. His heart raced in his chest, thudding erratically against his ribcage as he lost himself in the moment.
God, he loved everything about the feel of her against him. The way her plump thighs pressed against his, the softness of her stomach as it conformed to his hard abs. He felt more alive than he had in years. Trent knew then and there that he was falling for her, but he pushed those thoughts aside for now, focusing instead on the intoxicating feelings coursing through him.
Tentatively, Maggie reached down toward his pants, caressing him through the fabric. He couldn’t help but moan into her mouth as she began to unbutton his slacks with practiced ease. Her hand dipped beneath his waistband, grasping his rapidly hardening length. Trent gasped as her fingers encircled him, stroking up and down in a steady rhythm that had him seeing stars.
She broke the kiss then, giving him a sultry look as she sank to her knees. The red glow of the lighthouse bathed her face in an ethereal light as she maintained eye contact.
“Let me taste you,” she purred, freeing him fully from the confines of his pants.
Trent could only nod mutely, watching as she took him into her warm, wet mouth. Her lips stretched around his thickness as she began to move, swirling her tongue skillfully along his sensitive skin. He braced himself against the window ledge, fighting to remain upright as waves of pleasure crashed through him.
Looking down, he could just make out her silhouette in the dim light, silky hair spilling over her shoulders, full breasts pressed against his thighs. She worked him steadily, moaning around his length, the vibrations shooting straight to his core.
It was all Trent could do not to finish right then and there. He threaded his fingers through her hair, gently guiding her pace. The sight of this incredible, passionate woman on her knees unstitched something tight inside of him.
He focused on the open ocean beyond the lighthouse window, the endless expanse of water merging with the night sky along the horizon. The waves rolled and crashed below them in time with Maggie’s movements.
Her lips and tongue were a perfect kind of magic, and Trent did everything he could to extend the moment. He tightened his fingers in her hair as she took him even deeper. The beam from the lighthouse swept over them, illuminating Maggie’s voluptuous curves. The rapture in her expression. The muscles working in her mouth. Her lithe fingers encircling his cock, the moisture of her mouth slick down the entire length, pulling a release from as deep as the root of his spine.
Fuck.He couldn’t let himself come yet. Not. Yet.
Just as he was about to reach the point of no return, Maggie slowed her pace, lightly grazing her teeth along his sensitive skin. She looked up at him with a sultry gaze and grinned wickedly.
“Maggie…” Her name was dragged from his throat in a raw plea.
Stop. Don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.
Don’t go.
I’m falling in love with you.
Her eyes rolled away from him as if she could handle the thick cock grazing the back of her throat, but not the intensity of his gaze or the words he wasn’t strong enough to say.
Her eyes widened as she looked up.
“Omph mif Gawrgh!” she struggled to declare around the thick rod of sex she’d sucked into her mouth.
He meant to pull out, but she tightened her fingers around the base, clamping her lips ruthlessly, forcing a climax to slam into him with all the force of a Japanese bullet train. All he could do was brace himself against the window ledge as Maggie’s talented mouth milked every last drop from him. The pleasure was so intense, it felt like his vision whitewashed for a moment, reduced to pinpricks of red and blue as the lighthouse’s rotating beam illuminated their passionate encounter.
She even. Fucking. Swallowed.
He was in so much trouble.
Rather than pull her up, Trent let the starch go all the way out of his knees and sank to kneel before her, intent on returning the favor. When he reached to kiss her, she batted his hands away, ducking beneath the window ledge. “Holy fucking shitballs!” she exclaimed, taking her phone out of her coat pocket and shining the flashlight up beneath the ledge.
Trent somehow wrestled himself together and zipped up before he dared speak, using the precious seconds to try to figure out just what the fuck had happened.
“Maggie,” he panted, collapsing to sit until his thighs stopped twitching. “Christ, Maggie, I?—”
