Page 71 of The Cuddle Clause
I didn’t think. I didn’t breathe. My hands found skin, the hem of her dress. We didn’t undress fully… didn’t have the time, the space, the calm. Everything was too frantic, too wired. My shirt was open. Her bra pushed aside.
She was warm and real and in my arms, anchoring me to the world.
I couldn’t tell what part of it was anger and what part was need. I didn’t know whether she kissed me because she despised me or because she didn’t know how else to saydon’t go. Maybe both. Maybe neither.
Maybe this whole thing was fucking doomed.
But when she gasped against my neck and clutched my back like she was afraid I’d vanish, I thought that perhaps it didn’t have to be. Maybe this could work even if it scared the shit out of me. Even if we didn’t know how to stop breaking each other’s hearts with our mouths.
We moved together on the couch in a mess of tension and want and words we couldn’t say, limbs tangled and touching each other hungrily. Her fingers curled into the hair at the nape of my neck, and I pressed my forehead to hers.
And for one brief, breathless second, I stopped thinking and just felt.
I lay on my back, lungs still working overtime from the storm that had just torn through us. My chest rose and fell like I’d run miles, but I hadn’t moved. Maggie had done that to me with nothing more than her mouth and a few brutal truths.
Sunlight striped across her shoulders as she hovered above me, casting gold into the hollow of her throat and the bend of her waist. Her hair was a mess—wild and falling into her eyes—and her lips were parted just slightly, still pink from kissing and biting and telling me exactly who I’d been to her tonight.
I didn’t deserve this. I didn’t deserve her. But that didn’t stop me from wanting her like I’d never wanted anything else.
She shifted lower on the couch, the heat of her bare skin dragging against mine as she moved. I sucked in a breath when her fingers slipped under the waistband of my jeans. Her hands were unhurried. Gentle but sure. She pushed the denim down my hips and freed me from my boxers, her knuckles brushing the underside of my cock with just enough pressure that my entire body tensed.
I looked down at her—half desperate, half wrecked already—and her eyes caught mine, holding. No shame. No hesitation. Just quiet intensity. As if shewantedthis. Wantedme.
When her mouth touched me, my brain went quiet.
It was like being submerged in heat. Her lips were soft, slow, almost teasing at first, like she was figuring out exactly what I liked and how I liked it. Her tongue dragged along the tip, just a flick at first, then a steady, deliberate swirl that made my hips twitch. A groan clawed its way up my throat at the sensation.
She wrapped her hand around me and took me deeper, tongue pressed to the sensitive spot at the underside of my cock.
I gritted my teeth. “Maggie?—”
My name on her lips always undid me. Butmy cockon her lips? That was a whole different kind of destruction.
Her cheeks hollowed out as she took me deeper inch by slow inch. Her tongue swirled around me as she sucked, her lips tightening around me as she worked me over. Each motion was smoother. More confident. More devastating.
I couldn’t think. Couldn’t speak. I dug my fingers into the couch cushions to keep some semblance of control.
My hips flexed without permission. She didn’t pull away. She moaned around me, the sound vibrating through her throat and down my spine like an earthquake.
“Jesus,” I gasped, head slamming back into the cushion. I threaded my fingers through her hair, not pulling, just needing to touchher. To tether myself to her. “You’re gonna kill me.”
She didn’t stop. If anything, she got bolder, taking more of me in one fluid motion, her nose brushing my stomach. I choked on air, every nerve in my body lighting up like a flare.
And still, she kept eye contact.
That was the part that shattered me. Shewatchedme while doing it. She wanted to see me fall apart. Sheneededto see it.
And I gave it to her.
My thighs trembled. My abs tightened. I was trying—fighting—to hold on, to make it last. But every slick, warm slide of her mouth pulled me closer to the edge. Her hand stroked what her mouth couldn’t take, twisting just right, keeping perfect rhythm with her tongue as she sucked me back in.
My whole body locked up. “Maggie,” I groaned, helpless now.
My hips lifted off the couch, her name breaking on my lips. She didn’t stop, didn’t pull back.
And I broke. Hard.
The world narrowed to the heat of her mouth and the sound of her breathing and the overwhelming rush ofher. My climax ripped through me in a violent, glorious crash. She kept her mouth on me until I was shaking, ruined, chest heaving like I’d run through a thunderstorm.
