Accidentally…Evil? (Accidentally Yours #3.5)(11)
Author: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

Ironically, the graphic threat didn’t sour Maggie’s impression of Chaam; it cemented the truth in her bones. He was a deity. How had she not seen it? The power and authority he yielded leaked from every word, every gesture. Even Cimil’s blasé response—eye rolling and foot stomping, but never showing fear—indicated she was not of this world. Or maybe that was a sign of her bat-shit craziness? Who knew?

Chaam watched Cimil’s silhouette fade into the night and then threw two logs on the waning campfire. “Are you ready?”

“Ready?” Maggie asked.

He dipped his head. “Yes. Ready.”

Maggie’s entire body solidified into a mass of tense muscles. “You mean…”

He made no production of reaching for the buttons of her dress.

“Wait!” She gripped his hand. “I want to know something.”

“Yes?” His eyes flickered with impatience.

“You said that you’d waited for me your entire existence?”

He nodded and a warm glowing smile stretched across his lips. And yes, she pathetically melted inside.

“Are you absolutely sure it’s me?” she blurted.

He nodded again. “I think I knew from the moment I touched you. Fate brought us together. I feel it.”

She felt it too now. At least, that’s what she thought she felt. It was so dang difficult to believe. “But what if you’re mistaken?”

“I am never wrong about such things.”

“I’ll need a little more than that if I’m going to give myself to you.”

He didn’t bother to contemplate a response. “I have spent thousands upon thousands of years assisting mortals bond with their true loves. I have become very adept at recognizing the signs of two souls meant for one another.”

“But didn’t you say you’re the God of Male…” Oh, what was it? Whoopee? Friskiness? Horniness.

“Virility,” he said.

“Yes, that. Which means you help men…”

“Have sex. But I do not waste my time with those who simply want to f**k. Although, f**king,” he slid his finger over the curve of her jaw, “certainly has its place and purpose.”

To hear him say that word in that way spiked her mind with vivid sexual images. Images that sent her heart on a thumping rampage. God, she actually wanted him to say it again.

“I help males,” he continued, “who have found their true love but have lost their way and are unable to take that next, all-important step. Sometimes it is fear of rejection or fear they will not please the woman, especially if it is his first time.”

“But why do you only help men?” she said.

He gave her a “you-must-be-joking” look.

“What? It’s a legitimate question.”

“Because,” he replied, “men are idiots.”

Can’t argue there.

“More precisely, they are idiots when it comes to intimacy. Women have a natural gift for such things.”

Again. Can’t argue there.

“What do you do to help them?” she asked.

He shrugged like a man who had all the answers. “Depends on the situation. Sometimes, it’s merely a question of removing the negative energy they’ve accumulated—fear is like a cancer of the spirit. Other times, I must compel them to simply push ahead, so to speak. And then there are those occasions when I must teach them precisely what to do.”

She swallowed. “Teach them? You-you mean actually show them how to…?”

He reached for her hand and kissed the inside of her wrist. The roughness of his whiskers and the soft warmth of his lips speared right through her central nervous system.

“Oh yes,” he whispered. “I show them how to please a woman, specifically, their woman. Every female is different.”

Her insides clenched. “You-you know what every woman wants?”

He stepped in and pressed his tall, powerful frame against her. “Yes. It is a gift.” He leaned in slowly and placed his lips to her ear. “I merely look at a female, and I know.” He brushed his lips down the length of her neck.

“Wha-wha-what is it that I wa-wa-want?” Brain? Are you there? Please don’t abandon me now.

His hot breath tickled the curve of her neck.

Oooh. Yes. She wanted that. How did he know?

He placed a soft, sucking kiss over the same spot and then pulled her against the hardness between his legs.

Yesss. That too. Horsefeathers… he’s good.

He then slanted his hot lips possessively over hers, slid his tongue past her teeth, and rhythmically stroked her mouth in time with the rocking of his hips.

Suddenly, a wild and uninhibited Margaret she never knew existed took over. This Margaret didn’t care about propriety or anything rational. This Margaret panted and clawed and wanted him deeper. This Margaret returned each thrust of his tongue with one of her own and desired only to devour every male inch of his large, insanely hard body.

With a frantic flurry of hands and kisses, Chaam stripped away her dress and undergarments and backed her into the finely woven hammock. She raised her hand to pull him down with her, but he moved back and drilled her with his turquoise gaze, willing her to stay put.

Chaam leisurely slid off his white cotton trousers and straightened to his full height. Shoulders broad and straight, he proudly displayed each unbreakable ripple of his abdomen, the swells of his chest, and the sexy, unmistakably masculine patch of black hair surrounding the one object she’d crudely obsessed over since she’d first spotted him toweling off. She’d not seen his manhood then, but now she stared right at the thing. It jutted into the air like a thick saber made of solid flesh.

She squirmed just a little as the heat between her legs made it abundantly clear that his large, pulsing erection was exactly what she needed to ease the aching tension deep inside.

Are you kidding? Look at the size of that thing. Do you really think it’s going to feel pleasant?

Wild Margaret went running for the hills.

“What’s the matter?” He glanced over one shoulder and then the other. “Is that damned jaguar back?”

“No, it’s… well, I’ve never…” She scrutinized her body, then his daunting erection.

“Oh. I see.” He relaxed with a cocky smile. “Not to worry, hammocks have been around for thousands of years. I assure you it is very secure. And,” he paused, “I know what I’m doing.”

“No. I meant your size is so…” Drat. How should I say it? “You’re large, all right? Really damned large, and I—”