Page 64 of Cougar Chronicles

Now what? His cock stiffened. He could make love to her again, but they’d no doubt be interrupted by a knock on the door delivering the food.

He sat down in a nearby chair and leafed through a magazine until the whoosh of water met his ears. She was taking a shower? The image of water droplets trickling over that buxom body caused blood to rush to his groin. He imagined her arching her back, raking her fingers through her long wet hair. Massaging shampoo into her scalp and working it through to the ends, soap dropping from her hair onto her plump breasts, down her soft belly, into the curls between her legs…

Could he join her?

Should he?

The knock on the door saved him from the decision. After the waiter left, Michael popped open the champagne. The strawberries were displayed in a silver bowl with a glass of chocolate syrup in the middle. Perfect. He arranged the two club sandwiches on the table and set the strawberries in the middle. He poured two flutes of champagne and waited for Stacy.

When the water stopped running, his heart began to race. Silly, he knew. He’d already had her, but all he could think about was having her again. He wanted to feed her strawberries, draw circles of chocolate around her luscious nipples and lick them. Chocolate, yes…chocolate on those amazing pussy lips of hers…

She came out of the bathroom clad in one of the hotel robes. Her hair was wet and combed back over her forehead, making her facial features prominent. Her big eyes seemed even bigger and browner, her lips fuller, redder, and perfectly sculpted. Her face was a perfect oval, her cheekbones high and chiseled.

Quite a beauty. He wondered briefly what had led to her divorce. What kind of idiot would let a gem like her go?

He shook his head to clear his thoughts. Developing feelings for Stacy Summers wasnoton the agenda. This was business, pure and simple.

“Hey, beautiful, the food’s here.”

“Sorry, I was feeling all sweaty.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

She laughed. Her laugh was like a tinkling bell, cute and infectious. “Not a bad thing, handsome. I just want to be fresh for you.”

“You look amazing.”

“I look like I just got out of the shower. Not at my best, but clean.”

“Well, I can’t wait to dirty you up again. And that wasn’t fair, by the way.”

“What wasn’t fair?” She squeezed a small amount of water from her hair.

“You taking a shower without me.”

“Oh.” She let out a nervous giggle. “I didn’t actually decide to take a shower until I got into the bathroom. I looked in the mirror and I looked like such a mess, so I—”

“Are you kidding?” He stalked toward her and opened her robe. Her breasts beckoned. “You looked great. There’s nothing sexier than a woman who’s just been fucked.” He took one breast in the palm of his hand. Heavy and plump, it fell in a beautiful mass, filling his hand perfectly. “I’ll forgive you for leaving me out on one condition.”

“What’s that?” She smiled, and her lips trembled a little.

Was she nervous? After what they’d just shared? He squeezed the breast in his hand and ran his thumb over the tight nipple. “Next time you take a shower, you invite me. In fact”—he eyed the table, specifically the strawberries and chocolate—“I think I can guarantee you’ll keep that promise.”

“Oh? How’s that?”

He sauntered to the table, picked up a strawberry, and swirled it in the chocolate. He returned to Stacy, who was still standing with her robe open, her lush breasts in full view. Michael grinned as he touched the chocolate-covered fruit to the tip of one pert nipple.

“I’ll just get you dirty again.”

* * *

Stacy shuddered. The sauce was warm, like hot fudge, and it seemed to light her nipple on fire. The intense heat surged through her and landed between her legs. Michael busied himself painting her other nipple, and as the sauce dripped down over her areolas, her breasts, and her belly, Stacy felt as though she were dripping to the floor as well. Fresh nectar gushed from her pussy and dripped down her thighs.

What was going on? Confusion coursed through her brain like a speeding bullet. Why was Michael Moretti doing this to her? What on earth did he see in Stacy Oppenheimer, introvert extraordinaire? The girl who walked into a room and was invisible?

Maybe she should lay it on the table and just ask him.

“Michael.”

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