Page 54 of The Question of Us
I wrapped my hands around his head to hold him in place and delivered a couple of shallow thrusts between his tight lips. And oh god, holy shit, I exploded into his mouth in a pulsing wave of white-hot pleasure as he groaned and dug his fingers into my arse, feeding my cock deeper into that silken throat as he swallowed every drop until I was done.
I jerked with the final pulse and pushed him away. He fell back, looking punch-drunk as I slid from the vanity, wobbled on my jelly legs for a second, and then shoved a gasping Nick back against the door.
“Breathe, baby,” I whispered as his eyes slid lazily to mine. “Goddammit, look at you. So fucking gorgeous with my come all over your lips.” I pulled his head down to lick them clean and then kissed him, the salty taste of my spill fresh on his tongue.It made my fifty-five-year-old cock twitch with a thought that passed just as quickly, not that I gave a fuck about that.
Nick groaned and took the kiss deeper, his arms sliding around my waist as my hand found his cock and started to work it hard.
“Your turn,” I murmured against his open mouth, and Nick muttered something soft and out of reach. I licked deep into his mouth and he groaned, the back of his head connecting with the door.
“So good,” he breathed the words, his head rolling from side to side. But when I made to lower my head to take his cock in my mouth, he stopped me. “No.” He caught my eye. “Just... like... this. Love it.”
I studied his face for a second, wondering if he thought he was going easy on me, but the neediness in those grey eyes spoke the truth. “All righty then.” I hooked the bathroom chair with my foot and dragged it over. “Leg up.”
He lifted one foot onto the chair, allowing my free hand to reach behind his balls and find his hole.
“Argh... oh shit. F-fuck.” His eyes fluttered closed, his attention lost to the pleasure building in his body.
I focused on maintaining some kind of rhythm between stroking his cock and fingering his arse. A wave of expressions crossed Nick’s face, every one of them down to me. What had I done to deserve this? To deservehim. I stretched up to kiss his lips, his grey stubble sharp against my skin.
“Mads,” he groaned, his tongue lightning quick in my mouth.
Mads, not Davis. I smiled. An image of Nick’s deceased husband flickered in my brain, there and gone in an instant. I felt nothing but gratitude.
You’ll always have a place in his heart.I threw the words out into the universe.I’ll take care of him from now on, I promise.
As if he’d heard, Nick made a strangled sound, sought my lips once again, and thrust sharply into my hand. He was close, his orgasm knocking at the door. So close.
“Let go, baby,” I soothed. “I’ve got you.”
The web of lines around his eyes and mouth tightened in that desperate need for release. The calm before the storm. At some point, he stopped kissing me, leaving his teeth pressed against my lips as he groaned into my open mouth.
A few thrusts later and he yanked me tight against him, muscles tense as he humped my hip, sandwiching my hand and his dick between us, making it hard to keep the cadence.
I gave up on Nick’s cock and focused on fucking his arse instead, curling my finger just so to make sure I hit that sweet spot. It didn’t take much to have him arching against the wall, breath held, body rigid, eyelids screwed tight as he came on a long, drawn-out groan, spilling between us until our bellies were slick with his come.
I stared, eyes locked on Nick’s face, frozen in place as I marvelled just how much my life had changed in six months.This man. Brash. Blunt. Abrasive. Irritating. Kind. Tender. Vulnerable. Thoughtful. This remarkably complex man had walked into my life and flipped it upside down. The biggest miracle of all? Nick genuinely wanted me.Me.No one in my fifty-five years had ever wanted just me. Had ever made me feel like I was actually worth it. Like I was something to be treasured and cherished. Like I really meant something.
I had no words.
I couldn’t describe how much Nick had changed the trajectory of my life. Even if we didn’t make it, I would never be the same person I’d been before I met him. My expectations had changed. I wouldn’t settle for being wallpaper in my own life. I wanted more now. I wanted love. I wanted a relationship that felt like... well, like this.
But most of all, I wanted him. I wanted Nick.
He slumped against the door, gasping for air. I freed my hands and reached for a cloth. Then I wrapped him in my arms and whispered sappy nothings against his throat, kissing him between each one while his body slowly calmed.
Things like: So beautiful. So sweet. Let me hold you. I’m here. Let me bring you back. Big breath, baby. Love your body. Every gorgeous centimetre. Love your touch. The way you move. So good. So, fucking good.
At length, Nick pushed me back a way, a wry smile playing on his lips. “You love this fifty-something body, huh? Kind of a low bar, wouldn’t you say?”
I didn’t smile. Instead, I pressed a hand over the owl on his chest and said, “Yes.Thisfifty-something body. Every grey hair and wrinkle. Every line of experience. Every scar on your skin and all those invisible ones too.” I tapped the owl over his heart. “There’s wisdom in this heart, and that’s sexy too.”
He searched my face and then kissed the end of my nose. “So you say.”
I narrowed my gaze. “I do say. The best sex is a lot more complicated than just two young, hot bodies coming together. That’s just wrapping paper. Youthful sex doesn’t always live up to the hype, something you often don’t understand until you get older and have your eyes opened. When both your heart and soul kick in and the focus moves outside of yourself to giving and not receiving.” I thought about my words and sighed. “Not that I’ve had a lot of experience with that until—” I caught his eye. “—well, you, I suppose.”
Nick stared at me, although maybe gaped was closer to the mark. “You think we have that?”
I frowned, feeling suddenly vulnerable. “You . . . don’t?”
