Page 35 of Filthy Little Midlife Fling

This woman has made life worth living, and I’ve known her less than a week. I can never go back to how things were before she crashed into my tree. Never.

“This is a bad idea,” she says, fingernails digging into my shoulders.

I pull the neckline of her tee aside and kiss her collarbone, my other hand squeezing and shaping her perfect breast. “You want me to stop?”

Her voice is breathless when she gasps, “No.”

That’s the only encouragement I need. I have her shirt off in an instant, tossing it onto the newly cleaned floor. Grabbing her waist, I lift her onto the edge of the desk and notch myself between her legs. Her leggings feel smooth beneath my palms as I lift her knees to bracket my waist.

Audrey leans back slightly, and I get a fantastic view of her body. She’s dressed in black leggings and a pink sports bra, her waist nipping in above the flare of her wide hips. Her skin is soft as silk as I slide my hands up her sides, tracing the edge of her bra straps with my fingertips.

She shivers in response, lids dropping low.

“How is it possible that you haven’t had a man treat you right? Look at you, Audrey. You’re gorgeous.”

I wrap my hand around the back of her neck and bring my mouth to hers. Kissing Audrey lights a fire inside me. It burns hotter as I swipe my tongue over hers, as she clings to me with sharp fingernails. I hope they leave marks. I want the imprint of her on me so I remember what it feels like to be just like this.

Audrey pulls away, panting, then lifts her bra off over her head.

“Fuck,” I groan, then press her down onto the desk with a hand on her sternum. She complies, and I fold my body over hers to take a nipple into my mouth. Her tits are magnificent. I knead one while I suck the other, scraping my teeth over her pebbled nipple. Her hands grip my hair as she arches into my touch. My cock is so hard it hurts.

The taste of her skin sends my mind into a tailspin. I gasp against her breast, using my hands to plump them up so I can take more of it into my mouth. When I pinch her nipples between my thumbs and forefingers, she lets out a low moan, so I do it again.

“Remy,” she pants. “Please.”

“Please what, gorgeous?”

“Please—” She writhes beneath me, reaching for my cock. I tug her hips toward the edge of the desk and grind myself between her legs. She falls back on the desk, rolling her hips to meet every movement of my own. All thoughts have fled my mind.

I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I want her. I haven’t been so close to making a mess of my underwear since I was a horny, hormonal teenager. I’m dry-humping the woman of my dreams in a mindless, frantic daze.

“You want my cock?” I ask, voice dark and low.

“Yes.”

“Say it.”

The look Audrey gives me is full of venom, and my dick lurches. My next-door neighbor is a sweetheart who loves to bake pies and brownies, but right now she looks mad enough to spit. The thought makes me so hot I get dizzy.

“Say it, sweetheart,” I tell her, hooking her legging-clad leg over my hip to grind harder. Her core is red-hot; I can feel it through our clothes. I want to get inside her so bad I can’t think of anything else.

She whimpers, and I know I’ve hit her right where she needs me. With too many layers of clothes between us, I grind my cock against her clit again. Again. Again.

“I want your cock,” Audrey says, breathless—and the leash that had been keeping me under some semblance of control finally snaps.

TWELVE

AUDREY

Remy’s movements are rough as he pulls back and hooks his fingers around the high waistband of my leggings. In one swift movement, he tugs my pants and my underwear off, letting them drop to the ground below. Then he grabs my thighs and spreads me wide.

I’ve never had a man look at me like this, and suddenly I understand what Laurel was trying to tell me. I’m beautiful and powerful and sexy. I am a woman in her prime. In this moment I could ask for anything, and he’d bend over backward to give it to me.

But when I repeat, “Remy, give me your cock,” he gets a feral light in his eyes. His hands skim up my thighs and over my hips. His thumbs brush on either side of where I’m wet and wanting.

“Not yet,” he growls, and I want to punch him.

I’m so empty.

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