Page 40 of Filthy Little Midlife Fling

“I’m processing,” she replies, grinding against my touch. “There’s a lot happening right now.”

I shift my hold on her so she can use the heel of my hand to take her pleasure. “Process a bit faster, sweetheart.”

“Maybe…” Her fingers move against my neck, like she’s stopping herself from unclasping her hands. “Remy,” she starts again. “What…”

My brain is full of white noise. There’s a woman writhing on my lap, and all the oxygen has left my brain to do what it needs to do between my legs. I want to make her shatter. I want to make her mine.

But I can’t. There are reasons I can’t remember right now, but I know I’m not supposed to be doing this. Then my hand is dipping beneath the neckline of her dress to cup her breast, and she’s arching against my chest like I’ve just electrocuted her. Her nipple is hard against my palm. I squeeze her soft flesh and press the heel of my other hand where she’s wet and hot.

For me. Wet and hot for me.

Panting breaths tickle my ear as she turns her head toward me. Suddenly desperate to kiss her, I pick her up and spin her around so she’s straddling my lap, then crush my lips to hers.

I haven’t made out with a woman in a long time. Usually, sex with a woman is about orgasm—hers and mine—but it’s rarely about the pleasure of touch, the feel of her tongue against mine, the shape of her curves beneath my palms. With Audrey, I want to enjoy this. I want to shove myself inside her, of course, but I want to relish every second of having her in my arms.

I’m not supposed to do this; I know that. But I can’t stop myself, so I’m going to enjoy every second of it.

We kiss until I think I might explode.

Audrey pulls away and looks at me with those pale green eyes. “Maybe this is a fling,” she says, breathless.

“Right,” I respond, my hands having found the hem of her dress once more. They’re on a mission to shape her ass again, every perfect curve.

“We just need sex, and we’re attracted to each other, so we’re having a fling.”

“It’s casual,” I agree. My right hand finds the cleft of her ass, and I follow it down to where she’s wettest. Her panties are soaked through. I’ll die if I don’t get inside her.

She shudders at my touch, so I do it again. Her eyes get hazy when my touch runs over her rear hole. Hell.

“A casual fling,” she pants. “Temporary. A m-month.”

“Fine,” I answer, teasing her ass as I reach between us with my other hand. “Sounds good.”

She gasps when I touch her lace-covered clit with my left hand, my right still occupied behind. “Remy,” she pants, “that feels so good.”

“I haven’t even touched your bare skin yet,” I growl.

She huffs a laugh, leaning her forehead against my shoulder. Her hands slide down my stomach to my crotch, and I grunt when she presses those slim, imperious fingers against my aching cock. I’ve never felt so good in my life.

Hands shaking, I help her unbuckle my belt. While she opens the front of my pants, I fish my wallet out of my back pocket. I’ve got a condom. Thank God.

“Hurry,” she pants, wrapping her hand around my girth.

I have to close my eyes because it feels so good. Her breaths are coming faster, her movements jerky. She wants me as much as I want her.

I’ve never felt this undone. I’ve never wanted something as badly as I want sex with Audrey right now, this minute. Cracking my eyelids, I manage to make my fingers work to open the crinkling foil packet. My fine motor skills are shot. She grabs the condom from my clumsy grasp with an impatient noise.

Shoving my pants and underwear as far down as I can manage, I try to get my heartbeat under control. But then Audrey’s hands are on me again. She’s sheathing me with rough, hurried movements. I reach beneath her dress and feel that white lace against the pads of my fingers.

Need—need to get inside. Need to feel her. Need to come.

I tug to pull her panties aside, but my movements are too rough. I tear the fabric to a useless scrap. It takes my brain a second to process the fact that I’ve just literally ripped this woman’s clothes off her body, and then she positions herself on top of me. She’s tight and wet and hot and—

Pleasure shatters through me. My vision goes white. I realize I’m gripping her hips too hard, so I force myself to loosen my hold. She feels better than I imagined. Better than anything I’ve felt before. I swear, and I don’t recognize my own voice.

I know I’m being too rough when I pull the straps of her dress off her shoulders and pin her arms to her sides. I know I should slow down when I lean her back and take her breast in my mouth. I know my thrusts are too violent, too demanding. She’s bouncing on my lap and clinging on for dear life. It’s too much. I need to stop this.

But then she says, “More,” and I come fully undone.

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