Page 56 of Filthy Little Midlife Fling

TWENTY

REMY

With trembling hands, I open the front door and lead Audrey inside. A dark, empty house greets me as my heart thumps unsteadily.

We turn to each other in the foyer, and I kiss her. I couldn’t stop myself if I tried. Her cheeks feel soft beneath my fingers as I cup her face; her body melts into mine. Her lips are so soft I find myself unable to hurry. I want to savor the feel of her, the taste of her.

She whimpers sweetly, and that sound rings like a gong in my chest. Mine. The echo rattles my bones as I deepen the kiss, stroking her with my tongue, losing myself.

“Remy,” she whispers, and I shatter completely.

This can’t be a fling. It can’t be temporary. I want to hear her say my name like that for the rest of my days. I want to feel her warmth against my skin. I want to share my bed with her, share my life with her.

“Come upstairs,” I say.

We kick our shoes off before I tangle my fingers with hers. I spent hours cleaning and tidying today, trying to shed the nervous energy that pounded through me. Now we walk through the house and neither of us is paying attention to the vacuumed floors and sparkling bathrooms. All of my energy is focused on the feel of Audrey’s palm against mine, the brush of her shoulder on my arm.

My bedroom waits at the end of the hall. Once inside, I turn to Audrey again and start where we left off.

Since the beginning of our fling, we’ve met like two clashing weather systems. It’s been violent and rough and so, so good. Today, it’s different.

I pick her up and lay her down across my bed. Her hair splays out around her head like a halo, and that gong rings in my chest again. This is how life is supposed to be. This is who I’m supposed to spend my time with. This is the woman I’ve been waiting to love.

I stumbled through the past few years in a haze of grief, duty, and parenthood. I told myself it was enough, but I was wrong. I was a blind man grasping for something I hadn’t even realized was missing. Audrey gave me my sight back. She crashed into my life—and my tree—and woke me up from the slumber in which I’d been slowly dying.

I love you.

The words press against my lips, but I know I can’t speak them out loud. She smiles at me, her full mouth curved so beautifully, and I want to tell her everything that’s in my heart. I want her to know what she’s done for me, realize how profoundly she’s changed the course of my life. She makes my days brighter. She gives me a reason to keep going.

But I met her just over two weeks ago. We entered into this agreement knowing it would end. I have just over two weeks to convince her she’s not done with me after all.

I lie down beside her and let my hands roam over her body. She turns toward me, arching against my chest, and runs her hand up my arm. Her lips are soft, sweet, and mine. I’m never letting her go.

“I have a surprise for you,” she whispers, and her cheeks grow pink.

I pull away slightly, just far enough that I can meet her gaze. “What kind of surprise?”

A bite of her lip, and my cock is throbbing. My girl is sweet and sexy and so, so dirty. She reaches for the knot of fabric at her waist, unties it, and slowly peels it open. The red fabric slips off the curves of her body, and I’m faced with the sight of my dream woman wrapped in red lace.

My mouth goes dry. “Wow,” I rasp.

Her hands skim the cups of her bra, and I watch as her nipples begin to poke through the thin, transparent fabric. “What do you think?”

“I think I’m glad I didn’t know you were wearing this until now; otherwise, we never would have made it to dinner.”

Her smile is pure wickedness. Unable to resist, I bring my mouth to her breast and suck her pebbled nipple through her fabric. She gasps, digging her fingers into my hair as she arches into me. My hands are everywhere. I can’t stop squeezing and stroking and shaping. Her tits are perfect. I spend some time lavishing the red lace with attention as Audrey gasps and writhes beneath me. I’m so hard I can’t think straight.

All the chivalrous, tender thoughts that had manacled me earlier begin to dissolve. Now there’s nothing but lace and skin and Audrey.

I need her.

But when I reach for the little string holding her panties on her hips, she puts her hand on mine.

“Wait,” she gasps as she spreads her knees slightly. Her hand guides mine to where I know she needs me—and I freeze. “They’re crotchless,” she says in a small voice, blinking at me. “I bought them yesterday.”

I must stay immobile for a long time while I process the fact that my dream woman is wearing crotchless red lace panties that she bought to wear for me, because Audrey shifts.

“Remy?” she asks, voice uncertain. “Is that okay? I can take them off if you prefer—”

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