Page 57 of Filthy Little Midlife Fling

That’s when I pounce.

TWENTY-ONE

AUDREY

Remy jumps off the bed so fast I let out a gasping giggle, scrabbling to stay on top of the covers. He rips his shirt off—just literally grabs the opening between two buttons and tears the garment open in one swift movement—and then goes to work on his belt.

I sit up to take the sleeves of my wrap dress off, but Remy growls, “Don’t you dare move, Audrey,” so I fall back and watch him strip.

He’s hard. He grabs his cock with his fist and pumps once, his eyes dark as he watches me. His chest heaves as he sucks in a hard breath, and he shakes his head. “What are you doing to me?”

“Right now I’m just lying here,” I note, then squeal when he grabs my thighs and tugs me to the edge of the bed. His hand finds the opening in my panties, and a moment later his fingers are inside me. I gasp, arching into the touch.

Remy swears. The word gets bitten off, his voice so harsh I barely understand it. Then he drops my legs and rips open the nightstand drawer. A moment later he’s lifting my ankles onto his shoulders and sliding a condom over his steel-hard shaft.

His muscles are stark. I can see the pulse thrumming in his neck as he stands before me, and the sight of this big, powerful man coming apart at the seams is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.

I did this. I turned him on so much his hands tremble. I made his eyes go dark with desire. Me.

When he’s sheathed and prodding at my entrance, my ankles still resting on his shoulders, he wraps his arms around my thighs and meets my gaze. “I’m not going let you go, Audrey,” he vows—and then he drives himself home.

I cry out, suddenly stretched and full of him. Pleasure floods me in a flash. From one moment to the next, I lose my mind entirely.

“You think you can come here, wearing this”—he tugs at my panties while still thrusting into me—“and I’m going to let you walk away after a month with me?”

I smile at the possessiveness in his tone. It’s harsh and hot and makes me want to explode. “A month was our agreement,” I tease, breathless, and I’m not sure if I’m saying it to remind him or me or just to see how he’ll react.

He curves his body over mine, spreading my legs so my knees are cradled in his elbows. His thrusts slow until he’s stripping away my sanity with every deep, unrelenting roll of his hips. “Audrey,” he rasps.

I curl my fingers into his bedding. “Mm?”

“A month won’t be enough to get you out of my system. An entire lifetime wouldn’t be enough to accomplish that.”

My head spins. Every fiber of Remy’s being is intent on me—on my pleasure. His hands keep my legs spread. His cock drives into me, unrelenting. Maybe it’s the sheer overwhelming nature of his attention that makes his words hit me so hard.

He wants a lifetime with me.

And while we’re like this, tangled in each other, alone in the world for at least one night, I discover the idea of a lifetime with Remy doesn’t scare me at all. I reach for him, and he lets my legs drop so we can wrap our arms around each other. Suddenly, the moment is more intense than any sex we’ve had before. His stubble abrades my skin as he kisses my jaw. His chest hair rasps against my bra, my breasts. I let my hands roam all over his hot, hard skin as my legs wrap around his hips to accept every inch of him.

A shift happens within me. This is no longer about scratching an itch. It’s not about a fling to clear my head for a month. Now, it’s about Remy. It’s about this kind, loving, beautiful man that sets my body alight. He kisses me, long and deep, and I cling to him with every bit of my strength.

My heart unfurls like a flower opening its petals, and suddenly I’m terrified of what this man could do to me. We’re not having sex anymore; we’re making love.

“Audrey,” he says, voice deep and gravelly. “You feel so good, sweetheart. I’m losing my mind.”

“That makes two of us,” I gasp, and then he’s pulling out and I’m being flipped onto my stomach. My head is near the pillows, and I feel Remy’s hands on my waist.

He groans as he traces my sides, his palms stroking all the way down to the panties still hugging my hips. His fingers run down the opening along the center of the panties, and my hips arch up to meet his touch.

“My dirty girl,” he grates, hand coasting down between my legs, stroking down to where I’m wettest and back up between my ass cheeks. I jerk when his fingers run over my rear.

“Inside,” I pant. “Want you inside me.”

“Patience,” he admonishes. I moan as he strokes my hole, so he asks, “You like when I touch your ass?”

“Yes,” I repeat, the word fading out on the end of a breath.

“Want me to keep going?”

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