Page 23 of Learning at 40

Pity parties don’t serve cake, my grandfather would say in times of self-sorrow. He didn’t live long enough for my sarcastic streak to hit, where I would have replied that those kinds of parties should serve cake along with ice cream and alcohol.

I close my eyes, but images of Jessica’s parents’ tear-stained faces flutter behind my lids. Quickly, I open them to focus on the setting sun. Taking a deep breath, I concentrate, nearly meditate, on the lowering orb and the reflective light skittering across the momentarily calm water. I sit long enough that the evening turns black around me, and stars fill the sky like a pop of polka dots—one here, one there. My eyes drift to the beginnings of a new platform in my tree. It will be the perfect spot for stargazing.

“Hello.” The masculine voice has me spinning in the chaise lounge. I moved its position, so it faces the dark lake and descending sun.

“Hi,” I choke around the panic in my throat. I need to invest in a gate as these Weller boys have no boundaries.

Sheepishly, Zack approaches me, hands buried in the pockets of a fresh pair of shorts. His hard abs are covered by another dress shirt. This one is bright blue, sleeves rolled above his elbows. He could still make a “hot men over forty” calendar, only this look might land him under September. He stops at the end of the lounger, standing near my feet.

“I wanted to see how you were doing. You were upset earlier.” It’s an understatement and an opening to discuss my day, but I don’t really want to talk about it.

“I’m better, thank you.” I lift my glass of wine to salute him before taking a sip. Zack glances toward the disappearing sun before looking back at me.

“Seems I’m always entering this yard to either apologize or thank you.”

“Or to steal wine or deface my tree.” The sarcasm is harsher than it needs to be.

“I told you I don’t steal.” With his tone defensive, Zack scratches at the back of his neck. He exhales before continuing. “But my boys and I had a chat about that, where I admitted I’d done wrong by assuming it was okay to build a new fort. You suggested fixing the old one, and I got carried away.”

Weakly, I grin. “You should get carried away with your boys. They just want your time and attention.” My thoughts leap to little Jessica and her parents. Time is all they have with her.

“I know,” he softly huffs. His lids lower a second before those silver beams look back at me. “What about you? Do you want my time and attention?”

I don’t think it really matters what I want. He seems to take charge whether I like it or not which might be a big reason I didn’t give in to him last night. I don’t need the likes of Zack Weller bulldozing my life. I don’t want to be dazzled by him. However, as he stands at the end of the lounger looking flustered and contrite, I want nothing more than to lose myself in him.

Maybe I could have a one-night stand if the right kind of man offered.

“I’d like to make it up to you,” he states when I haven’t answered about his time or attention. His voice drops low and seductive as he bites the edge of his lip. “The imposition of the tree fort. Sharing your wine. Watching you in your yard.”

He isn’t indebted to me like he suggested last night, but Jesus, his voice is like a slow caress up my legs and between my thighs. “What do you have in mind?”

“Negotiation.” My breath hitches as I meet his hungry gaze. “Lift your dress. Slowly.”

A thrill runs through me at the soft command. On a million levels, I should not satisfy his request. This is so wrong. Yet I set my wineglass aside and scrunch up the gauzy material, exposing more and more leg as the fabric rises. When the dress reaches the apex of my thighs, Zack makes another demand. “Take off your underwear.”

Keeping myself covered, I reach under my dress and slip my underwear down my hips and over my knees until I can kick them free. Zack catches the flimsy lace and squeezes it into a fist before slipping it into his pocket.

“Touch yourself.” Holy shit. He can’t mean it, but as I hold his gaze, I slip a hand over my upper thigh and between my legs. Brushing against my clit, I keep my eyes on him and hiss at the sensation. The featherlight tease is only the beginning, but I’m already so turned on by his seductive voice and smoldering gaze that I’m not going to last long.

Stroking over damp folds, I lick my lower lip, and Zack pops the button on his shorts. The sharp sound of his zipper rips through the magnetic tension between us. He isn’t watching me touch myself but focused on my face, looking at my lip which I bite in response to his pleased smirk. The scent of my sex fills the air around me. His hand disappears into his shorts, and my lids lazily lower.

“This is what I did that night while I watched you.”

My eyes snap open and widen. He got off while watching me. The possibility has me stroking faster, rubbing harder. The intensity with which he presently observes me could incinerate me. My skin sizzles with desire. My mouth dries.

Zack places a knee on the edge of the chaise as his arm moves, the jerking motion clear although the tails of his shirt cover everything from sight.

“I wanted it to be me,” he says in a raspy, rugged voice. “I wanted to glide between those thighs and nip at your sweet skin. I wanted to smell your pussy and press my tongue against it.”

“Oh God,” I groan. For a man who doesn’t want to think, he’s thought an awful lot about that night. And with his soothing voice and commanding instructions, I’m falling under his spell. My mind clears of everything but what his tongue might feel like against me. What his tongue could do to that spot where I need him most. He’d devour me like his mouth did mine last night, and I moan with the thought.

“Do it,” I demand, not recognizing my own voice. I spread my legs just the slightest amount, hinting at what I want.

“Angel,” he hisses.

“Make me come,” I softly strain, recognizing I’m close but knowing his mouth will get me over the edge. He releases himself and places both knees on the end of the lounger. His warm hands grip my ankles and tug my legs wider. Lowering his body between my legs, he slips his hands under my knees as he bites the tender skin of my inner thighs. He scoots upward, running his nose over my clit before his tongue strikes. He doesn’t hesitate as he did with that first kiss last night. He dives in, kissing me like he had my mouth. Tongue. Teeth. Lips against lips. He sucks at the sensitive folds, causing my hips to buck. He laps across my slit, and my back arches. His tongue thrusts forward, flicking my clit, and I’m ready to break. I’m outside my head with thoughts only of Zack and what he’s doing to me, what no man has done to me in years.

“I’m going to come,” I state in both warning and wonder. I’m going to come, and it’s going to be big, like tree-fort-shaking, tectonic-plates-shifting big. My legs stiffen, and my thighs squeeze the sides of his head as I erupt from his relentless tongue. His fingertips press into my skin as his tongue licks up my release and immediately pushes me toward another.