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I honestly didn’t care if his name was Fred. I’d watched him walk on stage, and I swear, not three seconds later his eyes met mine with an electric shock. My body’d reacted like we were already lovers, and I’d known I’d go home with him if given the chance. I’d never felt such an instant attraction for a man before, and it had been soooo long that my body was beginning for release. I was positive, he was the guy to give it to me.
“Mmmm,” I moaned as his hands found their way up my shirt, branding my skin as they memorized the contours of my body. God, how long had it been since I’d been touched like this? Oh yeah, two years, three months, and twenty-one days … three days before I found my lying, cheating, bastard of a husband bare assed and fucking one of the waitresses.
I shook my head, willing myself to forget my jackass of an ex-husband, and lose myself completely in the moment.
I deserved this…
I deserved a one-night stand with a hot-as-hell rock star.
Okay, maybe rock star was a stretch, but he was young, hotter than hell, and had more than his fair share of talent.
I’d never had a wild streak when I was younger, and had married pretty young, so I figured it was time to live in the moment, and what better time than the present?
Kissing and groping with each step, we maneuvered up the stairs to what I assumed was the bed. I found myself growing impatient, the years of abstinence from anything other than my hand or a vibrator making me bold. I gripped my fingers into the already slightly torn neckline of his shirt and ripped it apart.
I broke away, careful not to stumble back down the stairs, to see what surprise lay underneath the wrapping. I gasped in delight as my eyes drank in his lean and toned body. Defined chest, check … rock-hard abs, check … happy trail, check… Hallelujah!
I was so overcome by seeing a body like his for the first time in real life, and not just in the pages of a magazine, that I literally clapped my hands together with glee before laying them on his heated skin and exploring the anomaly for myself.
He chuckled lightly as I explored, but when I leaned forward to replace my hands with my
mouth he said, “Just a few more feet, Freckles,” and tugged me the rest of the way up the stairs.
His mattress was on the floor, like obvious young, bachelor that he was, but I didn’t care. Not about the lack of bed frame, or that I figured he clocked in at least ten years younger than me.
I had no sense of embarrassment or shame when I tossed my tank on the floor and shimmied out of my cut-offs, revealing a cute, but practical black cotton bra and panty set.
“Party Time?” Brendan asked with a chuckle as he read the words that were written across my panties.
“Seemed appropriate,” I murmured in response.
Brendan didn’t seem to notice, or care, that my thighs were thick, or that my belly was soft and round. He was fixated on where my breasts were spilling over my C-cup. The expression on his face told me he was more than happy with what I had to offer.
Good, because I was fucking him either way.
This was going to happen. I was going to break my slump, have sex with someone who not only wasn’t my ex, but who was by far the sexiest man I’d ever met.
This was going to be a story to be told over Bellini’s with the girls.
He pushed his hair back from his face, the action sexier than I’d ever imagined it would be, and crooked his finger, drawing me closer as if by magic, then pushed me lightly so I fell back onto the mattress. He joined me swiftly, covering my nearly naked body with his jean-clad one.
What started out slow and searching, quickly turned frenzied, and before long I was bucking underneath his skillful touch. He cupped me lightly, teasingly at first, while his lips feathered kisses against my exposed cleavage. The anticipation was almost too much; I needed things to go faster before I lost hold of the last thread of control I had.
I bowed off of the bed, unhooking my bra and pushing the straps down hurriedly. Brendan lifted his head to allow me to peel the strap of material from my body, and I took that opportunity to surge up and flip him onto his back so I was straddling him. Topless, I allowed my eyes to roam greedily over his exposed skin as I rocked against the denim concealing his hard cock, eager to ease the ache that burned at my core.
Brendan’s grin was cocky as he pushed his hips up off of the bed to meet mine, but I didn’t care. He had the right to be cocky.
I bent over and finally, finally, touched my lips to his chest and began to pepper him with kisses. Adding a few bites and licks, I trailed my soft lips over the firm expanse of his chest and stomach. He groaned beneath me, and I felt the vibration rumble through his chest. Unable to keep the pace any longer, I reached down and searched out his zipper, needing to free him and touch him everywhere. Kiss him everywhere.
My brain was foggy with need, causing my hands to fumble. He pushed me up so I was kneeling again, and scooted out from under me. With hungry eyes, I watched as he unbuttoned his jeans and took them off, revealing black boxer briefs and an impressive erection underneath. I reached for it like a woman possessed, but he grasped my wrists to stop me.
“I can’t wait,” he said gruffly, and I practically whimpered with relief. “Get on your knees,” he demanded next, surprising me even as his words caused my heart to gallop in my chest.
I’d never experienced anything other than the missionary position, so I was a little nervous, but I turned over excitedly and waited for further instructions.
“Bend over and lift that sweet ass in the air,” he said from behind me, causing a shiver to run through me as I did what he said.
I jolted, then moaned loudly as Brendan ran his hand over my ass, then farther down, slipping first one finger, then another, inside of me, causing me to instinctively push back against his hand.
