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“Better?” she asked, momentarily grateful for her scratchy voice. It made her sound sexy.
“Play with them. Make your nipples nice and tight for me.”
Eagerly, she obeyed. She toyed with the erect tips, scraped her short nails over them. Each tingling slice of pleasure made her back arch.
Aroused from both the feel of her own fingers and the sight of him working his shaft, she lost herself in sheer pleasure. He watched her as she watched him, his businesslike approach to making himself come almost as arousing as his intent expression.
The gray in his irises was gone now, lost in pure, intense blue. His desire practically smoked from his eyes, warming her from head to toe.
His panting rose until she couldn’t stop from undulating beneath him, her clit so swollen and sensitive she was reasonably sure one dirty command from him would bring her to orgasm.
“Oh yeah. Rub those tits for me. I want to suck them. I want to come all over them.”
And there it was. She squeezed around nothing, wanting him so badly to quench the ache. Whimpering, she turned her face into the mattress. Her fingers plucked and caressed and circled her nipples, now so distended with need she figured he must know exactly how wet she was for him.
Just as she wondered if she’d be able to come from touching her breasts alone, he murmured, “Don’t sneeze.”
She laughed, her hips flexing uselessly beneath him. That must’ve pushed him over the edge, because he let out a long groan, his hand a blur as he yanked on his dick. Warm liquid gushed onto her stomach, drizzling her breasts and the backs of her hands. She moaned, the feeling of his pelvis driving her into the bed incredibly erotic. Hungry for more, she dipped her fingers in his release and spread it over her nipples until they were saturate
d.
“Oh yeah,” he grunted, his mouth twisting as she scooped up more and painted her lips. “Put me all over you.”
She did, closing her eyes as she reveled in his salty essence, his choppy breathing, even the smell of spent sex. Leaning forward, he blew lightly against her skin, sending a cascade of warm breath over her hard nipples, heating the liquid coating them.
She shuddered. “God. That feels incredible.”
The combination of sensations made her back bow. He cleaned her up with the edge of the towel, then got her wet all over again by sliding his mouth over her breasts. This time he wasn’t gentle or careful. As she cried out, he slid his finger inside her pussy. “So fucking tight. You’re going to snap my knuckle when you come, aren’t you?”
Before she could answer, he began to fuck her with two fingers, focused on a singular goal.
Making her come. Hard.
One careless flick of his thumb on her clit, and she fulfilled his wish. She orgasmed in powerful, drenching waves, her keening moans filling the room. She wrenched her head back and forth on the bed while he drew out her climax, his tongue lapping at her nipple in time with the fingers pumping in and out of her clenching sheath.
When he finally drew his hand away, he pulled her close and pressed his face into her neck. “I love making you come.”
She reached up and stroked his face, surprised by the sudden tenderness welling up inside her. She’d never considered herself overly emotional, but something about Brad softened her in unexpected ways. “Next time, you’ll be inside me.” Her eyes were already closing.
“Sleep,” was the last thing she heard him say. “I’ll finish cleaning you up, don’t worry.”
She wasn’t worried. Even with the renewed soreness in her back, the pressure in her sinuses and her newly raw throat, she still smiled as she fell asleep.
Maybe being a so-called cougar wasn’t so bad.
Chapter Five
“Are you awake?”
She was dreaming. Had to be. That wasn’t hot breath she felt against her ear, ruffling the hair clinging to her cheek after a fitful afternoon’s sleep. She’d been in bed for the last couple of days, too tired to do much of anything but doze in between bouts of watching bad daytime TV and eating whatever she could scrounge up in the kitchen.
It was evening, judging from the triangle of moonlight on the floor when she opened her eyes. And there was definitely someone in bed with her, his broad hand cupping her breast as if she were already his. As if he knew she’d wake up wet and straining for his fingers or his tongue or his cock.
She hated that he was right.
“Brad,” she whispered. Even his name dampened her panties.
The panties she wasn’t wearing.
