AllFreeNovel
Share Us
So he’d ditched his regular warm-up routine and chucked the ball her way. He intended it to land at her feet, not ricochet off her body. In a way, it worked out better than his original plan.
Up close she didn’t disappoint. Pretty face to match the nice body. Big, round blue eyes, clear and sparkling as an untouched lake. Plump lips that begged to be kissed. Then there were the shoes. Not your average mom shoes, that’s for damn sure.
He could barely look her in the eye once he touched her leg. No way could he hide it. One look at his face and she had to know he was thinking of fucking her wearing nothing but those shoes and a smile.
A lazy fly ball fell into his glove making the third out. About time.
He reached his team’s bench as the other game wound up. One of the boys hopped the fence and practically bowled Andie over with a hug. Must be her son. That a kid his age showed affection that easily said a lot about the parent.
Or parents. Shit, where’d the guy with the fluorescent-green golf shirt come from? She’d definitely been alone during the game, aside from the female friend who’d eyed him up as though he were dinner. If there’d been any sign of a man at Andie’s side, Mason wouldn’t have made a move. And her hands had confirmed it—no wedding ring. No tan line where one usually sat. Fair game in his mind.
Their attraction was mutual. He was positive about that, because when he touched her leg, the sparks between them were almost visible. One simple touch and his cock had started rising. Her expression told him she had some control issues of her own brewing too. No way he’d misread the chemistry.
But from the dynamic in his line of sight right now, golf-shirt guy had to be Dad. What Mason couldn’t tell from this distance was whether he was something more.
“You got a thing for the MILF on diamond two?”
Mason forced his eyes from Andie and tried not to glare at his idiot teammate. Only a classless jerk referred to a woman as a Mother I’d Like to Fuck, no matter how sexy she was.
“I appreciate good-looking ladies, sure.”
“Ever been with an older woman? I hear they’ll do anything and everything to get some hard, young dick.” The loudmouth stared toward Andie and adjusted his junk. “She looks all right. I’d do her.”
“Don’t be so fucking disrespectful, Ev.”
Evan snorted. “What’s up your ass—what, was she your babysitter or something?”
“No, your older sister babysat me, and not only did she help me with my math homework, she taught me about oral sex too.” A huge bullshit lie, but Evan’s head looked ready to pop off, which was awesome. He’d apologize later. To Evan’s sister, not to the dickwad.
“Fuck you, Lang.”
Mission accomplished on getting rid of Evan. Too late, though. The crowd at the other diamond had turned over and new teams were on the field. No sign of Andie anywhere. Shit.
Mason’s mind stayed on Andie for the remaining innings. One, because she’d gotten under his skin in a big way. Two, because he couldn’t stop thinking about dumbass Evan’s comments. Yeah, she was older than him. Maybe a few years, maybe a few more than that. So what? He didn’t care about an age gap and neither should anyone else.
But what if they did?
He was getting way ahead of himself—the odds of her using that piece of paper he’d slipped into her palm were slim. If she did call and they hit it off…his friends and family were good people. Nobody he cared about would give a rat’s ass about an age difference. What losers like Evan thought counted for jack. Now that that was settled, he’d just have to wait and hope for the phone to ring.
* * *
ANDIE
Andie hated feeling pissy about Dylan spending every weekend with his dad. She didn’t blame Dylan for wanting to go. No boring hanging around the house when he spent time with his dad. Scott used his wealth to great effect. This weekend, they were off to Toronto. Tickets to both Blue Jays’ games, premium dugout seats—nothing but the best—and a field-view room in The Dome’s Marriott Hotel so Dylan could watch the teams warming up. They’d done things like this as a family until she asked for the divorce.
A little pang of regret popped up. Squashing it was as easy as recalling Scott looking on while she packed for an excursion, then taking out whatever clothing he deemed inappropriate forMrs. Scott Finchto wear publicly. Bye-bye tops that even hinted at cleavage and jeans that accented her curves. His replacements—pressed pants and bland blouses. Knee-length skirts. Monochromatic outfits in tan, navy or pastels. And decently sexy high heels? Never. Not for a woman of her social position. Gag.
No, she was never going back to living that way. Not with anybody. Sometimes, though, being alone sucked. Like tonight, and all of the weekend nights that she ate alone, watched a DVD alone, drank a glass—or several—of Cabernet alone. Still, she’d take the trade-off. Being alone meant wearing what she wanted, painting her nails hooker-red and shaking her ass to a rocking beat. She liked belonging to herself.
Though, belonging to a sexy man for a smoldering night of fun once in a while would be nice.
She moved mindlessly through the nightly routine. Teeth brushed and flossed, face washed and age-defying night moisturizer applied. She hobbled through the empty house to her bedroom. Turned down one side of the covers and slid into the king-sized bed.
The crisp, cool sheets tickled her skin. She shimmied out of her sleep shorts and camisole. Why not sleep naked—it’s not as if anyone would walk in on her. A breeze drifted through the screen, raising goose bumps and sending her nipples to attention. She trailed her fingers across the peaks. A shiver rippled through her, sending a jolt of sensation between her legs. Nice, but she needed something stronger. She licked her fingers, drew them into her mouth like a cock. God, she needed to do that for real, and soon. Somebody virile and totally hot. Like the guy from the baseball game.
Mason, according to the scrap of paper on her bedside table. A fitting name for a guy with a solid physique. No doubt his cock would be hard as stone too. She sent the moistened fingers back to her nipples, toying with them by rolling and squeezing. She closed her eyes and imagined him.
A man like Mason would take charge of the pleasure. She squeezed the buds until heat bloomed in her breasts and made a beeline lower. She snaked one hand between her legs, slid two fingers inside her cock-deprived channel, then dragged them up to her clit. A few light strokes to tease like his tongue would do. She pressed harder, rubbed faster, imagining his face there. Orgasm hit and finished too quickly. Not nearly satisfying enough.
