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“Oh, so there’s no one…”
“Oh, there’s someone,” he said. “There has been for a long time. She just doesn’t know it yet.”
Elizabeth felt a lump developing in her throat, her heart racing like a bird in a cage. “Well, I’m sure she’s a very special girl.”
“She is, but I’m not really interested in girls.” He closed the gap, his big hand moving to gently rest on her denim encased thigh. “I prefer more mature women. Women who know what they want and how to get it.”
She wanted him.
Wanted to touch him, taste him, bite him.
Wanted to lick her way down those delicious abs, tear those damn jeans off with her teeth, and suck his big fucking cock until-
He kissed her hungrily, all heat and instinct.
She gasped, a soft whimper of protest, as the feeling of his lips crushing against hers set every nerve in her alive, but she didn’t pull away. She didn’t resist as his tongue danced across the roof of her mouth, ravishing her with lush licks that made her toes curl before entangling with hers. Nor did she try to escape when his powerful hands enveloped her, cupping her buttocks with exquisite force and dragging her across, so his resurrected cock pushed against the throbbing heat at her centre.
Then she was straddling his lap, the softness of his hair tickling the skin between her fingers as she fisted it and kissed him back, and nothing seemed to matter.
She didn’t know what she was doing, but suddenly she didn’t care.
She didn’t care that it was wrong. Didn’t care that he was her son’s best friend. Didn’t care that he was half her age.
She didn’t care that she was a married woman.
He was just too much, too much for her to resist, to deny.
Hugh groaned, a low throaty sound when she sucked his tongue, the throbbing purr tingling down her spine to spike in her clit as his fingers squeezed her bum, crushing her to him. The sting and his roughness turned her on all the more. Fuck, she’d forgotten how good this could feel.
How good it should feel.
It had been so long since a man had made her feel like this, she couldn’t help her little squeak of protest when he pulled away. Even so, a part of her screamed that it was for the best. They couldn’t do this. It was wrong; it was so very bad…
“Hugh!” His name left her in a hot breathy moan as his lips covered that sensitive spot behind her ear and sucked.
She couldn’t believe what was happening. What she was doing.
It was so surreal, like she was waking from a dream but not quite all the way, and was now trapped in that void where dreams met reality.
She didn’t do this. She’d never done anything like this.
But she’d wanted to. Fantasised about it. Dreamt about it, but never…
Heat, want, and greed surged through her as tingling sensations zapped through her from her head to the tips of her fingers and toes. Moans poured from her, hot and wanton. Somewhere in the back of her subconscious, she just registered the weight of his desire pushing against the heat throbbing in the cradle of her hips. The idea that she was affecting this young stud as potently as he was her was so exciting, she couldn’t resist. She needed to touch him, feel him.
Her hands moved slowly, cautiously, almost ridiculously so, given their predicament. However, she couldn’t help it. Half afraid the lightest touch, too bold, might shatter the spell and repulse him.
So, Elizabeth clung to him, her body crushed to his, hands pawing at his back through his shirt. He felt so hard. Not bulky the way bodybuilders strived for, but solid, corded and toned. A slab of marble, chiselled layer by layer into a work of art, like Michael Angelo’s David given life.
At any other moment, she might have wondered how the devil he had managed it, while at the same time juggling the hectic life of a lawyer in training. However, now, all she wanted was to see him, feel his skin, and worship him. If only his bloody shirt wasn’t tucked so neatly into his jeans, barring her from immediate access. It just wasn’t fair. It would take too long for her to pull it loose, and the act itself presented the considerable problem of having to take her hands off him.
Worse still, Hugh was faster and bolder, much bolder.
While his mouth worked her into a frenzy, ravishing her sensible tendons with licks and nips, one of his hands worked its way up beneath her top. It was cold against her heated skin, but the chill only added to the sensuousness of his touch. His fingers brushed over her naked flesh, up her midriff, over her ribs, gathering up the hem of her top as it went. He was careful to avoid her breasts, however, and neglect made her nipples ache as he pushed the garment up and over her bountiful cleavage.
He left the spaghetti-string top there, bunched and rolled up under her arms. With a final nip of her earlobe, he pulled back to admire his handiwork. In a dark, far-flung corner of her mind that was still capable of rational thought, a voice urged her to come to her senses and slap that smug look off his gorgeous face and cover herself.
She quickly pushed aside, however, when she saw the look in his eyes as he took her in. How long had it been since Patrick had looked at her like that? Had he ever?
