Page 78 of Dancing Struggles


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“How the fuck did you ever meet that piece of shit, by the way? And get involved.”

“Do you know how flattering it is to a lonely seventeen-year-old to have a handsome, older man, someone sophisticated, pay you attention?”

“He’s not sophisticated. He’s disgusting.”

She laughs and buries her head against my shoulder. “To me, at that age, he was. And I must have been prime pickings. My parents died in an accident six months earlier, and my aunt wasn’t interested in a moody teen. I don’t blame her, she had her life, and I was finishing school. And I went out with a friend and met him. He wooed me, seduced me, and then married me and got bored when I turned nineteen.”

I stroke my fingers through her hair as the storm picks up outside. I try and think of something to say, but I’m not sure what.

“And I’m good,” she says, cupping my cheek. “It was a long time ago, but I got out and when I met you I thought I was divorced and I wanted to start over. Not with someone, just have good sex, be free.”

I turn my head and kiss her palm. “And you went and thought I tipped you.”

“It was a long time ago.”

“You know what else was a long time ago?”

“What?”

I grin at her, pull the covers away, and slide my way down her, sampling her soft, warm curves along the way. “This.”

And I put my mouth on her cunt. “Oh, fuck. Leland . . .”

Any time not fucking her or touching her or exploring her is a small forever. I pour all my admiration of how a young girl got herself out of a bad situation with her ex so well. She didn’t know what he was like, that he wasn’t going to actually divorce her.

Sarah tastes like a slice of heaven, a heady mix of her and our sex. She’s warm and wet, and when I push my fingers into her cunt, she rises off the bed, clutching at me.

I settle in and take my time.

Yeah, I could spend forever here.

“Sarah?”

She groans and pushes sleepily at me.

It’s dark, early, but too dark for the hour. And it’s rained and stormed all night. I’ve already showered and dressed so I don’t give into temptation at that naked, glorious body, sleep soft and loose.

The perfect time to fuck her.

Of course, I’m not sure there’s ever an imperfect time. Each time I touch her she’s so responsive, and this is better than that time all those years ago. Better because she’s older and I’ve gotten to know her. Her mettle.

But if I get under those covers, even now I’ll be lost. Shit, I might get lost in her if I pull them away, so I don’t.

“Sarah, you have to wake up. It’s still raining and that means it’s all heading to Norhill, if it’s not there. We need to go.”

“Sleeping.”

She rolls over, and I smack her ass.

“Ow.”

“Up, shower, now.”

With a loud sigh she does that, and I admire her fine ass and hips and narrow waist, the stream of mussed hair that says sleep and a good fucking hanging down her back. It swishes as she darts into the bathroom and yeah, I’m hard from that sight.

I check my messages as I wait, but there’s nothing new. I do, however, pull out the letter and start making notes.

There are things I need to check, just to be sure. I’m looking forward to the time when they finally get the message and run out of options, but I have a feeling Alpine will keep on going until then.

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