Reckless in Moonlight

by Cara Bristol

  “So you’re above the age of consent, then.” Unfazed, he curved his mouth into another devastating smile.

  She was totally fazed. To cover her confusion, she clicked to the next image and found a picture of a hugely pregnant woman pushing a toddler in a stroller. “Is she a relative?”

  Lon’s eyes danced. “Negative. She’s a stranger my brothers photographed at the zoo.”

  Dana arched her eyebrows. “Why?”

  “My brothers think I need a girlfriend, so they’ve been identifying potential candidates for me to consider. In their words, they’re ‘scouting chicks’ for me.”

  “And they picked a pregnant woman?”

  “They thought she was pretty. But it gets even better.” He appeared to be trying not to laugh.

  More shots of the parents, the twins themselves, several of Lon, including one of him washing his parents’ car. She studied the photo. He was even sexier up close and personal. Deciding it was imprudent to dwell on those kinds of thoughts, she advanced the frame.

  “I didn’t know nuns wore habits anymore,” she commented as she clicked past a woman in full penguin regalia.

  Lon snorted.

  Realization dawned, and she hit the back button. She glanced from the sister to Lon. “They picked a nun for you?”

  He nodded, his shoulders shaking with amusement.

  “Why?”

  “They thought she had a cool Halloween costume and would be fun.” He roared with laughter.

  Dana giggled, and then, spurred by Lon’s amusement, she laughed until she doubled over and tears ran down her face. She placed the camera on the table so she wouldn’t drop it. She fanned her cheeks, trying to regain control. “Oh God.”

  “Exactly,” Lon said and set her off on another spate of gut-wrenching merriment.

  “Stop. Don’t say any more.” Stomach cramping, Dana raised her hands in surrender. “I can’t take it.” She couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed with such abandon that her world of troubles seemed weightless.

  At last she sobered and mopped her tears with the back of her hand. She picked up her mug and took a large swallow, as did Lon. They peered at each other over the rims of their mugs. Dana smiled against her glass and, from the crinkle of Lon’s eyes, knew he was doing the same.

  He placed his mug on the table. “There are a few more shots.” He handed her the camera.

  She had enjoyed the photos, but she wondered why he insisted she view every image. But she accepted the camera and zipped through the remainder. Photo of the fort. Photo of a twin in the fort. Photo from the fort.

  Photo of her.

  Wearing her two-piece, she floated in the pool, eyes closed, her arms folded behind her head, her hair streaming in the water. Whew, she thought. She had been wise to forgo skinny-dipping once the tree house had been erected.

  “Third time’s the charm,” Lon said softly.

  Dana blinked as his meaning came through. She shut off the camera and handed it back. She was a better choice than a pregnant woman about to pop or a nun but not by much.

  As intense as their chemistry was, she couldn’t act on it. “I’m twenty years older than you.”

  “Seventeen,” he corrected her math.

  “In twenty years, I’ll be sixty-five. I’ll be signing up for Medicare, and you’ll still be young—you’ll only be a few years older than I am now.”

  “So you admit you’re still young.”

  “I thought you were a doctor. Now you’re talking like a lawyer.” Dana balled her fist and tapped him on the arm. She liked him, but their age difference was too enormous of an obstacle to overcome. Life wasn’t fair.

  He braced his forearms on his knees and stared at his feet. “I don’t have a crystal ball. I don’t know what’s going to happen in twenty years; but I do know that’s no reason not to experience life now. Don’t you want to? Don’t you deserve a now time?” He straightened and turned his attention back to her face.

  Hell, yes, she deserved a now time. Me time, whatever kind of time you wanted to call it. Her good intentions weakened again as her emotions veered off the safe course common sense had set. Safe. The word reverberated in her mind. Was that the kind of life she wanted to live—one that was safe? That wasn’t living—that was existing. She’d played it safe in her marriage, and look what it got her.

  She smoothed a hand over her head. They’d talked and laughed so long, her hair was half dry and was starting to frizz. The sexiest man alive was flirting with her, and her hair was transforming into a mop. But what did it matter how she looked? She couldn’t start a relationship with Lon—it would be pure recklessness, not to mention hypocritical after the way she’d lambasted Roger.

  But Lon wasn’t talking about a relationship; he was only asking for a “now.” What did that mean? A quick tryst? More naked pool games? Her pussy grew damp, her body’s nod that it was agreeable to either or both choices. She glanced at Lon, saw his hopefulness, earnestness reflected in his steadfast gaze.

  He claimed her mouth in a gentle kiss. She clung to his lips when he would have pulled away. Damn her traitorous body!

  “Give us a chance,” Lon whispered. He captured her hand and held it against his thumping heart. That and the erection tenting his pants revealed his earnestness. “Let me show you how good we could be together.”

  He kissed her, his mouth coaxing, his tongue teasing, and her reservations fell from her grasp. “All right,” she agreed.

  Lon smiled. “I get off early tomorrow night. I’ll pick you up around seven?”

  Chapter Three

  Just as her doorbell chimed, her cell started to play. Dana ignored the phone and flung open her front door to find Lon with a bottle of wine and a bag of Chinese food.

  “Hi.” She exhaled with nervous anticipation. Freshly shaven, his blond hair darkened by a recent shower, he wore crisp khakis, a light cotton pullover shirt, and brown deck shoes sans socks. His eyes appeared bluer than blue, his teeth whiter than white as he grinned, delivering an electrical spark to her libido. Who needed food when Lon looked good enough to eat?

  “Sorry about the change in plans,” he said.

  “No problem.” She beckoned him to enter. They had planned to go out, but he’d called to say he’d been held up by an emergency and would pick up takeout instead. Dana didn’t mind the change or the delay; it had given her time to switch her outfit another four times.

  Ten minutes before he arrived, she’d finally settled on a figure-skimming knit strawberry sundress and rhinestone-studded flip-flops, not too dressy, not too casual. She had kept her makeup light with an application of waterproof mascara and a kiss of blusher and lip gloss.

  Lon followed her to the kitchen, where he set the sack and wine on the counter. Dana leaned against the cabinet on the opposite side of the room and observed him as he removed cartons from the bag. Her kitchen wasn’t small, but he filled it with his presence, infusing the space with his masculinity. With his back turned, she could ogle him freely. Lon appeared taller, broader, more muscled than she remembered, and she had thought of little else but him during the last twenty-four hours. She marveled at his height, his wide shoulders, his slim hips, his sexy buns. Her skin tingled with awareness, as if every nerve ending were firing at once.

  Dana couldn’t believe she was going through with the date. She’d changed her mind a half-dozen times, had even picked up the phone twice to cancel, only to hang up.

  Bag emptied, Lon faced her. If his backside was yummy, his front looked even more delectable, but it was his hungry gaze that made her mouth water.

  “There’s a breeze tonight,” she said, apropos of nothing.

  Lon nodded. “Yes, it’s nice.” He stalked toward her, a hungry jungle cat on the prowl.

  Her stomach danced the nervous cha-cha of the hunted. “I thought we could eat on the patio.”

  Another step. “Sounds great.”

  And then he pinned her against the counter. Any silly, rationa
l thought she had of calling a halt to her reckless behavior disappeared with the air in the room. Lon palmed her face, his eyes glittering with purpose, and Dana knew how ancient villagers must have felt when they spotted the pillaging raiders on the horizon galloping toward town. She had no hope of resistance. His kiss commanded not capitulation but avid participation, and she surrendered with alacrity, handing over the prized possession of her body and setting her own hut ablaze.

  Their tongues tangled, writhing in pantomime of what was best performed horizontally. Or not. Suddenly, she couldn’t wait; she wanted to fuck him braced against the counter, the wall, the refrigerator. She forced a hand between their bodies and found him rigid and ready, a discovery that inspired her pussy to weep with excitement. She tightened her fingers around his length, and Lon groaned against her mouth, his rumble sending satisfaction skipping through her.

  Lon tugged up the skirt of her dress to cup her ass cheeks and kneaded the flesh bared by a minuscule thong. Dana didn’t consider her butt to be an erogenous zone, but his massage transmitted sharp sexual signals throughout her body. He broke off from her mouth to kiss her neck, his little nips electrifying more nerve endings.

  A burst of music filled the kitchen, and Dana jumped. Lon followed her gaze to her cell phone on the counter. “Ignore it,” she murmured and tilted her head to the side so Lon could better nuzzle her neck. She closed her eyes and relaxed into the shivery sensation as he sucked gently on her skin. His body heat combined with the scent of soap, his own aroma, and the sweetness of butterscotch to envelop her in a heady aura.

  The music stopped, but seconds later, the kitchen phone rang. Lon’s lips stilled on her neck. “Ignore that too,” Dana said.

  He hesitated as if to speak, so Dana turned her head and kissed him. She traced the outline of his mouth with her tongue and nibbled on his lower lip.

  A second ring. Why hadn’t she set her answering machine to pick up calls immediately? And who would be so insistent anyway? Roger or Katie would have left a message on her cell.

  A third ring. Lon stiffened and not in a good way. “Maybe it’s important,” he said against her lips.

  “In your line of work, probably. In mine, it’s only a pain in the ass.” Dana dismissed the call, then felt a pinprick of concern. Her cell had been ringing when Lon arrived. Though her twenty-year-old daughter insisted on independence, Dana worried about her. What if something had happened to Katie? Most likely, it was nothing.

  A fourth ring.

  With a groan, Dana slipped out of Lon’s embrace and grabbed the handset. “Hello?” she answered, trying to sound normal.

  “I’ve been trying to reach you,” her boss babbled frantically.

  Damnit. Dana stifled a groan. Her coworkers aptly nicknamed her boss Chicken Little. In her mind, the sky was always falling, and she required frequent handholding, in and out of the office. This wasn’t the first time she’d called Dana at home—although it counted as the worst.

  Dana looked at Lon. “My boss,” she mouthed and rolled her eyes with a shake of her head. “Not important.”

  Remorse crinkled his forehead. “Sorry.”

  “Yes, Claire, what is it?” Dana inserted as much politeness into her tone as she could.

  “I’m concerned about the press conference on Monday.” Claire’s long exhale indicated she was smoking. She always smoked when she obsessed; some days she rarely left the outdoor cigarette area at work.

  “I’ve got everything under control.” Dana tried to reassure her.

  Lon sidled up behind her and pressed himself to her back. Nerves fired with sexual awareness. His erection, prodding her lower spine, kindled fluttery feelings in her stomach, and teasingly, Dana swayed against him. At his urging, she’d answered this call, and now he’d have to pay the piper.

  He brushed the hair off her neck and grazed her skin with his lips, his evening shadow scraping sensually. Dana closed her eyes to enjoy the tingle. Her lids flew open when he cupped her breasts and captured her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, alternating hard and soft pinches that aroused an ache in her cunt.

  “We don’t need any more bad press. Why can’t the media understand that no one could prepare for a heat wave like this one?” Claire lamented.

  The only heat wave Dana wanted to prepare for was the one flooding her body as Lon tugged one of the bows that held her dress together. The bodice released and drooped, baring one breast. The coolness of the air conditioner running full blast blew over her skin. But it wasn’t the chill that puckered her nipple; it was the way he plucked at the peak.

  “It’s going to be—” Dana forgot what she was going to say when Lon released the other tie, and her dress slithered down her body to puddle at her feet. He hooked his thumbs into her thong and tugged the scrap down her legs, leaving her naked.

  “Are you still there?” Claire asked.

  “It’s going to be…uh…fine.” Dana lolled her head to the side as Lon kissed her neck, the contrasting softness of his lips with the gentle abrasion of his jaw stirring pulses in her clit. She should push him away, deal with business, and then get back to business. Except…except…he’d turned her willpower and gray matter to mush.

  “It’s going to be much better than fine.” Lon’s wicked breath filled the ear not pressed to the telephone.

  He abruptly released her, leaving her bereft but relieved. Maybe now she’d be able to form a coherent thought and hustle her boss off the line. The woman had the worst timing in the world.

  “You reviewed the talking points I prepared,” Dana reminded Chicken Little. With every media interaction, Dana had to draft an official message and anticipate what possible questions might arise and how she planned to respond to them.

  “I’m trying to think of what else might come up.”

  Lon’s body heat radiated over her; then his naked, rigid cock pressed against her buttocks. Dana gasped.

  “What’s wrong? What did we forget?” Claire’s voice shot up half an octave.

  Lon squeezed her breast and snaked his other hand between her legs to massage her clit. Dana clamped her lips together to stifle a moan.

  “Is it the aliens? Have we addressed people’s concerns about the aliens?”

  A certain less-than-stable segment of the population was convinced extraterrestrials had disrupted the earth’s natural weather pattern, and were contacting the utility company to voice their fears.

  “Nooooo.” Dana expelled her breath as Lon penetrated her cunt with his finger. He worked a second one into her, stretching her passage as his thumb circled her clit, setting the bud ablaze. She grabbed his wrist to still his teasing fingers even as her hips convulsively rocked against his marauding hand. His cock, oozing precum, marked a snail trail on her skin. God, she wanted him inside her. It had been so long. Her pussy spasmed.

  “You don’t sound sure.”

  Dana gnashed her teeth. “I’m sure. Not wise. I’ve…I’ve got it under control.”

  Lon’s soft laughter kissed her ear.

  “Am I interrupting something?”

  Now she asks?

  Her creaming sex drenched Lon’s hand and her inner thighs while his thrusting fingers made squishing noises as he finger-fucked her. Her rubbery knees threatened to buckle, and she clung to the phone as if it were her lifeline.

  “I’m kind of—” Dana covered the mouthpiece as Lon grabbed her shoulders and gently pushed her facedown over the kitchen counter. She gasped as her bare breasts flattened against the chilly granite.

  “Lon, my God!” Dana craned her neck to gape at him as a wild excitement unfurled. This was bad. So bad. She shifted her gaze between his face and his erection. The sight of his cock, looking fucking huge, its bulbous head red and glistening, the vein along the underside pulsing, was enough to get her juices flowing, but the devilment in his eyes sucked the wind from her lungs.

  He flashed a lewd grin. “Finish your call,” he said and nudged her legs apart.

 
Dana removed her hand from the mouthpiece. “Claire, I gotta go.”

  Lon shook his head. “Finish the call,” he ordered in a whisper. “I want to eat your cunt and then fuck you while you try to keep from screaming into the phone.”

  Impossible. Shameless. Indecent. And so exciting, she nearly came on the spot. So what if she could never look her boss in the eye again? She tried to avoid her as much as possible anyway.

  Dana swallowed, her heart dancing a crazy jitterbug in her chest. “False alarm,” she said into the receiver. “About those aliens.”

  “Don’t you think we should address it proactively?” Claire sounded seriously concerned. Not for the first time, it occurred to Dana that perhaps her boss was one of them—one of the whack jobs. Of course, she was the one spread over the kitchen counter like a buffet at a porn fest.

  Lon knelt. The air caught in her lungs as he blew his breath against her steaming pussy.

  “To attempt to allay concerns”—Dana clenched her jaw to stifle a gasp when Lon parted her pussy lips and swirled his tongue around the bundle of extremely receptive nerves—“by…by raising the issue with the…uh… you know, uh, news media—” His lips slid over her skin, his tongue probed, his stubbled jaw rasped, and Dana’s mind skidded past the words to finish her sentence like wheels spinning on ice, unable to grab traction.

  Lon growled and plunged his tongue into her cunt, lapping at her flowing juices. “Wouldonlyhavetheoppositeeffect,” Dana squealed.

  “If you’re sure.” Claire usually deferred to Dana’s judgment, although it was decidedly suspect at the moment. All of Dana’s focus shifted to her pussy, where Lon was eating her out like she was his last meal. Engaging in oral sex while on the telephone was the kind of thing a sleazy politician would do, not a middle-class, middle-aged, formerly respectable woman. Which was precisely what made it so exhilarating. Dana-gate. She snickered.

  “You sound funny,” Chicken Little said. “Is something wrong?”

  “Everything…everything…is all right.”

  Lon reached for his pants and extracted a condom from the pocket. He tore open the wrapper and slipped it on. Dana licked her lips in remembrance of how his erection had filled her mouth, how her jaw ached to suck so large a cock, and wetness trickled down her bare leg. She shivered with need, with desire, and with a little trepidation at his size—and his newness. Last evening’s moonlight escapade had occurred spontaneously. Now that she’d had time to think, she realized she hadn’t had intercourse since her marriage had soured, and she hadn’t slept with anyone since she’d met Roger.