by Tara Nina
Instantly, she missed the heat of his touch when he released her hand and reached into his inside jacket pocket.
“My card,” he said as he took a moment to slide his gaze up and down her body once more, before he continued. “Hopefully, we’ll get together before the show is over.”
On reflex, she handed him one of hers. With a debonair tip of his head he added, “If you’ll excuse me…”
A sense of loss filled her the moment he turned and walked away. What had he done to her? All she could do for a matter of long seconds was stare, watching him examine other displays. Temair gave herself a good inner shake, forcing control over the ludicrous thoughts flaring to life in her head. The man hadn’t placed a spell on you, she snapped at her reflection.
You’re just horny! The echo of the unspoken words reverberated in her brain. Not wanting to look like some stupid idiot fawning over him, she gathered her resolve and returned to meeting and greeting other individuals attending the convention. After all, he wasn’t the only other person there. But you would have thought he was with the way her eyes kept locating him in the convention center, even though she tried to keep her mind on her work.
One thing Temair noticed throughout the rest of the afternoon was that occasionally his subtle glances graced her legs. He averted his gaze each time she caught him looking. Was she imaging the sensation of his desire from across the crowded room?
Nah. She shook her head. It had to be her imagination. What would a gorgeous younger man want with a middle-aged, Rubenesque woman? Then again, she smiled to herself, there was so much more she had to offer than a stick-figured woman with a flat chest. Temair fingered her pearls and glanced down at her endowment. Yep, being of ample bosom was a plus. She smiled then turned to answer a question of a curious patron.
Chapter Two
By the time the first day came to a close, Temair was exhausted. It was late and her legs ached with every step. Who knew wearing spiked heels all day gave the legs such a workout? Out of habit, Temair checked the gate that had been slid down over the outside of her shop to make sure it was secure. She walked to the door that led to the stairwell to her apartment above the shop and unlocked it. She stopped inside the entranceway and locked the door behind her. After slipping off her shoes, she carried them and the lockbox of jewelry from her display up the flight of stairs to her one-bedroom home.
Total fatigue set in once she made it through the apartment door and locked it behind her. All she wanted was a shower and bed. She set the lockbox on the kitchen counter, walked across the living area and into her bedroom, tossing her shoes into the open closet. The only thing she didn’t like about her small apartment was the location of the bathroom. Anyone who visited had to walk through her bedroom to reach it. But this place was hers and hers alone. And best of all, it was above her shop, making it convenient and efficient for work.
This being her first event at the Javits Center, she had no idea the place was so huge. Hundreds of people attended the event, from the curious onlooker to the serious buyer checking out the latest designs that might possibly fit the lines of their companies. She had several nibbles from two of the smaller chains, and one in-depth conversation with a buyer from a new franchise, but nothing lucrative.
With the amount of people at the convention, the air-conditioning became overtaxed, and the sheer size of the building made it fail at maintaining a level of comfort. In hindsight, she decided leather wasn’t the wisest of selections to wear. Both thighs maintained a minute level of perspiration throughout the latter part of the day. The leather seemed stuck to her skin, causing her to have to peel the skirt from her body.
Inch by slow inch, she tugged it down her hips. Temair wiggled and pushed until she managed to free her flesh from the tight garment. The whoosh of the skirt as it slithered down her legs seemed unusually loud. A distinctive scent of warm leather mixed with her own faint feminine smell tickled her nose. An image of black leather pants on a certain Evan Lyndsay flashed in her head. Would he wear them? Was he the type?
She entertained the idea as she unzipped the side of her blouse and shimmied out of it. What would it be like to unzip him in a slow, seductive manner? An uncontrollable smile tugged at her lips as she continued to fantasize. Would he like having her on her knees before him, undressing him, peeling tight leather from his hips, down his legs, and setting his cock free? Would the scent of leather cling to his skin as it did hers?
What teased her senses the most—would she taste it on his skin?
A tentative tongue brushed across her lips as if she tried hard enough she could actually taste him there. She unclasped the string of pearls from around her neck, and couldn’t help but think of sex, and another style of pearl necklace. The thought of Evan’s cock gifting her with his juices made her insides quiver.
Closing her eyes, shutting out the tired reflection in the mirror, she wondered when she’d become such a sexual deviate. Never had she had such a time controlling her thoughts. On and off all day, some form of naughty inspiration played in her head, and the only thing that was repetitive in each vision was the male participant. What had he done to her? One meeting and his essence engraved itself upon her brain.
Temair’s breathing increased and her breasts swelled tight against the full-figured cups of her bra. In a well-practiced move, she reached behind, unfastened her black lace bra, setting her breasts loose from their confinement. Why society’s rules proclaimed proper women should wear bras was beyond her. Her breasts liked their freedom. Cupping each, she massaged the tender globes and thumbed the sensitive nipples in a comforting caress that easily heightened her already turned-on state.
Dropping her hands to her hips, she hitched her thumbs under the thin straps of the black lace thong, slipped it down her legs and stepped out of it. Now there was another piece of clothing she didn’t understand. It was the closest she’d ever come to going commando. With the slim amount of material used in its design, it was almost as good as going naked. Then again, she held it up and caught a hint of her own scent. It was a sexy little garment, if she did say so herself.
Maybe Lisanne was right. Sexy undergarments and hot leather did heighten the sensitivity of the skin. With every move she made today, the bra and matching thong caressed her secretly in all the right places. And the snug leather skirt cradled her bottom and thighs in a sensual hug. On second thought, she decided she liked the secret sexual thrill it gave her to wear it.
If this trade show paid off and she landed a decent-paying contract, she planned to add more leather and silk to her wardrobe and stop dressing for practicality purposes. After all, she was a woman, and women deserved to enjoy their femininity.
Hearing the wise words of Lisanne in her head made her smile. Lisanne was good for her. The woman did know how to enjoy life and sex to the fullest. Staring at a set of tired green eyes in the mirror, Temair ran her fingers through her shoulder-length, light-brown hair and admired the blonde highlights she’d let Lisanne put in. It truly did make a difference in her appearance.
If Evan Lyndsay saw her now, he probably wouldn’t look at her twice. She stared at the exhausted reflection and couldn’t help but notice how much it showed her age. A new little wrinkle here, an age spot there. Nothing could hide the tiny crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes and the dark circles underneath brought on by the strain of the day. Just another gift from Mother Nature that came with age. Temair huffed.
She gathered her clothes from the floor and tossed them into the hamper. The leather skirt she hung on the hook on the back of the door with the intent of dropping it at the cleaners, along with her other dress clothes, come Monday morning after the end of the show.
The moment the water was hot, she stepped inside the tub and tugged the curtain closed. Moist heat coated her skin and sent chills scurrying up and down her arms. Mmm, how the thought of a man in snug leather pants had her senses elevated. Her eyes squeezed tight as she tried to push the thought out of her head. It
wouldn’t do to think of him as anything but another professional. A man his age wouldn’t be interested in an over-the-hill woman such as herself.
She was determined to command the direction of her tired brain waves, even though every ounce of conscious thought begged for the excitement of the fantasy. Temair wet her hair then filled her palm with shampoo. Thick cream pooled in her hand. She stared at the creamy liquid as the fantasy commandeered all thought.
Her resolve was defeated as all gray matter sizzled for sex. Would his cock be easy to coax into giving her its gift? No, a man like Evan Lyndsay would take some time to please. Visions of her on her knees, teasing him with her tongue, her lips and her mouth, flashed on the big screen inside her head. What would it take to earn his pleasure? Oh god! Temair shook all over. She had to stop thinking of him as some sex toy.
Thrashing her hands into her hair, she worked the shampoo into a lather and scrubbed until her scalp tingled. At this level of sexual frustration, she’d be bald in no time. Bald wasn’t bad on him. It added to his appearance and made his eyes stand out. Her mind seemed determined to focus on the subject of her desires, even though she tried desperately to fight it. After all she was probably old enough to be his moth— She stumbled over the thought and decided she was more along the age line of a young aunt.
Temair laughed at her uptightness over the age gap. It really didn’t matter. This was simply a fantasy, a figment of her lusty imagination. It wasn’t as if it was really ever going to happen. Leaning into the shower stream, she relaxed.
She couldn’t get those eyes out of her mind—deep soulful eyes that held secrets. The idea of what those sexual secrets might be made her smile, and had her sex clenched in anticipation. She kept her eyes closed and relinquished control of her thoughts, focusing on the man who ignited this slow burn within her.
Soap in hand, she lathered her chest, taking her time to suds each breast and massage each nipple to full attention. Consistent rolling of her nipples between her fingertips made her breathing increase as the vision of his eyes lingered behind her closed lids. The thought of that little patch of fluff beneath his lower lip brushing her sensitive nipples nearly made her come.
Would it be feather soft or bristle rough?
Either way the thought made her tremble. Temair pressed her back against the tile and tightened her thighs together for support. Chin tilted into the spray of water, she rinsed the soap from her hair and body. Each touch heightened her need and increased the pressure building in her sex.
God, it had been way too long since she’d been laid.
Imagination at full throttle, her hands became his hands. Her touch was his touch. Slow, tender caresses slid from her hair, down her neck to her breasts, and lingered on her nipples, twirling and tugging them into taut pinnacles. Inch by inch, she trailed the length of her abdomen with featherlight, fingertip touches to the clean-shaven playground between her thighs.
Damn, she was hot and horny. Being this turned-on, thinking of those powerful, controlling light-blue eyes, Temair knew her fingers wouldn’t be enough. Not now.
Both legs shook as she shut off the water, climbed out of the tub, and grabbed a towel. The brush of the cotton across her breasts sent shivers down her abdomen, causing her inner muscles to knot. In a haphazard fashion, she tucked the towel around her, not bothering to dry off. Wet footprints trailed her to the bed.
Temair opened the bottom drawer of her bedside table and retrieved the birthday gift Lisanne had given her. When she’d first opened it, she was astonished at its size. Never had she seen nor held a vibrator before then, but over the past month, she and it became old acquaintances.
Forgotten, the towel dropped to her feet as she folded back the covers and crawled under. Eyes closed, she thought only of a sensual younger man dressed all in black. Sleek head, great smile, adorable dimples, and a set of eyes it would be a pleasure to look into from any direction—up, down, over the shoulder.
Oh god, she was hot. Thinking of those eyes, her breathing increased as she turned the end of the vibrator and a low, familiar hum whispered from beneath the sheets. Her nipples instantly puckered, her abdomen tightened, and she knew this wouldn’t take long.
On her back, she opened her legs and guided her automatic friend downward—teasing her hard nipples, rolling slowly along her pliant stomach, and then tickling the sensitive skin of her navel. The moment the tremble of the tip entered the tiny orifice, her clit quivered as if the two were connected by an invisible cord of electrical current.
Moisture coated her sex as a low moan escaped. Pure need led the vibrator home. In and out she caressed herself, over and over, with the pulsating battery-operated cock. With each pass, she came near but did not touch her clit, causing the pressure within her to escalate. Her pulse rose and her breathing became stilted and shallow.
Over the past month, she learned what turned her on, and what it took to make her come. Envisioning Evan’s face, she imagined what it might feel like to have him tickle her bud with that sensual soul patch. At the same time, she gave in to her body’s demands and shifted the vibrator up the slender slit to touch the center of her ache. Electrified energy burst through her as the orgasm took control, halting her breath and releasing her inner juices to coat her hand and her magical friend.
Temair rolled onto her stomach as the last wave of pressure washed through her pelvic region. That had to be the best orgasm she’d ever achieved alone. But she had to admit, Evan’s image helped. With a smile on her face, she snuggled into the covers and wrapped her arms around her pillow, leaving her little friend nestled between her lower lips, turned on low, and still humming.
The light vibrations lulled her to sleep as a vision of pure, male sex wrapped in a sensual, younger man package filled her dreams.
Chapter Three
Temair woke the next morning to the sound of the local radio station blaring from her alarm clock. A lazy hand slapped at the snooze button at the same time she pried her eyes open. Face buried in the pillow, remnants of her dreams warmed her soul and made her insides tingle.
The sensation of something hard between her thighs made her sit upright. Her vibrator lay on the bed, dead. Temair couldn’t help but laugh. She’d finally managed to outlast the battery that claimed it never ran out. One glance at the clock and she knew she needed to get moving. She promised to meet Lisanne for breakfast before the trade show.
* * * * *
“Would you look at you,” Lisanne exclaimed as Temair walked into the diner and over to the booth. “Told you red was a perfect color for a power suit.”
“Thanks,” Temair said, setting the lockbox on the seat and sliding it over as she positioned herself at the table across from Lisanne. “If you only knew what I had to do to keep this skirt seamless.”
“No panties and sheer hose.” Lisanne’s raised-eyebrow look and teasing tone caused Temair to blush slightly. The fact her friend guessed didn’t shock her. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah, I have to admit it does,” she replied with a smile. It wasn’t nearly as comforting as the snug leather felt on her bottom. But the ultra-sheer pantyhose did cradle her skin in a more sensual, featherlight caress.
“Okay, dish,” Lisanne stated on a laugh. “How’d it go yesterday? Any luck?”
“I met buyers from two of the smaller distributors. But they didn’t show much interest.” Temair nodded her thanks to the waitress as she filled the coffee cup. “A representative from that new Zen line liked the detailed use of gemstones in my designs, but didn’t say anything more than that.”
While Lisanne placed her order, Temair debated discussing the unusual interest she had in Evan then decided against it. That would be all she needed right now, for her friend to push her into doing something she wasn’t sure she was ready to do…pursue a younger man. Just the thought made her sit up straighter in her seat as she gave the waitress her usual order of fresh fruit, yogurt and whole wheat toast, dry, no butter.
&nb
sp; “Meet any fascinating people?” Lisanne rattled on as she flipped open the paper. “According to this article, over two thousand people attended the first afternoon of the event, and triple that is anticipated for today. It seems to be the biggest highlight of the town since fashion week.”
“I met a few,” Temair said as one in particular sprang to mind. She sipped her coffee then continued. “The usual convention junkies were there. You know the ones who browse and never buy.”
A low whistle filtered from behind the paper before Lisanne spoke. “Remember that buyer we read about in the Jewelers Reward trade paper who’s taking the UK by storm?”
Before Temair could answer, Lisanne continued as she flipped and folded the paper in her hand. “Seems Deidre Delany’s planning to take him by storm.”
When Lisanne handed the paper to her, folded neatly to the article, Deidre’s smiling face couldn’t be missed as she stood with her arm hooked in Evan Lyndsay’s in the black-and-white press photo. A knot formed in Temair’s gut and her jaw tightened.
“It appears that way,” she managed to eke out through the constriction in her throat.
Most press photos were not flattering, but his stood out. Those soulful eyes caught and held her attention. What was he doing with Deidre? Worst of all, why did she care? This wasn’t right. She rolled her eyes upward as she took a deep breath.
She laid the paper on the table with the picture turned down. It wasn’t Deidre’s presence so much as it was the deep, erotic lure of his eyes. Just looking at them made her shift in her seat.
Get a grip, her inner voice whispered. After taking a gulp of her coffee, Temair forced her focus on her best friend’s morning chatter. It took a great deal of effort to tamp down the envy knotted in her chest against Deidre and her presence with Evan in that picture. This confused her. Why did she care? He wasn’t hers.
