by Donna Alward
Still, as he used the bathroom and washed up, he kept his gaze on anything but the mirror over the sink.
He pulled his pants back up and buttoned them, but he yanked the belt out of the loops. As he did so, his phone shifted in his pants. Even though he’d shut the damn thing off, he could still almost hear the text chime, almost see the messages that Tommy would be sending him.
“Having fun?”
“Don’t forget to compliment her!”
“You can do it, Dad!”
Compliment her? He didn’t have the first clue what to say. You give really good blowjobs? That seemed crude to the extreme. Dammit, he was so out of practice talking in general and to women in particular.
He sighed and looked himself in the eye. “Two adults having some fun, that’s all,” he muttered. “Nothing wrong with that.”
Besides, it had been fun. He’d let himself get swept away in the excitement of watching Karen swim, of touching her body and making her cry out. In that moment—and the moment where he’d pumped himself into her mouth, her hands—he’d felt like a different person. Not a dad, not a widower—but a man. Alive and ready for a beautiful woman.
His dick twitched at the thought of it all, and Mack almost smiled at himself.
He could still be a man.
After all, they had all night.
Chapter Five
While Mack was in the bathroom, Karen got organized. Turning on the bedside lamp, she dug the box of condoms out of her overnight bag, along with the bottle of lube. She had packed her vibrator on the off chance she did not get lucky with a cowboy tonight and needed to take the edge off.
She left it in the bag.
She was humming, she realized as she pulled down the covers. This was exactly what she’d wanted—to spend the night with a man who looked at her like Mack had looked at her when she’d worked on his body.
In that moment, she’d felt powerful and desirable and special because he was here with her. Not anyone else, just her.
But the longer Mack was in the bathroom, the more she began to get nervous. It didn’t help that she was lying on the bed in nothing but a still-wet thong. She got up and adjusted the room’s temperature up a few degrees.
Doubts—old ones—crept in on her, so stealthily that she hardly realized it was happening. He was going to stay, wasn’t he? He’d taken his boots off. That was a good sign, right? He was going pull her into his arms and look her in the eye and say sweet things to her—about how special she was, how beautiful, all that good stuff. Things that she hadn’t heard in almost eight years—not since the honeymoon period of her marriage to Roger.
She wanted those feelings back. She was only thirty-three, after all. She was still far too young to feel like a nun. But she didn’t want to feel like all she was good for was her respective body parts. That’s how her ex-husband had made her feel—he was only married to her for the pussy and light housekeeping. And he could get pussy anywhere.
She lay back down on the bed on her stomach and forced herself to breathe. She was just out of practice, that was all. It had been years since a man had looked at her like Mack had while she’d been swimming—since another man had brought her to orgasm like that.
Since another man had put her needs, her body, first.
The bathroom door opened and she involuntarily held her breath. Would he stay? Or go? Maybe she should have left the light off. She wasn’t some willowy young thing. But then again, she wasn’t any more exposed than she’d been when she’d stripped her dress off for him.
He walked out, his shirt untucked but still firmly buttoned. When he saw her watching, he paused and leaned against the wall that divided the bedroom from the bathroom. But he didn’t say anything.
Karen shivered as he looked at her. She couldn’t tell if that was because of the temperature or her nerves. “Yes?”
A slow grin—far too serious to be called lazy—took hold of one corner of his mouth. “Just admiring.”
She exhaled slowly, resisting the urge to suck in her stomach. What good would that do? She was lying on that particular body part, for crying out loud.
Mack shifted and began to walk toward the bed. “Is it all right if I touch you?” he asked.
She stared at him. Hadn’t he already? But he stopped when he got next to the bed, waiting on her reply.
“I’d like that,” she told him.
Mack sat down on the edge of the bed and lifted up one hand. Karen tensed, which didn’t make any sense. She’d asked him to touch her. She wanted him to touch her.
But she couldn’t shake off that feeling of doubt.
At least, she couldn’t—until Mack touched her.
He started at her hair, pulling the rose out of her up-do and then removing the pins that held the twist. He combed his fingers through her hair, loosening it until it fell around her shoulders in waves.
Then he trailed a finger over her shoulder, down her back and over her butt. He didn’t stop there, didn’t touch her like he’d touched her earlier. He worked his way down the back of her thigh, her knee—which made her giggle—and all the way down to her foot.
He took his time moving his hand up the other leg. His touch was slow and steady and sensual. Karen closed her eyes and let herself just be under his hand. “That feels nice,” she said as he went from trailing a finger to rubbing his whole palm against her bare skin.
“Good,” he said. Then he touched her again—but this time, instead of his hand, the tip of the rose brushed over her skin. “How’s that?”
The soft petals of the rosebud caressed her skin and filled the air with its gentle perfume. “Lovely,” she murmured. The last of her nerves left her and she just let herself enjoy this. This was, hands down, one of the benefits of an older man. He was taking his time. It wasn’t all about the fuck—boom, and he was done. There was more to enjoy with him.
Her skin tingled, aware of each movement as the rose kissed the small of her back, the space between her legs, even the soles of her feet. She laughed again and was thrilled when Mack laughed with her.
Then the bed shifted under his weight as he leaned forward and pressed his lips against the top of her shoulder.
“Mack,” she whispered as he kissed and licked her shoulder, her back. Then he got lower. He reached her butt and bit down. Not too hard—not enough to bruise—but enough that she trembled in the small place between pleasure and pain. “Oh…”
He traced the bite mark with the rose or his finger, she couldn’t tell.
“Harder? Or too hard?”
“Just right. Just…” He touched her other cheek, smoothing his palm over her skin, tracing the edge of the thong. She tensed, waiting for the bite. Waiting for him to mark her.
Her ex had never gotten this part right. He either bit her so hard he bruised her or he didn’t bite her at all. And since Karen did not particularly want to be bruised, she’d stopped asking for those little love bites and tried to convince herself that it was healthier if she didn’t get bitten. After all, normal people didn’t like the little flash of pain that burned bright into pleasure.
“Do you mind? That I like that?” she asked. She didn’t miss the way her voice trembled. She didn’t want to hear the rejection again, didn’t want to feel like her desires were wrong somehow, off. Not right. That she wasn’t right.
“Hmm,” Mack hummed. He shifted, stood and then straddled her legs. The bed sagged underneath his weight. The contact warmed her legs.
Then he put both his hands on her bottom, massaged her and trailed along the edge of the thong. “Why do you like that?” he asked as he rubbed her. There wasn’t any judgment in his voice, just curiosity.
“I don’t know,” she admitted, relaxing under his touch. He moved over her back, his hands and all their rough callouses kneading her muscles. “I guess…sometimes it’s hard to be in the
present, you know? You want to be with someone, you want to have great sex, but your mind is too busy thinking about how you forgot to get the dry cleaning and the dishwasher needs to be emptied and on and on and on. And you—well, okay, me—I have trouble staying in the moment. That little bit of sensation—it pulls me back, forces me to be here.”
She’d never been able to admit that before. She’d had lovers before she got married, some more willing to indulge her than others, but she’d never been brave enough to say why being bitten just so worked for her.
“With me?”
She grinned. “With you.” Maybe he was the reason. She could be honest with him—with herself—because what was the risk? If it didn’t work out, she’d never have to see him again. Their paths would never cross on their own.
But if it did work out…
Mack leaned forward. Instead of biting her on the ass again, he covered the rest of her body with his. With one hand, he grabbed her hair and not-quite yanked it away from her shoulders. Then he bit her, right where her neck met her shoulders.
Everything about her body tightened down in response and she cried out in pleasure against the pillow. There was no worry about why Roger had been an asshole or whether or not blind dates were really worth the hassle of shaving in January or if she’d have enough roses for Valentine’s Day or too many.
All there was—all she wanted—was Mack.
“I never much did this before,” he whispered in her ear. “You have to tell me if it’s okay or not. I don’t want to go too far and hurt you.”
“Don’t stop,” she gasped, her words muffled by the pillow.
He wound her hair around his hand and pulled, turning her head so her face was toward the light. “I want…” he said, and then he paused, like he wasn’t sure what he wanted or how to ask for it.
“Tell me,” she said, shifting her ass under his body. She looked at him as best she could from this angle. The uncertainty on his face made her want to pull him into her arms and hold him, just like she’d held him after the oral sex. “I want to give you what you want, Mack.”
He gave her another short tug to her hair. “Yeah,” he groaned, and for the first time, he ground his dick against her backside. “That—my name. I want to hear what I do to you. I want you to make some noise.”
She smiled up at him. “You bite me like that again and I might just scream.”
All the uncertainty bled out of his face. “You are beautiful,” he said as he lowered his body back onto hers. The buttons from his shirt scraped over her bare skin, but she didn’t care. All she cared about was the hot, heavy bulge pressing against her backside, about the grip he had on her hair, about the way he kissed the area he’d just bitten before jerking her head to the other side and biting down on the opposite side of her neck.
“Oh, Mack,” she cried, not bothering to muffle her words in the pillow. The place probably was deserted anyway. There wasn’t anyone around. She could be as loud as she wanted.
That was as far as the distracted thoughts got before Mack rolled off her and pulled her body with him, until they were spooning. She’d never had her hair pulled like this, but she liked it. It didn’t hurt, not really—and she could focus on the sensation.
Mack moved his mouth over to an unbitten spot and began to tease his teeth over her skin. At the same time, he reached his free hand down between her legs and began to stroke the panties.
She bucked in his arms, a high, tight noise stuck in the back of her throat. “You’re gonna make me come again,” she managed to get out.
His hand briefly left her clit to stroke her stomach, and then he pushed his fingers beneath the lace. “That was the plan, yeah,” he growled in her ear before nipping at her lobe. “Put your leg over mine. Open up for me, Karen.”
She did as she was told, hooking her leg over his raised knee.
He didn’t rush though. He dragged his fingers over her swollen clit and around the edge of her sex several times. “You’re already so wet,” he mused. “Or was that just the swim?” As he asked, he dipped a finger inside.
Her muscles clenched. “It’s you,” she got out through clenched teeth. “You do this to me, Mack.”
He moved his hand in small circles, his finger barely inside of her. “Do you like it?”
“More,” she gasped, trying to thrust against his hand but not quite able to pull it off. He had her leg hooked and he was apparently in no mood to let it go. The pressure was incredible, like the orgasm against the door earlier had only primed her pump and she would explode if she couldn’t let go right now, right—
“Do you want to come again?” he asked, slipping out of her to rub her clit. She whimpered. “Do you want me to make you come again?”
“Mack,” she begged, grabbing at his arm to try and make him get her off. “Mack.”
“I like hearing you say my name,” he said in a low voice. Then, suddenly, he buried two fingers in her, pumping hard. “Like that?”
She whimpered again, her hips trying to match his rhythm.
“Say it, Karen.”
“Yes,” she whispered, her body straining so hard against the climax that was waiting just out of reach. “Bite me. Bite me, bite me, bite—oh!”
Because he bit down on her shoulder at the same moment he thrust his two fingers up into her and she couldn’t have held back the scream if she tried. It all broke free in a crystal moment of pleasure and pain and release.
But the moment was too short, and then the beautiful orgasm faded into a warm glow of Mack kissing her neck and lightly rubbing her clit and holding her tight.
“God, you’re so beautiful,” he murmured.
She felt shimmery with lightness. God, this was so what she wanted—to be able to give voice to her desires, to have them fulfilled instead of dismissed or belittled, to have someone take care of her. She exhaled, sagging back into Mack’s chest. “Mack?”
“Hmm?” he replied, still lightly kissing her neck and shoulder.
“Why do you want me to make noise?”
Chapter Six
Mack paused, feeling Karen’s slick wetness as he lazily circled her little clit. He didn’t really want to let go of her body at this point. He wanted to work her up again and make her scream his name over and over.
Which was probably why she’d asked that question.
It wasn’t that he was embarrassed by her question, but he wasn’t sure he actually had an answer. “Don’t know,” he admitted, rolling onto his back. She spun and curled up against his side, which he liked.
He liked it a lot. He’d missed this, holding a woman close, the smell of sex still hanging in the air.
“Did you want it loud before?” she asked. As the question hung in the air, she undid the top button on his shirt.
He sighed, trying to dredge up the memories without getting caught in the loss of it all. “I was married so young, you know. Nineteen. We had a couple of wild years there, me and Sue. Parking by the side of the road and hiding in the cornfields, where no one could find us if they tried.” He grinned at the old memories. “Sometimes we didn’t even make it to the fields.”
“I’ve always wondered,” she said, undoing another button, “if sex in the bed of a pickup truck was worth it. It wasn’t something you could try in my Chicago neighborhood—not unless you wanted the cops to show up before you finished,” she added. Another button gave.
“Oh, yeah. It’s worth it if you have enough blankets,” he added. “Blankets, the wide-open night sky, nothing between you. Hell, yeah, it’s worth it.”
He wasn’t sure if he should make some sort of offer. When it warmed up, he could take her out for a drive and they could try sex in the back of his truck. He would, but he didn’t know if they’d be together or not in another five months. This might just be a one-time thing, and if so, he was okay with that.
&nb
sp; Really.
She got his shirt unbuttoned and pushed it open. Which did not get him any closer to being naked, what with his long underwear. “Sorry,” he said, disentangling himself long enough to sit up and strip the whole mess off. “Used to dressing in layers for the winter.”
“Understood.” She waited until he was finally shirtless. Then she reached up and traced the muscles on his back.
He wasn’t as young as he once was, but ranching had a way of keeping him in decent shape. Or at least decent-enough shape. He hoped.
Her touch was light and soft against his skin, and he had to close his eyes to take it all in. It’d been years since anyone had touched him. Oh, sure, he shook hands and got clapped on the back at church and, yeah, he hugged his boys.
But this? The way a woman’s hands felt caressing his body? It was almost too much for him. He was hard and ready and he wanted to roll onto her and bury himself in her body over and over until his release left him sated and spent. To hell with all this foreplay, all this talk.
Except…except he needed the foreplay and he especially needed the talk. He needed to feel this human connection with Karen.
He jammed his feet under the covers and pulled them up over both of them. Then he lay back down in her arms, marveling at the wonder of it all. Her arm went around his waist and she held him. It was somehow even more intimate than the things they’d done.
“We had Mark—he’s the oldest—when I was twenty one. Nicky was a year and a half later, and then Tommy almost two years after that. Three kids by the time I was twenty-six.” He shook his head. “Tommy’s almost twenty-one now. I look at him now and I can’t believe I’d been married for two years and had a baby on the way at that age.”
“Was your wife the same age?”
“She was a year younger than I was. That’s why we didn’t get married until I was nineteen.” He sighed again. “And once you have three little ones who need to eat and sleep and play, you change. We changed. We didn’t spend all night doing…this,” he said, waving his hand over the bed. “No more parking in the middle of nowhere, no more wild sex in the back of the pickup. It became…quick. Quiet. We had to be fast and not make any noise because we didn’t want the boys walking in on us, you know?”
