Adding Heat Read online

  A soft moan snapped his gaze to her.

  “I need help.”

  Con hurried to shut off the water and sprang to his feet. He couldn’t quite read her expression, so he stood there, undecided what to do.

  “These things are so darn tight, it hurts when I rub them against the burn. Can you, um, help me take off my bra and shorts with a minimum of dragging against the sunburn?”

  Was the Pope Catholic? Did the sun set in the west?

  He mentally lectured himself. Her comfort was paramount here. He could do this. “Sure. Turn around.” After a quick perusal of the bra’s formidable construction—unclasping the back strap had merely loosened its hold what with the X over her shoulders still holding her cups in place—he said, “Okay. At the count of three, you lift the front and I’ll lift the back.” With hands that barely trembled, he spread his fingers underneath the superstructure of the racer back and counted. Slowly, as he followed the cautious raising of Giselle’s arms, they managed to get the stretchy garment over her head.

  Then he looked in the mirror and almost swallowed his tongue. Amber. Her nipples were the shade of precious amber. Her breasts were heavy, round, slightly drooping and swaying as she lowered her arms.

  “Ah, that feels better.”

  “Giselle.” It came out as a squeak.

  She turned to him, uncertainty in her eyes. “You don’t like…?”

  He commanded his tongue to work but couldn’t keep the breathless quality from his voice. “I have never seen a more beautiful sight in my life. Thank you.”

  The uncertainty remained, but the corners of her mouth tilted upward. “Oh.”

  Then his cock made him speak without engaging his brain. “Giselle, more than anything else in this world, I want to get in that tub with you, but if I wait another minute, I won’t be able to get my shorts off. Do I have your permission?”

  Her gaze traveled down his torso. The tip of his cock, outlined against the tight spandex, lengthened as though she’d touched him.

  Instead of answering, she reached for his waistband.

  “No! I mean, I’ll probably have as much difficulty removing it as we did with your bra.” And damn if his cock didn’t swell even more at the thought of showing itself off. He hoped he didn’t come off as too eager and unsophisticated, but damn, he couldn’t wait a moment longer. Con ripped off his shirt and gingerly slid the tight shorts down his hips with one hand, holding his rampant cock against his belly with the other.

  “Oh!” Her tentative smile ripened into full sunshine. “I always wondered if Lance Armstrong and his peers went commando.”

  “I don’t know about them, but it’s more comfortable for me to, er, have everything in its place without extra layers of fabrics or hems and seams that create ridges.”

  The laugh she gifted him with warmed him. “Well, it’s time to discover whether I’ve gone commando as well. Please?” She raised her palms in invitation, and his mouth watered as he noticed how her nipples had gotten puckered and tight.

  Kneeling at her feet, he carefully rolled the fabric down her hips. He stopped when her neatly trimmed triangle of dark hair came into view. Without conscious thought, he leaned forward and rained kisses on the exposed skin from one curvy hip to the other.

  She burrowed her fingers in his unruly hair. He closed his eyes in thanksgiving for that reaction then continued rolling her shorts down her legs. He thought she winced when the bundle scraped the burn at her thighs so he did the first thing he could think of to take her mind off the pain.

  He began to stroke the plump lips with his tongue, inhaling the ripe scent of sweaty, aroused woman.

  * * * * *

  “Con!”

  He jerked his head back. Luckily the fistfuls of hair she gripped kept that dazzling tongue from straying too far.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

  “Conlan Trowbridge, don’t you dare apologize. You just…surprised me, that’s all.”

  “I wanted to take your mind off your pain.”

  Giselle bent forward, cradling his head in her hands. “Good. That’s a creative solution. But how about I get my feet out of these shorts before I trip and bang my head against the tub? Then I’d really be in pain.”

  Instantly his strong fingers twined around her hips. “Hold on to me and just kick them free.”

  Placing her hands on his shoulders, she did, marveling at the tensile strength of his long, ropy muscles. He hadn’t looked so…formidable in his blue Brooks Brothers shirt at the Senior Citizens’ Center, but here in her bathroom, he seemed the perfect specimen of manhood, his cock jutting out like a trowel, the hair around it dark and thick with a trail leading up to his navel. She could only hope that in his obviously horny state, he’d overlook her less-than-centerfold-quality body. And with both of them naked, dayum, she wondered if he could see her juices seeping out of her pussy from his vantage point on his knees in front of her.

  On his knees. In front of her pussy. Her naked pussy. She leaned forward a scant inch and made contact with his mouth again.

  He took the hint eagerly, groaning and sliding his hands down from her hips to the vee between her legs. With her ankles untangled from the shorts, she was able to spread her legs to allow him greater access. His thumbs parted her pussy lips and…he feasted. No other word would do. It seemed to Giselle as though he was satisfying a deep hunger.

  Which fed her own hunger. She threw her head back, closed her eyes and simply…felt. Now he was circling a thumb on her clit, which shot lightning bolts throughout her core. Now his tongue soothed the hard nubbin, doubling the sensation. One strong hand slid around to her ass and cupped her flesh. His other hand stroked her inner thigh up to the crease then slid between her lips. He slipped one finger, then two, into her slick passage and thrust rhythmically. Her hips started rocking of their own volition.

  She wanted this, wanted him, desperately wanted that peak she couldn’t reach by herself. Her breath came shorter. She heard a feral-sounding growl and realized it came from her own throat as she gripped fistfuls of his hair tighter and tighter, pulling his face even closer to her pussy. Need spiraled into a mere pinpoint against his tongue. Something—his finger?—poked into her anus and she shattered the way a tossed stone shatters the still surface of a lake, sending ripples to every atom in her body again and again until calm descended once more.

  And then he was standing before her, Con, her accountant and biker, murmuring nonsense syllables, soothing her, carefully holding her by her unburned hips and nudging her into the tub.

  The tub. Her sunburn. What she’d done. What they’d done.

  Oh my, she was now a cougar.

  She blinked several times and focused on eyes as blue as a glowing sapphire, soft and lusty at the same time, his lips shiny with…her juices. Wow. She’d have to remember this little detail to tell the blog ladies.

  “That’s it. Just sit down. Is the water too warm? Too cool?”

  A laugh escaped Giselle. “I’m no Goldilocks, but it’s just right.”

  His smile brought out that dimple in his left cheek. Adorable he was, a stray lock of brown hair draping across one brow, a washcloth in one hand and her botanical soap in the other, bending across the tub to stroke the sudsy cloth carefully across her shoulders. Now that her torso was mostly hidden under the bathwater, she let her mind wander away from how much older her body was than his and relaxed even further into his intimate attention.

  “Does that hurt?”

  “No. Con…”

  “Good. Bend forward. I’ll do your back.”

  “Con, you didn’t clim—”

  “It’s just right, remember? Let’s get your sunburn taken care of first.”

  So she lowered her lashes and allowed him to minister to her. His touch was so gentle it made her want to weep. He tenderly cleansed then rinsed and she was lulled by the novelty of a man taking care of her again, basking in his attention and concern.

  A splash star
tled her eyes open. Con stood with both feet in the tub, facing her, his back to the faucet, his cock bobbing up and down above her face. “Can you scoot back a smidge? The water feels good.”

  “Oh. Of course.” She did and he knelt on the slippery porcelain, immersing his thighs almost to his balls. She held out her hand. “Do you want me to…”

  “Yeah, I want you to.”

  She wiggled her fingers. “The soap?”

  “The cock.”

  He took her outstretched hand and settled it against the scorching heat of him. Giselle felt it jump as she wrapped her fingers around a cock that veritably pulsed with life. On a moan of bliss he settled into the tub, sloshing the water that had gone perilously high with his movement. She inched closer, jockeying her legs over his and around his hips so she could more easily reach this new toy, this hot shaft that throbbed in her hand.

  “Giselle.” Her name sounded like a prayer on his lips. “I wouldn’t be averse to you sitting on me. But your touch is a little bit of heaven all by itself. Don’t stop.”

  “I won’t. But I do need the soap and the washcloth.”

  She saw the muscle at his jaw twitch at her playful diversion but he said nothing as he pivoted to reach the soap dish.

  Giselle couldn’t believe his forbearance as he allowed her to soap his arms, his chest and down his belly to his cock. The soap disintegrated in the water as she smoothed one hand then the other down the length of him, dallying at the crown to circle and tease it. She moved her hands down to fondle his balls, which by now had tightened and tucked themselves close to his body.

  “You have a heavenly touch,” he bit out between clenched teeth.

  “It’s a pleasure to do this for you.”

  His gaze lasered into her. “Giselle. How does your sunburn feel?”

  Sunburn? He was thinking about her sunburn at a time like this?

  “Totally a non-issue. The heat I’m feeling right now has nothing to do with sunburn.”

  “Good.” With that, he stood upright, rising like Neptune from the sea, dripping and shiny with moisture, and stepped out onto the bath mat. He hauled her to her feet then swept her into his arms, one around her shoulders and the other under her knees. Her mind snagged on the fact that he’d lifted her with no more effort than if she was a fifty-pound bag of peat moss.

  “Which bedroom?”

  “Con.” This was the moment of truth. She had a vibrant, strong, adorable man eager to make love with her. He was younger, much younger than she. Did age matter? Did the fact that they’d only met a few days ago make any difference?

  So what, she could hear her cougar challenge buds say. Your aunt vouches for him as an upstanding member of the community. You’re not marrying him, you’re just going to fuck him. And younger means more virile, with more stamina. You’re crazy not to go for it. Take the bull by the horn—so to speak—and get it on!

  While she was mentally dithering, she became aware that his muscles had tensed. He stopped at the bathroom doorway, water dripping down his torso. “I beg your pardon for overstepping.” He set her on her feet. The tiles felt cool on her damp soles. “You make it difficult for a man to think with his brain.”

  He turned to take a few steps back into the bathroom, snagged a large purple towel, wrapped it around her shoulders then grabbed one for himself. He did not turn around again.

  “Con?”

  He was resolutely rubbing the towel around his torso then down his legs, keeping his skin covered as much as his actions would allow, keeping his head down and eyes averted. Keeping alive the space that suddenly yawned between them.

  “I’m sorry. I’ll just pop by Mrs. Archer’s home and show her where to sign the form ten-forty—”

  “Con! What the devil’s the matter with you?”

  She could see his spine straighten. “I’ve heard that very tone of voice saying my name when teachers wanted to chastise me. I apologize for—”

  “Conlan Trowbridge, you turn around this minute!” Giselle didn’t know whether to laugh or be mortified. Did she sound like his teacher? Did their age difference matter that much to him?

  When he didn’t move, she grabbed a fistful of his towel, yanked it off him and tossed it in the hallway. “Con. Dammit, turn around and read. My. Lips.”

  He turned, seemingly as slowly as the earth revolves around the sun. She was gratified to note that his cock hadn’t diminished one whit. It still thrust out impressively in her direction.

  She licked her lips as she stared. It jumped under her scrutiny.

  “Con. I wasn’t hesitating because I didn’t want you. I was afraid you’d think I was too old for you.”

  “Good grief, you’re just right, just perfect!”

  She opened her arms. “Then come here. We’re not finished. Not by a long shot.”

  Suddenly he was all over her, kissing, stroking, laving swaths of her skin with his tongue. “Giselle. You’re so kissable. I was afraid I wanted you so much that I willed the same for you, whether you wanted it or not.”

  “I do, Con. I do want you.” She let her mouth explore the vulnerable spot where his neck connected with his torso, the bones of his clavicle, down across his pecs, his chest practically hairless and oh so smooth. It had been so long since she’d tasted a man’s skin, felt the sinew and muscle and bone so much stronger than her own.

  She shifted to reach the hard bump of his nipple and sucked. Hard. Then fell to her knees. He murmured a weak demurral, but she resisted his attempt to bring her upright.

  “Con, I need to do this. I need to taste, to feel…” And then her mouth was too busy to talk, to explain. Oh, the heat of him! The delirious sensations of smooth, hard, hot and throbbing that was his cock in her mouth ratcheted her frenzy up another notch. She drew him in, hollowing her cheeks to hold him there while her tongue stroked and the insides of her mouth and throat closed around him. Her hands were everywhere, fisting in his soft pubic hair, stroking a hairy thigh and smooth hip, squeezing and releasing his balls, snaking around to cup his tight, round ass cheeks.

  “Giselle, please. Wait, stop, hold on.”

  She felt herself being lifted to her feet and, against her will, his cock popped out of her mouth.

  “Honey, when I come the first time, I want to be looking into your eyes. Please, let me do it my way.”

  She melted. How could she say no to such a heartfelt plea?

  “Of course. Follow me.”

  From the corner of her eye she noted he grabbed his bike pack and suddenly wondered, did he have condoms in there? She certainly had no stash, hadn’t even considered buying any, expecting his visit to be merely a drop-off of tax forms and maybe a spin around a rural road or two.

  But, oh, she was ready, and if he didn’t have any, there’d be hell to pay.

  Snickering quietly to herself, she led him to the master bedroom, with its queen-size bed still strewn with her hastily discarded motorcycle ensemble. She swept it onto the reading chair near the window.

  And then he was behind her, kissing her neck, pulling the scrunchie off her damp ponytail to thread his fingers through her dark curls. He moved his hands to cup her breasts, rolling her hard nipples between thumb and fingers then shifting his feet, changing her stance as well. The reflection of the two of them in the mirror above her dresser fascinated her as much as his ministrations aroused her.

  “Look at that face,” he murmured into her ear. “Those heavy-lidded eyes, the pouting mouth, the rosy skin. A beautiful woman in her prime, knowing how desirable she is, and offering it to her lover.” He gently bit the lobe. “Just right. Just perfect.”

  She snuggled into him, her back against his chest, his hot cock nudging its way between her ass cheeks and, holding on to his hips, slowly gyrated like a wanton. She felt wanton. And yes, desirable. In this dance of seduction, age was irrelevant.

  “Help me,” he pleaded as he pinched both nipples. “I don’t have enough hands. Rub your clit for me while we both watch.”


  Now she felt absolutely decadent. She dipped her fingers into her pussy to lubricate them then stroked the hard nub with one hand, touching herself in exactly the right way as she watched him pull and tug at her nipples. She thrust two fingers of her other hand inside her pussy and stroked herself. A thousand volts of sexual electricity zinged through her. Moisture gushed down her thighs.

  He bit down on her shoulder and lights exploded behind her eyes.

  “Con!” she screamed as her knees buckled.

  “Yes.” He held her, one hand squeezing her breast, the other clamped atop her own hand inside her pussy, until her contractions lessened and the shards of light coalesced into the mirror reflecting their embrace. Then he swept her into his arms again and set her atop the spring-flowered coverlet. “I’ll be right back. Don’t go away.”

  She’d have laughed if she could find the energy. She wasn’t going anywhere until his cock had been inside her for a good long time.

  In seconds he slid beside her on the bed. “Miss me?”

  At that she did manage a tiny, languorous laugh. “What took you so long?”

  “This.” He pulled her hand to his now-sheathed cock. “It’s my turn.”

  Her slumberous gaze lifted from the cock her hand was wrapped around to his eyes, the pupils so dilated only a sliver of shocking blue surrounded them. Her lips tilted upward in a wicked smile. “It’s about time.”

  As she drew her thighs apart in welcome, he rolled onto her. “You are my living wet dream,” he said, his gaze riveted on hers, and slid his cock into her, one slow inch at a time until their pubic bones met.

  It felt right. It felt as if he belonged there, filling her, stroking her, slowly at first then with mounting frenzy, their gaze connected as totally as their bodies were. Everything around her faded except his weight on her as he pumped his hips, her legs squeezing like a vise around his waist, the mounting heat, the spiraling desire, the reaching, reaching for nirvana then finding it. They exploded together like a burning building that collapses only to revive the fury of the fire until nothing remained except smoldering embers.