Complicated

by Claire Kent

  She could hear him breathe, feel his chest rise and fall slowly beneath her. The hair on his chest tickled her breasts, particularly her sensitive nipples—but the texture was sensual and pleasing rather than annoying.

  Victoria had no idea what time it was, and she didn’t really care. She would be perfectly happy to lie like this with Greg for the rest of the day. For the rest of her life.

  When she shifted above him to stretch out one of her legs, his cock adjusted inside her. She moaned again at the soft tugs of pleasure.

  “Enjoying yourself?” Greg asked, his voice thick with sleep and arousal.

  “Oh yeah.” She trailed her mouth down his jaw toward his throat, humming in satisfaction at the rough texture under her lips. “I love that you aren’t soft and smooth.”

  Greg’s cock was deliciously hard, but the rest his body wasn’t particularly tense. The muscles of his arms and legs were relaxed, and only his belly was a little tighter than usual. “Excuse me?”

  She chuckled and ran one of her hands through the short hair on his chest. “I love that you aren’t soft and smooth. You’re hard and rough and—”

  “And hairy?”

  Snorting at his ironic tone, she objected, “You aren’t that hairy. Just enough to be yummy. I love how your chest feels.” She moved her hand to stroke down one of his arms, feeling the rippling muscles and short hair. “And your arms.” With a little shifting, she was able to run her toes along one of his legs. “And your legs. And your face. And your…”

  There was a smile in Greg’s voice as he prompted, “And my what?”

  “And your cock,” she admitted, rocking her pelvis gently so she could feel the substance of his erection moving in her slick channel. “It sounds stupid, I know but you feel real. Like a real man. Like I haven’t just dreamed you up in some sort of plastic fantasy.”

  His laughter was low and husky and shook his body with lush vibrations.

  “I told you it would sound stupid,” she mumbled, hiding her face against his shoulder and taking the opportunity to mouth a kiss on the broad curve.

  “It doesn’t sound stupid.” Greg moved his other hand to the back of her thigh so that both of his hands were spanning the soft flesh where her bottom met her legs. “I know exactly what you mean.” He squeezed softly and didn’t seem to mind that there was a little extra fat there. “I love how real you feel too.”

  She felt so melty that she felt compelled to say, “Are you alluding to my cellulite?”

  He chuckled and his fingers explored further, one hand stroking along the crease of her ass and the other rubbing along the line where her inner thigh met her pussy. The moisture from her arousal had leaked out around his cock, making the skin there slightly damp. “No one has ever felt better than you.”

  “Good answer.”

  She leaned up to press her lips against his, and they kissed for a long time, their tongues exploring the other’s mouth with unhurried tenderness.

  She rocked above him as they kissed, easing her pelvis in soft, gentle pumps so she could feel him in every possible way. His hands still played around her upper thighs and bottom—with an absolute entitlement that still thrilled her, even after all these months.

  Eventually, she could feel him begin to tense up beneath her. And his fingers became a little less gentle as they pressed into her flesh.

  “Baby,” he said at last, tearing his mouth away from hers.

  She smiled against his skin. “Is your patience running out?”

  He had more patience than any man she’d ever met. Every man she’d slept with before had wanted to start thrusting immediately.

  “Sorry.” He moved one of his hands up to massage the small of her back. “I know you were enjoying just lying here like this.”

  “That’s okay.” She lifted her head to look down on him with a teasing smile. “If you need to come, you need to come. But you’re going to have to do most of the work this morning.”

  Returning her smile, he adjusted beneath her to get some leverage. “No problem. Hold on.”

  She held on with her arms and her legs so he was able to flip them over without losing the penetration of his cock. He reared up on straightened arms. Then pulled his hips back and slid forward with a slow, luscious thrust.

  Victoria stretched her back and arched her neck at the resulting sensations. “This,” she hissed, “Is pretty good too.”

  He gave a few more long, skillful thrusts, which felt so good she had to reach up and hold onto the headboard for support. “Oh yeah,” she said shakily, as her body started to flush with heat.

  “Yes, baby,” Greg rasped, his face tightening with effort and pleasure. “That’s right. Are you going to come for me?”

  “Uh-huh.” Her orgasm rose up quicker than she’d expected. She planted her feet flat on the bed and used them to pump her hips against Greg’s thrusts to increase the stimulation.

  “Let me see you come.” His rhythm intensified, his thrusts growing faster and shorter.

  She wasn’t going to quite get there like this, so she snuck one hand down and squeezed it between their bodies. Finding her swollen clit, she rubbed it in tight circles.

  “That’s right.” Greg’s head jerked to the side for just a moment before he resumed his erotic rhythm. “Good. So good. Come for me.”

  The tension shattered inside her and she came with a loud cry of relief. Her body convulsed beneath him as he kept thrusting against her contractions.

  “Fuck,” he gritted out, his eyes raking over her body as she came. “Keep rubbing your clit. Come for me again.”

  She did as he instructed, even through the blur of her pleasure. And her clumsy massage of her swollen clit combined with his jerky thrusts into her clenching channel to push her into another climax.

  She cried out a second time but this time her shout of pleasure blended with a rough exclamation from Greg—as his pelvis twitched and jerked against hers and his face twisted in a hard release.

  He collapsed on top of her afterwards, the hot, heavy press of his body pushing her down into the mattress.

  She loved it. Clung to him with her arms, her legs, and her pussy. Tried to catch her breath and regain her senses as her body was washed with visceral satisfaction.

  “Happy birthday,” she whispered at last, her hands tenderly stroking his smooth back.

  “Thanks. So far it’s been a very good day.”

  She smiled and wiggled beneath him, his weight starting to become a little uncomfortable. “Forty-four today. Do you feel old?”

  “I didn’t until you asked me that.” His voice was dry, and she knew he was teasing.

  Giggling, she teased him back. “So not even those gray chest hairs make you feel old?”

  “What?” His tensed above her with a jerk and tried vainly to peer down at his chest.

  She burst out into rippling laughter, and their motion caused his softened cock to slide out of her slippery channel. He rolled over onto his side and frowned at her.

  “There were just one or two gray ones,” she explained, reaching over to point out the offending hairs. “Hardly anything. I wouldn’t have even noticed had I not been admiring your manliness this morning.”

  He returned her smile, obviously pleased at the compliment. And she was once again amazed that he was as secure and self-assured as he was.

  But after a moment he asked, almost diffidently, “Would you rather I not be turning forty-four?”

  She leaned over and kissed him softly. “I wouldn’t want anything to be different about you.”

  It was true. Most of the time, she barely thought about their age difference. And when she did it was usually to be glad he was as mature and well-grounded as he was. The only time it worried her at all was when she looked very, very far into the future.

  Her response seemed to satisfy him because he pulled her into a warm embrace.

  “So we’re on for dinner tonight with Carrie?” she asked after a minute. The day outsi
de the window was getting brighter. She hadn’t checked the time yet, but she knew she’d need to get up soon.

  “Yes. She’s meeting us at the restaurant at seven.”

  “And she seemed okay about my being at your birthday dinner?”

  “She’s not exactly jumping for joy about the situation but—yes—she didn’t even question it.”

  Victoria squeezed him with her arms. “And you told her that I moved in with you last weekend?”

  “I told her.”

  “And she didn’t get too upset?”

  “I think she was expecting it. You’ve been practically living here anyway for the last few months. She’s coming around, Victoria. I promised you she would.”

  Victoria knew he was right. It had been very awkward at first—since Carrie made it very clear she disliked her father’s girlfriend. Victoria didn’t like confrontation, and she didn’t like people hating her so she’d suffered a lot of stress as they all adjusted to the new situation.

  But it had been six months since Carrie had found out. And she was a smart, sensitive girl who loved her father very much. She had to have seen how happy he was with Victoria. And Victoria had done everything she could to be understanding and generous without pushing too hard to get the girl to accept her.

  She’d never dreamed she’d be in the position of trying to relate to the teenaged daughter of the man she was dating. Sometimes it seemed so bizarrely inexplicable she couldn’t believe it was true.

  “I just want her to like me,” she whispered.

  “She will,” Greg said, tenderly brushing his fingers against her cheek. “Give her a little more time. She will.”

  They gazed at each other for a long time—with understanding, sympathy, and tenderness.

  Then Victoria happened to glance back at the clock on the bedside table.

  She sat up straight in bed. “Shit! It’s after seven! I have to teach a class at eight!”

  Greg straightened up and peered at the clock. “Is it already that late? I’m going to be running behind too.”

  “I’m later than you are. I get the shower first,” Victoria insisted, scrambling out of bed and racing for the bathroom.

  She took a five-minute shower. She didn’t wash her hair, but she had to at least soap up and rinse off to get rid of the sweat and semen from their lovemaking.

  Then she raced through her hair, makeup and clothes while Greg took his shower. She had a longer commute from the house than she had from her apartment, and she’d had trouble getting used to the new schedule.

  She was throwing on a pearl necklace—one that suited the vintage silk blouse she had paired with a black pencil skirt—when Greg came out of the bathroom with a towel slung low on his hips.

  He gave her an appreciative once-over. “When you dress like that—all prim and old-fashioned—you make me want to bend you over and fuck you until you scream.”

  She chuckled and felt a little tug at her pussy. She had no idea why her sense of fashion and wire-rimmed glasses got him so hot. But it always gave her a possessive thrill to know that he really wanted her—the real Victoria Ray—and everything about her. “Save that thought until later. It’s your birthday, after all.”

  As she spoke, she slid on a pair of black and white retro heeled pumps and peered at herself in the mirror to make sure she’d put on everything essential.

  “I know,” Greg said thickly, stepping over and brushing his hand across her breast, tweaking the nipple that tightened under his touch. “I have all kinds of plans for tonight.”

  Her intimate muscles clenched in anticipation but she didn’t have time to indulge it. She just arched her eyebrows. “I can hardly wait.”

  Before he could respond, she glanced back at the clock. “Shit! I have to go. I’ll see you tonight.”

  “Yep. Have a good day. Don’t drive too fast and have an accident.” He’d gone over to the closet to find something to wear.

  She’d left the room, grabbed her purse and was about to head out the front door of the house when she remembered something.

  So she raced back to the bedroom and barged into the closet, where Greg was pulling a blue dress shirt off its hanger.

  She gave him a quick kiss and mumbled, “Almost forgot. I love you.”

  He chuckled in warm appreciation and pulled the length of her body against his before she could get away.

  He said, “Baby, I love you too.”

  ***

  If you enjoyed Complicated, please check out the excerpt from Escorted on the next pages. If you’d like to stay up-to-date on sales and new releases, then you can sign up for my monthly newsletter, in which I share news for both my Noelle Adams and Claire Kent pennames. You can sign up through the link here.

  Excerpt from Escorted

  Glancing at her watch, she noticed it was just after three o’clock. Surely this guy wouldn’t be late for a potential new client.

  She was looking at the entrance with a slightly peeved expression when a voice startled her out of her impatience.

  “Lori.”

  She jerked her head around and inexplicably saw the compelling, bald man standing next to her table with his cup of coffee. She blinked up at him, wondering vaguely if he’d noticed her leering at him.

  “Is it Lori?”

  She nodded mutely.

  The man smiled—an urbane, sensual smile that ignited even his blue-gray eyes. He reached a hand out to her in greeting. “I’m Ander.”

  Lori’s mouth dropped open and she gaped at him.

  While she was normally a friendly, outgoing person who handled social situations with ease, she was already insecure about this meeting. And her shock at having the random man she’d admired turn out to be the one with whom she had this particular appointment left her speechless and completely discombobulated.

  Ander’s elegant eyebrows lifted slightly. “Ander Lourdes. We were scheduled to meet, right?”

  She had to assume the name was a professional appellation. Surely no loving father would have saddled a little boy with a name like that. The boy would have no choice but to go into the profession Ander had obviously chosen.

  “Yes,” she said at last, belatedly pulling herself together. She stood up and shook his hand. His grip was warmer than she’d expected. He looked so cool and polished that she’d thought his hand would be a cooler temperature. “Sorry. It’s nice to meet you.”

  He nodded politely and smiled again. “Do you want to talk here?”

  Lori glanced nervously at the other seat at her table. She definitely wanted to meet with him where there were plenty of people around, but the kind of conversation they’d be having wasn’t one you wanted to carry on with dozens of ears within range.

  “We could walk over to the park,” he suggested with easy courtesy. “Still a public place, but not so crowded.”

  She agreed and grabbed her purse and mocha. She’d made a point of not dressing up for this meeting, so she was wearing her favorite pair of jeans and a dark green vintage jacket of crushed velvet that matched her eyes. She’d pulled her shoulder-length brown hair back in a low ponytail and wore no make-up except mascara and lip-gloss. She’d instinctively known that dressing up would make her even more nervous.

  As they crossed the street, Lori asked her companion, “So what kind of name is Ander?” She wanted to make casual conversation and she’d genuinely wanted to know the answer since Sabrina first put this man’s name in front of her as a suitable candidate.

  Ander’s mouth tilted up on one side. “It’s short for Alexander.”

  “So it’s your real name?” It might be too personal a question for this context, but she’d always been overly curious.

  “Ander is. My last name has been changed.” He gave a huff of dry laughter that she found remarkably appealing. “To protect the innocent.”

  She snickered a little, instinctively drawn to wit in any form. His answer had been particularly clever—as it remained ambiguous as to which party in ques
tion was innocent. “So were you named for Alexander the Great or Alexander Graham Bell?”

  He gave her a curious look, as if he were mildly startled at her nosy questions. But before she could start to feel self-conscious about what might be inappropriate behavior on her part for meetings such as these, he said, “The Great. My father would never have named a child after someone as innocuous as an inventor, however brilliant the inventor happened to be.”

  “Ah,” she replied, “So your father liked the warriors.”

  “Exactly.” Idly, Ander put a hand on her back to guide her over to an empty bench in the city park.

  Lori sat on the bench and looked up at him, noting that he was ridiculously handsome in the sunlight, with a breeze blowing against his dark clothes. “I suppose your father must be especially proud of you then,” she said wryly.

  Even she knew—as soon as she spoke the words—that the comment was far too presumptuous for first acquaintance. She bit her lip and felt a pang of guilt and embarrassment.

  To her relief, Ander didn’t look offended. He just looked off in the distance and murmured, “Oh, he’s proud all right.”

  The note of bitterness told Lori something about this man’s feelings for his father. There was a whole story there , a mystery to unravel.

  But it was none of Lori’s business and wasn’t at all what she was here for. Pulling herself back to the purpose of this meeting, she felt a new wave of self-consciousness.

  What the hell was she doing here?

  Ander sat down next to her on the bench and sipped his coffee, his expression becoming professional again. “I always meet with prospective clients to ensure we’re on the same page before we schedule an engagement.”

  Lori nodded, dropping her eyes to stare at her hands in her lap.

  “Did you have any questions about the prices your friend explained to you?” Ander asked. “You’ll pay for an entire evening. That’s the base price. I offer nothing lower than that.”

  She looked up at him, frowning. He didn’t have a website like some escorts, instead relying on personal referrals, but details Sabrina had gotten from the women she’d talked to were quite clear. She was a professional woman. Not an idiot. “Yes, I was able to understand the services you offer and what you charge for them,” she said, her tone a little snippy.