by Cris Anson
She let that comment pass. Andrew was twenty-one and a junior at college. Old enough to pick and fight his own battles.
“So, Mom, go out into the dating world. But be cautious, okay? There’s lots of STDs and stuff. You know, be prepared.”
A deep belly laugh exploded out of Giselle. “Wow! Talk about a turnaround!”
“It sounds good to hear you laugh, Mom. You deserve someone who fusses over you, who makes you happy. Get out there and start looking.”
Giselle cleared her throat. “I’m happy to have your blessing, Andrew. It so happens that I’m getting ready for a date with your Great-Aunt Esme’s accountant. In fact, he should be ringing the doorbell any minute now.”
Andrew groaned. “Oh Mom, he’s not old like her, is he?”
“As a matter of fact, he’s younger than me. You may just be calling your mother a cougar one of these days.”
“Awesome! Way to go!”
She wasn’t sure she wanted him to know just how much younger. At least not yet. But she was encouraged by Andrew’s blessing.
“Gotta go,” she said. “I hear someone coming down the driveway. Thanks for calling, and thanks for encouraging me to go out and kick up my heels. Love you.”
“Love you too, Mom.”
After she hung up, Giselle looked at herself in the mirror. For someone who rarely cared how she looked, she thought she did well—mascara to her lashes, gloss to her lips, perfume to her pulse points. Brand-new see-through bra and matching thong, thigh-high stockings under strappy high heels she’d found at the back of her closet.
She slipped into a two-piece silk dress in a cream shade to highlight her dark hair and eyes, with a flared skirt—for easy access, she’d thought when she bought it this past week—and sleeveless top with a deep vee, buttoned in the front.
She opened the door to his knock and simply stared. Con stood before her in a well-cut suit in a deep brown pinstripe, emphasizing the chestnut and mahogany shades in his slicked-back hair. He held one hand behind his back and his blue eyes looked at her as if she were Venus come to life.
Bringing his hand forward, he offered her a single white calla lily. “I asked the florist for the most beautiful flower in his store, but you put it to shame.”
It had been a long time since she’d felt so feminine, so beautiful. So wanted. Fighting the prickle of tears in the backs of her eyes, she smiled and invited him in. “And you. If I picked up the latest copy of GQ in the bookstore, you could be on page three.”
He followed her all the way into the kitchen, where she retrieved a tall, etched-glass vase, filled it with water and ensconced the lily within.
Then she turned to him. “Thank you for making me feel so special.”
“You are special. And you look good enough to eat.”
Her heart skipped a beat. “So…”
“Giselle, I know we have reservations for that fancy restaurant down in Newtown, but what I really want to do is keep you right here where I can look my fill without a waiter intruding every half hour to ask if we’re ready to order yet.”
“I don’t know if I should believe you. You haven’t even kissed me hello.”
The explosive sparks in his eyes warmed her. “Once I start kissing you, lady, it may be tomorrow before we place our dinner order.”
“I’ll say it again. So?”
He needed no further encouragement. In seconds he was all over her, his hands sliding around her back, her waist, down to her ass cheeks. Slanting his head just so, he captured her mouth with his, licking, sucking, thrusting his tongue into her hot cavern. She delighted to feel his growing arousal and rubbed against him, her arms tight around his waist for leverage.
“I had my hand on my cock every night thinking of you,” he said when at last he gasped a breath. “But it just didn’t seem right to polish my wood without you. I’m so horny now I’m surprised I haven’t turned into a toad.”
She would have laughed at the image, but his mouth captured her breath and his hunger sparked hers. She welcomed the thickness of his tongue, the heat of it, as a precursor to what she knew would come later. “That makes two of us,” she murmured. “Except I’m as horny as a rhinoceros.”
Around a snicker he said, “Okay, you win that metaphor.” Sweeping her up with one arm around her shoulders, the other under her bent knees, he strode to the front hall and up the stairs. “We don’t need a waiter. We can feed each other for a few hours. Or a few months. Or for however long you can stand me.”
In the tiny corner of her mind that wasn’t saturated with thoughts of wild monkey sex, Giselle realized there was some import to his words, but she was so eager to get him naked and inside her, she could think of nothing else. As soon as they entered her bedroom, they divested themselves of their carefully selected clothing and threw it in haphazard heaps on the floor.
Con backed Giselle to the bed, his cock hard against her belly, and followed her down to bounce on the coverlet. She reveled in the feel of his weight, his heat, on her, around her. Instinctively she lifted her legs to hug his hips with all her strength. He slid home in one long, hard thrust then stilled, looking deeply into her eyes.
“I’m not wearing a condom, Giselle. I want to feel all of you. If that bothers you, tell me now and I’ll fix it.”
“No!” She tightened her leg muscles to bind him more closely to her. “It’s okay, it’s the wrong time of the month. And I want all of you too.”
As the impact of those words hit her, she repeated, “All of you. As long as you want me.”
“Oh God, Giselle, you are my dream come true. I’ll want you forever.”
And she realized she wanted the same. This younger man had burrowed into her heart and soul and she couldn’t imagine life without him.
“That sounds good to me, Con.”
Those were the last coherent words they uttered for a long time.
From Giselle: I don’t know how I can thank you all enough. Having Con at my side (and in my bed *grin*) has given a new joy to my life, and I’d have never had that gleam in my eye on meeting him, if you hadn’t invited me to join your Tempt the Cougar Blog. Cougars rule!
About the Author
Cris Anson firmly believes that love is the greatest gift…to give or to receive. In her writing, she lives for the moment when her characters realize they love each other, usually after much antagonism and conflict. And when they express that love physically, Cris keeps a fire extinguisher near the keyboard in case of spontaneous combustion. Multi-published and twice EPPIE-nominated in romantic suspense under another name, she was usually asked to tone down her love scenes. For Ellora’s Cave, she’s happy to turn the flame as high as it will go—and then some.
After suffering the loss of her real-life hero/husband of twenty-two years, Cris has picked up the pieces of her life and tries to remember only the good times…slow-dancing with him to the Big Band sounds of Glenn Miller’s music; vacations to scenic national parks in a snug recreational vehicle; his tender and fierce love; his unflagging belief in her ability to write stories that touch the heart as well as the libido. Bits and pieces of his tenacity, optimism, code of honor and lust for life will live on in her imaginary heroes.
Cris welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.
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Also by Cris Anson
Dance 1: Dance of the Seven Veils
Dance 2: Dance of the Butterfly
Dance 3: Dance of the Crystal
Dance 4: Dance of the Rogue
Discovery
Mischief Night
Punishment and Mercy
What She Needs
To enjoy Cris’ other titles, visit Cerridwen Press (www.cerridwenpress.com):
First to Die
Second Best
Discover for yours
elf why readers can’t get enough of the multiple award-winning publisher Ellora’s Cave. Whether you prefer e-books or paperbacks, be sure to visit EC on the web at www.ellorascave.com for an erotic reading experience that will leave you breathless.
www.ellorascave.com