The Cougar Book

by Jolie Du Prè

  She hadn’t seen him come in, hadn’t heard the door open, but she was more than grateful for his presence, as if she had somehow conjured him with her thoughts. She leaned back against him, her knight in shining armor, even though his armor consisted of artfully torn jeans, a heavy metal t-shirt, and a chin full of stubble. He was hot, but not the rescuing type, exactly. But what he lacked in wealth, he made up for in other ways. She’d thought about him touching her before, but Sheena never could’ve made the first move. At forty, she’d have looked too desperate, not to mention opening herself up to lawsuits.

  Yet here he was, touching her in a way that was not at all professional. Touching her in a way that made her feel beautiful, from the inside out. The irony of it all did not escape her. She had dated some of the most famous and fabulous men in the world in her youth, when her picture had been plastered all over so many magazines that she’d had to hire a publicist to try to stop the swell of press swarming over her to give her a little breathing room. They’d had fun, but she’d often woken up in the middle of the night, head aching, wondering what would happen to those men once she was no longer gracing their local magazine racks. Sheena had ignored those dark thoughts, though, because to ask where the men would be would beg the question as to where she should be. She hadn’t wanted to think of herself playing the mom in commercials for dishwashing soap, watching as this year’s It-girl looked at her like she was nothing, over the hill.

  Now she could only laugh at the excesses of youth. It was all a con game she’d become an expert at. Flash a toothy, white smile, get paid thousands, and she’d literally laughed all the way to the bank, tears coming to her eyes at times when she peered at a statement full of numbers so big they boggled her mind.

  Most of all, she hadn’t wanted to let go of the men’s glances, the adoration, the attention. She looked good, sure, but not like she had.

  “Stop thinking,” Braden said, and brought her lips to his. “And get ready, because I need you to keep up with me. I can go a long time.”

  She giggled, a girlish sound that got trapped in her throat when he placed his lips atop hers, sucking the air right out of her. Her laugh became a gasp as Braden grabbed her ass. Frankly, she would’ve thought him incapable of such aggression earlier. He was a man, but seemingly a docile one, but maybe that’s just what she paid him for. Off the clock, he was tough, powerful, and knew what he wanted.

  Even as she struggled, Sheena knew she’d finally found a man who could keep up with her, who could make her feel not only gorgeous, but who could challenge her too. She needed someone to push herand push her buttons. Just when she was ready to dig her perfectly manicured red nails into his skin, he broke their kiss and went back to massaging her, this time peeling off her blouse.

  “Relax,” Braden murmured as his tongue gently licked her shoulder. Maybe she imagined the word, since she was so focused on doing just that. Relaxing wasn’t that easy for her, especially these days, but he got her there with those hands, those powerful, manly hands that somehow made him seem older, wiser than his years. They dug deep into her shoulder blades, going past relief and into pain, memory. She felt his thumbs digging into her skin, asking her permission, granting her something she hadn’t known she’d needed. “Let it out, baby, let it out,” he whispered, or maybe she once again imagined it.

  Sometimes she didn’t know what he was saying exactly, his quietly-accented voice and gentle manner making it hard for her to ask him to repeat himself. Add the immense sexual tension exploding between them and she was a goner. She didn’t need to tell him. Braden, with a surety that was either despite or because of his youth, just took over.

  He stood behind her, pressing his cock against her ass, and she realized she wanted him more than she ever had, even in her fantasies. Her pussy contracted, tightening, and she felt the emptiness there, felt an ache so strong she had to grit her teeth. If he didn’t fuck her here and now, she would die. She looked back in the mirror, at their faces next to one another: his stubbled brow and dark eyes, rough but sexy scowl, and then she closed them as his fingers sought out her hardened nipples, pink and pert and on display in the mirror. He pinched them firmly and twirled them between his fingers. She wanted to scream, but stayed quiet, just aware enough of her guests to stifle herself. Sheena let out a gasp as he shifted his hips just enough to bring his cock closer to her core. “Yes,” she heard her voice echo in the room, even though she couldn’t consciously remember speaking the word. His hand dropped between her legs, fondling her opening beneath the sleek silk of her pants, surely ruining the fine fabric, but he could have ripped the silk right off her and she wouldn’t have minded, as long as it got him inside her. In moments, his pants were on the ground around his ankles, and hers met a similar fate.

  She arched her ass, pressing back against him as she urged him inside. He fastened his teeth around her earlobe, somehow knowing this was a particularly sweet spot for her, and then he eased the head of his cock into her. She let out a long breath, one she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, as she pushed back, beckoning him inside. He thrust into her, until she claimed all of him, all of that glorious cock she’d dreamt about long after he’d gone. The cock he managed to wield with a combination of authority and questioning, assertiveness and timidity, claiming her even as he let her set their course. He followed her lead, slamming into her hard as she rocked against him, able, as always, to read her mind through her cunt.

  His cock seemed to know where to go, where it needed to be. He held still, letting her adjust to his girth, while one hand snaked around and massaged her clit. Slowly at first, long, intense circles that seemed to rocket straight through her. Then he began pinching, strong, short nips that left her clit suffused with heat and made her want more and more. He began thrusting again, and she relaxed against him, letting him take over and give her what she needed like they’d been doing this for years rather than mere minutes. He wrapped his other arm around her waist, pulling her close as his cock and fingers drove her mad, taking her higher and higher until she thought she couldn’t go any farther. But she could. He made sure of it, and somehow when he next pushed into her, his cock felt bigger, taking up every spare space inside her until it was all him. She moaned as his tongue invaded her neck, licking the tenderest area along her neck, the one that always made her feel like she was levitating.

  This was it, and they both knew it, and he slammed into her over and over, taking both of them somewhere far removed from her tiny hillside bathroom, and into the past, the future, outer space. Taking, taking, and then returning, returning, giving Sheena’s body back to her one glorious spasm as a time. As she shook against him, the shudders running from the hairs on her head to the tips of her toes, making everything inside her curl and twist and transform. She felt weightless, soulless, ageless. Looking at herself in the mirror, she thought she could see the years shedding away, returning her not only to a youthful appearance, but to that same anything-goes spirit she’d lost somewhere along the way.

  “Happy Birthday, baby,” he said as he erupted inside her, bathing her with its warmth. She smiled at him in the mirror. Finally, because of him, it was.

  Whisky Spread

  Sascha Illyvich

  Morganna washed the last glass of the afternoon before casting a longing glance at the door. Her bar was clean, liquor cabinets were stocked full and ready for more patrons to come in and fill the place with lively stories, cigar smoke, and booze until 2 a.m. when the place closed. She set the rag down on the wood bar and sat on a stool beside a rather large collection of whiskeys, bourbons, and cognacs.

  All the ashtrays had been wiped out again, the humidor stocked full of premium smokes and a few empty match boxes with the bar’s name had been thrown out, replaced by fresh, full boxes for her regulars and the casual stranger who strolled in.

  It was Tuesday, meaning her favorite customer would probably wander in around eight or so; thirsty and ready to stare at her breasts while she worke
d.

  Nicholas was an unusual man. For starters, he was young. She guessed he was probably in his early twenties, but that was based on his appearance, not what he chose to drink or where he decided to hang out. The age of her normal clientele averaged mid-fifties unless someone stumbled in, not knowing this was a cigar bar, not a club atmosphere. Nicholas never paid any attention to women closer to his age, either.

  Also, he normally ordered a high-end scotch, neat. And he always smoked his own cigars, usually Nicaraguan or Dominican high-end like Padrón or Diamond Crown Maximus. Said he liked the older flavors.

  She liked the fact that he liked mature things.

  Licking her lips, she walked past the bar to the door and flipped the sign to reflect that they were now open for business until 2 a.m. Making her way towards the humidor, she slid the glass case open, pulled out a vitola and scanned the bar for a cutter. Spotting one by the beer tap, she retrieved it, held the uncut end of the cigar to the guillotine and clipped off a part of the cap. Bringing the cigar to her lips, she pulled out her torch lighter and lit the end of her cigar, puffing until the entire end was on fire. She cut the flame and took another puff, sending a thick cloud of sweet smoke billowing throughout the air to erase the faint yet distinct smell of cleaning products.

  She took her time to savor the earthy, coffee flavors of the Honduran made cigar before returning to behind the bar.

  A few minutes later, the stereo played old school jazz music and a few older businessmen had come in ordering mixed drinks and smoking. Morganna tended to their needs, keeping a watchful eye on the front door in hopes that Nicholas would show up sooner, rather than later.

  After a few more hours had passed, the bar had begun to fill with the after-work crowd. The business set from the financial district in downtown San Francisco came in to smoke, chat and unwind in a smoker-friendly haven. John, the new second shift bartender, handled most of the customers while Morganna slipped off into the office behind the bar to handle paperwork and freshen up.

  Shutting the door behind her to drown out the music, Morganna looked into an old mirror that hung on the back of the door. The little makeup she wore emphasized jade green eyes while ruby red lips accentuated her freckled skin. She tugged at her sweater, adjusting it so her ample bosoms showed better. Jeans fit her hips snuggly complete with ankle high boots with pointed toes. Her hair had been held away from her face by a clip in the back that centered a pony tail down the length of her back along with the rest of her mane.

  She had no idea why she was going to all the trouble to make sure she looked so good for this one customer. He was probably in a relationship like many men his age.

  Chalking her insecurity up to her age, Morganna shrugged her shoulders and reached for the door.

  She stepped back into the bar area but took a quick step back out of sight. Nicholas was sitting at a seat by the window, and there was a brunette with him.

  Her heart sank.

  The brunette leaned forward on her elbows, waving her hand through the thick cloud of smoke coming from Nicholas’s cigar.

  His hair hung down the length of his back and caught the light off the fixture above so that it reflected a deep blue so dark it looked black. His charcoal gray shirt fit snuggly over broad shoulders and was tucked into navy colored slacks.

  Morganna licked her lips; her nerves ready in anticipation of Goddess only knew what. Then she took a glance at the brunette sitting across from him nursing a . . . cola?

  Was she his girlfriend?

  Sizing her up, Morganna stepped out from behind the spot she was in. A tall patron caught her attention, waving a credit card.

  “Damn it.” Impatiently, she waved at him to signal he had her attention. “What can I do for you hon?”

  He blushed, ran a hand through his curly, blonde hair and opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

  She followed the line of his baby blue eyes roaming down her body until they’d met her assets. Or rather, her breasts. “I see. You’re new here, aren’t you?”

  He nodded.

  She cleared her throat. “No wonder. You’re too obvious. I take it you’d like to close your tab?”

  He set his card down and nodded. “Yeah. I’m sorry. It’s been a long day and seeing someone as pretty as you made my day.”

  Morganna forced a smile to her lips and took his card. “Just the two beers, Rob?”

  He shrugged. “I just don’t have it in me to drink much anymore. I’m getting older. Have to rein it in after a few, ya know?”

  An eyebrow rose. Pursing her lips together at the sight of the brunette leaning into Nicholas and brushing a hand across his arm irritated her further. “Just how old are you?”

  Rob winked, dropping his tone so that clearly he was flirting. “I could ask you the same thing.”

  She smirked. “Yeah, but I’d answer honestly.”

  Frowning, Rob took the slip from her and put his card in his pocket. He offered her a fake smile and slid off his bar stool. “You a regular here, hon?”

  He was trying for more charm. Great. “Yeah. I happen to know the owners very well.” She winked for emphasis and waved him off while another customer ordered a beer.

  Morganna sighed and looked in the direction of where Nicholas and the rather annoying brunette were sitting.

  He was gone but she remained.

  Something possessive inside her drove her to maneuver past John to get a better look at this annoyance who felt she could capture Nicholas’s company.

  Grabbing a bottle of eighteen-year–old Glenlivet, she poured a scotch into a rocks glass and made her way to Nicholas’s table.

  The brunette wore a simple black skirt and a salmon-colored top that came down about half shoulder. Her hair was pulled back tightly, her lips were too thin and her eyes reminded Morganna of the vacuous stares of too many stupid, nonsensical thoughts running around her head just waiting for someone to ask, “What’s on your mind?”

  Setting the drink down on the table, Morganna picked up Nicholas’s empty glass.

  The brunette spoke in a high pitch that irritated Morganna further. “Excuse me, we didn’t order another round.”

  Morganna shot a vicious grin at the brunette. Her shoulders stiffened but she forced herself to remain polite. “I know. Nicholas is one of my regulars. This one’s on the house.”

  The brunette waved a hand to cut through the thick smoke from Nicholas’s cigar. “Ugh, I hope he’s almost done here.”

  Morganna spied him outside pacing back and forth with one hand up to his ear to cover it from the noise that often occurred around Pine Street.

  Reaching for the window, she slid it open. A breeze blew in and sucked some of the smoke away from the stupid bitch. “You his girlfriend?”

  Brunette coughed into her hand. “As if. I couldn’t date a man like him. He’d have to quit smoking and drinking.”

  Morganna snorted. As if.

  Stupid Bitch turned in her seat to face Morganna, giving her a clear view of the woman with too-thin eyebrows and a waifish face. She crossed her arms over her tiny chest in a defensive posture. “My name’s Shannon. You are?”

  “Morganna. I own this bar and am quite fond of smokers and drinkers, at least those with sophisticated taste.”

  Shannon spoke dryly. “Pleasure. Hopefully we’ll be done soon as we do have personal business to tend to after this is over with.” She gestured with a hand.

  Blinking in disbelief, Morganna cleared her throat and stuck out her chest. “Tell Nicholas once he gets back in that this one’s on the house. He’ll know who from.” Satisfied, Morganna sauntered back to the bar to assist John with the rest of the night until her shift ended.

  Dragging herself out of the bar around 12:30, Morganna took one look up and down Pine Street and decided to head home. She’d already had a few drinks, smoked her share of sticks for the night and had worked her ass off.

  The cool breeze that San Francisco was known for whipped aroun
d her, blowing her hair back from her face. Deciding to grab a taxi back home, she sighed in exhaustion and made her way down Pine towards Market Street where most of the cabs would still be running this late at night.

  Once she’d acquired a cab, she piled into the backseat and gave the cabbie the address to her home. Slumping against the seat, she pondered what Nicholas was doing with such an airhead of a woman. Shannon said they had personal business together, which meant she wanted to fuck Nicholas. But he wasn’t the type to go for the rip it and dip it girl.

  He liked longevity. Maturity.

  And a woman with a figure.

  She swallowed hard. What if she’d avoided his flirtations too much back at the bar and he’d decided to move on.

  No, she told herself. That wasn’t possible. He’d been a regular on Tuesdays for the last three years and hadn’t once brought a woman in with him. He’d always come alone.

  By 1:30, Morganna had slid into the warmth of her bed, wishing for company. She knew exactly who she wanted and let the thoughts of Nicholas’s strong hands gripping her thighs while he drove himself into her settle her into sleep with a renewed determination to go after what she felt belonged to her.

  The next day Morganna slid out of bed, padded into the shower and began to wash, taking time to masturbate beneath the showerhead. She liked her curves, didn’t mind the extra few pounds and knew she had the attitude to back up her choices in life. Having spent enough years doing the various things she had made her a solid woman any man would be proud to call mate.

  But Nicholas was with some airhead last night.

  Bartenders often developed relationships with their regulars, but this was beginning to feel strange for Morganna. Perhaps it was the routine of every Tuesday night for the last three years. A girl got used to routine that excited her.

  Two hours later, Morganna was exiting the BART train station when she bumped into a very tall man. Her eyes widened when she realized who it was.