by Cara Bristol
She flattened her palms against the surface. “Somebody will see.” Excitement raced, but she feigned protest because it was all part of the game. Shadows shrouded her porch, the garage blocked the view from his parents’ side, thick shrubbery from the other, and Lon’s body from the street, but they could be caught, and she trembled from the lewd possibilities.
“You like my little toy, don’t you?” Lon snaked his hand under her skirt and hooked his thumbs into her V-string.
“Yes.” How could she pretend otherwise when the scrap of fabric being shoved down her legs was soaked and her musk of arousal mixed with the sweetness of the rosebushes in the flowerbed?
He tugged her skirt over her hips and tucked the hem into the waistband. The night air and Lon’s hand caressed her bare cheeks.
Dana’s nostrils flared, and she swallowed, alarm vying with desire. “Lon… I don’t know…” What the hell was she doing? She was a middle-aged mother of a grown daughter, a professional—a member of the neighborhood homeowner’s association, for crying out loud. She would have to issue herself a citation for indecent behavior!
“I do know,” he said and curved his forearm over her naked hip and delved his fingers between her legs. “You want this.” His cock, beneath the abrasive material of his slacks, was stone rigid.
“Let’s go inside.” Even as she said it, she widened her stance. He seized her swollen, achy clit, and she rocked against his hand, her body moving of its own accord as pleasure thrummed through her. The muscles of her ass gripped the plug as if it was her sole hold on sanity.
“Not yet.” He manipulated her clit with fierce, rough strokes, showing no gentleness or consideration for the most sensitive part of her body. Her mind reeled. How had he known what she craved?
“I won’t take you inside until you come for me on your porch.”
Someone would hear her. Dana clamped her lips together and shook her head, only to squeal in shock and desire when Lon grasped the generously lubed plug and, using it like a dildo, began to fuck her ass with it. Nerves lit up like the Las Vegas strip. Searing pleasure assaulted her from the front and back. She clenched her muscles and thrashed under Lon’s masterful hands.
She clawed at the door. Her manicurist would wonder what the hell she’d done, but she didn’t care. She didn’t need pretty nails when she was going to burst into flames and end up a pile of ash. She’d never felt so fucking alive as she did with Lon.
He had freed her from marital restraints and tapped into her secret yearnings to commit wild, wicked acts of sexual debauchery. Thrilling, scary. Reaching for an anchor of security, she twisted an arm behind her back and groped for his erection. Lon swiveled his hips to avoid her questing hand.
“No,” he growled and paused in reaming her ass.
She returned her hand to its former position.
“That’s my girl,” he praised her in a guttural voice and rewarded her with a thrust of the toy. Her ass was on fire, as was her clit, and ripples of need shuddered through her cunt, which ached for Lon’s cock, even though the overload of pleasure threatened to shatter her into pieces.
Dana moaned. “Am I your girl?” She panted, struggling to hold off so she could consider his words.
He continued to vanquish her clit while he worked the toy diabolically, further stimulating nerves gone wild. “My woman.”
His possessive endearment combined with his skillful technique sent her flying toward ecstasy as if she’d been shot from a cannon. Dana locked her jaw and dug her fingernails into the door.
Lon rammed the plug in her ass and seared her clit with the other hand. “Don’t fight it. Come for me. Now.”
Dana convulsed in orgasm, rocking violently between Lon’s hand and the toy. She clamped her lips together to stifle her scream, but even muffled, the loudness of it shocked her ears.
Shuddering, she sagged against the door.
Being a medical professional, Lon knew it wasn’t possible for a penis to explode, but holy fuck if it didn’t feel like it. His hard-on felt so goddamn huge and swollen, it was like having a frickin’ baseball bat lodged in his pants. A bat that throbbed and ached. The thought of how snug Dana’s cunt would be with the plug in her ass raged through him like a river lit afire. Lon moved his hand from her clit to her pussy and worked two fingers into her grasping entrance. Her pulsing walls gripped him like a vise. He had to get inside that cunt, and this time, Lon wanted nothing between them. Nothing.
“Are you on the pill?” Lon breathed into her ear, his chest heaving. It was risky for a woman in her forties to take oral contraceptives, but many women still did. Selfish of him, but he hoped Dana was one of them.
She shook her head.
His shoulders slumped with disappointment. “Shit!”
Dana mumbled something about ties.
“What?”
“Had my tubes tied,” she enunciated louder.
Relief surged through him. “I want to fuck you without a rubber,” he said, then added, “I’m clean.”
Lon released her and snatched the keys from the step. He got the metal into the lock okay, but, coated with her juices, his hands slipped on the knob.
Wordlessly, Dana brushed aside his hands. As soon as she pushed the door open, he hustled her inside, spun her around, and ravished her mouth. He kissed her with the ferocity of a starving man at an all-you-can-eat buffet, and he was. His plan to tease had boomeranged. Every whimper, every jerk of her body, the way she’d drenched his hands, tormented him. How utterly symbolic that she’d bound him to his bed; he was tied to her in ways he’d never imagined.
He thrust his tongue into her mouth in a preview of coming attractions, and then gripped the collar of her blouse. His muscles bunched as aggression swelled. “How much do you like this shirt?”
“What?” She blinked, not yet comprehending.
“I’ll get you another one,” he said and, without waiting for her answer, tore it off her shoulders. Luscious red-tipped breasts bounced as she quickly wiggled out of the skirt ruched around her waist—probably afraid he’d rip that off her too. She wasn’t wrong. Her pert nipples taunted him, stirring the memory of chains swinging from the peaks, so close, yet so out of reach. His sexual ire arced, and he grabbed her ass, hoisted her upward, and captured a tip in his mouth.
Dana squealed, clutched his head, and dug her fingers into his scalp. She arched her back and pressed her breast firmly into his mouth. He sucked punishingly on the bud, pulling it, biting it, until it was redder, longer than it had ever been with the dangle attached, and then he inflicted his attentions on its twin while Dana jerked in his arms.
His woman. The term had slid off his tongue as easily as his fingers had slipped through her wetness, but it felt right. She was his. His to fuck. His to enjoy. His…to care for. No ex-husband, no daughter, no one, would come between them. He wouldn’t allow it.
His cock signaled with “or else” messages, pressure throbbing. If he didn’t fuck Dana soon, he would come in his pants. He carried her to the couch, let her soft body slide down his, and then positioned her ass up over the sofa arm and gently kicked her legs apart. She braced her elbows on the seat cushion and peered over her shoulder, her eyes heavy-lidded with passion, her mouth reddened from his earlier kisses. Christ, she was hot—apparently, her ex didn’t think with either of his heads.
“You’re so sexy,” he said and banished dumb-ass from his thoughts to focus on Dana.
“You’re driving me crazy. Are you ever going to fuck me?” Her sexy voice held a tinge of pique.
“Point taken,” he said and stripped himself of his clothing, dwelling on Dana’s exposed sex as he did so. Her entire vulva was engorged, her plump pussy lips gaping with invitation, the cream of her arousal and her own cum dampening her inner thighs. And peeking out from between her cheeks—the flange of his secret weapon. Lon grinned.
The way she’d come like a bottle rocket when he’d stuck his finger up her ass that first night in the pool had gi
ven him the idea. The special toy he’d selected for her could be used as a dildo or as a plug, which made it perfect for his purposes. Dana probably had no idea how many times a helpless “fuck me” look played across her expressive face during the course of the evening. Lon did. It was like watching his own personal porno flick.
One that had come to life, and its star was now bent over the couch. What the hell was he waiting for?
Lon ran his hands over the moons of Dana’s ass, and she shivered. He drew circles on her clit, and she moaned and ground herself against his hand. Responsive. So fucking responsive. He trailed his finger along her slit into her cunt. With the plug in her rectum, her pussy was snugger than normal, and he groaned. He had to have her. Lon guided his cock to her entrance, rubbed the head in her wetness, and pushed firmly.
Her channel, constricted by the toy in her other passage, held him off.
“Too big.” Dana moaned. “Remove the plug.”
“No, you can handle both, my cock and the plug. Trust me.” He’d fucked her enough to learn what she could accommodate, but he would take it slow to allow for the extra constriction. Sweat beaded on his forehead and chest, and he shook with the effort to rein in the urge to power into her. Grasping her hips, he worked his shaft into her channel an inch at a time. She couldn’t have gripped him any tighter if she’d grabbed his erection with both hands and squeezed with all her might. But she was wet. So slick against his naked cock. And tight. So tight. He ground his teeth.
“Yes, oh God, yes.” Dana’s throaty, ecstatic cry reverberated in his chest, filled him with triumphant satisfaction. He couldn’t remember the last woman he’d fucked who’d responded so gamely, with such abandon. Hell, he couldn’t remember any women, period; he only had thoughts of Dana.
Buried deep, he paused to permit her to adjust to his size, then slowly withdrew and eased in. Gentle and slow. In and out. Lon ground his teeth. Whether she did it deliberately or her own clenching pussy assumed command, he didn’t know. But her muscles contracted in ripples around him, and he lost it.
The heat, the wetness, the tightness wrested control from his grasp, and with a hoarse cry of ecstasy, he pounded into her, rotating his hips on each inward plunge. Her slickened muscles pulsed, and the anal plug stroked the underside of his cock through the thin dividing membrane.
Dana screamed, her entire body stiffening, the ripples in her cunt turning to spasms as her own orgasm shuddered through her body.
A flash of fire and light exploded in his body, condensed, and then exploded again. Lon shouted her name and came, shooting what felt like buckets of cum into her eager twat. Lon collapsed and crushed her into the sofa. He grabbed her hands and squeezed. My woman.
Chapter Seven
The silence of late evening had descended on the deserted street when Lon let himself out of Dana’s house. He grinned when he spied Dana’s panties on her doorstep. He snagged the lacy scrap, brought it to his nose, inhaled the scent of her arousal, and then shoved it into his pocket.
Lon shook his head in bemusement at his behavior. His obsession with the sexy divorcée was so complete, he was now sniffing and stealing her underwear.
Damn if he hadn’t turned into a perv—but a happy perv. He chuckled as he strolled to his car. Other roadside automobiles had disappeared, leaving his alone under the street lamp.
“Lon?” The hushed call caused his hand to freeze on the door handle. “Is that you?”
“Hi, Dad.” Lon turned as his father approached with a bag of garbage in hand.
“I thought I recognized your car, but then you didn’t come in.”
Lon observed as his father took in his hair, wet from a shower, and the location of his car before flicking his gaze to Dana’s house. His father arched his eyebrows. “I see.”
Lon straightened his shoulders.
“Come inside for a moment, son.”
“All right.” The concern on his father’s face, rather than the parental command, convinced Lon to agree. He walked alongside his dad, waited as he deposited the trash in the side-yard enclosure, then followed him into the house.
A single lamp glowed in his parents’ comfortable living room. His mom, in her summer robe and slippers, was bent over the coffee table straightening magazines. “I think the boys finally have settled down,” she said without looking up.
“Not all of all them, Linda,” Lon’s dad said.
“What are you talking about?” She rubbed at a mark on the table with her finger.
“Look who I found outside.”
His mother spun around. “Lon!” Her face lit with a delighted smile.
“Hi, Mom. I was…in the neighborhood.” Lon hugged her and kissed her cheek.
“I’m so glad you stopped by.” She patted the side of his head. “Your hair is wet.”
“I went for a swim.”
A thunder of pounding feet resounded from the hallway, and a weariness flitted over his mother’s face before she masked it. Seconds later, the twins bounded into the living room. “Lonnie, Lonnie, Lonnie!” As if shot from a catapult, the two boys launched themselves at Lon. He caught them midair and slung them over his shoulders, one in each arm.
“Hey, guys!” Lon peered at his mother over their backs and mouthed the word, “Sorry.”
“They missed you,” she said with a shrug of acceptance.
The twins wiggled as they clutched his neck in a dual chokehold, chattering in a series of non sequiturs as they relived their camping trip on fast-forward.
“Jeff dropped his s’more in the fire.”
“A mosquito bit me.”
“Braden sat on some ants and had ants in his pants.”
“We saw deer poop.”
“We swam in the lake.”
“I like hot dogs.”
“It was really dark at night.”
“I cut my finger.”
Only their bodies moved faster than their mouths. In continuous motion, they wiggled and squirmed. Lon tugged at the arms wrapped around his neck. “Ease up a little, guys, okay? I feel like I’m being strangled by a couple of boa constrictors.”
The boys reared back their heads and stared at each other. “Ralph!” they shouted in unison.
“You have to see Ralph!” Jeff yelled.
Two sets of legs flailed, and Lon grunted as a foot missed his balls by a mere inch.
“Put us down,” Braden ordered.
With no measure of small relief, Lon complied, and his brothers galloped down the hall, yelling for Ralph.
“Who’s Ralph?” Lon glanced from his mother to his father.
“You’ll see,” his father answered while his mother moved several steps toward the kitchen.
The boys reappeared, Jeff clutching a foot-long garter snake. Lon’s mom recoiled, and his father quickly stepped between her and the snake.
Jeff thrust the reptile into Lon’s face. “This is Ralph. Here. You can hold him, Lonnie.”
Lon took the slim yellow and black snake. Its tongue darted out, sensing the air. “Where’d you get this guy?” he asked. He’d snared his quota of garter snakes and lizards as a kid and knew his mother’s aversion to reptiles. Even turtles barely passed muster.
“At Eversome,” Braden said. “Isn’t he awesome?”
“Awesome,” Lon agreed. “I’ll bet you guys played with him all day, didn’t you?”
The twins bobbed their heads vigorously.
“I thought so.” Lon passed the snake to Braden. “I think you guys tired him out. Why don’t you put him away now so he can get some sleep.”
“Okay,” they chimed and ran to their room.
Lon eyed his mother’s white face. “I’m surprised you let them bring a snake home.”
“Ralph was a stowaway who I suspect had inside accomplices, although they deny it.” Lon’s father hugged his wife. “I explained to Braden and Jeff that Ralph might be missing Lake Eversome, and they shouldn’t be surprised or upset if some day he went home.”
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p; “He did seem a little homesick.” Lon played along, guessing Ralph would be heading for “home” sooner rather than later.
“Who’s homesick?” Jeff asked as he careened into the living room with Braden on his heels.
“Ralph. He seemed a little sad,” Lon answered.
“No, he’s not. He loves us. He likes living here,” Braden insisted.
“You know what, boys? It’s getting late. Why don’t I take you back to bed?” Lon suggested. His father had called him in, but Lon’s presence disrupted his mother’s much-needed peace and quiet.
After ten minutes, thirty questions, and one spit-promise to come back soon, Lon got the boys to settle down. He kissed their foreheads, verified the old fish aquarium that housed Ralph was secure, turned out the light, and rejoined his parents.
He entered the living room to find his mother yawning.
“Do you want something to eat? To drink?” she asked.
Lon shook his head. “I’m fine.” He embraced her in a quick hug. “I can’t stay long. I got an early rotation.”
His father looked at Lon’s mother. “Why don’t you go on to bed? I’ll be in soon. I’m just going to catch up a bit with Lon.”
His mother nodded and stifled another yawn with her hand. She kissed Lon’s cheek and left. Lon and his father waited as she disappeared down the hall.
“Beer?” his father asked when the master-bedroom door clicked shut.
“Sure.” Lon shrugged, playing it cool the way he had when he was teenager living at home and his father would ask, “Soda?” in a way that indicated the focus of conversation was going to be anything but casual.
In the kitchen, his dad removed two cans from the fridge, handed one to Lon, and took a seat in the breakfast alcove. Lon popped the top and knocked back a gulp, then pulled out a chair, turned it around, and straddled it.
“How’s work?” His father opened his beer.
“Busy. How was the camping trip?”
“Fun. But it’s good to be home. By day three, your mother and I had had our fill of camping, but Braden and Jeff were only warming up.” His father twisted his mouth with wry humor.