Complicated

by Zannie Adams

  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. “Uh-huh.”

  “Fuck, you’re so good, baby. 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 outside 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.”

  About the Author

  Zannie Adams writes, reads, and caters to her chocolate-brown cocker spaniel, and watches cooking shows on television. She has lived in eight different states, had far too much graduate-level education, and generally done her best not to settle down. She has been writing novels all her life, but only recently did she begin to write erotic romances—a genre that has allowed her to explore her love of both passion and commitment.

  Zannie prefers to spend most of her time writing, but she has to stop occasionally to teach writing and literature at a liberal arts college and to walk her dog. She lives in the Midwest.

  Zannie 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 Zannie Adams

  Claiming Kate

  Inescapable

  Renaissance

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