by Eden Davis
He closed the door, locked it, and then pushed Livia against it, before devouring her lips with a series of hot and hungry kisses. Kisses he’d been wanting and waiting to deliver for months.
“You have no idea how many times I have dreamed of kissing you again,” Mitchell admitted while playing with the curls around her face.
Livia smiled, feeling strangely like she was home. She wanted nothing more than to lock lips, hips and private parts with Mitchell again. And though her body was ready to submit, Liv’s heart was reluctant to commit, realizing that she still knew very little about this sexy man.
“And you will, in a minute. I have a few questions.”
“Okay, but hurry up and ask. My lips are impatient.”
“Nora is your sister?”
“Yes. Half-sister to be exact, but we don’t play the fractions.”
“Naomi is your mother?”
“Yep.”
“Are you married?”
“Not anymore.”
“Engaged?”
“Nope.”
“Girlfriend?”
“It certainly is beginning to look that way,” he admitted with a devilish tilt to his lips. “At least I’m holding out hope.”
Livia’s face broke out into a huge, happy smile. It still felt surreal that she was here, that she and Mitchell were together again, and if things kept going in the direction Quincy was pushing, she was about to make love in Naomi Maddox’s house!
“In that case, there are a few things you should know about me.”
“Besides the fact that you smell like sugar and vanilla?”
“Yes, like my real name is Livia Charles. Quincy, is, well, my vagina’s nickname.”
“Oh, I’m definitely in love with the right woman,” Mitchell said, laughing.
In love? Did he just say in love? His words delighted and disturbed her.
“And I’m fifty years old.” Livia bit her lip out of nervousness, not seduction.
“And getting finer by the day,” he said, nibbling on her neck.
“You don’t care that I’m sixteen years older than you?”
“No, not now, and I doubt I will ten years from now. But we’re at the beginning of our journey. Let’s see where it goes. Who knows, you may decide you don’t like babysitting.”
“True,” she said, smiling broadly, her anxiety beginning to abate. “Which brings up the fact that there are some things I need to know about you, Mitchell Maddox.”
“That’s not my last name.”
“See, a girlfriend should know her boy toy’s name.”
“Point taken. It’s Jenson. Maddox is my stepfather’s name. Any more questions?” he asked while snacking on her earlobe. “God, you even taste like cake.”
“Do you have a pen?”
“Yes, and I also have a rock hard dick that’s been wanting to be inside you since I got back from St. Bart’s. Which do you want first?”
“Is this a test?” Livia asked.
“More like an offer.” Mitchell pulled back in order to get a full-on view of her face.
“In that case, have a seat,” Livi said, pushing Mitchell into the yellow chair before straddling his lap. Quincy could feel his hard dick through his tuxedo pants, and giggled in response.
“It’s a shame that you didn’t get to see the rest of my list,” she told him as she cradled his face in her hands and brought her lips to his ears.
“Did you finish it?”
“Thanks to you, I got through all but two: having a nine-and-a-half-week food fuck, and well, it looks like I’m about to take care of number ten right now.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Well, number ten is all about this very chair.”
“This chair?” Mitchell, queried, confused by her comment.
“Yep.” Livia went on to explain how the yellow leather chair had made its way on her fuck-it list. “Eww, I think I saw your stepfather getting his porn on watching a nice little girl-on-girl fantasy.”
“Guess again, baby. I think I might be the one you caught with his pants down. You said it was a party for my grandmother’s birthday? I was staying here then,” Mitchell revealed, once again turned the fuck on by this incredible woman’s sexual boldness.
“I don’t know who it was. All I saw was a thigh. I’d like to think it was you,” she flirted. “How crazy is it that we ended up together in St. Bart’s.”
“Fate knows what the fuck he’s doing.”
“She’s doing,” Liv teased as she undid the buttons on his shirt.
“I’ll go with that.” Mitchell ran his fingers up her bare leg, dipping in close to tickle her pink box. He could feel Livi’s body tingle in response.
“Mmmm. You have no idea how many times I have had my way with you in this chair,” Livia confessed.
“Well, there’s no time like the present to make your fantasy come true.”
“I can definitely go with that,” she concurred, unbuckling his belt and pulling the zipper down on his pants. “Do you have a condom?”
“In my wallet.”
“How convenient.” She laughed as she waited for him to retrieve it.
“Just call me Seven-Eleven.”
“I’ll take care of that, she said, taking the condom and leaning back in order to have access to Mitchell’s belt. “So about that pen…”
“I also have a pen.”
“Good, because we need to make a list,” she said, pulling his dick through the fly of his pants, encasing it and then deftly lifting herself up and pushing her panties to the side. She took his rod into her hands and guided it into her waiting Quincy.
“Now?”
Mitchell’s question went unanswered as time stopped and the two took this exquisite moment to let their bodies reconnect. Livia gently bounced in his lap, drenching his dick with her vaginal waterfall. She enjoyed the fireflies flitting around her pelvis for a bit before settling down on his cock, and picking up an envelope from the desk. “This will do nicely,” Livi said, her voice gruff with passion.
“For what?” Mitchell asked, taking the opportunity to unbutton her chef’s coat and unleash her naked breasts.
“A new fuck-it list…”
“For two.”
“For us.”
“Quincy, Livia Charles…”
“Yes, boy toy.”
“I think I love you.”
THE END
EDEN’S TICKET TO PARADISE:
How To Create Your Fuck-It List
You’ve heard of a bucket list—a list of things you want to do before you kick the proverbial bucket—well, a sexy girl like you needs an addendum to her b-list…a fuck-it list. You’ve witnessed how much fun Livia had fulfilling hers. Now it’s your turn to make a list of those deliciously naughty fantasies rolling around in your head and turn them into real life adventures.
What You Need:
Invest in a journal or special notepad for this sole purpose. Sure, you hot, techie types can keep your ideas on your smartphone, but there is something highly satisfying about being able to physically cross off each carnal accomplishment. And to experience this bit of after the afterglow, you’ll definitely need a hard copy of your F-list.
What You Do:
Collect ideas. Gather them from everywhere—from the pages of the Eden Davis Series, movies, TV shows, conversations between friends—look for ideas that capture your curiosity and hold your attention. These are the ones you’ll mostly likely succeed in accomplishing.
Write your first draft. Brainstorm. Now’s the time to go with the flow. Let your Quincy be your guide. Write down what comes to mind without judgment. Don’t edit yourself. Free your imagination and see where it takes you.
Refine your list. Now that you’ve got some pretty sexy ideas on the table, it’s time to weed out the more impossible and improbable tasks. Don’t keep anything on your Fuck-it List that would force you to cross the line of your personal safety, welfare or self-respect. This is meant to be a
fun blueprint for you take control of your sexy life. Don’t set yourself up for failure. Carefully eliminate anything that you know you won’t have the courage or willpower to accomplish. Keep these fantasies hot and happening on your mental playground.
Start small with things you are certain that you can accomplish and build to those things that will take more preparation and planning. Accomplishing the easy goals will build your confidence and allow you to take on the more adventurous ones.
Find meaning in both selecting and accomplishing your Fuck-it List goals. Yes, you want to have some erotic fun as you dare to be bold and tempted, but you also want to grow from each experience and ultimately become the sexy, confident woman you’re meant to be. Remember: no item on your Fuck-it List is too small if it helps your feminine confidence grow. The intent behind your list is not about losing control, but rather taking control of your sexual self. You are not trying to prove anything to anybody.
Eden’s Advice:
Your sensual To-Do List has no time limit or expectations attached. This means that it is a fluid document that can, and should, change as inspiration hits you. Recognize that this F-list is your personal guideline to sexual self-awareness and fulfillment.
Don’t let it become filled with someone else’s fantasies. Let your desires guide you. So be as adventurous you want to be, always remembering that SAFE is SEXY.
IF YOU ENJOYED “DARE TO BE WILD,”
BE SURE TO READ
BY EDEN DAVIS
AVAILABLE FROM STREBOR BOOKS
Chapter One
Aleesa took her time climbing the eight steps that led to the front door of Josiah Newman’s studio. Her breaths came in short puffs, not from overexertion, as her regular workouts at the gym left her lungs plenty strong enough to take on this minor physical effort. No, it was the jangle of nerves eating through her stomach lining that was taking her breath away.
“You need to look hot, Lees,” she coached herself. “Smokin’ hot. Halle hot. Angelina hot. Tina frickin’ Turner hot!”
“What am I doing?” she turned to query the cat sprawled on the stoop next door. “On what planet am I, Aleesa Raquel Davis, a fifty-two-year-old married woman, mother of two grown boys, going to get naked in front of a perfect stranger?”
The thought paralyzed her, stopping her legs two steps from the door. Continued forward motion was not an option. At least not without some serious coaxing. She reached into her pocket, pulled out her cell phone and dialed her advice guru.
“I don’t think I can do this…what the hell was I thinking…that is, what were you thinking when you suggested this…how did I ever let you talk me into doing something that is so…so…so not me?” she said, as soon as she heard the tepid hello.
“Lees? Slow down,” Lena Macy’s groggy voice suggested, both out of concern and confusion. It was nearly 11:30 p.m. in London and she’d just drifted off into a heavy, jetlagged slumber. “Where are you? What’s going on?”
“In Brooklyn. It’s almost six-thirty. Six minutes before I’m supposed to strip down to my birthday suit in front of some guy whom I’ve never laid eyes on. Aside from my husband, my gynecologist and that freak at the pool in Puerto Rico when Walt and I thought we were alone and decided to go skinny dipping, no man has seen me naked in ten years.”
“Look, you’re beautiful. For a woman two years into fifty, your body is rocking. Hell, for a woman of any age it’s a killer. Now did you prepare like I told you to?”
“Yes. I’m waxed, exfoliated, and shined up like a new penny.”
“Good, but I’m referring to the other…”
“Yes, I’ve been masturbating damn near nonstop for the past two days. I’ve rubbed, lubricated, vibrated, and worn my poor clit practically down to a nub. And frankly, I’m not any less nervous. I’m horny as hell and so on edge that I’m hoping with everything I’ve got that this photographer is Jimmy ‘Good Times’ Walker ugly because if he’s even the least bit sexy, I’m likely to burst out in spontaneous orgasms!”
“You are certifiable. Look, getting yourself off wasn’t about calming your nerves. The idea was to make you feel sexy as hell, which you now do. Remember who you’re doing this for. And why,” Lena reminded her best friend.
“For Walter and the cover of his welcome home gift.”
“Yes, your nasty ass journal that you’ve been keeping this past year. God knows, you’ve recorded every impure thought…” Lena paused to yawn, “and fantasy you’ve had since the good doctor’s been in Afghanistan.”
“I want him to know how much I love and missed him.”
“Oh, he’s going to know all right. One quick read and he’s going to know that absence has not only made his woman’s heart grow fonder, it’s turned her into a big ole freak!
“Seriously, Lees, it’s a sweet and loving idea and deserves a great cover. I can’t think of a better model, can you?”
“Maybe Sofia Vergara.”
“That Colombian chick from Modern Family?” Lena asked, not bothering to stifle her yawn.
“Yeah, she’s Walter’s fantasy lover—the only woman he has my permission to have sex with. My free pass is that fine as hell French actor, Gilles something, the one who was naked in the first Sex and the City movie and almost won Dancing with the Stars.”
“Oh, please, like that would ever happen. Not because some other guy, actor or not, wouldn’t think you’re smokin’ hot, but because you and Walter are so in love and up each other’s behinds, that you two don’t even look at anyone else, which is pretty remarkable in this day and age.”
“Oh trust me, I look, and God knows, think about it, a lot. I can’t help it, especially since I started writing all these hot and horny fantasies. But it stops there.”
“I believe you, but, Aleesa you’re stalling, and I’m falling. Look, Josiah is the best in the business. He is fast becoming known in the photography world as the black and male Annie Leibovitz, for his trademark techniques with light and unusual poses.
“So between your boudoir photos and that nasty book of yours, Walter is going to be blown away by his hot-to-trot wife.”
“Well, fantasy and reality are two different animals. Just because I write about all that stuff, doesn’t mean I’m bold enough to actually do any of it,” Aleesa reminded her friend.
“Yeah, well rest assured, you got a bit of the exhibitionist in you and a whole lot of freak! If you didn’t, you wouldn’t have been so eager to get your sexy on with hubby in the massage room down in Puerto Rico.”
“Nobody was in the room watching us.”
“That you know of! Now, I gotta get back to sleep and you have a nasty, nudie cutie photo shoot to do.”
“Not nasty nude. Sexy…nice sexy,” Aleesa corrected while smiling broadly at the San Juan memory.
“Yeah, well take it from me, nice can turn nasty real quick like. Now, push the doorbell, already.”
“Okay, okay. Tell me I can do this, Lena.”
“You. Can. Do. This. Think sexy. Be sexy. Now, I leave you with my final two words—Veuve Cliquot.”
“So when in doubt, turn to alcohol?”
“Liquid courage, baby. Now ring the damn bell. Nightie-night.”
“Ringing!” Aleesa said in place of goodbye, grateful that her friend, despite being a rich, powerful businesswoman, and an ocean away, was there to hold her hand. She hung up her phone and immediately pushed the doorbell.
“Think sexy. Be sexy,” she muttered under her breath, repeating Lena’s words. Waiting for the door to open, Aleesa closed her eyes and tried to settle her nerves by thinking sexy thoughts. Immediately, the last time she’d seen her husband’s handsome, chocolate brown face came to mind. She had no problem conjuring up the memories of his surprise visit to San Juan. Their lovemaking at the spa had been mind blowing, largely because it was so unexpected and following such a long drought.
Standing there, her breasts began to tingle, as they’d done when Walt’s mouth had begun its happy pilgrimage
down her neck, across her shoulders and toward the large chocolate nipples he told her he’d gone to bed dreaming about. He’d given each a warm tongue massage before latching on to the left breast and sucking hard. Aleesa’s hips had bucked. Walter’s lips had smiled. The nipples were still Clitina’s wake-up call.
“Hmm, I got it good,” she informed the cat as she opened her eyes. “My man is a great step-father, an amazing friend and one kitty to another, a fanfuckingtastic husband and lover!”
The cat replied with a bored yawn and lazy stretch. “Yeah, well, you wouldn’t say that if he’d licked you the way he licks me!” Aleesa sighed as her vajayjay gently clutched at the thought. After dreaming and fantasizing for so long, Walter had shown up and given her the real thing, reawakening her vagina and making her cravings stronger and more difficult to ignore. Damn, waiting for his home-coming was going to be the longest thirty-seven days of her life.
She intended to make the time go fast by staying busy. In addition to her demanding job as the Vice President of Marketing for the Sports Fan Network, she had big plans in store for the Colonel’s return. If his Caribbean visit had been sexually spectacular, his welcome home was going to be downright epic. And today’s errand was the first step toward making it so.
The sound of shuffling of feet approaching the door halted the conversation between her and the pussy next door. And as the door cracked open, she took a deep breath, knowing that there was no turning back.
“You must be Aleesa.” His buttery words floated between perfect white teeth framed in dimples deep enough to lose your inhibitions in. “I’m Josiah. Welcome. I’m all ready for you.” He opened the door wide to reveal the unlawfully good looking face and body that matched his “smooth as twelve-year-old Scotch” voice.
Aleesa swallowed a big gulp of “oh no” as her eyes went renegade and, against her wishes, thoroughly checked out the fine specimen before her. He looked to be in his early to mid-thirties and stood over six feet. He had the slim, lean musculature of a track star, and the way his jeans and untucked navy blue T-shirt clung to his body with an unspoken dare to reach out and touch, was borderline criminal. His long, thin locks were flowing free across his shoulder, giving a nonchalant sexiness to the man that left Aleesa’s nerve endings perked up and on edge.