Guilty Pleasures by Bertrice Small Page A

questioningly at Robert Talcott.
    “I told you, brown eyes. Two this first time. Ready to go again? And this time I won’t go easy on you. I’m going to fuck you to a stand, brown eyes.”
    “You are amazing,” Nina said.
    “For my age?” he teased.
    “For any age,” Nina told him.
    He grinned the Lyon Roberts boyish grin that had won her heart years ago. “Let’s get those legs up and over my shoulders now,” he said. “Time for me to go really deep, and for you to fly to the moon.” His penis still buried deep inside her, he helped her bring her legs up and over his shoulders. He thrust two quick thrusts, sliding deeper into her.
    “Oh, my God!” Nina gasped. “Can you die of sexual pleasure?”
    “Let’s find out,” he said, and began to piston her once again.
    Nina clung to his shoulders, her nails digging into him as he fucked her. Her heart was pounding in her ears. It was too good. Too sweet. Too perfect. And at their age too. She felt her orgasm building and building until she knew it was going to break and possibly kill her. Robert was groaning loudly now, and somewhere a woman was screaming with her pleasure. They came together and collapsed quickly afterward.

    When Nina awoke, the first gray light of an October dawn was coming in through the bedroom windows. Robert Talcott lay sleeping, snoring softly, next to her. She realized that she ached all over. Unaccustomed as she was to real sex, she had forgotten how a body could feel after a wild night of unbridled passion. She was sore, but she felt great. She slipped quietly from the bed, going into the bathroom and taking a quick shower. Then she dressed in a pair of fleece sweats before hurrying to the kitchen to fix them a hearty breakfast. It was a workday for her. She would have to change afterward.
    Robert Talcott awoke in a strange bed. For a moment he was confused as he looked around the bedroom, with its peonies on a peach background wallpaper and elegant cherry French Provincial furniture. Then he remembered. He had practically invited himself into Nina Parsons’s home, and they had fallen into bed together and fucked each other to a fare-thee-well. He felt terrific. Better than he had in years.
    “Good morning, Robert,” he heard her say. She was standing in the doorway.
    “There are towels in the closet in the bathroom. I’ll have breakfast ready for you after you’ve showered,” she told him.
    “Thanks,” he replied. Damn! She looked so cute in that green fleece outfit. When he had cleaned himself up and put his clothes back on, he found his way to the kitchen. He could smell both bacon and coffee.
    Nina was sitting at a butcher-block table, already eating. She looked up and smiled. “Everything’s in the oven. Coffee on the counter. Sit down and join me before I head off to work.”
    “Are you all right?” he asked her. He wasn’t certain exactly how she would feel after their wild encounter. He pulled the warm plate filled with fluffy scrambled eggs, bacon, and a blueberry muffin from the oven and sat down. There was juice to drink, and he’d get his coffee in a minute, after he learned how she felt.
    Nina looked up. “I’m not sure what to say,” she began. “‘Baby, you were great’? ‘Was it good for you?’ ” A smile played about her lips. “I’ve never been in this kind of situation before. And until last night Charlie was the only man I ever had sex with, Robert. I suspect you know more about something like this than I do.”
    “All I’ve ever known are high-class hookers and ambitious actresses,” he began. “But last night with you was different.”
    “Different good? Or different bad?” Nina asked him. Did he regret what had happened between them? It didn’t matter. She would have this memory forever.
    “Different incredible,” he answered without hesitation. “God, brown eyes, you are warm and passionate and caring. I know this sounds a little wussy for a man to say—hell, it sounds a lot