“I think I can handle being a sex object for you.”
“I want…” Her voice was suddenly low and raspy, her fingers starting their twitching again. “I want more of what we did at The Players Club.” She hesitated once more, met his gaze, then spoke. “This is hard for me, but I’m going to be honest. Sex wasn’t all that great in my marriage. I thought it was because we were both so busy, with me working two jobs, and his schooling and internship. It was all very vanilla, mostly missionary, and nothing out of the ordinary or even adventurous.”
“No passion,” he murmured.
“No, no, passion,” she agreed with a small shake of her head. “And I was fine with that because it was really all I knew.” More quietly, she added, “And because I didn’t know what I was missing until that night with you at the club. Now I want more of that.”
He quickly glanced around the bar area to make sure they were alone, that nobody could overhear their conversation, before he asked, “More of what, exactly?”
“Being taken. Restrained. Spanked,” she said in a hushed tone, even as the pulse at the base of her neck began a rapid beat. “I want to be pushed beyond conventional sexual boundaries. I want to be fucked hard. I like it when you’re aggressive and demanding. When you pull my hair and make me do naughty, wicked things.”
Holy shit . He couldn’t stop staring at her mouth, couldn’t stop thinking about all those naughty, wicked things he could make her do with it. Stroke. Lick. Suck. His cock twitched, hardened, totally on board with every filthy fantasy that drifted through his mind.
“And before I start dating again,” she went on, jarring him out of his dirty thoughts, “I want to experience all that and more.”
Before I start dating again. Those words were like a bucket of ice water being dumped in his lap, even as another fierce, more possessive emotion rose to the surface. “I will fulfill every single desire you have, any way you want it,” he promised. “But from this moment forward, you and I are exclusive, and you’re mine. No online dating, no searching through profiles for that perfect guy who’s your age and is looking for the same things as you are. Just you and me.”
“Okay,” she agreed easily enough. Then she cracked a wry smile and shook her head. “I never thought I’d become a cougar.”
An older woman seducing a younger man. He knew the eight-year age difference was an issue for her, but it wasn’t something he could change. But if he showed her that they were compatible outside of the bedroom, maybe she’d stop thinking in terms of him being so much younger than her, and all the issues she had with it personally.
That was his plan, anyway.
“You’re not a cougar,” he said as he tucked a few of those soft curls behind her ear before skimming the pad of his thumb along her jaw. “You’re a puma.”
“A puma?” she asked, laughter brimming in her voice. “What’s that?”
“A cougar is a woman in her forties who dates a man at least twenty years younger than she is. A puma is a woman in her thirties who dates a guy in his twenties. So really, the age difference isn’t all that bad.” He grinned.
She rolled her eyes, unconvinced, though her gaze danced with humor. “Oh, being a puma makes it so much better.”
He chuckled. “A puma is graceful and sleek and majestic. Not a bad thing to be compared to.”
She tossed him a sassy look. “If you pet me, I might even purr.”
He was tempted to do just that, but before he could follow through on the impulse and slip his hand beneath her dress again, they were interrupted.
“I am so sorry for the wait on your dessert,” Mallory said as she rushed to their end of the bar, a plate with a slice of chocolate cake on it in one hand and a large glass of milk in the other. “The restaurant suddenly got busy and the drink orders at the bar are getting crazy.”
“No problem,” Kendall said as the
“I want…” Her voice was suddenly low and raspy, her fingers starting their twitching again. “I want more of what we did at The Players Club.” She hesitated once more, met his gaze, then spoke. “This is hard for me, but I’m going to be honest. Sex wasn’t all that great in my marriage. I thought it was because we were both so busy, with me working two jobs, and his schooling and internship. It was all very vanilla, mostly missionary, and nothing out of the ordinary or even adventurous.”
“No passion,” he murmured.
“No, no, passion,” she agreed with a small shake of her head. “And I was fine with that because it was really all I knew.” More quietly, she added, “And because I didn’t know what I was missing until that night with you at the club. Now I want more of that.”
He quickly glanced around the bar area to make sure they were alone, that nobody could overhear their conversation, before he asked, “More of what, exactly?”
“Being taken. Restrained. Spanked,” she said in a hushed tone, even as the pulse at the base of her neck began a rapid beat. “I want to be pushed beyond conventional sexual boundaries. I want to be fucked hard. I like it when you’re aggressive and demanding. When you pull my hair and make me do naughty, wicked things.”
Holy shit . He couldn’t stop staring at her mouth, couldn’t stop thinking about all those naughty, wicked things he could make her do with it. Stroke. Lick. Suck. His cock twitched, hardened, totally on board with every filthy fantasy that drifted through his mind.
“And before I start dating again,” she went on, jarring him out of his dirty thoughts, “I want to experience all that and more.”
Before I start dating again. Those words were like a bucket of ice water being dumped in his lap, even as another fierce, more possessive emotion rose to the surface. “I will fulfill every single desire you have, any way you want it,” he promised. “But from this moment forward, you and I are exclusive, and you’re mine. No online dating, no searching through profiles for that perfect guy who’s your age and is looking for the same things as you are. Just you and me.”
“Okay,” she agreed easily enough. Then she cracked a wry smile and shook her head. “I never thought I’d become a cougar.”
An older woman seducing a younger man. He knew the eight-year age difference was an issue for her, but it wasn’t something he could change. But if he showed her that they were compatible outside of the bedroom, maybe she’d stop thinking in terms of him being so much younger than her, and all the issues she had with it personally.
That was his plan, anyway.
“You’re not a cougar,” he said as he tucked a few of those soft curls behind her ear before skimming the pad of his thumb along her jaw. “You’re a puma.”
“A puma?” she asked, laughter brimming in her voice. “What’s that?”
“A cougar is a woman in her forties who dates a man at least twenty years younger than she is. A puma is a woman in her thirties who dates a guy in his twenties. So really, the age difference isn’t all that bad.” He grinned.
She rolled her eyes, unconvinced, though her gaze danced with humor. “Oh, being a puma makes it so much better.”
He chuckled. “A puma is graceful and sleek and majestic. Not a bad thing to be compared to.”
She tossed him a sassy look. “If you pet me, I might even purr.”
He was tempted to do just that, but before he could follow through on the impulse and slip his hand beneath her dress again, they were interrupted.
“I am so sorry for the wait on your dessert,” Mallory said as she rushed to their end of the bar, a plate with a slice of chocolate cake on it in one hand and a large glass of milk in the other. “The restaurant suddenly got busy and the drink orders at the bar are getting crazy.”
“No problem,” Kendall said as the
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