the vase on it.
The aromatic scent of the roses filled the air around her as she
turned on the small brass lamp that sat on the nightstand.
Carson’s arms came around her as he set the
can of whipped cream on the table beside the flowers. Closing her
eyes, she leaned back into his embrace and rested her head on his
shoulder. He was strong and warm and she found herself relaxing,
yet conversely getting more aroused. She loved the feel of his
hard, muscled body pressed against hers.
He wrapped his arms around her midsection and
slowly rocked them back and forth. The action soothed her and she
found the last of her nervousness dropping away. Whatever came, she
was ready for it—more than ready. In fact, she found herself
anticipating it.
She had no idea how long their association
would last—she couldn’t quite bring herself to call it a
relationship—but that no longer mattered. She trusted Carson, and
she didn’t trust many men. There was certainly no doubt that she
wanted him. Her body hadn’t felt so alive in years.
She was a divorced woman with a grown child
and he was a man in his early thirties who’d never been married.
But it no longer mattered that he was younger than she and at a
much different place in his life. At this time and in this place,
being together felt right.
“You okay?”
The deep rumble of his voice vibrated through
his chest and into her. She savored the intimate sensation. The
hard ridge of his erection pressed against her behind, a blatant
reminder of why they were here. “Yes. I am.”
“Good.” Releasing her, he turned her so that
she was facing him. “Why don’t you sit on the edge of the bed?”
She sat, willing to follow his lead, at least
for now. She was more than a bit curious to see what he would
do.
Carson went to the dresser and lit the two
candles, using the matches she’d left there for that purpose. The
light flickered and then settled into a steady flame, casting a
soft glow on the room. Returning to her, he flicked off the bedside
lamp before going down on one knee in front of her. He lifted her
right foot, slid off her sensible beige flat and set it aside.
Wrapping his fingers around her foot, he began to massage it, the
heat from his hand seeping into her sole.
She braced her hands on the edge of the
mattress to keep from melting back onto the bed. “That feels
wonderful.” She groaned as his fingers found a particularly tight
spot in her arch. He used just enough pressure—not hard enough to
hurt or light enough to tickle.
“Glad you’re enjoying it.” He left off his
massage on her right foot and proceeded to remove her left shoe.
“I’m just getting started.”
Lily thought she’d died and gone to heaven by
the time he released her left foot. She was wonderfully relaxed and
mellow. That mood fled when he slid his hand under the skirt of her
dress. She stiffened and he stopped with his hands just above her
knees.
“I want to remove your pantyhose.” She was
very aware of the heat of his hands against her skin. The silk of
her stockings were no protection against it. He was only inches
away from touching her in her most intimate spot. Her sex throbbed
in anticipation.
“Thigh-highs, not pantyhose.” Why she felt
the need to tell him that she wasn’t sure. He’d discover it soon
enough if he kept going.
Carson lowered his head, resting his forehead
against her knee. “I’ve been wondering that for the past hour.”
“Really?” Lily sank her fingers into his
thick hair, loving the sensual slide of it against her skin. She
tugged at the leather thong keeping it captive, pulling it free.
His hair fell around his broad shoulders. He looked like a young
god come to life, like a hero from a novel. And at least for
tonight, he was hers. She tossed the thong onto the nightstand.
Carson sat back and shot her a wicked grin.
“Oh, yeah. Hose or stockings? It made things a might uncomfortable
for me over dinner.”
When she offered no
The aromatic scent of the roses filled the air around her as she
turned on the small brass lamp that sat on the nightstand.
Carson’s arms came around her as he set the
can of whipped cream on the table beside the flowers. Closing her
eyes, she leaned back into his embrace and rested her head on his
shoulder. He was strong and warm and she found herself relaxing,
yet conversely getting more aroused. She loved the feel of his
hard, muscled body pressed against hers.
He wrapped his arms around her midsection and
slowly rocked them back and forth. The action soothed her and she
found the last of her nervousness dropping away. Whatever came, she
was ready for it—more than ready. In fact, she found herself
anticipating it.
She had no idea how long their association
would last—she couldn’t quite bring herself to call it a
relationship—but that no longer mattered. She trusted Carson, and
she didn’t trust many men. There was certainly no doubt that she
wanted him. Her body hadn’t felt so alive in years.
She was a divorced woman with a grown child
and he was a man in his early thirties who’d never been married.
But it no longer mattered that he was younger than she and at a
much different place in his life. At this time and in this place,
being together felt right.
“You okay?”
The deep rumble of his voice vibrated through
his chest and into her. She savored the intimate sensation. The
hard ridge of his erection pressed against her behind, a blatant
reminder of why they were here. “Yes. I am.”
“Good.” Releasing her, he turned her so that
she was facing him. “Why don’t you sit on the edge of the bed?”
She sat, willing to follow his lead, at least
for now. She was more than a bit curious to see what he would
do.
Carson went to the dresser and lit the two
candles, using the matches she’d left there for that purpose. The
light flickered and then settled into a steady flame, casting a
soft glow on the room. Returning to her, he flicked off the bedside
lamp before going down on one knee in front of her. He lifted her
right foot, slid off her sensible beige flat and set it aside.
Wrapping his fingers around her foot, he began to massage it, the
heat from his hand seeping into her sole.
She braced her hands on the edge of the
mattress to keep from melting back onto the bed. “That feels
wonderful.” She groaned as his fingers found a particularly tight
spot in her arch. He used just enough pressure—not hard enough to
hurt or light enough to tickle.
“Glad you’re enjoying it.” He left off his
massage on her right foot and proceeded to remove her left shoe.
“I’m just getting started.”
Lily thought she’d died and gone to heaven by
the time he released her left foot. She was wonderfully relaxed and
mellow. That mood fled when he slid his hand under the skirt of her
dress. She stiffened and he stopped with his hands just above her
knees.
“I want to remove your pantyhose.” She was
very aware of the heat of his hands against her skin. The silk of
her stockings were no protection against it. He was only inches
away from touching her in her most intimate spot. Her sex throbbed
in anticipation.
“Thigh-highs, not pantyhose.” Why she felt
the need to tell him that she wasn’t sure. He’d discover it soon
enough if he kept going.
Carson lowered his head, resting his forehead
against her knee. “I’ve been wondering that for the past hour.”
“Really?” Lily sank her fingers into his
thick hair, loving the sensual slide of it against her skin. She
tugged at the leather thong keeping it captive, pulling it free.
His hair fell around his broad shoulders. He looked like a young
god come to life, like a hero from a novel. And at least for
tonight, he was hers. She tossed the thong onto the nightstand.
Carson sat back and shot her a wicked grin.
“Oh, yeah. Hose or stockings? It made things a might uncomfortable
for me over dinner.”
When she offered no
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