"So you’re admitting you have a good physique?" she teased.
He pulled her into his arms and nuzzled her neck. "I’ll admit it when you admit you have a luscious physique. In fact, maybe you should model nude."
She pushed him away, laughing. "When pigs fly, Jack Sherwood. No one wants to look at a forty-year-old woman naked."
"I do." He moved forward and pressed his lips to hers in a gentle kiss. At the same time, he began to slowly unbutton her white blouse. "You have no idea what I went through that night I saw you in Mark’s class. Mind over matter, sugar. I had to work to keep from sproutin’ a giant hard-on in front of twenty-five college kids."
His calloused fingers stroked the flesh above her breasts. She shuddered, and then giggled. "Might have made for some interesting drawings for Mark to grade."
He let out a chuckle. "My godfather and I aren’t that close. I have no desire for him to see me with a woody."
She giggled again. Who was this strange woman? She felt like she was eighteen again, in love for the first time.
"But when I saw you sittin’ in that classroom, all I could think about were those gorgeous nipples of yours, those cherry lips around my cock." He grinned. "I had to close my eyes and think of England."
"Ha, ha," she said, trying to keep it light. But light it wasn’t, as he unsnapped the front clasp of her bra and let her breasts fall free. He pinched one nipple, then the other, and heat pooled between her legs.
"I can’t get enough of you, sugar. Each time I make love to you, after I come, I’m hard again in almost no time flat. The more I have you, the more I want you." He leaned down and nuzzled her breast. His evening stubble was heaven scraping against her hard nipple. "I’ve never felt this way before."
"Oh, Jack...." Neither had she, but she couldn’t say so. Not when it would be over in two days.
"You don’t have to return my sentiment, Holly. I understand it might be too soon for you. But I want you to know how I’m feelin’. I’m not just after a piece of ass."
"I know that, Jack."
"Good." He took her nipple between his lips and tugged gently.
"Jack?"
"Hmm?"
"Should we...go to the bedroom?"
He let go of her nipple with a soft pop and gave her a lascivious grin. "I’d kinda like to try out my leather couch."
He moved the painting to his mahogany desk near the back of the den, and then grabbed Holly and took her lips in a deep kiss. The forceful demand of his mouth against hers, the moist heat of his tongue, left her shaking, yearning for more. Once again her passion overrode her caution, and she found herself wanting—needing—his body inside hers.
Stop him, her inner voice warned. Stop him and tell him the truth. You’re not being fair to him. To Sam. Even to yourself.
Her longing for him silenced her conscience and she responded, kissing him with a raw, devouring fury that overwhelmed all rational thought.
Jack, inside me. I need Jack inside me.
Her lips still glued to his, her tongue deep inside his mouth, she took charge and ripped open the snaps of his sag
e green western shirt, the pop of each snap resonating in her ears and bringing her closer to her goal.
Jack, naked. Her lips around his cock. His fingers embedded in her. Their bodies joined in ecstasy.
She pushed the soft fabric from his shoulders. How glorious his golden muscles felt under her fingertips. When the shirt had pooled in a heap on the carpet, she went to work on his pants. Still their lips remained joined.
He kissed her with a fervor, a frenzy, a mind-numbing surety, and she returned it with equal zeal.
When his jeans were open, she pushed them and his boxers to the floor and urged him toward the couch. She ripped her mouth from his, whimpering at the loss, and pushed him down on the leather sofa. Still clothed, though her breasts hung free, she lowered herself to her knees and took that beautiful cock between her lips.
She wrapped her mouth around him tight and sucked.
"Ah, God," he groaned.