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by Dee Carney
Description: One spark could burn her world down. Six years after her husband's death, Regina Pace is still just going through the motions, her only pleasure a nightly glass (or three) of wine to dull the ache. Tonight is no exception--until a sensual outdoor encounter with her neighbor's son, freshly home from college. He's older, wiser, more devastatingly handsome than she remembered. He's also fifteen years her junior. Despite her misgivings, it isn't long before her nightly ritual includes a long, deep drink of Josh Smith. Ogling leads to touching, then the sparks flare into an erotic encounter that feels wickedly right--and deliciously forbidden. Yet the intense heat can't burn away the doubt pestering the back of her mind. That the gap between their ages is too large, even for the most determined leap of faith? Warning: Features a boy-next-door who won't take no for an answer, more than one sexual fantasy (including some outdoor self-loving!), and a burning romance that proves age is just a number.
eBook Publisher: Samhain Publishing, Ltd., 2011 2011
eBookwise Release Date: July 2011
1 Reader Ratings:
Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [194 KB]
Reading time: 122-172 min.
Motion off to the side caught my attention, and I squinted into the darkness, trying to gauge what had moved in my neighbor's yard. Perhaps a meandering cat or perhaps just a bit of debris kicked up by the breeze. But then it shifted again, and pale light reflected from what I recognized as glass.
I followed the shape of the bottle, glossing over the hand wrapped around its dark brown form. As my eyes adjusted, I recognized the outline of a person reclined in a deck chair. His defined chest was bare yet too far away to determine if any hair existed or even the color of his nipples. What I did notice was the flexing motion of his abdomen during his rough breathing. Not just the flexing of his flat stomach but the rhythmic up-down motion of his arm.
I almost took a step back when my brain finally registered what it all meant. A small cry of surprise tried to spill from my lips, but I bit it back in time. Instead, I stood transfixed and watched an amazing specimen of human musculature move with an erotic beauty that took my breath.
I'd seen men masturbate before. Who hasn't been drawn to the free sites on the Internet that allowed such decadent voyeurism? But watching him now, my neighbor, was nothing like I'd ever before seen.
His thighs were spread, his feet planted on the concrete. He wasn't muscular like a bodybuilder, but he had natural definition, as if he'd spent time doing manual labor. Shadows hid his face from view, but between his slow strokes, he sipped from the bottle, allowing me to triangulate where his face would be.
From his position, he probably couldn't see me. I hoped to God he couldn't see me. But the idea of getting caught watching wasn't enough to make me turn my head. Besides, I was similarly afraid any movement made by me would draw his attention. If I left, perhaps he would think I hadn't seen a thing, but then again, maybe he would know the truth.
I became fascinated by the motion of that one hand stroking over an elegantly long cock. He used his fingers to tease the head, and then on the downward stroke made certain to pay attention to his testicles. Instead of the urgency I expected, he seemed at ease with the lazy pace. As if he knew he'd get himself to where he wanted to be eventually.
My own arousal swept over me in a rush, surrounding me in its embrace. Reminding me it had been too long since I'd known a lover's hand or even my own.
I thought briefly of Patrick. What would he say to see me here, yearning and fascinated?
I braced myself, ready to feel the guilt. A heated blush should have crept over my face, the shame of wanting to be here burning me from the inside. Instead, I remembered his lovely smile and knew if he saw me here now, his mouth would be curved into a grin. Enjoy yourself, honey. He wouldn't be outside if he didn't want an audience.
Perhaps that was my own justification for staying, but at the same time, I was sure Patrick would have said those words...or at least something similar. Bolstered by my own wants, and what my husband would have approved of, I stayed. I watched. And I enjoyed it.
My neighbor's pace increased, his hips jerking as I suspected he brought himself closer and closer to the point of no return. Mouth dry, I watched every lovely moment, waiting to see the rush of his release. Between my thighs was damp, my breasts heavy.
Up until now, he'd been silent, but when I heard his first low groan, my focus sharpened. Licking my lips, I stared at his cock and could have cried out in triumph when his hand's action sped up, and then his hips punched into the air. I couldn't see it clearly, much to my disappointment, but the way his body tensed, I knew the moment he climaxed. The sounds he simultaneously made, just as sexy.
His chest heaved as he drew air into his desperate lungs. I knew his need to gulp in the night based on the way my own body reacted, my empty pussy pulsing with a familiar ache.
He picked up the forgotten beer bottle and ran it over the muscles of his abdomen. Over the muscles of his chest, and even the points of his nipples. He must have been scorching and let the glass cool him down as much as it could.
With a groan, my neighbor stood, leaving behind the bottle. He stepped out from the shadows, and this time I did not catch my gasp in time from piercing the night. For the past several minutes I thought I'd watched the antics of a middle-aged man who'd somehow kept himself well preserved. I should have known better.
The person who stepped out from the shadows was not the owner of the house, but instead, his son. Jeff--Josh, maybe--was home from college. Some stint at the state college that his parents had been very proud of. My God, he'd grown up. When was the last time I'd seen him? Six, seven years ago?
This time, heat flooded my cheeks because he was easily ten years younger than I, if not younger than that. I'd crossed the line from sexually curious into improper prurience. Still, did that stop me from watching him move with liquid grace toward the pool? Nope.
It wasn't until he dove beneath the waters that fear of being caught and guilt about my resultant arousal urged my feet into motion. He swam in my direction, and the very last thing I needed him to do was break the surface, look up and find me staring. So I made certain he was completely submerged, his body nicely silhouetted against the pool tiles, before I made my escape. I quickly backed away from the deck railing, grabbed the forgotten glass of wine and almost stumbled in my haste to go back inside.
What would my neighbors think if they knew I'd seen him in all his naked glory? What would my coworkers say? I had an obligation to my community, and lusting after one of its barely legal members wasn't included. My heart raced, adrenaline finally catching up.
Not more than a foot from the sliding glass door, I stopped. Why, I couldn't say, but hearing my name called across the otherwise quiet night served as well as a traffic light. I couldn't bring myself to put my foot in front of the other. Couldn't get myself to keep going. I'd been caught and deserved whatever chastisement would be coming my way.
"Mrs. Pace?" The voice, mellow yet deep, was nearer now.
I turned slowly, ready to face my accuser. "Yes?"
Mrs. Smith's boy, my next-door neighbor's son, walked toward the fence that separated my yard from theirs, his lean body glistening and dripping. I quickly took in the rugged features of his face: narrow nose, broad jaw, dark eyes. Although he was as naked as nature intended, he moved leisurely. His steps still somehow managed to cross his yard in short order. He grasped onto the fence, elevating himself just enough so that I could see him well over the six-foot privacy fence, and so he could also see me.
His eyes glittered in the night. "Same time tomorrow, Mrs. Pace?"
Thoughts of how to respond to him tumbled in my mind, and I stood momentarily too stunned to answer. Was he being serious? Or just cocky? Was this an invitation or an accusation?
He must have thought my hesitation had some special meaning, for he added, "It would be my pleasure."
A smile touched my lips at the thought of this young, arrogant man propositioning me. That's what it was. Permission to repeat tonight as part of his enjoyment. And mine.