An all-new over-40 romance in L.B. Dunbar’s The Silver Foxes of Blue Ridge series is out this week, and I have a sexy little sneak peek for you.
“Jan?” he whispers, looking back at me, and I lick my lips. This is dangerous. I’m alone with a man when I haven’t been alone with anyone in months. He reaches out for my arm, the touch meant to be reassuring, but my skin prickles the same as it does each time he touches me. I lick my lips again, and his eyes follow the trace of my tongue. He groans, and I don’t know who moves first.
But suddenly his mouth is on mine, and my arms are around his neck.
The bat bag falls off his shoulders, clanging against the concrete court, then his arms circle my back.
Our mouths move like starved people, hungry for a taste of something they haven’t ever had. Our teeth knock together.
“I’m sorry,” I mutter at his lips, trying to pull myself back.
“Don’t be,” he says, still holding me to him and backing me up to the fence. His mouth crashes to mine again, and he reaches over for the light switch.
It’s the crack of a bat. The sound of a gun. The start of a race.
Hands roam. Fingers squeeze.
He fumbles with my hair. I tug at his shirt.
He reaches for a breast. I grab at his dick.
We both moan.
“We shouldn’t do this,” he says.
“You’re absolutely right,” I reply, only my mouth keeps moving over his.
My skirt rises under his hand. His waistband lowers underneath mine.
His palm reaches between my legs, and mine slips into his shorts.
Fingers enter me, and I cry out, “Don’t stop.”
My hand tugs at him. “Harder,” he commands.
We’re all heavy breaths and teasing touches, and then my underwear falls to my ankles and his shorts slide down his hips. He’s gone commando, so he’s lined up at my entrance, and I’m squeezing the firmness of his ass with both hands.
“Are you sure about this?” he mutters.
“Don’t you dare quit,” I snap, desperate to feel him inside me, feel what he could do to me. I’m on edge. I’m on fire. I’m…so full as he thrusts upward, sliding easily into me. I coat him in my wetness, which practically drips down my thighs. I’m soaked and willing and want this more than I should.
We’re total strangers.
I know nothing about him, yet this…this feels like I’ve been missing him my entire life.
Charlie grips the back of one thigh and hitches my leg higher against his hip. His knees are bent as he pummels into me, over and over, filling me with the roughness of his thrusts. The fence rattles at my back, setting a background beat to our sexing.
“Oh God,” Charlie exhales into my neck, and my fingers clutch at his ass, holding him to me. The fingertips of one hand dig into my raised thigh, and his others clutch at a butt cheek. We slip, and we slide as my channel strokes at his length. I’m so close but not yet, and I’m afraid he’ll finish before me. Richard always did, walking away satisfied before I was.
Fumbling in the dark, Charlie slips a hand between us. It’s awkward and desperate, but he knows what he’s doing as his fingers rub my clit.
“I…oh, God.” What’s this? I’ve never had it like this. He’s moving within me and working the nub outside of me, and I’m a bundle of nerve endings ready to burst. “Right there, Charlie.”
Stating his name brings his mouth to mine, and it’s all over for me. I groan against his lips with his tongue in my mouth and his dick buried inside me. With the addition of those fingers… I’m just a puddle, melting as I come undone like I’ve never come before.
“Jan,” he says, and I still, but he doesn’t notice. He thrusts once, twice, and then halts, holding himself inside me, only one part of him jolting.
Reality returns to him slowly while I’m stiff as a board with my back to the fence.
My name. It’s not right, but he thinks it’s something else.
“Shit, I didn’t use a condom.” He nearly falls out of me, tugging free so quickly, I falter even with the fence at my back. His hand grasps my upper arm, but I shrug him off me.
I’m not upset with him. I don’t feel violated. I’m not even mad at the lack of a contraceptive.
“I’m on the pill,” I mutter, bending for my underwear and then stepping out of it altogether. I stand upright, feeling shame.
How could I do this?
And why did I like it?
I’ll never admit the truth about any of it.
“Another bend and snap,” he teases, but there’s no humor in his voice as he pulls his shorts back into place and swipes a hand over his head, tugging at his ball cap. We can hardly see each other in the soft glow of the moon somewhere, and I wonder if it’s for the best.
I reach up and snap my fingers in front of his face like a magic trick.
“Just the snap,” I say in my best spooky voice as I slip through the open gate and run toward the coach house. I hear my name called out.
It’s all wrong.