“Don’t lie to me, darlin’. Not now.” I pushed the dress off her shoulders, letting it pool at her feet. She stood there in a simple white bra and panties, and Christ, she was beautiful. Soft curves, pale skin, the body of a woman who’d lived and loved and survived.
Perfect.
“Stephen, we should?—”
“Should what?” I backed her up until her legs hit the sofa. “Talk? I’m done talking, Trudy. I’m done waiting for you to stop fighting this.”
I pushed her down onto the cushions and she landed with a gasp, her eyes wide and dark with arousal. I shrugged out of my jacket, pulled my shirt over my head, and watched her gaze travel over my chest, my arms, the tattoos that marked decades of life in the MC.
“You’re seventy-two years old,” she whispered, but there was no judgment in it. Just wonder.
“And you’re sixty-eight.” I unbuckled my belt, then popped the button on my jeans. “You gonna tell me that matters?”
She shook her head slowly, her tongue darting out to wet her lips.
“Good.” I kicked off my boots before shoving my jeans and boxers down. My cock sprang free, hard and thick, and I watched her eyes widen. “Because I’ve been thinking about this, aboutyou, every goddamn day since I walked into that bakery.”
I dropped to my knees in front of the sofa, grabbed her hips, and dragged her to the edge. She yelped, her hands flying to my shoulders.
“What are you?—”
“Tasting you.” I hooked my fingers in her panties and pulled them down her legs, tossing them aside. “Been wanting to know what you taste like for months.”
“Stephen, you don’t have to—oh God.”
I spread her thighs wide and put my mouth on her.
She was already wet, ready for me, and the taste of her made me groan against her pussy. Sweet and musky and perfect. I licked up her slit, found her clit with my tongue, and sucked.
“Fuck!” Her hands flew to my hair, gripping hard. “Stephen, I... oh my God.”
“That’s it, darlin’.” I slid two fingers inside her, feeling her clench around me. “Let me hear you. Want to hear every sound you make when I make you come.”
I worked her with my mouth and fingers, relentlessly, listening to her gasps and moans, feeling her thighs tremble against my shoulders. She was close. I could feel it in the way her body tensed, the way her fingers tightened in my hair.
“Come for me, Trudy. Come on my tongue.”
She shattered with a cry, her back arching off the sofa, her pussy gripping my fingers as she came. I worked her through it, licking and sucking until she was whimpering and pushing at my head.
“Too much,” she gasped. “Stephen, I can’t?—”
“Yes, you can.” I rose up and positioned myself between her thighs, the head of my cock pressing against her entrance. “You’re gonna take all of me, darlin’. Gonna feel me for days.”
I pushed inside in one slow, deep thrust.
Holy fuck.
She was tight and hot and perfect, her body gripping me like a fist. We both groaned, the sound filling the quiet room.
“Jesus Christ,” I breathed, holding still, giving her time to adjust. “You feel so fucking good.”
“Move,” she demanded, her nails digging into my shoulders. “Stephen, please?—”
I pulled back and thrust hard, burying myself to the hilt. She cried out, her legs wrapping around my waist, and I set a brutal pace. No finesse, no gentleness, just raw need and pent-up desire.
“This what you wanted?” I growled, my hands gripping her hips hard enough to bruise. “This what you’ve been thinking about when you lie in bed at night?”
“Yes!” She met me thrust for thrust, her body arching into mine. “Yes, God, yes?—”
