Page 13 of Patio Lanterns

“Age is bullshit,” she declared. “So, unless you can come up with a better reason why we shouldn’t, I’m gonna start listing off all the reasons we should.”

Then she got up out of her chair. Both tipsy on wine and drunk on the idea of staging a bold seduction, she leaned over him. God, he smells amazing. She inhaled his spicy, woodsy essence, the same alluring musk she picked up on after his shower. It made her toes curl.

“Number one,” she whispered, grazing his ear, “I think you’re sexy as hell. And if I’m not mistaken, you’re kinda into me too.”

Her heart pounded as she nuzzled the scrape of his unshaven cheek, hovering over his waiting lips. His hot, wine-scented breath mingled with hers, proving to be too great a temptation to hold back her desire. Her eyes fluttered closed and she pressed in, feathering her lips over his.

He immediately lifted his mouth and kissed her back with more intense pressure, heated and hungry, as if unable to suppress his own need. Their kiss deepened quickly to exploring and tasting, a surge of passion overtaking them both as their lips devoured and suckled. Oh God, this man. She melted against him, moaning with pleasure against his mouth, needing to feel more of him everywhere. His tongue slid against hers in long, deep strokes, plucking the taut strings of desire stretched tight in her lower belly.

Panting, she forced herself to pull away, taking temporary leave of his delicious mouth to continue listing off all the reasons they should give in to even greater temptation.

His heavy-hooded eyes remained glued to her as she stepped back. “Number two,” she said, shrugging his jacket off her shoulders and casually tossing it aside, “we’re both consenting adults.”

Crossing her arms in front of her, she tugged the bottom hem of her tight t-shirt. She inched it above her stomach and ribs, baring the first of her tattoos. Her debut ink, sitting high on her hip, was the result of a drunken dare. A twist of wild daisies. It wasn’t bad, considering it was done by a guy whose studio was in the back of a truck camper. A year later, she got her second tattoo a few inches above the first. That design was more deliberately chosen—an open bird cage above the words “oiseau rebelle.”

Feeling the heat of Rick’s gaze on her, she slowly teased the shirt above the sheer lace and Lycra cups of her bra, squeezing her breasts precisely the way she’d been fantasizing his large, football-gripping hands doing.

“Number three,” she continued, finally lifting the shirt over her head and letting it drop to the ground. “It’d be a lovely way to end a rather nice evening, don’t you agree?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he gulped and shifted uncomfortably in his seat, as if his jeans were shrinking by the second.

“You still with me?” she asked with a teasing smile.

“Ohhh, yeah,” he rasped.

Pleased by his response, she reached around and released the hooks of her bra. With a couple of shoulder shrugs, she shook it away from her body. Her boobs sprang free of restraint, her tingling nipples twitching as they kissed the cool air.

“Fuck,” he moaned breathily, his mouth falling open as his lusty gaze locked onto her breasts. He watched as she touched herself, cupping, fondling, rousing her nipples to full attention with the tips of her fingers.

“Number four, and this one is my personal motto in case you haven’t guessed,” she said, “you only live once.” Aroused and feeling fearless, with the scales of immense sexual power tipped in her favour, she prowled towards him with a bawdy swagger.

He was panting now, white-knuckling both armrests of his chair. She sank to her knees in front of him, and he parted his thighs, allowing her to position herself right where she wanted.

“Oh Jesus,” he whimpered, perhaps offering up a prayer as she nestled her boobs in his lap, pressing and rubbing against the prominent bulge straining hard behind his fly. Her lips curved into a lusty smile as she worked the buttons of his shirt free, then peeled both sides back. What a beautiful man. Downy salt-and-pepper hair flared in the centre of his broad chest and tapered further down his belly, trailing darker, more dangerously, into the front of his jeans. She burrowed her nose in the greying patch of fragrant man fur coating his pecs, trailing wet kisses over his burning skin.

“And last but not least, number five,” she said, flicking one of his nipples with her tongue. “No one will give a flying fuck if we do.”

Her eyes zeroed in on his crotch. She popped open the button on his jeans and unzipped his fly, eager to free his rigid cock from solitary confinement. With an enthusiastic grunt, he released it for her, and both her mouth and pussy watered at the sight, deliciously thick with a smooth, bulbous head. She curled her fingers around his heat, delivering long, firm strokes before trapping it between her tits and massaging it with her milky mounds.

He clenched his eyes and threw his head back, nostrils flaring in excited huffs.

“God, Rick, your cock is so fucking beautiful. I could come from looking at it,” she whispered breathily. “But I’m hoping you’ll let me do much more with this bad boy than look.” She looked at him through her lashes. “Pretty please?”

“Oh Christ, yeah,” he panted.

Bowing her head, she licked the sweet bead of moisture that greeted her tongue. She knew he’d be made of pure man candy and the first lick did not disappoint. Needing more, she swiped at the tip and all over that glorious mushroom head, eliciting a happy moan from him as his hips flexed upward in response.

Baby, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet. She smiled to herself, stretching her lips over his cock. Eager to please, she started exploring every inch of him through long, slow licks, her tongue swirling and strumming against his hard heat. It thrilled her to discover exactly what he liked and how he liked it according to his ragged breathing.

He moved his hands lower, finally helping himself to her breasts and gratifying her need to be touched by him. His large, manly hands cupped and squeezed, the heat of his palms and the desire in his fingertips driving her wild. As if learning her responses too, he alternated between tenderly feeling the smooth roundness of her tits and firmly kneading their fullness. He was definitely a quick study; his skilled hands causing her thighs to clamp together to relieve some of the aching pressure building there. As his teasing, tickling, twisting fingers magicked her nipples stiff, she hummed her pleasure against his cock, encouraging him to give her more.

He sharply sucked in a breath, his body tensing. “Jesus, Robin, you are so fucking good.”

A muffled moan rumbled from her throat in response. She wavered between wanting to devour him deeper, harder, faster, until he cried out, and needing to stop and save them both for the main event. Realistically, he likely only had one round in the chamber, so she figured it was better to hold off on pulling the trigger.

With a hard pop, she pulled him out from between her lips.

“As much as I’d love to swallow every last delicious drop of you, I still want to fuck you,” she explained, continuing to pump him. “I want your hands and mouth all over me. I want to feel your body naked against mine. I want you pounding into me and sucking my pretty titties while I come on your cock.”

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