Page 6 of Icing the Cougar
When I straighten, she stands close enough that her elbow brushes my bicep. My knuckle grazes hers taking the block she offers me. Static jumps between us.
“Starting in child’s pose,” she instructs, sinking onto her own mat with grace. The neckline of her tight-fitting tank top dips just enough to show the swell of beautiful, plump breasts, causing my palms to go slick against the mat.
“You mean the fetal position?” I crouch until my knees pop, jersey shorts riding up to expose hip flexors still twitchy from our last game. “Should I cry while I’m down here? Really commit?”
“Focus on your breath, Mr. Wright.” She exhales.
“Jasper,” I correct, cheek pressed to mat. “Unless you want me calling you ‘Ms...’” I pause just long enough to see her throat jump “...Harper.” I close my eyes once she looks directly at me.
When I open them, it’s the auburn that hits me first. Her hair’s in a loose ponytail. There’s so much of it, I wonder if the thing’s going to unravel and fall in my face. I’d be okay withthat. Her smell. The hotel. That night. Trinity. It’s crazy, her not remembering. Or maybe it’s perfect.
“You’re very tight, Jasper.” She’s pushing down on my shoulders, and I’m doing my best not to lose it. This is supposed to be yoga, not torture. My way to unwind. She’s leaning over me, and I’m back to thinking about the hotel. “We’re supposed to breathe here, not smirk.” I turn my head to look at her over my shoulder. She’s smiling, and I’m so damn hard.
We’re barely into the first pose, and she’s talking in a soft, coaxing voice that has my dick twitching. “It’s my first time… doing yoga,” I say, voice heavy with innuendo. “But I’m very skilled with other positions.” Her knee brushes my thigh. She acts like she doesn’t notice, but I catch the quick glance down, the flicker of something in her eyes. Recognition? Interest? I’m drinking her in, and I’m right back there. Her, arching under me to get closer. My tongue, tracing a line up her pussy to each nipple.
She moves back to her mat, and I slowly unfold my body to a sitting position. “Let’s open those hips,” she says, like it’s easy. I think of her lips open, the way they were in the hotel. “Show me what you’ve got,” she adds, like I’m not already showing more than I bargained for.
“Maybe start with a pose that won’t kill me?” I ask, doing my best to follow her lead. “Some of us are not so nimble.” My voice is pure sarcasm, but she just laughs and makes me lie on my back to press my leg to my chest.
“We’ll work on that ego after we open those hips.” She comes over and pushes my knee even closer to my chest. “What sport did you say you play?”
“Competitive breathing,” I say, trying to concentrate on anything but the curve of her ass in those yoga pants. The room smells like lavender, and I’m trying not to think about other scents from that night. Vanilla, sweat, my cologne on her skin. She helps me fold into a new pose, all bent over and twisted up. Her hair brushes my cheek, making me take a deep breath just to try to tame my hormone raging beast inside that wants to come out to play.
She’s relaxed, stretching me past sanity. I close my eyes and picture that ponytail coming undone. It takes me somewhere I can’t control, so I let go and ride the thought. Her under me. Squirming, wanting it. Her eyes wide as she demands I fuck her harder. Yet, her voice snaps me back to reality. I’m stretched like a pretzel, and she’s acting all professional.
“How are we doing down there?” she asks, crouching over me like I’m a wounded animal.
“Trying to relax,” I say. “Maybe it’s your proximity that’s the problem.” She’s focused. Her hands push me deeper, and I wonder if she feels how hard I am. I think about how easy it’d be to have her on her back as I give my body permission to let go and not hide my feelings any longer. She’ll soon discover what she’s doing to me.
“Any discomfort?” she asks, leaning close.
“Only that you don’t remember. Nice mark on your shoulder,” I say with a wink.
I watch her reaction. Her lips part, and her hand slips on my leg and her fall perfectly positions her hand to rub over my rock-hard cock. The look on her face is priceless.
“Guess you meet a lot of guys since you don’t remember me.” Her eyes go wide, then narrow, and I see the precise moment when something clicks in that pretty little brain of hers. She’s thinking hotel. That night.
She stands up so fast I’m back to wondering if she’s playing me. It makes me hotter. “Does that mean you’re the one...?” Her voice trails off. I keep her guessing.
“Who drugged you? No. But I was the one who ended up taking care of you. Oh, yes, I tookverygood care of you that night.” I’m breathless from yoga. From her body this close. From remembering that night and the way our bodies moved together.
“Should I be worried?” she asks, almost shy.
“About which part?” I smirk, pretending to stretch. This time I’m showing off on purpose. “Takingverygood care of you again? As in right here, right now.” I finish with a smirk.
I let the innuendo hang there, knowing it’ll twist her up more than any pose. She blushes, but I can tell she likes it. She starts in on another yoga move, her voice more serious. Shakier. “Downward dog,” she says. “Like this.”
“Like the hotel,” I say. Her head jerks up, but her body leans in. She’s got this calm front, but it’s cracking.
“Why don’t we slow it down a little?” She’s struggling to keep cool, and I’m enjoying every second.
“Where’s the fun in that?” I watch her, hungry for the way she trembles.
“Yoga’s about patience, not—” Her voice catches as I roll to my side. She’s hot and bothered, and I’m feeling it.
“It’s been hard,” I say, and look down at my crotch.
“What?” Her voice is breathy.
