Beauty of Sunset Page 7

  Leaning forward he pressed his cock into her buttock crease so the head nudged over the top. She felt so good he could come from working it there. He took a moment to kiss her shoulder blades, waiting for the peak to die down.

  He squeezed the lube, letting the clear gel flow over his fingers before he dropped the tube on the sheet. He leaned back and slid his glistening fingers into the crease where his cock had just discovered intimations of glory.

  Working the liquid over and over, he slid past her rosebud opening, not attempting to enter. She liked that, liked him to massage her there. Allowed it. So he slipped the tip of his forefinger inside. Just the tip, although it killed him not to take her, fuck her deep inside and feel the beauty of that hot velvet sheath.

  He thought he’d learned patience in the last ten years. He’d been wrong.

  Moving the dildo to the front of her body, he slid the smooth glass head over her clit and felt her shiver. A drop of her honey slid down her thigh and he watched its glistening progress, knowing he’d driven it out of her.

  The sight enthralled him. He caught his breath until the drop was lost in the sheet under her knee.

  And still he worked her, rubbed the phallus over her clit down to her cunt until it slid in almost of its own volition because by then she was so wet she could have accepted the dildo and his cock together. Except that the dildo was him in a way. Strange how she’d picked that one even before she’d seen him naked.

  He took a couple of deep breaths. Her soft moans drove him higher still and he knew he wouldn’t last much longer without fucking her. He wanted to be inside her body so badly he could taste it. Moaning, he dragged his mind away from the prospect.

  He pushed one finger inside her anus and waited. Just to the first joint to let her feel it. She didn’t object; if anything her moans increased. She clutched the sheet under her hands, fisting and releasing the crumpled fabric. He wanted it to be his cock but he couldn’t be everywhere. He added another finger.

  Working his fingers inside her softly he managed to get them further inside, then began to introduce a third finger. With the dildo pushed inside her cunt, working her slowly, she melted over him, soft as butter while he was hard as iron.

  He leaned against her ass until she got the message and lowered her body so the dildo could remain lodged inside her while he leaned over to get the condom he’d left on the nightstand. He dropped a kiss on her shoulder, stopped to suckle and taste her skin.

  Almost as far gone as she was, John managed to get the condom on one-handed before he replaced his hand on the dildo and urged her back up. He needed her completely open so he wouldn’t hurt her. And he wouldn’t force it much, though the demon that resided deep inside him told him to. Just push, fuck, shove inside her as far as you can go. The real ecstasy is the deepest heart of her. Tear her apart.

  Edie could hardly believe it. A few instances excepted, and they’d been a long time ago, the last time she’d allowed herself to be so vulnerable with a man was Bobby. Her sex was usually done with her on her back or on top, both enjoying themselves with the intensity of a tennis game on a summer afternoon, or rather, the lack of intensity. Not this.

  His fingers inside her where she’d only allowed tentative attempts before, his cock sliding inside her cunt. Another word she rarely used, but here, emotions and needs stripped raw, it was right.

  And she wanted him now. Now. Urgency sent need ripping through her. When he removed his fingers from her ass, she felt bereft but only for a moment because smooth hard heat touched her. He slid the very tip inside, barely opening her. “Here we go, sweetheart. Breathe out for me.” His hand on her waist was shaking. He wanted her as much as she wanted—needed—him.

  She took a deep breath and released it slowly as he pushed in. He got the head in and a little of the shaft she thought from the way it felt. So good. He moaned a long drawn-out sound of appreciation. The hand holding the dildo inside her trembled.

  He gripped her upper thigh, drawing it back. “God I wish you could see this! My cock as it slowly, so slowly, slides inside your body. Fuck.”

  “John!” She lifted her head and saw them reflected in the mirrored closets opposite. His golden olive-toned body behind hers, her leaning forward on her elbows, her breasts nearly grazing the rumpled sheet below them. The expression of ecstasy on his face surpassed anything she’d seen before on a lover and nearly made her come on the spot.

  The blue outer rims of her eyes had almost disappeared, swallowed by the dark pupils that displayed her arousal. John’s sexy dark eyes showed raw blatant need. He watched his lips drawn back over his teeth as he pushed home.

  Perspiration was breaking out all over his body. And he drew back and drove in again. At the same time, he pulled out the dildo and pushed it home. “Can you come up here, sweetheart, to me?”

  She’d never felt so full. She moved gingerly, wondering if it would hurt but it didn’t. Instead, she felt full. Full of him, cunt and ass both, his cock in both holes. And she wanted to see that area between her thighs, her view blocked by her breasts and deep shadow. But he wanted a part of this. He didn’t just want to do it to her, he wanted her close to him, moving with him. He kept still as she straightened her arms and pushed up on all fours.

  He looped his free hand around her waist and pulled her up the rest of the way. “I’ve got you.”

  She cried out as she moved against him and her back made contact with his chest. He cupped a breast and she reveled in the feel of her hardened nipple against his palm, sensitivity cubed.

  Inside her like this, double fucking her with the dildo and his cock, she felt complete. Coming home never felt so good before and here with him buried in her body she was home.

  She tilted her head so her cheek rubbed his shoulder and murmured his name against his neck. He tasted so fucking sexy. Then she lifted her head so he could hear her next words. “They’re both you.” He was driving her insane.

  The dildo and his cock. “Yes, yes they are. Yessss.” He thrust again, withdrew and thrust and gritted his teeth. The phallus glistened with her juices, her thighs wet with them, mingled with lube and sheer desire.

  Then she tensed as everything went into overdrive, sending her higher than she’d ever been before. She finally knew what the phrase “screaming orgasm” meant. Her muscles clutched him, held him tight, released, clenched. Her ass fisted around his cock. She cried out, her body stiff against his and that was enough. No more holding back.

  She came in agonizingly ecstatic waves, feeling his explosion, hearing him crying her name.

  Chapter Eight

  Tempt the Cougar blog:

  Do I get my toaster now? We did it. But I’m in deeper than I meant to be. He’s great in bed and out and his invention in bed is amazing. I thought I was experienced. I am, but while I might have done the things we do before, I haven’t done them with him, felt the perfection of being with him. What is happening to me?

  Cam: You sound like a teenager with her first crush. Be careful because at our age we’re vulnerable. Think about what you want, what you really want. Younger men are good for a fling but keep your head straight.

  Rachel: I know you well enough now to know you have sense, that you’ll hold back. Just go for it but never forget to keep at least one toe on the ground. Younger men are fun but most of them don’t have staying power. So don’t expect it to last forever.

  Edie grimaced as she read the responses to her blog. She still felt good. The euphoria after their first night had taken her completely by surprise. But three days after that first night she still felt it. She could fall in love with this man and that would be a big mistake. Nothing more pathetic than an older woman falling for a younger man and failing to know when it was over.

  So she wouldn’t tell him. From the way John called her, connected with her, she knew he wanted to be a couple but she hadn’t gone that far.

  She clicked the tab on her web browser and brought up the gossip columnist Patrick S
heraton. Bitchy and gay, Patrick was an essential guest at every party and he lived in LA, where else?

  She and John had made it onto Sheraton’s fucking column for two nights out of the last three. Their first meal out together the comments had been snarky but suggestive, and Patrick seemed more interested in the possibility that she was seducing him for free cosmetic surgery although he ameliorated it by saying, “Mind you, peeps, if all plastic surgeons looked like John Sung there’d be a lot more paying in kind. I know I would. Look at this man and say you wouldn’t!”

  Their second appearance had been last night when she’d picked up John after work and they’d gone back to her apartment. Someone had done a candid snap of them getting out of her car and even caught the way John grabbed her hand and dragged her inside, too intent on getting her to bed to exercise any caution. At least he hadn’t picked her up and carried her, although once indoors he’d done that too.

  The comments there were definitely more snarky. Some made her wince although she could have sworn she was immune to the little shit behind the column. She’d weathered gossip columns for years without feeling too concerned and now she felt concerned for John. Would their affair mean that she shouldn’t go to Roubiere? She rather thought so. In any case, the date of her first TV interview for the book was coming uncomfortably close and she wouldn’t recover in time from any major procedure.

  Not that she wanted it anymore. She’d see the doctor and explain.

  Except it didn’t turn out quite like that.

  * * * * *

  John found himself on the second floor where the operating rooms were situated, looking for a missing piece of equipment. His stethoscope. He hardly ever used it these days but he’d had it since his student years and he wanted to know it was safe.

  So it was that he saw an unconscious figure wheeled out of Operating Room One.

  Edie, her hair bound back, no makeup but unmistakably the woman who’d promised not to have any cosmetic surgery. Only last night she’d told him, gazed up at him and said “I won’t have anything done. I swear. You’ve persuaded me.”

  Disappointment reverberated through him. He stared as the nurses wheeled her past, hardly able to believe that she could lie so well.

  John found his stethoscope and returned to his office. He sat at his desk, numb to his surroundings until his assistant called to let him know his next appointment had arrived. The woman he saw probably thought he’d earned his reputation as cold and clinical but he agreed to the breast implants she wanted and sent her on her way. She glanced back when she reached the door. “I thought you’d say no. My friend who recommended me said you put her through hours of counseling before you agreed to do her op. Has someone changed your mind?”

  He stared at her, not seeing her but the high-cheekboned, porcelain-skinned face of Edie Howard. “I haven’t changed my mind. You still have to go through the counseling.”

  The woman sighed. “I’ll wait for your letter then. But I want it done in the next two months. I’m getting married again in October and I want to be fully healed by then.”

  He didn’t give her any outward response. “If you’re a suitable candidate we can handle that.” A new husband, a new pair of boobs. Somehow, John doubted he’d be doing this one. Once when he’d started out and they needed the reputation and the money but these days he could pick and choose. Be more ethical.

  She left after one short smile, tentatively, as if she expected him to pounce on her. Maybe he did, but probably not in the way she intended.

  Finally he was free to go upstairs and visit the wards. One in particular.

  When he entered, Edie was sitting up in bed, her hair brushed out, her eyes still bearing the blankness and confusion he saw in most patients after an operation. She wore a pretty but modest nightdress. He stared at the bandage over her nose. She looked at him as if she was looking at a stranger, her stunning blue eyes fixed on his face.

  He closed the door quietly and stood with his back to it. “You did this without talking to me?”

  She opened her mouth, closed it again. Nodded.

  Sorrow tasted bitter he discovered. Disappointment added a sour note. “Edie, it wasn’t that you had an operation, it was that you did it without talking to me. You promised me and then you had it done anyway. I can’t trust you can I?”

  She still stared.

  “You’re not the woman I thought I was falling in love with.” He should never have trusted his instincts over his clinical judgment. He should have known. This woman had supreme confidence, had run her own life for so long she didn’t recognize when to give way. It was no fucking good. He’d only ever be an adjunct, an extra to her, never able to compete with the wealthy, powerful men she’d married.

  His lack of self-worth warred with his anger and both won out over the lurking suspicion that she was holding something out on him. But despite his fury, he was relieved to see her recovered after the procedure. Even now he cared for her well-being. He told himself it was because she was an important patient here, not because of what he’d thought they’d had.

  He forced a smile. “Edie, it was fun wasn’t it? You were the best fuck I ever had. I wish you all the best in the future.”

  He left while he still could but he went straight to Roubiere’s office where he vented some of his wrath on his partner. “You could have told me, you bastard.”

  Roubiere lounged back in his chair. “And violate the sanctity of the doctor-patient relationship?” A smile twisted the corner of his mouth. “If Ms Howard wants you to know she’ll tell you for herself or she’ll give me permission to tell you. Otherwise you’ll be breaking the oath you took.”

  John snarled. “You fucking bastard. She told you?” His sense of betrayal increased, sent fury rocketing through him. He’d been let down before too many times to count but he’d never thought Edie would do this to him. He trusted her.

  “What does it matter? You told me it was an affair, something to amuse you both. It couldn’t be that you thought it was something more, could it?”

  Breathing deeply helped. Not thinking about how she’d fooled him didn’t. So he blocked the thought and shoved it to the back of his mind. “You’re right. She promised to tell me, that’s all. It’s not important.”

  He straightened up and left the office.

  Roubiere watched the closed door thoughtfully before he hit the intercom that connected him to his secretary. “Jude, don’t tell Dr. Sung anything about what happened here today. He’ll try to find out, so encrypt the records and don’t tell him a thing.”

  The fucker deserved to stew if he had such little confidence in his own judgment and in Edie’s trust.

  Edie sat in front of her laptop again. Her stay in hospital hadn’t been long. She pulled up the blog page and read the entries. Not much had changed but then although her life had taken another turn she was too old to imagine that the world revolved around her.

  She typed her entry with a heavy heart. Back to reality.

  I promised John I wouldn’t have any cosmetic surgery but I had to break that promise. However he didn’t wait to find out why.

  I went to tell Dr. Roubiere I’d changed my mind and tripped and fell in his office. Maybe it’s time to give up four-inch stilettos but I refuse to go into flats forever.

  Broke my nose. Apparently the bone shattered or something and if I hadn’t had work done it could have affected my breathing. Hell, I don’t know but I couldn’t bear the thought of going around with a flat nose and everybody laughing at me. Okay I’m vain but I’ve spent my life taking care of the way I look, so I let him do some plastic work as well as the necessary surgery.

  I went straight into surgery. They knocked me out for it. I’d skipped breakfast so I could take the general anesthetic. Straightened my nose and you couldn’t tell. I must have been down as a rhinoplasty, or maybe John just jumped to conclusions but he decided that the immediate postoperative period when I was feeling vulnerable was a good time to yell a
t me. My mouth and lips were dry and I felt disconnected from everything and he thought it was the best time to vent his anger on me. He said I’d violated his trust, refused to think about anything else and stormed off in a righteous rage. Ripped me a new one.

  I did think about replying but honestly, do I really want a man who can do that? So if we made our affair more permanent would I be letting myself in for more heartache?

  I have to be grateful to John for bringing me back to life. I’m in my mid-forties with my kids all grown up so I don’t see them every day, and with my exes getting on with their lives I was at the lowest ebb I can remember. Hence the visit to the plastic surgeon. But the book I talked about is my autobiography and my manager thinks I’m going to do well with it.

  I made a couple of other decisions. I’m not going to do an exposé on my last husband any more than is already in the book. I’d wanted to use the exposure as revenge to spite him for dropping me as soon as he found a younger clone but what the hell, he doesn’t deserve it. I have to say my manager, Randy Norwood, is delighted. He said the book will do much better and, hey, why didn’t I think about writing more stuff. An exposé on the fashion world, or maybe a more investigative piece. It’s an interesting thought.

  And the second decision? I love you girls. You have been better friends to me than I’ve ever had in my life. You’ve supported me and let me help you. I don’t feel useless anymore and I don’t feel alone, and that is down to you. So I’m taking another chance. My name is really Edie, like I told you. It’s the name my friends use and Cam has been a friend for a long time, so I haven’t been deceiving you girls. But I use my middle name in my professional career. Adelaide Howard. And I’ve used the moniker Sunset for most of my life too. My first husband, the designer Zach Atoya gave me that name because of the color of my hair and it stuck.