EXCLUSIVE HOT EXCERPT! The Cowboy Singer by Paula Tiberius
The kiss escalated quickly and he found himself exploring the inside of that robe. She was wearing this silky, frilly purple piece of heaven. How hadn’t he noticed it poking out from the plush terry cloth? He ran his hands over her thighs and felt her body tense and heard her breathing grow rapid against his ear. He knew they were headed for another night of bliss.
April was the best lover James had ever experienced. And it had nothing to do with technique or body parts. They just felt so right together. She made him crazy with soft kisses on his neck, his chest, his belly. By the time she reached his thighs he was already out of his mind and she sat up to look at him, a giggle escaping her lips. He loved the way she made him feel, so connected to her. Without letting her eyes leave his, she climbed on top of him and gently lowered herself down. Pure silken ecstasy enveloped him. He wondered where all this new energy had come from since she was supposed to be completely exhausted, but he wasn’t complaining.
He reached up and stroked her breasts and rib cage underneath the silky material. She gently thrust her hips back and forth, driving him closer and closer to the brink. He grabbed her buttocks and held them still for a moment. She seemed surprised.
“Slow down, Cowgirl. I’m in no rush.”
A lingering, sexy smile broke out on her face as she pulled her negligee off completely. What a body. She leaned over and let her breasts graze his chest. He slid his hands into her hair and pulled her face to his for a long, tender kiss. Their tongues danced together to the rhythm of their bodies and again he felt like he might lose control too soon. He wanted to bring her over the edge first. He gently thrust his hips higher and higher and finally felt her body tense. Pretty soon she was unable to keep kissing his mouth and just gripped his hair with both fists, her breath ragged. She started calling out his name. This was his absolute favorite part.
“James! James! It’s so intense!” Heh heh. As far as he was concerned, his own pleasure was nothing compared to the satisfaction of pleasing April.
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Story:
April Connors figured her love life was on hold indefinitely now that she was about to have a baby while temporarily staying at her grandmother’s house (what a turn-on!). Meeting infamous country singer Jimmy Wick may have made her giant belly flip, but she was filing him under a big “as if.” No man in his right mind would fall for a gal this pregnant, and besides, she needed to focus on herself and the baby. James Warwick (a.k.a. Jimmy Wick) was not in his right mind. His ex-wife was petitioning for full custody of the only thing that made him happy besides playing music, his four-year-old princess, Summer, and the thought of losing her had him crazier than an outhouse rat. His saving grace was his new ‘friend’ April who he was falling head over heels for. The only problem was, April had just been knocked up, dumped and stranded by the last guy she was with and was in no mood to go down that road again. She was hellbent on getting her life back on track just as James was watching his fall apart, leaving them both caught off guard by the unstoppable romance that would sweep them off their feet.
The Longest Wait
By Lady Cheeky (Originally written 8/10/10)
Sitting in the lobby of the trendy and overly decorated hotel waiting for him. It had been two months since I had any contact with him … almost three months since we made love.
But things just changed. They had taken a turn in my favor. And for any lovelorn woman who has ever fantasized of her lost lover impetuously jumping on a plane bringing nothing with him but his I.D. to win his girl back, this was a dream come true.
But why then, was I not jumping out of my skin, tears in my eyes waiting at the window with a pie and his slippers? Instead, I was in a leather armchair, in a poorly styled “hip” hotel listening to house music just a little too loud for comfort.
I was nervous. I wasn’t when he said he was taking the next flight out. I wasn’t when I booked the room. I wasn’t when I walked to the elevator to get to the lobby. But now, now my skin was vibrating, my heart pounding and my hands shaking - tracing figure eight’s on my iPhone screen with my finger, rehearsing disjointed platforms of ultimatums and scorned woman rhetoric that felt unnatural, but kept my mind occupied.
I had left him and banned him from my life two months ago. I did this to save my soul and my mind. He had made a choice for his life’s path that wasn’t in sync with mine. A choice that was the oil to my water … the two could not stay mixed together without eventually parting. I needed more and he needed something else.
And then, without warning, he told me that was no longer the case. If he jumped on the next plane to see me could he explain? Shocked, what could I say? If the one thing keeping us apart was now not an issue then I owed it to myself to listen. I was “the love of his life”, he told me … but I had known that he was the love of mine for a while. I knew what discovering that was like and it sounded as though he was on that ship and that ship had left the port. But, I dare not think this way. I should hear him out first. I can’t do this to myself again without proof.
Two months ago I never would have been here regardless of what he had to say. I was beyond my limit of angry, hurt and defeated. I was done understanding and being supportive and getting him between business trips. We never saw each other but once or twice a month and then, only for a couple of days at a time on average. That’s fine for recreational lovers, but not for lovers in love. I loved him. I knew he loved me, he just didn’t know it yet. If he did, he wouldn’t have taken that job in London cutting our time together down to a few days a year. A prestigious, career changing job. An important job. A job that would be his friend, lover and confidante as I would not be there to fulfill that role.
I cried for a month straight. In my bedclothes 24/7 and not leaving the house. Sleeping 12 hours a day and then 3 hours a day. Eating cookies for dinner and wine or Xanax for dessert. Trying to numb myself while not doing too much damage. 30 days and 10 lbs larger I began to surface. I guess my body couldn’t take the intensity and the drama of the situation with Guerre and was ready to move on to my usual intensity and drama that is my life.
I started dating again, but I found my mind wander and my heart followed. Sex was perfunctory with these gentlemen. Bless their hearts they tried, and with the right woman it would have worked … but I was spoiled … no … I was inured to anyone else. My body knew it was the perfect compliment Martin’s and it would have no other. My desire waned … my orgasms became less frequent … my fantasies too painful to be frequent as Guerre would pop up unexpectedly in odd places and take over.
One night in particular, I had retreived my handy “Rabbit” and was bound and determined to make myself come. Low lights, soft music, candles, lingerie a little porn on the TV with the sound off and I was off to see the Wizard. The Rabbit is a miracle of technology. Whirring and oscillating inside me while the ears surround my clit vibrating while they slap it around.
I dreamed of being dressed to the nines in a high box at the Opera (don’t ask, because I hate the opera). I look great in red velvet strapless gown and my hair up and clearly I’ve been working out. A gentleman is seated late in the only other seat in the box … next to me. It’s dark as the first act has begun … I glance over but cannot see his face … but, he is tall (whirrrr, slap-slap, mmmm) at least 6’2” – 6’-3” …
Back to the opera … La Rondine … I figure I’ll stay until “O Mio Babino Caro” and then I’m outta here.
The gentleman next to me is leaning forward arms on the edge of the box seemingly entranced by the performance. “Gay man” I think “Gay, gay, gay. Gay as the day is long. G.A.Y. Gay”. God, I have good Gaydar, I should really be studied. A little proud, I sit up in my chair a bit which startles my neighbor for some reason and he turns to me. All I can see are his blue/green eyes. Is it the lighting, because surely eyes don’t glow like that? We hold a glance for more than the moment should last … until my purse falls on the floor between us. As we both go to retrieve the bag our cheeks graze … my right … his left. Suddenly we both stop at the same time and are frozen in this position. The current we experience at this innocent, accidental touch is nothing short of otherworldly. It is so meaningfully sharp and distinct it renders us immobile for a moment. Until, again in unison, we begin to look up at each other to get, what I assume, would be confirmation from the other that that current existed. As our heads rise slowly and our eyes meet, a rush … a wave of excitement and desire rage to flush my cheeks. As we both move toward for a kiss his face hits the light and I can see … it’s … it’s … GUERRE! My heart skips a beat, we both smile hungrily … longingly … and as if seeing food for the first time after a long starvation, we join together in a whirlwind of kisses and gropes and grunts and … and …
Whirr, slap-slap! “Mmmmmmooooohhhhhhh!HHHHHH AAAAAHHH!!!!!!! OH YES!”. Orgasm hits while he is sucking my ear. Panting, I regain control and realize it was just a fantasy. No Guerre here with me to share the orgasm after bask with. Just me and two overly made up tarts on the TV licking each other… and the sobbing begins, until I fall asleep with sore eyes, a stuffed nose and a massive headache.
But soon he’ll be here … in the flesh… arms wrapped around me, owning my body. Sinking into his tall, strong frame I will exhale for the first time in months.
To be continued …
After Class
by Lady Cheeky and Mr. Guerre
The note on the counter read, “Don’t forget, I have class tonight. Dinner is in the fridge. Enjoy your evening and relax.” A red lipstick mark to sign her love brought a smile to my face.
It had been a stressful day, slaying the dragons of insanity. It’s hard to believe some people hold the positions granted them by corporate leadership. I opened the fridge, took out the sandwich and beer and took them to the den.
Turning on the television, flipping from her channel to mine. If this is “the best week of sports” what shall I watch? Nothing. Well local news will do — watch the damage from last night’s storms. I drop the remote beside my beer and retreat to the bedroom.
In the bedroom I remove my suit. Hanging the tie, belt, and suit in the closet for another day. Taking off my shoes, I buff them slightly. I guess I could shine them tonight. Socks and boxers are tossed into the hamper as I nakedly stroll across the bedroom to the dresser. There I grab an old soft shirt and running shorts, covering my slight belly and body.
I return to the den, ready to eat and relax. Hoping I can remain awake to welcome you home. The beer, the full belly, the weak television schedule and the exhausting day conspire against my intentions. I awake three hours later, your skirt brushing across my exposed legs, your body shifting the chair. My lover is home. I groggily come to my senses.
A sleepy smile crosses my lips. Your beautiful body hovers over me like a hawk over it’s freshly caught prey. I’m happy to be your catch of the day. My nose gathers your lovely scent as my eyes continue to adjust. Your perfume is joined by . . . I’m not sure what other aroma accents the expected olfactory joy of your presence.
Your hair frames your face perfectly; a red wavy do that serves as a sirens song to passing strangers. Your fiery locks are the first thing many notice as they pass you by and turn their heads. My eyes catch the happy yet mischievous smile across your face as they travel downward. Drawn by the magnetic vortex that is your ample cleavage and bosom. I arch my back and stretch slightly not wanting to abandon my place beneath your figure.
You seemingly have imbibed in my visage long enough. “Good evening babe,” you sexily whisper. “I’m sorry I woke you”. Your smirk begets a different sentiment.
My mind struggles with balancing the visual input of the canyon between your breasts and the auditory processing necessary to respond. Buying more time I stretch again, rising slightly off the chair. “I’m not sorry at all,” I finally stammer. My trustworthy body already willingly responding despite a lack of cognitive processing. ”How was your class?”
“Better than most,” you reply. ”But I have quite a bit of homework to make sure I understand the theory and ideas and how they relate to practical implementation.”
Your body has lowered slightly. Your silk sundress wispily brushes across my bare legs. Your lips are inches away from my face. I anxiously anticipate your next move, upcoming words, or what might happen next.
… to be continued
