Chapter Sixty
I was amazed at how easy it was to lead Dylan into the bedroom that I’d once shared with Greg.
Maybe it was because I’d moved the furniture around. Or perhaps it was because I’d put away my husband’s photographs – especially the one where Greg’s eyes always seemed to follow me around the room.
Either way, Dylan and I crossed the floor to the bed with the sort of choreography that affirmed this was meant to be. I wrapped my legs around his hips and welcomed him inside me relieved that, after a lengthy break, everything was popping and fizzing nicely.
Lyn, my mate, had insisted that a woman of a certain age should regularly use a vibrator. She swore that it kept things down there ticketty-boo.
‘That and lots of lube, Mags,’ she’d shrieked, as we’d giggled tipsily over our Proseccos. ‘Did I tell you about the time I made the thing so slippery, it shot right out of my hands. Catapulted across the carpet. And Sooty’ – Lyn’s Cockapoo – ‘thought it was her new toy. She grabbed it and wouldn’t give it back. It was most embarrassing when the doorbell rang. I greeted a courier in my kimono only to have Sooty dash past with a rubber penis hanging out of her mouth.’
I smiled at the memory then, as Dylan flipped me on top, batted the thought away. Right now, I didn’t want to think of Lyn, Sooty, or chewed-up vibrators.
Instead, long hair trailing over Dylan’s chest, I leant in for a full-blown snog.
Careful, Maggie. Your mouth isn’t a vacuum nozzle.
Coming up for air, I leant back and cupped my breasts suggestively. Gave Dylan an eyeful of cleavage that was… uh-oh…
Warning!Crepe alert!
I instantly dropped my boobs. They yo-yoed attractively down to my navel.
Diversion tactics urgently required!
I stuck a finger in my mouth. Ran my tongue suggestively over the tip. Licked it lasciviously up and down, up and down, while making the sort of sounds heard in a porn movie. Oh yes, baby. Right now, was I hot, or was I hot? I suppressed a burp.
Caution! You’re still full of champagne. Stop the voracious bouncing or you’ll burp again, and next time you’ll sound like Fred Plaistow after he’s drunk a pint of Guinness.
I instantly switched to a woman on horseback sedately rising to the trot. But Dylan was having none of it. He flipped me over again and was suddenly doing the sort of thrusts that might challenge anyone who’d had a hip replacement.
As he sped up, his breath hurricaned in my left ear while I cosied up to his right earlobe and loudly affirmed my pleasure.
Perforated eardrum alert!
Oh for…
I shifted my neck, thus directing all sound over Dylan’s shoulder. At least if I was unable to stop screeching – and right now I really couldn’t – my lover’s hearing apparatus wouldn’t be damaged.
Hearts pounding, gasping for breath, things came to an energetic and noisy crescendo. Spent, we finally flopped back against the pillows.
‘Wow,’ panted Dylan.
‘Wow, indeed,’ I said, my ribcage going up and down rather alarmingly. That had been quite a work-out. A calorie burner for sure. I wriggled closer to Dylan. Looked up at him seductively.
‘What?’ he asked in bemusement.
‘Fancy some chocolate?’ I grinned.