Steamy Second Chance Romance. Excerpt from Her Second, FirstTime.

This text is intended for adults. If you’re under 18, move away slowly and pretend you were never here.

He opens the door the second I knock. Like he’s been standing on the other side, waiting.

And there he is, my Frank.

Shirt stretched tight over his broad chest, hair darker than now, brushed back the way he used to wear it. Not a lookalike. Him. My husband—but twenty years younger. He even wears the same confident smile that made me wet for him as teenagers.

“You must be Maggie,” he says confidently. “Come in.”

I can’t speak, not yet. I walk in, past the point of no return.

The room is pleasant. Clean. A breeze coming through the window lifts the olive green drapes, bringing a gentle fragrance of lavender with it. The neatly made, four-post bed takes up most of the wall, with a bedside cabinet on either side. The door to the ensuite bathroom is open and off to the left.

I set my purse down, then my gloves, suddenly aware of how nervous I am.

He steps in front of me, forcing me to look up. Everything’s the same. It’s as if he stepped out of a photograph. The jaw-line, eyes, creases across his forehead. Even his voice. It melts me.

“Maggie, I…”

My hand reaches his chest and stays there, fingers spread over the warm cotton shirt as I wonder what the hell I’m doing here.
I think of all the years, of all the times I fell in love with Frank. Something inside me breaks loose.

I throw my arms around his neck and pull him toward me. His mouth crushes mine. Firm, hungry as I gasp into him, stunned by how good he tastes. His tongue pushes over mine—my legs nearly buckling from the sensation—making me cling tighter.

It’s Frank, and my body knows it.

I feel him grow hard against me. Feel it brush over the front of my dress. Before I can stop myself—can think—my hand’s on it, rubbing the length of him, and God, is he hard.

I slide my hand lower and fumble with a button. Then another, and another, until I can reach inside, and close my fingers around him.

Jesus!

He’s thick—the way Frank used to be when he couldn’t wait—when he had to have me. My palm wraps around his shaft, stroking him slowly to the root as I savor the moment.

He sucks in a breath.

I sink to my knees.

My dress pulls tight across my thighs as I bend. I want to see all of him. To take him in my mouth the way I used to, when we were young and didn’t care who might catch us.

I run my hand along his length, knees digging into the coarse rug beneath me.

Desperation courses through me. I wan’t to devour him, to take it straight back and feel his release cascade down my body, but it’s been too long.

Starting slow, I stretch my mouth around the tip, tongue flat against the underside. But it’s useless—as soon as I taste him, I pull him deeper. My lips sealed around him, hand stroking what my mouth can’t reach.

He’s panting above me, hips twitching while I suck him into my throat. I can feel his control slipping.

“Maggie,” he groans. “If you keep going…”

I drag myself off him, lips already coated with his slick.

“Then take me, Frank.”

He lifts me to my feet, my body shaking with need.

Our mouths collide—sharing the taste of him while I struggle with my blouse. His hands cover mine and rip the fabric open, letting it fall around my arms.

My bra follows, heavy breasts falling into his smooth, firm hands. He cups them, lifting me as he brushes my nipples with his thumbs.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs.

I’m lost in the moment, reckless with abandon. “No sweet-talk, Frank. I need you to fuck me like you used to.”

He clasps me by the waist and lifts me with ease, carrying me to the bed before throwing me down.

I struggle to get out of my panties, my head whirling.

Standing at the foot of the bed, gaze moving straight to the heat between my legs. He pauses…

“What are you waiting for?” I tease. “My cooch needs your mouth on it.”

He lunges, a hand landing on each leg, pulling them wide as he settles. Wet lips graze my inner thigh, nipping passionately as he moves higher. Moves to where I need him most.

I cry out.

Fingers spread me, his tongue steady against me as I rock my hips into him. Clutching the edge of the bed, I moan his name as I let myself remember how we were…

In mere seconds, I’m reeling. Finding release fast. Faster than I could have imagined. I push him away, panting.

“Get undressed.”

He jumps up. Strips off his shirt, pants and briefs. His cock bobs hard against his stomach, my mouth watering as I stare.

I need you inside me.

Still at the foot of the bed, he drags me like a cavewoman to him. My pussy tingles at the thought of what’s about to happen. I wrap my legs around him, and squeeze, pulling the tip of his glistening dick to my wet entrance.

Without hesitation, he pushes straight in.

“Jesus Christ, Frank.” I breathe. “Have you gotten bigger?”

“You sure feel tight, Maggie,” he growls.

There’s no gentleness. He thrusts into me like it were his last wish. Like the world were about to end. My nails rake down his back as he pounds into me.

I’m not making love—I’m reliving it.

I meet his every thrust, grinding against him with equal force. Sweat pools between my breasts and trickles down the lines of my stomach.

His pace slips, eyes shut tight. He’s close.

My body clenches around him in anticipation, begging for his milk. I need it inside me. Need it like when we were reckless and didn’t care.

But I do. I care very much.

As much as I want every drop, this isn’t my Frank. I can’t.
Not like this.

I press my hands to his chest. “Pull out.”

He doubts for a second, then slides out of me, leaving me empty.

“Quick, stand at the foot of the bed.”

He moves, and I follow, wriggling down the damp sheets after him. I push up onto my knees and take him in my mouth. His swollen cock immediately hits the back of my throat, sending a bolt of electricity through my wet cunt. He tastes of me—my excitement—and it makes me want him more.

I pull against his thighs, forcing him to the back of my throat once more, making me gag. He grips the bedpost for balance, breath ragged.

“Fuck, Maggie. I’m gonna…”

He shudders, and I feel the first pulse, then another, and another. Hot and salty, I swallow as much as I can. Savor every drop as it falls inside me.

I miss being wanted. He used to love to tease me—making me crazy, until I begged to have him in my mouth, in my cunt. I’d give anything to have that again.

I lick him clean, making sure he’s spotless before I roll back onto the bed.

“Geez. It’s been a long time since I did that.”

He laughs, a little breathless. “I’d never have guessed.”
 
Afterwards, I move as if in a dream. Through guilt or an overload of the senses, I couldn’t say, but I feel different.

It’s not until I get back to the car that I can put a name to it. To the excitement of what I’ve done. To the damp cotton that still clings to my pussy.

I’m twenty-five again.

Twenty-five and more desperate for Frank than ever.

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