The Story of Rachel, Book 1 in Tales of Pandora
Rachel Collins is praying. And not for world peace. Thirty six years old and single, her prayer is self-centered. "Kill me now, Lord," she pleads during her latest attempt to meet Mr. Right via the internet.
She’s not hoping for a billionaire or even a millionaire, just a guy who can strike a spark to her tinder! Is she asking too much? She's a great gal! Just ask her parents! She might be a bit naive about some things, but capable enough- she's a correspondent for a major magazine, after all. So there!
On assignment she meets Michael, 42 years old, also a writer. The attraction is immediate and intense. Rachel, who sees vanilla as only a baking ingredient, enchants him. Michael can whip up some pretty hot delights himself, outside of the kitchen. He introduces a curious Rachel to powerful experiences of sensuality. Her sense of propriety engages in a running battle with her now sparked desires.
Michael is an excellent cook and knows how to turn up the heat. Sampling the flavors offered, Rachel experiences humorous hiccups. On a date, Michael ramps up the risqué, resulting in a memorable skirt swirling salsa dance. Rachel's "What the hell, I ain't getting any younger" attitude spurs Michael to take her to the exclusive, adults only club Pandora's. Here, Rachel witnesses even more variations of earthly delights, and begins a lifelong friendship with another guest.
Michael is a realist, convinced that within 90 days, his affair with Rachel will be but another painful memory of loss. He is neither willing nor able to yell 'Geronimo' and fall for her. He can't, and that's that.
Maybe he should just get a damn dog.
This modern, urban, grown up love story is a recipe –three cups romance and one cup of slapdash humor. Blend in spices of eroticism, and beat until smooth.
Like the song says, ‘You can’t hurry love… you have to trust and give it time…” is absolutely true. KD McLean and Des Torres both thought their shot at love was over when they were each in their fifties and single. Very single…
Then they met. Who would have thought that the same butterflies you had at 16 can hit you when your KIDS are in their twenties? What a wonderful second chance- to find a soul mate who not only shares your dreams and hopes, but rolls up their sleeves to pitch in building them to fruition right beside you.
Living the dream? If that’s doing work you love with someone just as excited about what you do as you are, then yes, it’s livin’ the dream- even if you still need to do the damn dishes. Or walk the dog. Which is easy when you’re able to walk your pug Ruby along the shore of Lake Ontario with your dream guy holding your hand.
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How the hell does he do that? He could turn anything into a compliment for her? She leaned into him and kissed him.
Terry put his glass in the armrest holder and took Nancy’s face in both hands. His honey brown eyes flared, and he bent in to kiss her again.
She parted her lips just a little, and Terry’s tongue tenderly invaded her mouth. Her entire body grew warm as his hands glided over her arms and down her sides.
Wrapping her arms around him, he leaned her across the back seat. Her leg came up and hooked around him. He began to nuzzle her neck, and began kissing down the front bodice of her dress as his hand grasped her flesh through the silk fabric.
Leaning into her, Terry freed her breasts from the halter top, and began to kiss and suck around the aureoles. She clasped his head to her. She sure as hell hoped that the privacy screen was private. She had a surprise for her Terry boy.
She took one of his hands and guided it down to the skirt of her gown, through the slit in the fabric.
Terry pulled back, his eyes opened in surprise as his hand grazed at first, then grasped her swollen pussy lips.
“You were like this the entire night?”
She gave him an evil smile. Her last trip to the ladies room ended with her panties in her purse. She gave a yelp when Terry plunged a finger up inside her.
Leaning against the side of the automobile, she watched the lights on the waterfront roll by as Terry fondled and teased her. He started whispering dirty things to her, a stream of consciousness of sensuality as his finger caressed and stroked up inside of her.
“Terry… ” she whispered. Her hands began to work at the closures of his trouser pants. Opening it, she yanked them down along with his briefs. His cock was standing straight out when he grasped her legs and spread them. Kneeling on the floor of the limo, he pulled her down onto him, impaling her. Squatting almost on his knees, he held Nancy as he began to push into her and withdraw.
With the thumb of one hand, he began to massage her clit, sending fireworks through her hips and up her spine.
“Look at me Nancy…” he growled.
Nancy’s eyes opened. She loved how he made her look into his eyes when they made love. Their amber tinge seemed on fire as the streetlights outside flashed though the car windows.
She felt his cock pulse and throb with each stroke, she couldn’t get him deep enough inside of her to quench her own hunger. Her hands grasped as his ass as she hiked her hips up to meet himwith each downward stroke. The car’s gentle swaying added sensations to her movements, heightening each thrust.
She felt the tempo of Terry’s thrusts increase which urged her on. Oh please, just hold off a few seconds! Just a few…. With suddenness her orgasm ripped through her and she cried out, digging her nails into Terry’s ass cheeks, clawing him with scratches.
Her orgasm flung Terry over the edge. His grunts and growls mingled with her cries as he emptied himself inside her, deeper than ever. He held her for a few moments, and they untangled themselves. Terry handed her a handkerchief as he fixed his pants. They cuddled in the softly rocking car as it travelled along the lake, silently looking through the glass. The smoked glass made it hard for Nancy to see the stars. Terry stroked her neck, as she held his hand in silence.
“I don’t want this night to end, Terry,”