When Colton De Marco stumbles onto his fantasy woman
sunbathing in the nude, he can’t turn down the chance to make
a decade of fantasies about Lila Walker come true.
Lila’s gorgeous, younger mechanic is a welcome distraction
from her unpaid bills, her ogre-in-law, and her loss.
She can handle their friends-with-benefits arrangement,
but when Colton pressures her to attend his nephew’s baseball games,
she knows the entire town will be talking. After all, her husband’s only been dead nine months.
What’s a lonely widow to do when Colton won’t take no for an answer?
Give the town something to talk about, of course.
WARNING: This book contains depictions of graphic sex acts
and is intended for adult audiences only. Please protect your copy
of this file from minors. This book is a work of fiction.
Any resemblance to actual locations, events, organizations,
or persons, living or dead is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Story word count: 80,510
He was definitely headed for Hell, Colton De Marco figured as he eased his truck to a halt in Pete Walker's quiet driveway. A thousand tiny devils were gonna drag him to a special corner of the hot spot and torture him, because it had to be a sin to come begging Pete Walker for a favor when his lust for Pete's wife already had his cock at half-mast before he even got out of his truck. Colton had had a serious thing for Lila Walker since he'd first begun to consider himself a man. Nothing in the intervening ten years had lessened his attraction to her.
He didn't see their van and it looked like no one was home. Knowing his thoughts were counter-productive to stopping his hard-on, he was nevertheless helpless against the memory of the first time he'd seen the woman he still dreamed about.
He'd been nineteen. Pretty much everything had given him a stiff dick at the time. His father had been alive then, and he'd sent Colton to take a few gallons of gas to a new customer who was stranded. That’d been the first time he'd laid eyes on Lila, a leggy blonde with a world-class rack.
He could still see her leaning against the side of her truck, her fists knotted in the bottom of an oversized plain white t-shirt. No bra had been constraining those gorgeous tits of hers. While she'd waited for him, the late-August humidity had glued her shirt to her like a second skin, leaving little for his imagination to do. The way she'd tugged on the hem had done the rest, stretching the translucent fabric taut to reveal the circular shadows of her areolas. In his adolescent fantasy, the act of sliding the spout of the gas can into the opening of her gas tank became his cock going into her wide mouth. He'd been too busy getting hard to talk, but Lila had carried the conversation.
"I was so busy stripping the paint off an old chest I just bought, I let the time slip by," she'd explained with chagrin, pink-cheeked from the heat. He recalled exactly how her blond hair had curled around her face, escaping the baseball cap she wore, the heavy-looking length of it pulled through the back.
"I planned to get gas on the way, but I was running late to pick up my son and I thought I could make the school first. I could have called my husband, but I couldn't bear listening to Pete say 'I told you so.' I really appreciate you coming." She’d babbled, but he'd liked her voice, kind of low and raspy.
And then, she'd lifted the hem of that damn T-shirt and wiped the sweat from her face, revealing the creamy bottoms of her generous breasts, as well as a firm, tanned tummy, all shimmering with a light sheen of sweat. Cut-off jeans had been barely hanging onto her slim hips. Colton had been riveted by the sight as a single bead of moisture slipped from between those breasts, meandering down her tummy to pool in her belly button. And he'd come, just like that.
Some nights, he jerked off to that memory. After ten years, it still possessed the power to make him come. In one of his fantasies, she let him fuck those full breasts. Some nights he dreamed she sucked his seed into that wide, sexy mouth of hers, right there on the side of the road.
Colton drew in a ragged breath, shifting his unruly cock to a less painful position before he walked around back. He remembered every word Lila had ever spoken to him since their first meeting, recalling she'd said she never answered her front door because the only folks that used it were selling something she didn't want, be it magazines or their own brand of religion.
The corners of his mouth lifted as he recalled how Lila had become a regular customer after their first roadside encounter. Not that he harbored any illusions her patronage was because of an attraction to him. Even at nineteen, he'd realized Lila wasn't coming on to him by lifting her shirt. Rather, she'd done it because she had been hot and utterly out of sorts at the thought of being late to pick up her son on his first day of school.
She'd given him a blinding smile and a twenty-dollar cash tip on top of her check for the service call. He'd given her a receipt and top billing in his fantasies ever since.
Over the last ten years, Lila had had her share of car problems, always bringing them to De Marco's. Although Colton and his brothers were widely thought attractive by women, he'd never seen Lila give any of them more than a friendly look. She read a book or a magazine while she waited, rather than ogling him and his brothers the way most women did. She was happily married, it seemed, and therefore completely out of bounds.
Lila wasn't beautiful, exactly, but she had a smile that could light up the world. Over the years, he'd seen her wear her blond hair both long and short, and he had no preference, wishing he could bury his hands in her silky strands at any length. Her personality was another asset. Her dry sense of humor made him laugh. She always drove some version of the same small stick-shift Chevy truck. The color didn't matter, he figured, because she never seemed to wash them. She made her own money by restoring damaged furniture she freely admitted to rescuing from the local dump or picking up off the side of the road, selling her secondhand wares out of her garage. She'd even wanted a cast-off metal cabinet he'd loaded into his truck to haul off from the garage, claiming the rusted shelves inside were perfect for holding her supplies.
"My hobby beats explaining to Pete why I need that hundredth pair of shoes," she'd told him with a shrug when he delivered the thing and asked why she bothered to do such a dirty job. She clearly had no need to work. "Now all he can complain about is the lack of space in the closet, so I'm saving up to have my own closet built and he can find something new to complain about." But she hadn't sounded too worried.
And she shouldn't have worried. All he had to do was take one look at Pete while he was looking at Lila, or talking about her, and Colton knew those two had been in love forever. The last time he'd seen them, maybe a year ago, they'd pulled into the garage driving a shiny new van, specially equipped to handle the electric wheelchair Pete rode in after a car accident had paralyzed him about three years back. The van needed a fuse, and Colton had installed a new one. He’d wanted to check the electrical system, just in case, unwilling to put Lila in the possible position of having a disabled vehicle. Because of Pete’s wheelchair, they’d be unable to accept a ride from just anybody. The Walkers had agreed, and he'd watched Lila out of the corner of his eye the entire time, wondering if she still looked at her husband the same way now that he was paralyzed.
She had. Even though she had to sit down to look Pete in the eyes, the love between them had still been visible.
Making Pete Walker about the luckiest damn man on the planet as far as Colton was concerned, in spite of his accident. When he found the woman he wanted to settle down with, he was sure she'd have a lot in common with Lila. A decade had passed, yet he didn't want her any less than he had that first day.
He had to get things under control, so he shifted his stiff cock to a slightly more comfortable position and tried to focus on what he needed to ask Pete. He wrote his request on the back of a business card in case no one was home before slipping out of the truck.
The serenity of the setting caused him to leave the truck door slightly ajar rather than slamming it. The scent of fresh-mown grass hung in the warm April air, and the bright afternoon sun sparkled off the surface of the large fishing pond in the Walker's spacious backyard. A screen of cypress trees completely hid the house next door, and over two acres of neatly clipped grass separated the house from the quiet two-lane road running down the side of the property. Pete Walker's taste in land was every bit as good as his taste in women, Colton judged as he stepped off the driveway onto the steps leading around back.
The first thing he noticed was the wheelchair ramp built over the steps. That was new since the last time he'd towed a vehicle away from the Walker's. He realized he hadn't been to their back door since Pete's accident about three years back. The last car he'd towed from here had been their son Charlie's Jeep, and Lila had met him in the driveway that day. That had been almost two years back: the day after Charlie had pitched for the high school baseball team, winning the state championship, and then shocked the whole town by turning down his scholarship to the state university in favor of joining the Marines.
If possible, the sight of the ramp—the solid, sloping reminder of Pete's misfortune—made him feel worse about his stubbornly lingering chubby. But thoughts of his sad, silent nephew made him trudge to the top anyway, the guilt he felt over the lust he nurtured for Lila unable to trump his need to put a smile on that kid's face.
He was almost to the back door when he stopped dead in his tracks. His conscience began screaming for him to turn around. Shrieking at him, in fact, to get the hell off this deck and go back to his truck.
But his legs were suddenly as rigid as his dick.
He could hear the thousand tiny devils sharpening their blades.
Because his abruptly short-circuited brain was sending the message to his already-primed cock that Lila Walker was lying in the sun on her very private deck, wearing nothing but an oversized pair of sunglasses and a coat of coconut-scented oil.
He might go straight to hell in a big ball of fire, but Colton couldn't help staring at her. If Pete himself had rolled out on the deck at this very moment, Colton still might not have been able to move. Not before taking in her full breasts, tipped in dark rose, their color something he'd wondered about for so long. Not before noting with approval the half-dollar size of her areolas. His fingers clenched at the sight of the big, surprisingly lengthy tips. He let his gaze linger in the deep cleft between her breasts, a spot that would cuddle his cock even better than he'd always imagined. She probably thought her full breasts were too heavy, but Colton thought them perfect. He doubted even his large palm could completely capture one.
He took another look at her sexy belly button, noting with some dim part of his brain the spot was still a repository for her sweat. A tiny white scar beneath the sexy indent hadn't been there the last time he'd laid eyes on her midriff.
Her hips might be wider than they had been that day by the side of the road, and her belly was a bit rounder, but she looks even better now, he thought with approval. There was nothing to stop a man from really pounding out his lust on this particular body.
And, saving the best for last, since the devil was likely choosing Colton's permanent pain palace at this exact moment, he raked his gaze over her pussy. Her heels rested at either edge of the wide chaise, giving him a glorious view of her feminine lips, which were edged in a deeper rose than even her nipples, like an orchid he'd seen in some flower shop window recently. And he was still going to have to wonder whether or not she was a natural blond, since her gleaming pussy was waxed as bare as the day she'd been born.
His fantasies hadn't done her justice. Not even close.
Damn her, he thought as he studied her folds, feeling his jaw clench and a coil of tension begin in his lower back. He was no longer some horny teenager, but once again, Lila Walker had him on the verge of coming in his jeans.
Because, unless he was sadly mistaken, Lila had masturbated before falling asleep. Her pussy was still open and the lips surrounding her enticing entrance were slightly swollen. Her bare flesh gleamed with juices that had his mouth watering to taste them. He could see the wetness staining the cushion beneath her a darker shade of green. Apparently, she'd given herself one hell of an orgasm before nodding off in the sun. Must have been recently, too, he realized. He fancied he even saw her clit throb. She was practically still creaming.
And she still belonged to another man, one he liked and respected. One she loved. Guilt-sharpened shame flayed him as Colton realized with horror that he'd crossed the deck toward her without meaning to. Turning his back on her bare form was one of the hardest things he'd ever done, but Colton quietly spun around, praying to God she didn't wake. Lila had the right to masturbate on her own deck. She probably had to, since Pete's accident had left him paralyzed from the neck down. But he'd had no right to see the proof.
The sound of a neighbor cranking his lawn-tractor might as well have been the jet engines firing up on the rocket ship he'd ride into Hell.
The voice she used in his fantasies when she begged him to fuck her stopped him dead in his tracks before he'd taken two silent steps.
"Examined and rejected. How depressing. Tell me Colton, how old is the lucky lady that's going to be the recipient of that most impressive bulge in your jeans?"