Cougars and Jackals: Experience Comes with Age

Cougars and Jackals

Genre

Cougar and Jackal Erotica

Blurb

Lust bridges the age gap as predatory cougars, cute sex kittens and hot silver foxes come together in this collection of erotic stories.

Adults young and old explore – or perhaps rediscover – the pleasures of sex. A raven-haired guitar goddess gives her rock protegé a backstage initiation, while a handsome waiter finds himself serving more than food and wine to a quartet of dominant older women. There’s vintage champagne and more flowing in the penthouse suite as a rich businessman shares the wealth of his experience with a trashy but bubbly younger beauty, and when a widow shelters a young fugitive, her dormant arousal is rekindled.

Excerpt

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In Search of Bookcases

Whenever I’d thought about sugar daddies in the past, I’d always envisioned gross, wrinkly old guys, dripping with tasteless jewellery and wearing clothes far too young for them.

All that changed when I met Declan. He mooched into the furniture department of the upmarket West London department store I was working in and altered my perception forever.

He was impeccably dressed in a designer suit and as he drew closer to me, I felt my eyebrows raise of their own accord. He really was sex on a stick. He was clearly loaded – hello, he was in this department store, wearing that suit – but he was no diva. He had no entourage, no harassed-looking assistant. It was just him, shopping.

Or at least I guessed he’d be shopping. Men don’t often wander into my furniture department if they’re not looking to part with some cash – and lots of it.

He glanced in my direction, then headed straight towards me. As he approached, I flashed him my widest smile. And yes, before you ask, I am on commission.

“Hi!” I said, trying not to melt as his new proximity revealed sexy eyes full of mischief and a smile to die for. He had perfect teeth, and dimples which threatened to have me swooning onto the nearest disgustingly high-priced sofa. He also smelled good enough to eat.

“Hello,” he replied, appraising me with that cool blue stare, “I’m Declan, and I hate shopping. Can you help me buy some furniture and be on my way?” The lilt of his northern English accent took me by surprise. In my line of work it was easy to get bored of the snooty Queen’s-English types. This guy had only uttered a few syllables and already I was hanging onto every one.

“Sure,” I said, a little disappointed that we’d only just met and already he couldn’t wait to get away. I tried not to take it personally. After all, he’d just admitted he hated shopping. It wasn’t his fault I could have listened to him talk all day. “I’m Sophia, by the way.”

I held out my hand. Obviously a well brought up gentleman – despite his down-to-earth demeanour – Declan took my hand, twisted it and pressed a kiss just above my knuckles. I battled with a blush, and failed miserably.

“I’m delighted to meet you, Sophia.” Then, releasing my hand and encompassing the department with a sweep of his arm, “shall we?”

I may work in a department store, but I’d been well brought up, too.

“After you,” I said, then fell into step behind him as he looked around, taking full advantage of the opportunity to check him out. And, it has to be said, his rear view was just as attractive as the front one. Sadly, his suit jacket covered his ass, but there was still plenty to admire. I wore heels, yet he was still a good few inches taller than me, with a full head of cropped light brown hair. Despite the fact he had probably twenty five years on me, none of it was grey. I found myself hoping it wasn’t dyed. That wouldn’t mesh with the hot-and-rich-but-still-normal persona I’d invented for him.

Just as I was enjoying a fantasy about sinking my fingers into said hair and holding on for dear life as he ate my pussy, he stopped abruptly. I halted too, putting a hand against his back to stop myself careening into him.

He spun round, but not before I’d gotten the impression of solid muscle beneath that suit. I snatched my hand away, feeling my face colouring once more.

“I’m – I’m sorry!” I blustered. “You should really put your brake lights on when stopping so suddenly!”

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Print:
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