That hopeful, happy smile of the child at the inn in Cold Spring, waiting eagerly for a father who would never return...
That damned smile...
It’s a good thing vampires don’t sleep.
Otherwise, I’m sure that face would’ve haunted even my dreams.
Anyway, there’s no point living with guilt just for being what I am.
It’s nature, simple as that.
I doubt that hunter ever felt guilty for the cubs he left without a mother or father—so why should I?
I shouldn’t even have to convince myself of this—it should co naturally.
Whatever. Ti to put this whole matter behind and focus on today’s target.
Mrs. Lunsford.
A little distraction is exactly what I need right now.
I called her for the first ti six days ago. She answered with a cold: «No thank you, we’re not interested in investing in Kanzuro Industries stocks. My husband handles those things. And as it happens, I’ll be visiting your Tokyo office in five days for financial matters. Thank you and have a good day.»
She only said that because her husband was probably right next to her—not to raise any suspicion.
But that sly fox, Mrs. Lunsford, she really knows how to play the ga.
She subtly lets know her husband will soon head to Japan and she’ll be alone.
An opportunity I have no intention of missing.
So, I call her again yesterday.
Her tone is much softer this ti—clearly, the husband is already gone.
We’re taking a romantic stroll through the village of Nyack, then across the scenic Mario Cuomo Bridge.
It’s freezing tonight, much colder than usual. Mrs. Lunsford is bundled up from head to toe—only her beautiful eyes peek out between her scarf and hat.
«Your girlfriend is truly beautiful, Ren. These days, it’s rare to see soone so stunning yet so simple. She wasn’t wearing any makeup, and her clothes were plain, but her beauty captivated . Honestly, I feel a little intimidated being out with you after seeing the kind of woman you’re with.»
My girlfriend...? Oh, right. She must be talking about Brianne—she saw us together that afternoon on Fifth Avenue.
Not that I bla her. Brianne really is sothing else.
Even a charming woman like Mrs. Lunsford must feel the comparison.
To be fair, Brianne beats her in every way, even if Mrs. Lunsford has the huge advantage of being a mature woman.
It’s official—Brianne is the only girl I know who can compete with MILFs.
And that’s saying sothing.
«She’s just a friend I helped with shopping, nothing more.»
She gives a soft smile.
«I’m relieved to hear that.»
There’s not a soul around—just the two of us, hand in hand.
My cold fingers are laced with hers, wrapped in thick gloves.
Her head rests gently on my shoulder.
It almost feels like the first date of a young couple.
Well, honestly, that’s not far from the truth. It is the first ti we’re out on a real date.
Though, to be fair, our past encounters weren’t exactly what you’d call innocent.
Even so, I didn’t imagine tonight would turn into sothing romantic.
If I had wanted that, I’d have co here with Isabelle—not with soone who’s practically a stranger.
But won of a certain age... they want more than just a pretty face or a big cock. They want sentint, sothing to put them in the mood to do sothing bold—like betraying their husband.
You have to make them feel seen, wanted.
Make them relive those magical monts they haven’t felt in years.
That’s when they make the first move.
And honestly, it took even less than I expected for Mrs. Lunsford to stop listening to her heart... and start listening to her body.
Her fingers slide from mine.
Her hand rests gently on my thigh. Just that—one simple touch—and I’m hard instantly.
She notices. And her hand slips into my sweatpants—now you see why I prefer them over jeans?
And then... we just keep walking, completely casual—her fingers wrapped around my cock, and my hand sliding up between her thighs through the slit of her long black dress.
«How daring we are, Ren. You make feel like I’m twenty again,» she murmurs, her voice playful, tinged with soft breaths.
My fingertips are already teasing her folds—and to my shock,
I realize she hasn’t been wearing any panties all evening, and that thought alone drives insane.
She’s quick to get wet, too.
It’s obvious we both can’t wait to fuck, but keeping it going like this—alone, on a lit-up bridge, touching each other—is way hotter than it seems.
But desire quickly takes over.
I grab her by the hips, pressing her back against a lamppost.
I move in for a kiss, but she stops , placing a finger on my lips.
«Easy, Ren. You’re not a lion, and I’m not a gazelle,» she whispers with a teasing smile.
Maybe I got carried away—probably looked like a shark ready to bite.
Not my finest mont...
But now, it’s her who brings her lips to mine.
The slow, soft sound of our tongues gently eting breaks the silence of the night.
«A kiss should be like a morning caress to your woman, when sunlight gently touches her skin. A light touch, soft enough to make her stretch... but not enough to wake her up abruptly.»
Her right hand stays wrapped around my cock, moving slowly back and forth.
Her left hand rests on my cheek.
«Close your eyes, Ren... and imagine. Imagine I’m the woman you love. Picture naked, lying on your bed, still in a deep sleep, wrapped in a light sheet. Now... imagine you have to wake , slowly. Pretend your tongue is the hand you’d use to wake ... yes, just like that, Ren... exactly like that...»
So this is Mrs. Lunsford’s secret to kissing? It’s the opposite of how I’ve always done it—less passion, more control.
And honestly, it works way better.
I must’ve picked it up fast, because her fingers are now gripping the waistband of my pants—her body is clearly craving mine as much as mine craves hers.
She pulls them down just enough for my cock to spring free, and I don’t hesitate.
I lift her long dress, exposing everything underneath.
Then... I thrust forward, and slide into her. Our kisses muffle our moans.
I lift her right thigh and she wraps her legs around .
Mrs. Lunsford... earlier she said I made her feel like she was twenty again.
Judging by how she’s letting fuck her right here on a bridge, under a streetlamp, she must’ve been one shaless little slut back then.
Anyone could walk by right now and catch us in the act... and maybe that’s exactly what makes it so thrilling.
The risk of being seen, the thrill of betrayal, the fact she’s nearly three tis my age but burns with more passion and shalessness than girls my age—combined with her elegance, it’s intoxicating.
«Ren, don’t worry. I’m in nopause...» she whispers in my ear, her voice dripping with wickedness.
A clear invitation—she wants to co inside.
I hesitate.
In my whole life, I’ve only co inside two won: Isabelle and Elaine—the two I love more than anyone.
It might sound insane, but in my ssed-up mind, coming inside a woman ans love.
I can’t explain exactly why, but that’s how it is. Maybe because it’s the only clear thing that separates sex with Isabelle or Elaine from sex with anyone else.
No. Coming inside Mrs. Lunsford would feel like betrayal—I can’t do that.
And maybe she gets it, when at the last second, I pull out, and my cum splashes against her thigh.
«I guess it’s still too soon,» she says simply, wiping herself clean and fixing her dress.
I nod.
I expected her to be offended or upset, but instead, she strokes my cheek with almost maternal tenderness.
«Then I suppose it’ll be clear... when I go from being just a casual fling to sothing a little more special.»
Honestly, I doubt that’ll ever happen.
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