Her : A Love Story: A Lesbian Age Gap Romance Crime Drama Novel by Marata Eros

Author:Marata Eros [Eros, Marata]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tamara Rose Blodgett LLC
Published: 2022-02-23T16:00:00+00:00

When I'm calm enough to speak, Laura gets a second cup of coffee, sniffs it, then with a grimace, pitches the stale liquid down the drain, and gets me a fresh cup from my Keurig.

Bringing the stout mug to me, she says, “This conversation would normally demand a cocktail, but since you're pregos...”

I hiccup back another sob-fest then blow my nose with a honk.

“Glamorous.”

I nod. Yes, that's me—nothing but tears, snot, and barf.

Flopping back against my recliner, I curl a leg underneath my butt and sit there, spent.

“So, Mac?”

“She hates me,” I say instantly.

Laura shakes her head, her dirty blonde hair skimming her shoulders with the motion. “No way. You said the sex was great.”

Her knowing eyes peer at mine above the rim of her own steaming cup of java.

Slowly, I nod. “James was wonderful, but you were right: a penis does not need to be attached to a man for me to feel fulfilled.”

Laura grins. Flinging herself back with a gleeful snort and raising her fist in the air, she gives a single, emphatic pump. “Told ya.”

A slight smile curves my lips. “That's great, Laura—but basically, she had sex with me and left.” I slide a fallen long strand of hair behind my ear, not meeting her eyes. “She used me,” I finish in a whisper, saying words I wouldn't have believed possible.

“Becca, look at me.”

Our eyes lock. “Mac can have any woman. You are the most complicated on the menu I can think of, but let me tick off some facts.” She places one index finger to the thumb of her opposite hand. “You're not a vetted lesbian.” She stares at me for a moment before going on, “You've just lost your husband of twenty years.” The pause is less this time. “And she was the cop who responded to the accident.”

Messy.

“You're older.” Laura quirks a brow. “Robbing the cradle, Becca.”

“I think we're five years difference.” I give a small shrug, frown. “Maybe six.”

“Anyway,” Laura says, “there's all this stuff colluding to make the relationship potential more difficult, not easier. Mac's not using you unless she's the most cynical, unfeeling, lacking-in-compassion person in the universe. Is that the case?”

She waits for my reply.

I think of the million small looks from Mac, some of which she made when she thought I wasn't looking.

How she pulled me into her lap when James lay dead mere yards from our position—how she'd blocked me from getting closer to him and seeing things I couldn't unsee.

How Mac wouldn't let me go at first when the medics needed to attend to my injuries.

How Mac's gaze made slow love to me—how tender her expression when she owned my body, how relentless in her pursuit of my pleasure as she went down on me.

“You're blushing,” Laura comments.

I stop fiddling with my hands and pick up my coffee cup again just to have something to do.

I take a careful sip.

Nod.

Set the chubby cup down again.

Rolling my bottom lip between my teeth, I nibble on the tender flesh.

Tender from Mac's passionate kisses.

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