A story in the Cougar Challenge series.
Fit, fab and forty-five, Belle Sterling chomps at the bit to accept the Cougar Challenge. But finding a younger man in her one-horse Texas town is one giant problem--until two scrumptious men stroll into her office.
Gage Wagner and Trey Sandoval have been best buddies since college and know how to share...everything. When they meet luscious Belle, they know she needs the good lovin' two men can provide...together.
Belle's a regular gal and putting two men in her saddle seems like a dream. Then she tries it. More than once.
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Ellora's Cave Publishing, Incorporated
November 13, 2009
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Excerpt from Hat Trick by Cerise DeLand
"I know for certain, honey," Belle Sterling told her newest client, twenty-two-year old bride-to-be Marilee Betterton, "that sleeping single in a double bed does not make for a happy life. Not after you've been married to a man you adore."
She smiled at the young woman who sat opposite her in her office. "In fact, I have just three pieces of advice for each new bride who hires my planning services. Love the man you marry. Love him so well that 'keeping only unto him' is no hardship. And commit to doing whatever you each want in bed where all great marriages are made."
"Oh, you needn't worry on that score, Miz Sterling. My mama says exactly the same thing."
Does she now? That's why Doreen's had more lovers than a bonobo monkey in her forty-five hectic years on this earth? "Not hard to do, either. To love a man."
"I reckon I have loved Brent since we were in kindergarten. And definitely since high school. He's going on to pro football, you know."
"I'm just so excited. We're moving to Dallas and I get to meet all the men on the team." Her eyes lit up like the year-round Christmas lights on her mama's front porch. "Imagine that."
Belle did. And she tried not to wince at the feeling Brent Fuller was gonna get when he saw his new little wife bat her baby browns at his buddies. "Well, Marilee, let's meet again next week. Is this a good day and time for you?" Belle looked at her calendar on the computer screen as the young woman agreed. "Good. Do bring your tentative list of invitees and we'll see what our potential sites are for the reception."
"Mama wants to come, too." The girl was fishing for feedback.
Doreen Betterton and Belle were not friends. Never had been since Doreen tried to scoop Walt Sterling from Belle when they were all in high school. But Belle was ready to let bygones be bygones. Walt had never cottoned to Doreen. Never took her bait, either. Besides, Walt was gone now and their married life had been twenty-two years of the finest bliss a woman could imagine. Plus, Doreen was welcome to the pickings around here. No man within a hundred miles interested Belle enough to get her pussy wet, and even if he succeeded, he wouldn't know what to do with it.
Belle cleared her throat and smiled. "I hope she does come with you. There are so many things to decide, Marilee, and your mother will be a great help to you in this."
"That's right. Mama says I'm gonna be a better wife than she ever was."
Belle couldn't resist the lure. "How's that?"
"She says she just knows that Brent is the right man for me and that we are going to be married forever."
But minutes later, watching spoiled-rotten Marilee preen, rise from her chair and strut her toned little ass out of her office, Belle wasn't going to give a plug nickel that the young filly would or could take any of her suggestions.
"Of course, the girl is twenty-two," Belle muttered as the tiny bells on her door knob rang out Marilee's exit. "Who knows what love or marriage is all about at that age?" Belle whispered to herself.
Yeah. Well. I had a mother and father who taught me how to love. Totally. No one and nothing else greater than the union. Not too many who know how to do that nowadays.
Belle sighed, hit a few buttons on her computer screen to close the files on the Betterton-Fuller wedding and pushed away from her desk. She stood, ran her hands down her slim skirt and strode to the window. The brilliant Texas sun hit her in the face and even though she had jacked up the air conditioner to seventy-five this morning, August in southwest Texas meant triple digit heat by noon. She inhaled the steamy beauty of her little hometown. Main Street was humming. The Duck's Bill Bakery was jumping with customers hot for their German crullers. Jack's Auto Shop was buzzing with a couple of ranchers who had scraped the paint off each other's pick-ups yesterday. And one of her two best friends, Aurora Mansfield, waved at her while watering her geraniums in front of her flower shop.
And me? I'm standing here wondering if my life is now only about helping twenty-somethings get hitched.
Sure. She loved the wedding business. The organization. The cake. The bouquets. The fun of invitations and receptions and gowns.
The thrill of watching a man eye his bride. The way his gaze would flow over her face, her throat, down to her breasts.
Belle would often play a silent game with herself noting how long it took for the bride to sense her groom's eyes on her. How long before she would squirm, feeling the cream in her pussy, the throb of her labia, the need to have his fingers play with her and open her wide for his mouth. And his cock.
Belle squeezed her own thighs together. Felt her own insides gush with moisture. Remembering desire.
Remembering Walt Sterling. His blue eyes on her lips. His firm mouth on her throat. Her nipples. His teeth nipping her areolas. His rough tongue licking her until she squealed. His fingers drifting down her ribs, caressing her stomach, twining in her cunt hair. "Love your pretty red pussy hair, Belle of mine," he would croon as he'd lift her against him, by that time both of them stark naked. "Like a beacon. Gonna make you come hard for me, baby. How would you like me today?" he'd whisper as he bit her earlobe. "Slow or fast?"
Wild. Often. Furious. She'd tell him anything she wanted that day.
"In my mouth? In your sweet ass?" He'd offer her a few more options.
She loved sex with him any way at all. All the time. Any time. Day. Night. In the barn standing up. In their truck sitting down. In their kitchen on their table, their breakfast dishes bumping to their body-rocking rhythm.
So long ago. Three years to be exact.
"God. I loved you, Walt." Belle jumped, stunned at herself that she'd said it out loud. "Isn't there any man alive who's your equal? I'm lonely here, honey."
Her gaze ran up and down Main Street and the answer she got this morning was the same as the one she'd had yesterday and the month before and the year before that.
"I'm not finding one I want to be with. In bed or out." Not in this one-horse town. Too small to offer variety. And few strangers strolled in.
Problem was, Belle knew precisely two local men who were eligible. Both were widowers. Nice guys. But over sixty. Fifteen years older than she! And frankly, she needed a man who could not only get it up, but get it going on for more than five minutes of slam-bam. She liked sex. Really liked sex. Funky, funny, feverish sex. Walt, who had been two years older than she, had taught her to need it, crave it and initiate it. So she wasn't about to settle for lukewarm lovin' when she knew how lusty, sweaty, energetic fucking could improve a woman's attitude, to say nothing of her complexion or the ability of her hungry little kitty to howl.
"I can't go on like this," she muttered and strode back to her computer. "I need a young man with class, imagination and raging hormones. But damn if I know how and where to find one!" She plunked herself in her chair, revved up the internet and surfed over to her friends' blog at Tempt the Cougar. Belle had discovered their exciting personal stories about hooking up with younger men, then three months ago she'd begun to correspond with a few of them individually. Over the last year, each of the women had consciously decided to seek out younger men to satisfy a need for great sex. To date, each of them developed satisfying relationships with their partners. Belle didn't need a long-term relationship so much as she needed a good romp in the hay.