Free Hong Kong Heat by Raven McAllan Page A

chin over the top of her head. “I’ll consider myself warned.”
    They stood like that for several minutes. Then he moved closer until their bodies were touching. Even through both of their clothes, Debra felt his chest move up and down with each breath he took and his cock stir as her tummy rested over it. If she was a few inches taller and it was her pussy that teased it, that would be perfect.
    What about stripping and stuff? Oh, God, this is a minefield. I’m on the wrong side of forty and my wobbly bits sure do wobble. Would he mind if I went into the bathroom to get undressed? But then what do I wear? My Dr Who jammies aren’t exactly seduction central and my posh undies are in the wash. Will the hotel robe do like last night? But then he fell sleep and was it…?
    “I can see those cogs going round a hundred to the dozen. Whatever it is that’s worrying you, please tell me. Please?” He tipped her head up by putting his hand under her chin. Debra had no option but to look him in the eyes.
    “My wobbly bits,” she said in a rush before she lost courage. “I’m mid-forties, had two kids, eaten a lot of chocolate and drunk far too much wine. My idea of exercise is to open another bottle. You’re younger, fitter and, well, I guess I’m scared you won’t like what you see.”
    “Aw, honey.” Braam rubbed his hands over her shoulders and back. “It works both ways, you know. What if my running has made my calves too big, or my stomach is hanging over my belt? What if my cock is too big, small, thick, thin, or doesn’t fill you like you want it to? The world is full of a lot of ifs. So what if we say sod the lot of them? I’ll take my shirt off, you do yours.” He flicked open his shirt buttons one by one.
    The sight of his chest as it was slowly uncovered made Debra clench her vagina muscles. It was that or squirm as her juices gathered and reminded her she was a woman. One who so appreciated the sight of a tanned and sculpted man’s chest.
    “I, er.” She cleared her throat. “I’m not wearing a shirt. I’ve got a dress on.”
    He leered and waved one hand in the air in a ‘so what’? gesture. “That’s a heads-up to me then. Off… Off… Off…” The chant made her smile.
    In for a penny. She grabbed the hem of her dress and pulled it over her head before she chickened out. The cool air conditioning made her shiver.
    “Now you.”
    Braam dipped his head. “My pleasure.” He undid the button at the top of his trousers and slid the zip down as far as it would go.
    Oh, no. You’re wrong. It’s my pleasure.
    He glanced up and his eyes twinkled as he watched her circle her lips with her tongue. Debra’s mouth was dry. She picked up her wine and took a hefty swig, as he pushed his trousers over his hips.
    Either he’d gone commando or snagged his boxers with his thumbs and done what she’d heard call a doubler.
    His cock sprang out of its confines like a lure from a trap. She wasn’t a greyhound and it wasn’t a race. However, she could appreciate and drool over what she saw.
    “Back to you.” Braam toed off his trousers and stood with not one whit of self-consciousness as far as Debra could tell.
    Probably had plenty of practice. It was a snide thought and not one she was proud of.
    She bit her lip and put her hands behind her back to unclasp her bra. The hooks jammed and she fiddled with them, as she got hotter, for all the wrong reasons.
    “Here, let me.” Braam twirled her around so her back was facing him. Typically, the hooks slid out of the fasteners as if they’d never been stuck and the cups of her bra fell away from her body. He slipped the straps down over her elbows and her bra hung awkwardly over her ribs. Or where she thought her ribs should be. It was a few years since she’d felt them easily.
    “Arms out.” Braam gave one of her elbows a nudge, and Debra did as he’d asked. He took one, then the other strap over her hands and wrists and dropped her bra on top of