Cabin Retreat With The Milf

The winding mountain road had been a pain in the ass, but the moment Tyler’s Jeep crunched onto the gravel driveway, the sight of the big cedar cabin made the three-hour drive worth it. Smoke already curled from the stone chimney. The front door opened before he even killed the engine.

Vanessa Kane stood framed in the doorway like every filthy fantasy he’d ever jerked off to, and he’d had plenty. Forty-two years old, lush and unapologetic. Her heavy breasts strained against a tight cream-colored sweater that clung to every curve. The hem barely reached the tops of her thick thighs, and dark leggings disappeared into fur-lined boots. Her chestnut hair spilled over one shoulder in loose waves, and those full, painted lips curved into a knowing smile the second she saw him.

“Tyler,” she called, voice smoky and amused. “Get in here before your balls freeze off.”

He grabbed his duffel and the printed manuscript and tried not to stare at the way her tits bounced when she turned. He’d been proofreading her books for eight months. Every single one of them had left him stroking himself raw in his shitty off-campus apartment. Knowing the woman who wrote those depraved scenes was real—and currently bending over to adjust the logs in the fireplace—made his cock twitch before he even crossed the threshold.