Blurry: A Student Teacher, Age Gap Romance

by Michelle Hercules

  It’s still pretty bright outside, and anyone walking nearby could see what we’re up to, but in this moment, I don’t care. Alistair keeps fucking me with his fingers until the tremors racking my body dissipate. I’m left boneless and suddenly mortified by my actions.

  He moves his hand, pulling his fingers from inside me, before putting my underwear back in place. I try to get off his lap, but he keeps me there, resting his hands on each side of my hips.

  “Don’t move just yet.” His voice is thick with need.

  “Sorry, you probably want to, uh, finish as well, huh?”

  He stares at me and runs his left hand through my hair. “No, it’s not that at all. I just want you in my arms for a bit longer. It feels nice.”

  I drop my gaze to the base of his throat, unable to withstand the intensity of his stare. “I’m sorry I jumped you, even though you said you had no intention of sleeping with me.”

  He places a finger under my chin and forces me to look into his eyes. “That was a lie. I’ve been walking in a state of semi-arousal since you rescued me. God, you must know how sexy you are, Chiara.”

  I can’t help the elation that spreads through my chest, but at the same time, I’m scared that the feeling isn’t real, that it’s only a reaction to the shitty day I’ve had.

  “I’m sorry I hurt your feelings before,” he continues. "This is all a bit unusual for me. I’m not a spur-of-the-moment kind of guy. This trip to Italy was my attempt to loosen up a bit.”

  “You may find it hard to believe, but I also don’t do things like this.”

  “Like what? Taking advantage of stranded guys you find on the side of the road?”

  I hit him on the chest, getting a deep chuckle from him in return. “No, hooking up with a man I barely know, even though my cousin Paola will say differently.”

  Alistair’s expression turns serious, right before he tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “I want you to promise me something.”

  “What?”

  “Promise you won’t think about your cousin, your mother, or anyone else who made you sad today. For the next couple of days, I want you to be one-hundred-percent happy.”

  “Next couple of days?” I raise an eyebrow at him while my heart jams against the confines of my chest and the butterflies in my stomach turn into ninja insects.

  He rewards me with a crooked smile before capturing my mouth for a long, toe-curling kiss. When he finally lets go of my lips with a pop, I’m a little light-headed.

  “Yes,” he answers. “I have two days here in Siena before I head back to Florence to catch my flight to the States. I’d love to spend them with you. I do need someone who speaks the language, after all.”

  “Oh, so you just want me around for my oral skills?”

  His heated gaze drops to my lips. “Yes, among other things.”

  6

  Alistair

  I’m going to hell for this, but I couldn’t resist Chiara, not when her delicious mouth covered mine, bringing forth a deep-rooted desire I didn’t know I was still able to feel. I’ve slept with other women since Nadine, but all those encounters were meaningless, hollow. With Chiara, it’s different; it isn’t about taking care of a physiological need. I don’t even know why that is. Maybe it’s the place or the circumstance of how we met. In the end, it doesn’t matter.

  I never tasted anything sweeter than her tongue, and as I walk side by side with her, I have to fight the urge to stop every few minutes to attack her mouth again. My cock is straining against the seams of my borrowed pants, and I know I won’t find proper release until I’m buried deep inside her.

  Our hands are fused together as we roam the streets of this medieval town. Chiara points at things she finds interesting or offers a little bit of historical information whenever she can. I said before that I wanted her to be truly happy in these two days we spend together, but what I didn’t factor into the equation was being happy myself as well. And I am. I haven’t felt this way since I caught Nadine fucking Wade in our own bed.

  With a silent groan, I quickly banish the image from my head before it sours my mood.

  I focus on Chiara instead. The shadow that dimmed her eyes earlier is gone. She pulls me toward a particular store with several trinkets and shiny objects on display. Pointing at a twisted wire silver bracelet with an opal stone as the focal point, she explains something about it. I’m only half listening because I’m too distracted—staring at her instead. Finally giving in to my urges, I turn her around and capture her face between my hands to claim her mouth. She makes a small sound in the back of her throat while her body melts into mine. I can’t help but think she fits perfectly into my arms. I pull back after a while, fearing getting carried away and doing something completely inappropriate in public.

  “Wow! What was that for?” she says, a little out of breath.

  “Nothing. I was hit by sudden withdrawals. What were you saying about the bracelet?”

  She looks at my mouth with flushed cheeks and hooded eyes for a few seconds before she replies, “Oh, that my great-grandmother used to have one just like this. She’d let me play with it and promised I could have it once I was older. When she passed away and the women in the family got together to go through her stuff, Paola said Bisnonna had promised the bracelet to her instead, which was a bold lie. My mother obviously didn’t believe me, so Paola got what she wanted.”

  “Your cousin sounds lovely.”

  Chiara snorts. “She’s awful, but she’s not the worst in the family.”

  I eye the bracelet and commit it to memory. The store is already closed, but I’ll try to sneak back here tomorrow and get it for Chiara. I know she didn’t tell me this story to get me to buy it for her, but I want her to have it just the same.

  “Come on, I’m hungry. Let’s find a place to eat.” She yanks my arm, and I let her drag me away.

  I’m not exactly hungry for food, but I don’t voice that out loud. I’ll need sustenance to do what I have planned. Chiara finds a hole-in-the-wall restaurant, or charcuteria, as she calls it, a place specializing in cold cuts, cheese, and wine. After a fast exchange in Italian between Chiara and the manager, we’re ushered all the way to the back of the already busy restaurant to the last table available. The waiter removes the Reserved sign from it and helps Chiara to her seat.

  After he leaves to grab our menus, I turn to her. “Did you just convince them to give their reserved table to us?”

  Chiara laughs and shakes her head. “No. They usually keep one or two tables available for last-minute VIP patrons.”

  I raise an eyebrow at her. “Oh?”

  “Well, I’m not exactly VIP, but the Moretti name carries weight in the area. I just used it. If I have to suffer being related to them, I might as well take advantage of the perks.”

  Even though she tries to sound nonchalant, I hear a slight catch in her voice. Who are those people, and why do I get the impression Chiara is the anathema in the family?

  The waiter returns with menus and a jug of cold water. He doesn’t speak any English, but Chiara is happy to play the interpreter for me. I sit back and let her choose the wine and the appetizers. Watching her talk with confidence and make decisions without hesitation is a hell of a turn-on. Well, not that I’m not walking at half-mast already.

  I lean closer and stroke her cheek, pausing at her lips. “So, what did you get for us?”

  Chiara’s tongue darts out, right before she sucks my finger into her mouth. Jesus fucking Christ. She’s going to be the death of me.

  Finally letting go of my finger, she says through a wicked smile, “It’s a surprise. I hope you’re a meat lover.”

  Staring at her lips, I say, “You have no idea.”

  Our server comes back once more with wine, but there are no glasses in sight. Chiara smiles at me when she catches my confused look.

  She flips the ceramic bowl that was already on the table—that I honestly thought was meant for soup—and lets the waiter fi
ll it up.

  “We drink wine in these like in the good old days.”

  The waiter fills my bowl with an amused twist of his lips. He must get this confused reaction a lot from tourists.

  Chiara raises her bowl after the guy walks away. “What shall we toast to?”

  “How about an unforgettable weekend?”

  She smiles, and her entire face lights up. I feel a sharp pang in my chest, and suddenly I understand why I’m having such a visceral reaction to her. She reminds me of Jamie, the best friend I lost when I was a teen. Only Jamie was a guy, and I wasn’t remotely attracted to him. He and Chiara share the same vulnerability masked by a happy-go-lucky personality though. I grin at her in return, trying not to show how much this revelation is doing my head in.

  “Cheers to that.”

  Chiara places the bowl back on the table, laces her hands together, and rests her chin on top of them. “So, shall we establish some ground rules for this epic weekend?”

  I lean back and cross my arms. “Okay. Rule number one, we won’t speak about your family.”

  Her eyes flash with an emotion I can’t discern before she says, “Deal. My turn. We won’t trade specific details about our life, like jobs, where we live, etcetera.”

  I stare at her through slits but with a smirk on my lips. “Why? Are you afraid I’m going to turn into a stalker after all?”

  Chiara shakes her head and smiles ruefully at her wine. “No, it’s not that.” She pauses to lick her lips, looking at me again from under her eyelashes. “I have the feeling that the more I know about you, the harder it will be to let you go.”

  I clench my jaw hard and don’t say anything for several beats. I can tell Chiara is interpreting my silence the wrong way by how her eyebrows furrow together, marring her otherwise smooth skin. I reach for her chair, pulling it across the floor with a loud screech until she’s sitting next to me.

  “Now, that’s better. You were too far from me.” I touch her cheek with the back of my hand as I stare deep into her eyes. “I agree to your rule only because it’s going to be hard for me as well.”

  Her breath catches at the same time her lips part, making it impossible for me not to shorten the distance between us and kiss her again. But I’m greedy, and kissing her doesn’t satisfy my hunger. I want more.

  I slide my hand up her thigh and under her dress, stopping just a few inches away from her warm pussy. I don’t dare go any farther, not in the middle of the restaurant anyway. Instead, I make lazy circles with the tips of my fingers, smiling against her lips when I feel the goose bumps form on her skin.

  A throat clearing nearby makes me pull away, and I level the waiter with a glower, not appreciating the interruption.

  “Il antipasti,” he says before he places the tray of cold cuts in front of us.

  “Grazie mille,” Chiara replies without making eye contact with the man.

  Ah shit. I made her uncomfortable. I better behave until I can get her alone.

  We eat our food and drink our wine, but we both have the same sense of urgency. We don’t linger.

  Back in the car, it’s a Herculean effort to keep my hands to myself, but I push through the urge to stop on the side of the road to steal a few more kisses from her.

  “I thought today was going to be the worst day of my life,” Chiara says as she sticks her hand out the window.

  “I’m glad it didn’t turn out that way. It will only get better from here.”

  I sense her stare, so I peel my gaze off the road for a second.

  “Cocky, aren’t you?”

  “Nope, just being realistic, babe.”

  Her nose wrinkles, and she pouts. “Don’t call me that. I hate that endearment.”

  “Sorry. What should I call you, then? Chibi?”

  “No!” she shouts, and I have to glance at her again.

  “Isn’t that what Max called you? I thought it was cute. It fits you.”

  She crosses her arms in front of her chest and levels me with a glare. “No, it doesn’t. Chibi means small in Japanese, and it’s also a style of caricature where the characters are super cute and tiny.”

  “See? It fits you.” I laugh.

  “Stronzo!” She hits my arm. “Keep calling me Chibi and you won’t get any booty tonight.”

  “Okay, okay. I won’t. What does stronzo mean? I know it can’t be anything good.”

  She faces forward and says under her breath, “Asshole.”

  I reach out and squeeze her thigh through the skirt of her dress. “I promise I won’t call you Chibi again.”

  “Uh, I don’t know. I think you need to grovel a bit more.”

  “Is that so? What would you have me do?”

  “You’ll have to wait and see. How far are we from your hotel, anyway?”

  We both stare at the car’s GPS. We’re ten minutes away from our final destination.

  Still too fucking far.

  7

  Chiara

  Despite the red wine making my head fuzzy and the excitement rushing through my veins from being alone with Alistair, when he opens the door to his hotel room, my stomach twists in knots. I can’t control the sudden shaking of my body. I’ve never done this before. Well, I’ve had hookups but with guys I already knew from school, never with a complete stranger.

  Walking into the room, the first thing I see is the massive king-size bed. I swallow the lump in my throat and peel my gaze away from it. All the bravado from before disappears in a cartoonish white cloud. Poof. Gone. I also notice his room is immaculate. God knows the mess I make in my hotel room whenever I travel. I’m not an organized person.

  “Would you like something to drink?” Alistair asks.

  I turn around and shake my head. “I think I’ve had enough wine to last me a month.”

  He stares intently at me before he runs a hand through his hair and says, “Listen, we don’t have to do anything. I’m more than okay if you just want to crash here. I’ll drive you back to your grandparents’ villa tomorrow morning.”

  I stop breathing for a second. Did he change his mind?

  My expression probably shows my disappointment. He moves closer and brushes my face with a featherlight caress. “Hey, what’s the matter?”

  “I-I’m just nervous,” I whisper as I stare at the collar of his shirt.

  God, he’s probably noticing the age gap now. As a matter of fact, I don’t know how old he is, but he’s definitely not eighteen anymore. He’d probably run for the hills if he knew my age.

  “Chiara, look at me.”

  Taking a deep breath, I bring my face up to his, only to be ensnared by his eyes.

  He laces his fingers with mine and brings my hand up to his chest. “Can you feel how fast my heart is beating for you?”

  “Yes. It’s beating as fast as mine.”

  “Why don’t we just talk for a little bit?”

  Shaking my head, I take a few steps back until my thighs touch the edge of the bed. Without taking my eyes off him, I reach behind me and pull my dress’s zipper down, letting it drop to the floor in a heap of silk and tulle.

  “I’ve had enough talking.”

  Alistair’s eyes turn molten as he drops his gaze to my feet before slowly traveling up the length of my body again. In silence, he unbuttons his shirt, revealing steely abs and tattooed chest as he parts the fabric. He shrugs it off, dropping the piece of clothing to the floor. The slacks go next, but he keeps his boxer shorts on. A lump forms in my throat, because there’s no hiding his size. He’s huge.

  He shortens the distance, stopping only when there’s no gap between our bodies. Staring at my face, he runs his hands up my arms slowly, leaving a trail of goose bumps behind.

  I close my eyes and say his name. It sounds more like a moan than anything else.

  “Open your eyes, Chiara.”

  I do as he asks. He rubs his thumb over my lips, and I bring it into my mouth, sucking it gently. His breathing changes, turning shallow as his gaze b
ecomes hooded, hungry. I realize I haven’t touched him yet, so I explore his body, running my hands across his washboard abs. I glide my long nails over his taut skin, making slow circles that keep going lower and lower. When my hands reach the seam of his underwear, Alistair makes an animalistic sound in the back of his throat right before he pulls his thumb from my mouth, replacing it with his tongue.

  I open to the demanding invasion as I curl my hand around his shaft. He grabs a handful of my hair to keep me in place as his feverish kiss intensifies, turning almost feral. I rub the soft tip of his cock with my thumb, spreading precum over it before going up and down his length.

  Without breaking our connection, he picks me up, only to throw me on the bed in the next second. I laugh when I bounce on the soft mattress.

  “Eager, aren’t you?” I say.

  “Sorry about that.”

  I scooch backward to make more room for Alistair. He joins me on the mattress, crawling my way like a jungle cat that just cornered his prey. My core throbs in anticipation. Alistair wraps his hand around my ankle, then kisses my calf. I part my legs for him as he glides his hot tongue up my shin and thigh, eliciting a moan from me. This is just the worst possible torture. And yet the best kind. He stops inches away from my underwear, sprawling his hands over each of my hip bones.

  “I’m about to explode here, but I have to taste you first.”

  “Yes, please,” I croak, my voice already raw with desire.

  He rubs his nose on my center right before he licks me through the thin fabric of my lacy panties. I curl my hands around the bedcover, arching my back, the tingling sensation almost too much to bear.

  “Alistair,” I moan.

  “Never tasted anything sweeter,” he says before he pushes the fabric aside with his tongue and sucks my clit into his mouth.