by A. D. Ryan
I only nod, choosing to remain silent as she refills my glass. After she recorks the bottle, I glance toward her apologetically. “I’m going to go hang out in the living room for a bit so you can get everything done.”
“Owen,” she protests, but it’s no use; I leave her alone in the kitchen.
7. We’ve Got Tonight
I debate whether or not to go after him, but I figure he just needs a minute to himself. With everything that’s happened today, we’ve both had an emotionally tumultuous afternoon.
The silence in the kitchen is deafening, so I decide to turn on the radio while I finish the pies. The next hour and a half goes by pretty quickly, and the kitchen is spotless by the time the pies are done in the oven. After I take them out to cool, I grab the bottle of wine and my glass and head into the living room to find Owen sitting in silence on the couch.
“Hey,” I greet quietly, walking around the couch to sit next to him. “You okay?”
He acknowledges me with a small smile. “Yeah. Fine.”
Things between us seem awkward—but I suppose that’s to be expected after the day we’ve had—and we remain in uncomfortable silence for a while, both of us drinking our wine and refilling our glasses a couple of times. I’m starting to feel a little light-headed as the alcohol takes effect, and I’m unsure what to say to break the silence.
Thankfully, Owen speaks first. “Amelia, what your father suggested...well, that still doesn’t make what happened okay.” He rubs his hand over his face roughly before tugging it through his hair. “God, you’re the daughter of my best friend. I’ve known him for over thirty years—I was there the day your mother gave birth to you, for fuck’s sake.”
I can feel his stress rolling off him in waves as he overthinks this. And, yes, hearing my dad suggest that Owen hook up with some hot young girl had shocked, stunned, and horrified me just a little bit. Hell, I almost cut the tip of my finger with the knife. But the more I thought about it, the more I wondered if my dad’s logic was sound. Why shouldn’t Owen have a little care-free fun?
“Owen”—his eyes rise to mine—“I know that this wasn’t something that either one of us expected, but you can’t deny that there’s something here.”
“It’s still wrong.”
My arms and legs feel weightless and tingly from the wine as I inch closer to him on the couch, getting close enough that my knee brushes his thigh. “Is it, though? I’m twenty-one—an adult. You wouldn’t be doing anything wrong or untoward. I want this—have for so long—and you said you thought about it, too...” I pause for a second, biting the inside of my cheek as I prepare my next move. “Can I ask you something?” He nods once, seeming unsure. “How long have you thought about me this way?”
“Too long,” he replies softly, reaching out and placing his hand over mine. My gaze shifts to where his thumb moves over the back of my hand, and I sigh as the warmth of his touch spreads through my body, traveling up my arm and neck. “Since the last time I saw you two years ago.” He laughs once, humored by something still unspoken. “It was Thanksgiving, actually, and you had brought that boy home...Nolan. I hated him—for reasons that didn’t make sense to me then.”
“Uh huh,” I whisper, turning my hand over beneath his and letting our fingers naturally thread together.
“It was only after you left to go back to school that I realized I wanted you more than I should.” I look up from our hands to find him staring intensely at me.
“Okay,” I respond. “Well, I’m not with him anymore, and you’re a free agent now...so, let’s just give in.”
“What about your—?”
I press my finger to his lips to stop him from saying the one thing that could kill the mood. “We’ll worry about that later. Who’s to say this goes beyond today—beyond right now? Why can’t this just be about two people giving in to their impulses?”
“Y-you’d be okay with that?” Owen asks, uncertainty still lacing his velvety voice. “You’d be okay with a casual tryst with a man twice your age?”
“This age thing really bothers you, doesn’t it?”
He looks perplexed. “It doesn’t bother you?”
I shake my head. “Not in the slightest. It might if this were five years ago, but right now? I couldn’t care less.” I lean in close, our noses less than an inch from touching. “No one has to know, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“You’re sure this is what you want?” The desire in his eyes tells me what he wants; he just wants to make sure it’s one hundred percent consensual.
Running my hand over his jaw, I laugh breathily and brush the tip of my nose over his. “I wouldn’t be throwing myself at you if I didn’t.”
The awkward air in the room suddenly dissipates as Owen leans in the rest of the way and presses his lips to mine. I whimper, releasing his hand from mine and bringing it up to mirror the position of the other along his chiseled jaw. Maybe it’s due to the bottle of wine coursing through our veins, but things between us escalate quickly, and Owen’s hands ensnare my hips, pulling me onto his lap. Now that I’m straddling his thighs, I can feel his erection pressing firmly against me, and I shift my hips forward to help ease the steady pulse of arousal.
“God, Amelia,” he moans into my mouth as I shift my hips again. Every time he calls me this, I tremble. “We shouldn’t do this here...”
“Then take me upstairs,” I tell him, throwing my head back so he can kiss the column of my throat.
He groans, gripping my ass and standing up. I wrap my legs around his waist as he makes his way for the stairs, and when we reach the top, I pull his face back to mine and kiss him deeply, my tongue seeking his out voraciously. He kicks my bedroom door closed and lowers us to my bed, pressing himself firmly between my legs. This time, it’s his hips that move, thrusting against me and making my skin tingle and ache with pure ecstasy.
My fantasies of Owen and me locked in a similar embrace don’t even compare to how his hands feel moving up from my ass to underneath my shirt. His hands are warm as they run up the length of my stomach and toward my breasts. When he palms them both, my back arches off the bed as much as it can beneath him. I mewl into his fervent kiss as he pulls the cups to my bra down, exposing my hardened nipples to his dexterous fingers.
“Take it off,” I command breathlessly. “All of it.”
Owen pushes himself to his knees, and I sit up, lifting my arms as he removes my shirt and tosses it to the floor. While he removes his own, I reach behind me and unclasp my bra, tossing it to the floor, too. My eyes move over his bare chest, and I bring my hands up to touch him for the first time, letting them glide slowly down his body and through the light hair under his belly button that disappears behind his jeans. My fingers rest on the buckle of his belt, and I look up at him, giving him the opportunity to stop this if he’s still uncertain. All I see is how much he wants this—needs it, even—and I slip the leather from the buckle and work the button of his jeans free before lowering the zipper carefully. Brazenly, I guide my hand into his pants and grip his erection. His eyes close and his hips move in time with my wrist. Watching him come undone is so hot.
With a groan, he slips his hands into his jeans at his hips and slides them down as far as he can before having to stand up and kick them off. Naturally, having seen the rest of him already, I can’t help but focus on his erection. Now, I’ve seen a few in my lifetime, and while this one looks no different—maybe a little thicker and longer than some—I think the fact that it’s Owen’s is what has me so transfixed.
It isn’t until he repositions himself between my thighs that I’m able to tear my gaze away from it, meeting his intense gaze again. As he lowers his lips to mine, his fingers dip behind the waist of my jeans and slip the metal button through the eyelet before he pulls them slowly down my legs. The pace is agonizing, and once my jeans have fallen from the bed, his hand moves up my inner thigh until his fingers find my sensitive flesh, wet with my need for him.
As his fingers move
back and forth, in and out, I’m breathing pretty heavily, my pulse is racing, and I’m fighting the urge to wrap my legs around him and pull him to me. While I’ve had plenty of healthy relationships and enjoyed sex over the years, I’ve never quite felt this way. There’s something about Owen that excites me in a way I’ve never experienced; he calls to me like no other man ever has.
I whimper when he pulls his hand from between my thighs, but am soon rejoicing when he settles between my legs again, and the tip of his erection rests against my leg. My legs move up instinctively, positioning our bodies, and my heels dig lightly into his ass to coax him forward. All of a sudden, his eyes widen, and he freezes.
“What is it?” I ask, worried that he’s having second thoughts, then wondering if maybe I should be. “Did you... change your mind?”
“What?” He sounds incredulous, and his eyebrows furrow in disbelief. “Not at all. It’s just...I wasn’t expecting something like this to happen. I don’t have any condoms.”
“I’m on the pill,” I assure him with a smile, trying again to pull him forward.
He remains unmoving. “And my wife just cheated on me.”
Shit just got serious. “So this is one of those scenarios where ‘no glove, no love’ really does apply, huh?”
He groans, clenching his eyes shut. “I’m afraid so.”
An idea starts forming in my mind. It’s a little messed up, but I’m feeling pretty desperate and a little bit drunk, so I don’t think Owen would object as long as I don’t go into too many details. I bite the bullet and decide to tell him. “I think I know where some are. Wait right here.”
The knowledge of what I’m about to do may stay with me to my grave, but I shove it from my mind and quickly run into my father’s room after pulling my robe on. I’m in luck—and equally disturbed—to find what looks like a pretty new and open box of condoms in the drawer, and when I reemerge with the all-important foil in hand, Owen smiles, reaching out and pulling me back to him.
“Thank god,” he exhales as he rips the robe from my body and worships me with his mouth and tongue for a few minutes.
When he takes the condom from me, I lie back on the bed, propping myself up on my elbows so I can watch him roll the rubber over his stiff length. Once it’s in place, he repositions himself between my thighs, his hands moving from my knees to my thighs and pulling me toward him until we are aligned. Bringing one of his hands inward, his thumb brushes my swollen clit, and my hips buck against his touch. The up side to being with an older man: he knows his way around a woman’s body. If I’m not careful, he’ll ruin me for all future relationships.
He wastes no time easing his way inside of me until his hips rest flush against the back of my thighs. The sensation of him inside makes me moan, and I reach above me to grip the headboard as he pulls back and thrusts forward a little harder. Every muscle in my body begins to tighten in preparation of my release. I’m so lost in the moment that I don’t notice him lower his face to my tits until his mouth is on one and his hand is cupping the other. He pinches one, and sucks, licks, and nips the other, bringing me closer to my orgasm. His hips move faster, forcing the waves of my release to crash down all around me until I’m crying out his name. Bringing my hands back to his shoulders, I coax him back up my body to kiss him deeply, and his hips stutter and jerk against me, thrusting deep inside me once more as he comes before collapsing on top of me.
We lie in silence, basking in what just happened, before I look down at him. “So,” I say quietly. “Any regrets?”
Owen chuckles, raising his head and kissing my sternum. “Not a single one.”
“Me either.”
8. Run to You
The rest of the weekend leaves Amelia and me with very little time to talk about what happened. I know we’d agreed that it would be just the one time, but I get the feeling she wants more…
Actually, if I’m being completely honest with myself, I find I’m craving her company more and more as the days go by. Unfortunately, we’re never alone long enough to find out if I’m just imagining things. I’m beyond transparent, and I know it’s going to get me into trouble if I’m not more careful, but I look for any excuse to be alone with her: asking to help prepare dinner, offering to carve the turkey while she makes the gravy, assisting her with the cleanup and dishes—but we’re constantly interrupted by someone. It’s frustrating, and I think Amelia would agree.
My thoughts are so clouded with Amelia that I have trouble sleeping, too. I find myself staying up late every night, trying to convince myself that this is just me seeking solace over my failed marriage. That Amelia really only wanted a one-night-stand.
I think back to the day I left Gretchen and came to stay at Alan’s house; I never dreamed that anything would happen between Amelia and me. Had I fantasized and dreamed about it more times than I could count? Yes. Yes, I had. What man my age doesn’t, at some point or another, fantasize about being with a younger woman? I just never thought I would act on it.
Amelia’s very persuasive, though.
I’m a sick bastard—I know this—and yet, a large part of me just doesn’t fucking care.
Sunday comes much faster than I’d like, and I head up the stairs solemnly, not ready for what’s about to happen. Her back is facing me and I watch her pack her things for a few minutes before knocking. She jumps, startled, and turns to face me. She smiles, but it doesn’t look happy. “Your ride going to be here soon?” I ask, sounding more forlorn than I mean to.
“She will,” Amelia whispers, dropping her eyes and turning back to her bags. She can’t even look at me.
“Amelia,” I begin, stepping farther into her room and sitting on the bed next to her bag. “Look at me.”
She complies, but only after I notice her fight the tremor in her chin. I try to tell myself it’s ridiculous to feel this broken up inside after sleeping with her once, but it’s a futile attempt; I crave her like I’ve never craved anything before.
“This weekend,” I tell her, taking her hands in mine, “was unbelievable. I just wanted you to know that, and that I’d like to think if the circumstances were different, we might—”
She stops me from continuing by smiling brightly. “I had a lot of fun, too” she replies. “Which is exactly what we wanted.” Inhaling deeply, she pulls one of her hands free, cradling my face, and leaning forward to rest her forehead to mine. “No regrets,” she whispers, kissing me softly before a car horn blares from outside her window.
After saying goodbye once more, she grabs her bag and heads for the stairs, leaving me on her bed. Alan’s already at work, having said goodbye to his daughter that morning after breakfast, so she’s able to keep moving without looking back. My heart wrenches and my stomach churns. I miss her, and she’s barely been gone a minute.
I mope around the big empty house, looking for anything and everything to keep my mind off of our time together. I know it’s best that I let her go—that we leave this as a one-time thing like we agreed—but I can’t shake her. She just keeps creeping back in, and I can’t deny that she’s reminded me what it’s like to feel desired for more than just my paycheck. It’s a feeling my beloved wife has never really been capable of evoking.
Gretchen showing up at Alan’s, reminded me of just how selfish she is, and it pissed me off. Hearing her accuse me of sleeping with Amelia was laughable after what I’d learned of her extramarital affairs, but a part of me wanted to let her believe it—wanted it to be true, even. I didn’t entertain her idea that Amelia and I were together, but I didn’t exactly squash them either. My nerves were rattled by the time I got rid of her, and when I returned to the kitchen, I found myself in Amelia’s arms as she did her best to comfort me. She’s always been a little wise beyond her years, so maybe that’s why it was so easy to give in to my desires, regardless of how inappropriate.
And then I kissed her and it was like the planets aligned and other miraculous shit happened all at once. The rational part of my brain scr
eamed at me to stop—told me it was wrong—but I found it hard to believe when it felt so goddamn right.
Until Alan showed up.
Amelia and I broke apart, short of breath and red-faced. I tried to apologize for stepping out of line, but she brushed it off as though it was nothing. Yes, she had confessed to wanting it to happen as much as I did, but that didn’t make what happened okay…
Did it?
Thankfully, Alan had no idea what he almost walked in on, which meant I got to keep my life another day. It terrifies me to the core to think about how he might handle hearing about what happened between Amy and me.
Originally, I’d planned not to venture any further into forbidden waters where Amelia was concerned. I’d made up my mind, and was feeling resolved in my decision…until she joined me in the living room and sat next to me. Looking into her eyes made my resolve crack, and her taking my hand brought the first brick tumbling down. But it wasn’t until she said it didn’t have to be about anything other than us giving into our urges that it all came crashing down around us.
I don’t know if she’d truly intended for it to be just that one time—maybe she only wanted to know what it would be like to live out the fantasy she’d confessed to having about the two of us—but I soon realized that sleeping with her destroyed any possibility of me walking away from her. She woke something in me that I’d forgotten existed.
For the first time in over a decade, I feel alive again, and I don’t want to give that up just yet.
Without another thought, I grab my keys from the front table and race to my car. She’s got about an hour on me, so I’ll have to head straight to her apartment if I’m going to try and plead my case.
9. Curiosity
The three-hour drive back is quiet—regardless of how often Liz tries to get me to talk about my weekend. She’s my best friend, and I would give anything to tell her about Owen, but I promised him I wouldn’t tell a soul. When she asks what’s up, I feed her some line about not feeling well, and she immediately drops the subject.