Midlife Crisis: another romance for the over 40: (Silver Fox Former Rock Star)

by L. B. Dunbar

  I don’t want to be selfish. I don’t want to be like that woman he loved who didn’t love him back. The thought stops me, and I slip from his lap.

  “Middy, baby.” His voice drops as I lower to my knees between his legs.

  “You said you wanted sucking.” I tug at his briefs, freeing the head and slipping him into my hungry mouth before fully undressing him. He bucks up, filling me, moving his underwear over his hips so I have clear access to all of him.

  “Fuck, lady, that feels so good. Your mouth is heaven.” I’ve never heard that before, so I suck harder, lapping over the ridges until I swerve to the tip. I lick over the seeping seam and then slam over the full length again. “Fuck,” he strains as his hands curl under my arms.

  “Forget sucking, I want to—” He stops himself, his eyes meeting mine. The lingering word startles me but thrills me. The building tide races through my lower belly, growing like a storm. I’ve never been this wild or had someone speak to me this way. Silently shocked, I’m more than excited he almost used it on me. I stand to remove my underwear, sliding it slowly to my ankles as he watches me. I unclasp my bra and slip it down my arms, letting it drop to the floor.

  “You want to fuck me?” I whisper, the question choppy and quiet, but I’m emboldened by his eyes roaming my naked body. Just asking makes me vulnerable, but his response restores my ego. Reaching forward, he grips my hips, lowering his face to the hair at the apex of my thighs and inhales.

  “So ready for this.” He exhales warm air over me and reaches for his jeans. A foil square appears, and I internally knock my head, knowing I forgot once again. Condoms just aren’t something I’ve had to think about. When Paul got a vasectomy to ensure no more pregnancies, protection was no longer a thought. I watch him cover himself, and it’s the sexiest thing I’ve seen next to him removing his shirt. He is one sexy beast of a man.

  I straddle him again. The aroma of sex surrounds us both. He holds himself upright, and I balance on the tip of him.

  “Give it to me, little lady,” he commands in a strained voice, and I lower myself, taking my time to swallow him into me. I’m holding the back of the couch behind him to steady myself. I’ve hardly touched down, but he snaps, “Up.” Hoisting my hips, he lifts me, teasing me as he halts me from falling over him again. My head lolls forward, and I see he’s watching us, observing where I rest over him. With unexpected force, he tugs me downward, and I yelp. He’s hit something deep inside me, and my eyes water with the pleasuring sting. “Okay, baby?”

  “More,” I whisper, taking freedom with him that I haven’t taken before. He drags me to the tip and then slams me over him once again. I grunt, but he repeats the motion, picking up the pace. My body becomes his plaything, and I let him toy with me because it feels so fucking good.

  “Squeeze your breasts. Bring one to my mouth.” Shocked by the request, I release the couch, worried I’ll lose my balance but I’m too much under Hank’s spell to care. I press my heavy globes together, then lean forward and watch as he latches onto me, sucking one breast deep into the cavern of his mouth. His tongue tickles over my nipple so hard the nub hurts, then his warm lapping soothes the pain. I’m bouncing like a ragdoll, sliding up and down his dick, jostling one breast next to his cheek as the other fills his mouth. I’m grunting, groaning, and moaning, feeling the newly familiar wave cresting.

  Hank releases my breast. “Now that’s the sucking I mean, lady.” He kisses my other breast, trying not to lose the steady, rapid rhythm of me jiggling over him. “You’re almost there, aren’t you?”

  “How can you...?” know such a thing, I think, after only two times, but he drags me down, forcing himself so deep in this new position, and I crash, feeling him pulse inside me. I clench harder than I ever have, clamping around him as he pumps inside me. I scream his name. My nails dig into his shoulders, and my eyes close. I don’t care if the whole neighborhood just gave us a standing ovation. That was the deepest orgasm I’ve ever had.

  “Your body tightens up when you’re ready,” he says, his head falling to rest on the back of my couch. He grips my hips, holding me over him. I feel an extra pulse of aftershocks from him, and then I have an issue. His eyes open, and he pulls me off him, setting me on his thighs only a centimeter away from his spent length.

  He tilts his head. “Baby?”

  “I…umm…” My sex clenches, pumping harder than my heart. The hand on my hip slips forward, his thumb finding the sensitive folds ripe for another round.

  “You need to go again?” I do, but I’m biting my lip. He’s turning me into a sex-craving-wanton. Without an answer, he reads me and his thumb tenderly strokes over the hypersensitive skin, slick and slippery with what we just did. “I can’t go again so quickly, lady. Dammit.” He grumbles, but the pressure of his thumb increases. My knees tighten next to his thighs, and my hips roll over the thick pad of his thumb.

  “Oh, lady. You ride that thumb of mine. You get there again while I watch. Holy fuck, are you hot.” I start grinding on him, doing as he says, until his thumb slips into me, and his finger meets it to pinch my clit. I yelp with the pleasure.

  “You like that, little lady? My sweet girl wants to be naughty.” He pinches me again, and I cup my breasts. “Oh Lord, squeeze those beauties together again.” I do, and he jostles me. I’m losing control, slipping into an abyss of pure pleasure when suddenly, I’m on my back, and he’s got one knee between my thighs. He tugs off the spent condom and tosses it to the floor.

  “How you feel about bareback riding, lady?” I don’t know what he means, but I need his thumb back, or something, anything for relief from the churning inside me. My own fingers skate lower on my belly, reaching coarse hair, when heavy fingers press mine flat. “Oh no, baby. This is all me tonight. Say okay?”

  “Okay,” I murmur, drugged on him, the presence of his body over mine, the feel of his rock-solid tip, spreading me until…Oof. I’m filled again, and I sing a stream of unintelligible praises. The intrusion so quick, the penetration so deep, I curl up from the couch and wrap my arms around his shoulder blades. My open mouth finds his upper arm, and I might have bit him.

  “Damn, girl,” he says hammering into me. I’m in that outer body space again, the euphoric state of unadulterated bliss as I slip one leg over his thigh, curling around him like a snake. The other foot falls to the floor, opening me up to the invasion of my body again, and again, and again until he strains forward, grunting. The pulsing fills me, warm heat collecting inside me. His naughty thumb finds the outside nub, and one flick sends me skyrocketing over the edge, falling into the blissful peace while I scream his name a second time.

  He collapses over me, a sprawl of spent limbs and heavy breathing. He kisses my neck before pulling back, unable to breathe between the couch cushion and me. “Holy fuck, lady.”

  I giggle, jostling him inside, and hot liquid seeps between my legs. My head rolls to look up at him.

  “We might be a bit late to have this discussion, but I’m clean. Get checked every six months because...” His voice drifts.

  Sweet cheese, is he talking shared needles or just multiple partners or something more extreme I should know? The questions crash through me in a millisecond, but then I let them go. Hank would not jeopardize me like that, but I’ve lost him in those seconds. He sits back, carefully removing himself and reaching for his tee to wipe me up.

  “Hank?” The whisper of his name brings him back a little but not enough. He’s going to bolt again, and my shoulders drop.

  “Let me get something to clean you with.” I reach for him but miss as he stands.

  “Forget it. What about dinner?” I ask as if this was the more important issue. We could order pizza, I think. Watch a movie. Maybe cuddle. Thankfully, I don’t suggest the last one because he speaks.

  “It’s late.”

  “Stay.” I hate how needy I sound.

  “I would, but you have work tomorrow.” He tries to tease me, but the humor isn’t there. The pl
ayfulness in his eyes is missing. He leans forward to kiss my cheek instead of my lips, and I’m left naked on my couch as he gathers his things. He walks to my kitchen, depositing the spent condom, and I simply hold my shirt to my chest as he comes back to me. I don’t know what to say. The rejection stabs deep after the high of two orgasms. He leans forward, kisses me too briefly, and says good night before leaving me.

  14

  Not taking no

  [Hank]

  I’m a fucking asshole, and I admit it. I don’t know why I left her. Caught between dragging her to her room and running, I ran. I should have at least checked on her, but I didn’t. Fear drove me away. I lost control with her. So willing. So receptive. Midge makes me lose my mind, and do stupid shit, like come inside of her. She could get pregnant. I run a hand down my face, shivering with the thought.

  Would it really be so bad? I second guess.

  Yes, I decide. Midge doesn’t need this right now and neither do I.

  Then, when I remember the way she looked up at me, begging me to stay, eyes pained when I didn’t. She crushes me, when I’ve done this to myself.

  The next morning, I find coffee brewing in a clean coffeemaker, the windows washed, and piles of papers stacked neatly behind the waiting room desk when I enter work.

  “What the hell?” I snap as I see Midge sitting at Brut’s desk, him leaning over her, directing her to something on the computer screen. I don’t handle any invoicing. I just do what I’m told to do and enter it in the main computer inside the garage. I have no understanding of running this business, mainly because I never wanted to know. I didn’t want to work here—ever—and then when I no longer had a choice, I only wanted to rebuild cars, like I was rebuilding myself. But seeing Brut all business like, angling over Midge, sets my blood boiling.

  “Good morning,” Midge says quietly, returning her gaze to the computer. Brut nods in greeting and continues to direct our new office manager.

  “Can I speak with you a moment?” I ask of Midge, but Brut peers up at me.

  “No,” he says.

  “Excuse me?” I growl at my older brother. I love him, but I’ll think nothing of crossing his desk and taking him out.

  “You’re not doing this again.” His eyes drift to Midge and back to me. “No.”

  “What the fuck?” I snap.

  “Brut,” Midge warns, her fingers pausing on the keyboard.

  “Midge. I’m sorry. I offered you this job. We have a deal with Pendelton’s car, and I keep my promises.” He looks up at me. “And he’s not running off another office manager.”

  “I didn’t run off the last one.”

  “Oh, right. You just slept with her, which fucked her over, and she quit.”

  God dammit.

  Midge closes her eyes.

  “Middy, please.”

  “Don’t call me that.” Her voice is hardly a whisper, and she stiffens. Her fingers return to typing, and she ignores me. I deserve the cold shoulder, but I won’t let Brut interfere.

  “Outside. Now,” I bark at my brother. He pushes off the desk and rounds the corner, leading the way out the front door. The second we are in the yard, he turns on me.

  “You’re a fucking idiot.”

  “I know.” The response stuns my big brother into silence. I cross my arms and rub my chin. “I fucked up. How much does she hate me?”

  “She didn’t mention you, other than to say she wants to fulfill her commitment without it being awkward. She promised me a temporary office manager in exchange for Pendelton’s car being complete in two weeks’ time and I intend to keep her.”

  I’m not liking the innuendo in his voice. “Let her out of the deal. Cut her some slack.”

  “Actually, she’s holding it over me. She says it’s insurance. She needs the pitch. She wants to work for his company, and that car is her ticket in. I’m not screwing her out of it because you can’t keep your dick in your pants. Or better yet, when your dick finds a good thing, your head gets in the fucking way.”

  “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “The fuck I don’t. I see the way she looks at you. You could shit yourself, and she’d think you hung the moon, but you’re still hanging onto a ghost. A phantom who was invisible to you even when she was alive.”

  “You think I don’t know that?” My arms drop to my side, fists clenching at the reference. My stomach rolls with the reminder I drove to the cemetery after leaving Midge. The ritual has become a habit with no meaning. I have nothing left to say to Kit’s grave.

  “I don’t know what you’re thinking. Though you’d drool over her, wag your tail, and wait for her attention, Kit never looked at you like Midge. Man, wouldn’t it feel good to have someone look at you like you looked at Kit? I think it’d make me feel fucking alive as shit, but what do I know?” Brut huffs. “We’re both in love with women dead to us.

  “Oh, are we talking about Lily now?” I mock. My brother has his own demons with women.

  “No, we are not discussing Lily. We’re talking about Midge. A beautiful, intelligent, successful woman in there.” He swings an arm in the direction of our garage. “You know what, maybe I should ask her out? She needs a man who will treat her right.”

  “Like you treated Lily?” I step closer to him. His eyes burn with fire at the verbal slap I’ve given him about Lily.

  “You wouldn’t dare ask my girl out.”

  “Your girl? That’s not a fucking girl. She’s a woman, Hank. A woman who needs attention, and you’re wasting it on someone who could never give it to you.” Brut swipes a hand over his white hair. “I’m tired of having this conversation with you. Just stay in the garage and let her do her thing in the office. I need some help getting organized, and she threw in some marketing tips as a bonus. I need to get a grip on this place.” He brushes past me, purposely bumping into me like we are kids again. I stagger at the force and let him have his moment. My shoulders slump as he yanks open the front door. Watching it close behind him, I realize my brother might finally be done with me, and he was the last man in my court.

  + + +

  For three days, Midge and I circle one another, but her presence consumes me. The cleaned waiting room. The organized office. The fresh coffee. Everything has been scrubbed, covered, or removed. Brut drew the line at the old leather couch. He claims it has sentimental value, and the only thing I can imagine is him losing his virginity on it. Otherwise, the wasted DNA on those cushions could be a science experiment in why people should not reproduce.

  In the meantime, Midge works on sketches and graphics between fielding calls, placing orders, and filling our calendar. She’s talented, though I don’t understand all her drawings. I see dishes and home accessories as she described them to me, but I have no idea what it means. I don’t own a home to decorate.

  I can’t take the silence between us anymore. I know I need to be the one to say something, and as the third day draws to an end, I cross the waiting room to speak with her.

  Fuck me, she’s wearing glasses. The hot secretary look works on her. She’s been wearing jeans each day. Once with a flannel shirt exposing a low-cut tank top underneath. Another with a loose-flowing tee. Today, it’s a sweater over another tank, but who’s keeping track? She looks at home here, and I both love it and hate it. Midge is too good for this place, but damn, if I don’t like seeing her working at the front desk, especially with those sexy glasses.

  “Can we speak?”

  “Sure,” she says, keeping her back to me as she continues to type on the keyboard.

  “Let me take you out this weekend. We can talk.” Her hands freeze. “I need to explain some things.”

  “I can’t. My kids are home now.” There’s more to her rejection. I wish she’d just turn and tell me she hates me. Then I could blame everything on her, instead of taking the fault as I should. I hate myself. “Ronin has the play this weekend—Friday, Saturday, and Sunday—but on Sunday, Liam has a doubleheader, his first ball
game of the season, and I’ll be there.”

  I nod, knocking a fist on the counter. “I could go with you.” I don’t know where the offer came from. I haven’t even met her kids. She spins in her seat, peeking up at me over the rim of those fucking glasses. Damn, she looks hot. The whole naughty secretary thing going on with the sweater open over her shirt, hinting at luscious breasts that could fill my mouth. Fuck, I fucked this up.

  “Why?”

  “What?”

  “Why would you want to go with me?”

  It’s a legitimate question, and my answer is honest. “I want to spend time with you.”

  “But you didn’t want to,” she retorts as her eyes drop like her voice. She’s wrong, so wrong, and it’s all my fault.

  “That’s not true. I just—"

  “Hank, I can’t—” But it’s my turn to cut her off.

  “I know. I’m sorry. Just let me come to the play, come to the game.” She pushes the glasses to the top of her head, and I want to lay her back, undress her, and ask her to wear only those glasses, but I’m promising to be good.

  “I’m trying to be the bigger person here. These are my kids, Hank. I don’t need you messing with them, too.”

  “I understand.” And I do, more than she might think. It’s why I’m promising myself I’ll be good. I just want to know more about her. “No hands. Just time.”

  Her brow pinches, her face tilting away from me. She’s thinking.

  “Fine. Tommy and Edie are coming to the play on Friday. Ivy plans to attend on Saturday with the kids, and Tommy, Edie, and Ivy are coming to the game which is at noon on Sunday.”

  What the…?

  “How did they all get invited?” I sound like a jealous boyfriend, and I am jealous. She never asked me, though she might have if I hadn’t been a dick.

  “Edie and I spoke last week. I told her about the play. She wanted to see Ronin. She met most of the kids during the fundraiser.” Midge shrugs. “Liam has a crush on Ivy, and he begged me to ask her to his game. To my surprise, she said she’d come see him.”