Burning for You: A Steamy Older Man Younger Woman Romance

by Mia Madison

  We laugh because they were anything but tasteful – all sparkle, glitter and tinsel in every color of the rainbow and some in neon colors that the rainbow never saw.

  “Very bright. I liked them,” I say because I did.

  “Me too, but the guys wouldn't win any prizes for interior design.”

  “Anyway, no problem about your dog. I can walk him after work.”

  The dogs have settled down on the towels in the next room as if they are tired out by the exertion in the woods and the excitement of finding a pal to wrestle with. I know how they feel about the wrestling, but I'm anything but tired.

  Ben and I are sitting around one corner of the table. His thigh briefly touches mine and it's as if electricity ran up and down my spine. I feel the color rising in my cheeks and he runs his finger over the top of my lip.

  “Have I got a milk moustache? Honestly, you can't take me anywhere.”

  “No, I just wanted to touch you. It's my only excuse.”

  I run my hand over the scruff of his beard. I remember the feel of that from his kisses. “Likewise,” I say.

  And then he pulls me over to sit in his lap as if I'm weightless and I put my arms around his neck. I didn't dream walking Bertie would lead to this but I'm so, so glad it did. And what exactly 'this' will turn into I'm not sure at all. I just know where I want it to lead.

  CHAPTER 4

  Ben

  I kiss Gemma now like I wanted to kiss her in the garden, and she responds with less caution this time. There's definitely no one watching today, except two silly mutts if they happen to glance into the kitchen, and I'm damn sure they would approve of this. I mean, how can they protest when we brought them together? But they just chew away on their doggie treats and there's nothing but gnawing from them.

  The sounds here in the kitchen are something else though— Gemma's breath coming in gasps, the moans she makes into my mouth as I kiss her, a giggle escaping from her lips as if she can't contain it.

  I detect a waft of the light floral fragrance I'm starting to recognize as hers. It could be her perfume or whatever she uses in the shower. I don't know, but it makes me want to bury my nose against her bare skin and take in more of her scent. I just don't want to rush her.

  I kiss her again, my lips grazing hers, but she presses herself against me, deepening the kiss. It doesn't seem like she's easily scared off despite the way she often blushes.

  “You taste like chocolate and you,” I say. “Delicious.”

  “Better than fruit punch designed to knock you out.”

  “Just as lovely. Different. I can't wait to taste you in other places.”

  Her eyes widen at that and she seems to melt against me so I go on. “Places like this.” I run my thumbs over her soft blue sweater and despite the layers of fabric between my skin and hers, I feel her nipples pebbling up through her clothes.

  My hand finds its way under her sweater and T-shirt then. The skin of her back is so warm, soft as silk, smooth.

  “And I want to taste you here.” I run my fingers lightly between her legs over the thick seam of her jeans and she squirms a little as if she's trying to follow my fingers with her body, as if she doesn't want me to stop.

  “Let's go through into the living room. There's a fire there,” I say, lifting her gently off my lap.

  “A fire? You had a fire on when you were out and you’re a firefighter,” she teases.

  “It's gas, remote control, living flame, instant heat. One of those. Sorry. Who has time for cleaning out fires and laying them?”

  I put on the fire and light the lamps. It only three o' clock, but it's already starting to get dark. I pull her down onto my lap on the couch and put my arms around her, kissing the side of her neck and teasing her nipples through her clothes with my fingers again. Her breath hitches.

  “So, you're too busy putting fires out to light them,” she says as if she needs to slow things down.

  “Not as many as you'd think. We do a lot of fire safety work, checking out buildings.”

  “And cutting people out of wrecks?” Ah, it's okay. She's still just teasing me. I like her in this mood.

  “That too.”

  “I've never been so pleased to see anyone in my life as your face at that car window.”

  “I hope you'll be happy to see me for other reasons now too.”

  “Yes.” She grins. “And with a happier expression. Maybe not so calm, either.”

  “Not so calm? How do you want me to be?”

  “I don't know. How about excited, eager…?”

  “I think you already know I'm all that with you.”

  “Yes, I can tell, and not just by your face.” She reaches out and runs her hands up my length over my jeans. It's all I can do not to turn her over onto her back on the couch and fuck her right then, but I figure I should take things a little slower. I don't know what experience she has, though I assume she wasn’t a total innocent with Hot Wheels. I want to punch his lights out.

  Her phones goes off. “I’d better get that,” she says getting up off my lap to fish her phone from her coat pocket and I hear her in the hall. “I'm okay. No, Bertie's fine. I just bumped into a friend. I'll be home soon,” she says. I'm assuming it's one of her parents on the other end. She ends the call and comes back bringing her coat. “I forgot. They worry about me more since the accident. Gran is coming for tea and I'm supposed to go and pick her up after I get home.”

  “Do you have to rush off right now? Stay a bit longer.” I get up and grab her coat before she can put it on and I pull her back onto my lap. Or does she just want to get away from me?

  “I've only got fifteen minutes, not long enough,” she says.

  “Enough for?”

  She colors and shrugs. “Anything. What we want to do...”

  “Not long enough by far for everything I'd like to do with you. But then, fifteen years won't be enough for that, honey bun.” I can't imagine ever running out of things I want to do to her. “I like a challenge.” I raise my eyebrows and she laughs. And I pull her into my arms and kiss her. And before that whole kiss is over and she has to go, I have her panting in my arms wondering what just happened.

  CHAPTER 5

  Gemma

  Did I just do that? One moment Ben was kissing me almost chastely on the lips and then two seconds later his kiss became more intense, deeper and his hands were touching me everywhere, driving me wild for him, loosening my bra under my T-shirt, caressing my breasts until I was arching into him needing his lips there. “Oh fuck, do you have to go?” he murmured.

  More kissing and I was reaching for him, stroking the hard length of him and he was unbuttoning my jeans, his long fingers reaching down into the lace band around my panties and down further and I was urging him on with my moans.

  I can't believe how I let myself go in his arms. I never let myself relax like that. Not on a first date. Not when I haven't even been on a date.

  “Come for me, honey bun,” he said. And I came as if on command. Not that I would have been able to stop it anyway.

  But this is nothing like other dates I've had as a teenager, and nothing like my early dates with Vince. There's no fumbling, no pretending what is going on with Ben. No sneaking a hand here and there to work his way into my pants, just going for what he wants so confidently, it's eye opening.

  And now I feel boneless, like I can't pick myself up from that couch, but I have to get home. Shit—it will be freezing out there there now it's dark. I kiss Ben on the cheek and start to pull my clothes together. “Sorry to leave you like this,” I say. I'm the only one who came and he's still hard.

  “No matter, I'll take a rain check on that,” he says and laughs, helping me to do up my jeans. “I'll drive you home.”

  “It's not far.”

  “I don't care. I'll drive you. In fact, we'll go and pick up your grandma so you don't have to go out again. I don't want you driving on the ice.”

  I wonder what Gran will think about Ben
. She's never short of a pointed comment or two. Vince got quite a few of them. Her memory is not what it was and I'm sure she'll forget who gave her a lift tonight soon enough, but she might still cause a stir at home if she mentions Ben. I accept his offer anyway and risk it, because it is freezing out and it means more time with him. I'm really not ready to leave him yet.

  I text home to say I'm going to pick up Gran on my way back.

  “Who's driving?” my dad texts back

  “My friend. Don't worry. Safe driver,” I reply.

  I'm not sure if I'm safe with Ben in any other way, but I'm pretty sure he'll be safe at driving after all the wrecks he's seen, safer than me. And definitely safer than Vince.

  Ben handles the car smoothly over the ice to get my gran. She is sitting there already in her living room with her hat and coat on, clutching her handbag when we let ourselves in.

  “Sorry, have you been waiting long, Gran?” I say when we find her there.

  “No. I wasn't expecting you yet, but you know I don't like to be rushed when I'm going out.”

  I help her up.

  “And who's your young man. Are you going to introduce me?”

  I forgot everyone would seem young to Gran. He is, after all, about forty years younger than her.

  “This is Ben,” I say. I'm not giving any more description than that. I don't know how to describe him.

  “Are you coming for dinner too?” she asks him.

  “No. I'm just giving you and Gemma a lift.”

  “Pity,” she says, and then, as we go out, “He has a fine pair of buttocks. Better than that Vince fellow.”

  “What did she say?” Ben asks me.

  “You heard. She has lost her sense of propriety along with her memory.” I giggle.

  “What are you saying?” Gran says.

  “I agree with you, Gran,” I say, and Ben actually blushes. I should have warned him about my gran.

  Ben drops us off at the house and Bertie jumps out of the car. Ben rubs his ears while I get Gran inside and come back for Bertie.

  “I'll be in touch about walking your dog, Mr. Buttocks,” I say, grinning.

  He laughs. “I think I have to make you pay for that.”

  “Promises. Promises.” I wink at him. Hey! I got my sass back in one cold Sunday afternoon.

  *

  The bakery is busy the next day. I hardly get any time to have a chat with Katie. It may be for the best because I don't know what to say to her, but she suggests we grab a coffee after the doors are closed. We often do that, sitting at one of few little round tables the bakery has for “Eat in” customers. We just keep the lights turned down low in case anyone thinks we are open despite the obvious closed sign on the door. Even so, a couple of people come and rattle the handles as if they can't read.

  “I hardly saw you at the party,” Katie says. “My family is crazy already and I don't think that punch helped. What were you talking to Dad about?”

  Here goes. Can I say anything? “Pulling people from wrecks. His dog. I bumped into him yesterday with Sullivan. I'm going to walk his dog for him. I didn't know your dad even had a dog.”

  “I haven't seen it yet. He just got it. It belonged to his neighbor I think. If it's the one I'm thinking of, it's a nice-looking dog. I think Dad's lonely. Does he seem that way to you?”

  “Lonely? No, why?”

  “I wish he would settle down with someone. He's never had anyone serious since Mum left him.”

  I'm just about to say something when she says, “You know, Mum told me yesterday before the party that Frank moved out. He's found a younger model apparently. And then I thought about Dad when he came in. Wouldn't it be great if they got back together again?”

  I mumble something non-committal. Katie probably takes it as agreement. But my heart drops at her thinking that and at that idea. And I'm glad the light is low so she can't see my expression. Katie can read me like a book even when I try and hide how I'm feeling.

  “I think she's going to invite him over for supper next week,” Katie says. “You know he's never had a bad word to say about her all these years, and they never actually fought that I remember. It would make sense for them to get together. There must be something there, otherwise why did they get married in the first place. If Mum hadn't met Frank they might still be together.”

  “I don't know. People get divorced for all sorts of reasons.”

  “But she left him, had her head turned by Frank. Dad didn't leave her,” Katie says, “so maybe he never got over her.”

  So, there’s no way I can tell Katie about me and her dad. Not when she wants some kind of fairytale reconciliation, and it sounds like her mother is keen for that too if she's issuing supper invitations. Would Ben want to get back together with Stephanie if he knew it was the way Katie and Stephanie were thinking?

  *

  Next day, I pick up Ben's dog after work, letting myself into his cottage with the key he gave me. I'm a bit later than I wanted to be because the traffic is bad, and I hope the dog is not crossing his legs. I let him out into the garden as soon as I get there and then give him a plate of food before grabbing his lead and taking him out. He's easy to walk – well-behaved, unlike some dogs who constantly pull on the lead.

  We walk for over an hour, the dog sniffing every tree and lamp post in sight and me lost in thought. I need to clear my head after that talk with Katie yesterday. My family was in a crisis when I got home from work. Gran had gone missing. We eventually found her wandering up the street near where she lived and got her settled back in. She didn't know what all the fuss was about.

  When I deliver Sullivan back, I take off my muddy boots and towel him down, refilling his water bowl and check the time on the clock in the kitchen. That's when I spot an envelope on the counter I didn't notice before we went out- a pink envelope already opened, torn across the top.

  Is this Stephanie's invitation to supper? Do people even send notes these days? I'm itching to look at that note. Do I dare? I pick it up and then put it down again. It looks like nothing of any importance, but it is to me. Should I just give up any idea of me and Ben and leave Katie's family to it?

  There's a calendar pinned up on the notice board. Katie's birthday is up there and a few other things but nothing that looks like dinner with my ex-wife. But then it's so close to Christmas and the end of the month, so I turn over the page. There's nothing after December. Of course, there isn't. Stupid me. It's a calendar.

  “Find anything interesting?” Ben comes into the kitchen laden with a four-foot high Christmas tree in a red pot. Fuck! He caught me snooping on him.

  CHAPTER 6

  Ben

  I didn't expect to see Gemma tonight. I was supposed to work, but when Tom wanted to trade part of my shift I couldn't resist and came home early. I thought she'd like the tree after she told me off for not having any decorations. That guilty look is so cute, red face and all.

  “You weren't supposed to be home,” she says, as if that's any excuse.

  “What did you find then?” I tease. “My stamp collection? My fake ID? My criminal record?”

  “You collect stamps?”

  “All that and you ask about my hobbies? You've got your priorities wrong somewhere. No, I don't have any of those things, unless a parking ticket or three counts. Come on then. Fess up. What were you looking for?”

  She looks down at the counter and shifts about a bit. “I thought that letter was from Stephanie.”

  “Letter? Oh, that one. You didn't look at it?”

  “No. I wouldn't do that.”

  “You could at least have perved around in my underwear drawer. I'm disappointed in your sleuthing. I obviously lead a very dull life with no secrets worth uncovering.”

  “Isn't that letter from her?”

  “Nope. That letter is from the teacher at Blackbridge primary. I talked to her class about being a firefighter. The kids were excited. She sent a nice thank you letter.” I don't tell Gemma that the teac
her put her phone number in the letter. I don't think that would be helpful. Last week I might have given the teacher a call, but now it means nothing to me.

  “Didn't your wife invite you to supper?”

  “She did. I declined.” I look at Gemma. She has this a look of relief on her face as if there was a lot more riding on my answer than I expected. “Hey! You're jealous!” Fuck! Did I just say that? Mr. Sensitive or what. I put down the tree and give her a hug and then kiss her properly, just as I wanted to when I came in the door.

  “I'm not jealous,” she says, when we break apart. She seems much happier now. “I just wanted to know.”

  “Never mind. I think I like it. But there's a punishment for snooping.”

  “A punishment?” Her eyes are wide and the color rises in her cheeks all over again.

  “Yes.” I kiss her again, softly this time.

  “What do you mean?” From the look on her face, she knows exactly what I'm thinking, but I'm not going to spell it out.

  “I'm not going to punish you yet. I want to see how sorry you are.”

  “Alright. I'm sorry for snooping.”

  “Is that any way to tell a man you're sorry?”

  “Okay. I'm sorry.” She puts her arms around my neck and kisses me, her soft lips meeting mine, her tongue teasing mine with a gentle lick before she pulls back, and she giggles.

  “I like that apology, but I'm still going to punish you.”

  “Why? I said I'm sorry. You liked my apology.”

  “Because I can't wait to see your hot little ass turn pink under my hands.”

  She blushes then as pink as I imagine her ass will be and my cock jumps to attention at the thought.

  “But first I want to taste you, just like I said I was going to.”

  Her breath hitches. I take her hand and pull her to me. She must be able to feel what she's doing to me. “I want you in my bed,” I whisper, kissing her ear. The scent of her so enticing, I can’t help nuzzling her neck.