A Much Younger Man (Tryst Series Book 1)

by Mia Fox

  “We have to stop,” he insisted.

  “I don’t want to,” I said and kissed him once more.

  He responded and kissed me back, but kept a firm grip on my wrists. It became a battle of strength as well as control. I struggled to get out of his hold. I wanted to wrap my arms around him again. The more I squirmed, the tighter he held me and I came to realize that he was turned on by the control he had over me. Still sitting on his lap, I felt his hardness pressed against me. “Please…” I insisted.

  “No, we can’t.”

  As if stating the obvious gave him strength, he released my wrists only to hold onto my waist and place me back on my feet. I pouted my lower lip at him. “Don’t stick that lip out at me or I’ll have to bite it,” he warned. “Now help me get these sheets on. That’s why we’re up here…remember?”

  “Yes, I remember.” I wasn’t happy, but I knew we had no choice. I also knew that it would be damn hard getting to sleep that night.

  In fact, it was impossible to sleep when every nerve ending was completely turned on and my mind was filled with thoughts of Cole. I kept remembering how it felt to feel him between my legs and by 2 a.m. I realized that sleep would never come. I tiptoed out of bed and down the hall, past Jack’s room and opened the door to the guest room. Cole looked up immediately. It was obvious that he hadn’t been to sleep yet either.

  I put a finger to my lips and climbed into bed with him. He reached for me immediately with an urgency he hadn’t ever displayed. Gone was the self-control. In its place was pure desire.

  “Get this off,” he hissed, trying to maneuver me out of the panties that weren’t much more substantial than a piece of dental floss to begin with. I kept my babydoll nightie in place, but wriggled my legs out of the panties. He pulled them down the last few inches and then tossed them aside as he rolled me underneath him and edged my legs open with his own.

  I felt him against me and I purred in response to his closeness. The feel of his masculinity — his muscular back and shoulders, his hardness — I needed him. He kissed me deeply and I wrapped my legs around his waist.

  “You’re so wet. I need to taste you.”

  “No, I want you inside of me.” But before I could stop him, he moved lower. Like earlier in the evening, I reached for him and tugged at his arms, showing him what I wanted. But he would have none of that. He knew what he wanted as well. Yet, whereas earlier he used his strength to assert his control, now he just used technique. His mouth moved over my hips and strayed lower until his tongue teased me with light flicks across the folds of my most intimate area.

  “Oh God,” I mewed to which he responded by moving his tongue inside of me more insistent on getting to where he wanted to be. It didn’t take long for me to be on board. I opened my legs to him and he rewarded me by kissing me there in slow circles, using his tongue to drive me crazy. But I was learning that Cole definitely liked being in control. As soon as I my hips involuntarily moved with his motions, he pulled himself up my body leaving me wanting more.

  His mouth found mine and he kissed me hard as he positioned himself between my legs. Our bodies lined up as if they were built for each other and he easily slid inside me. I clenched myself around him as if fearing that he would leave once more, but instead he pushed deeper within me.

  “You have me so turned on that I could cum any second,” I warned him.

  “Do it for me.”

  He thrust deeply and I pressed my hips upward to meet him, ensuring that every bit of me connected with him. My legs wrapped around his waist; my arms held onto his shoulders, and my release was fast and intense. My orgasm brought on Cole’s and we both held onto each other as we rode our incredible wave of passion.

  He kissed the tip of my nose before rolling off me, but continued to hold my hand as we lay on our backs. There was no denying how I felt. I was in love with him.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Both Cole and I feared falling asleep and having Jack find us together in the morning. The issue was more about being with his friend than being with a younger man. I couldn’t even imagine having that conversation with Jack so I crept back to my room after we made love.

  It was hard to tear myself away from Cole, but what was to follow was even harder. An awkward silence came over us at the breakfast table while sitting with Jack. Normally, we would behave lovingly to each other in the aftermath of intimacy, but with Jack there it felt like we had to hide our feelings and in fact, we did.

  Jack bustled about the kitchen, grabbing the cereal, popping bread in the toaster, and overall behaving in a jovial manner. Cole stirred his cereal without really eating it. I sat quietly nursing my first cup of coffee. I hadn’t slept most of the night — not before I was with Cole because I wanted him so badly and not much afterwards because I was sad to leave him. Taking in Cole’s quiet demeanor, it was obvious that he suffered the same affliction.

  The three of us sat in silence. “Look at us…such a happy family,” Jack joked. “So mom…dad…what’s on tap for today after training?” The quip hit a little too close to home. Cole and I looked up at each other suddenly and then just as quickly, Cole recovered. “I’ll need to get home, Bro. I’ve got laundry and homework.”

  “Yeah, I need to sort out my roommate issues.”

  “Problems?” I asked.

  “My roomie’s girlfriend’s been spending the night…every night. And she’s a pain. They’re either fighting or on top of each other,” Jack replied. “I swear watching the two of them together, makes me glad that I don’t have time for dating. Laser focus. Right Cole?”

  It was the words their coach repeated frequently and they weren’t untrue. Both of them had a lot on their plate between practices and school. If they wanted to get to the Olympics they needed to avoid distractions. I felt guilty for potentially taking Cole’s focus in another direction. An uneasy silence continued to fill the air and a feeling of dread came over me.

  A few days passed without hearing from Cole. I was beginning to become aware that our contact was usually initiated by me.

  “I know you’re busy, so it’s better that you contact me when you’re free,” he said once.

  “But I like it when you reach out to me.”

  “I don’t really do small talk.”

  I didn’t like this change of pace. I was like any woman. I wanted to be pursued. That was what had made the relationship so intoxicating in the first place.

  Another week went by and I still hadn’t seen Cole. There was no reason to do another interview. I couldn’t very well ask for another hockey lesson. And I sure as hell wasn’t going to hit him up for a booty call. The separation was killing me.

  My boss suggested that I channel my emotions into my blog. I did as she asked, but only for the sake of my job. I didn’t buy that she had my best interest at heart.

  “Writers are so sensitive,” she noted when I came into the office for our weekly recap meeting.

  I merely nodded, not wanting to get into it with her. I still didn’t like that I was showcasing my personal life for everyone to read and comment upon. But Rachel had at least upped my salary now that the blog had become so profitable. I could pay my rent, but I felt like a sell-out.

  “I’m not sure that I have much material for you this week,” I hedged. The truth was that when things were good with Cole, the writing flowed fast and easily. But when we were in a downward spiral as it felt like now, I was too depressed to write about it. I needed to get the thoughts of him out of my mind, not recap them.

  “What’s wrong? Trouble in paradise? Did another girl take a ride on your swing set? she asked not so subtly.

  The thought of Cole being with other girls had crossed my mind. His Snapchat story regularly featured a group of people he referred to as his “second family.” They would be at parties or dinner and the girls in this group were pretty…very pretty. I looked at Rachel and forced myself to hold my tongue although I wanted to tell her to go and do something to herself.
Instead, I tossed my head back and laughed as if she had just made the funniest joke ever.

  She merely looked at me as if I had gone insane. Perhaps I had.

  “Kat, you’re a writer. That means you write. This isn’t a research dissertation; you don’t need ‘material’ to create a blog. You just need an imagination.”

  The trouble was that my imagination wasn’t thinking of the romance that I had experienced with Cole; it was moving into darker territory. “Rachel, I’m sorry.”

  “So that’s it? You’re telling me you’re not going to write about him anymore?”

  I shook my head. “I’ll find something else. I’ve connected with the readers now more than ever before. I’ll get you something that they respond to, but it’s going to be different.”

  I had to be true to myself. I couldn’t write about love and romance when I wasn’t experiencing it. I could feel Cole pulling back from me, taking longer to respond to texts and when he did, the conversations weren’t the same as they had been. Finally, a day approached when I knew I would see him.

  Jack wanted to go to brunch. I suggested he invite Cole. At the time, I didn’t see it coming, but spending time with both Cole and Jack together was what cemented my future.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  In spite of not writing about my romantic escapades, my blog posts were as popular as ever. I attributed this to having learned how to write to my audience…not at them. Before that one tipsy night when I poured my heart out to virtual strangers, I had written about men in an academic way. Now, I wrote from the heart.

  It didn’t matter that I wasn’t on cloud nine. My audience continued to read and support me because I had become real to them. My situation was relatable as so many readers wrote and told me that they too didn’t understand why men disappeared. I made it my mission, both for them and myself, to find out why.

  Is everything okay? I texted.

  Ya. His one word response.

  Me: Really? Because it just doesn’t seem like it.

  Cole: I’m just stressed with school and shit.

  Me: Does the ‘shit’ part refer to me?

  Cole: No, why would it?

  And then I was back to where I started. Wondering why I hadn’t heard from him, feeling like I wasn’t getting what I needed from the relationship, and wondering when it ceased to really be a relationship.

  Me: So, I’ll see you this weekend at brunch? Maybe we’ll be able to get away alone afterwards?

  Cole: I’ll see you then.

  The fact that I didn’t get a direct answer to my last question hadn’t escaped me. Perhaps he was in the midst of something when I texted and just needed to get back to it. Or maybe, he didn’t want to get into that discussion. What if he didn’t want to spend time alone with me? But why wouldn’t he? Everything was great the last time we were together. Or was it? There was always a feeling of distance when he left me. Whereas I had to tear myself away and wished he would never leave, I sensed that he felt a push-pull when we were together.

  Desire pulled him toward me. The reality of our lives and how different they were kept him pushing away.

  The questions continued to flood my mind so I channeled my anxiety into a blog post. Within an hour of Rachel getting it online, over 250K women had commented on similar experiences with men. The overall consensus was that women love with all their heart while men always keep their emotions in check. I wondered how they could make love without falling in love.

  There was no doubt about it. Brunch was awkward. Cole barely looked at me and even his conversation with Jack seemed stilted. When he got up to use the restroom, I excused myself as well and confronted him in a hallway at the back of the restaurant.

  “I need to talk to you,” he said immediately.

  Talk. I’ve never had that word spoken to me by a guy and not had it mean something negative. In my years of experience, I had learned that men simply don’t like to talk and when one asks for a conversation, it’s rarely one that the woman wants to engage in.

  “Okaaay…” I replied, noting his serious tone. “When?”

  I felt like I didn’t want to really know the answer to my ‘when’ question because ‘when’ was certainly a time that wouldn’t be pleasant.

  “I don’t know,” he said and shook his head. “We better get back.” With that, he went into the men’s room and I returned to the table. The check came and I covered it, then Jack and I waited at the restaurant entrance.

  “Did Cole say anything to you?” Jack asked.

  “No.” My voice was quiet, but my brain was shouting fears and insecurities.

  “He seems…I don’t know…a little off.”

  Jack was perceptive. I wondered just how much he noticed.

  Jack had parked behind Cole’s car in my double driveway. I pulled to the left and navigated my own car into the garage.

  “Can I use the bathroom?” Cole asked.

  “Sure. The door to the house is open.”

  Jack gave me a hug and said he needed to leave. He pulled away and I went into the house to have the talk.

  Cole was seated on the couch when I entered. He looked at me, but his eyes that normally sparkled with mischief and laughter were serious. “I can’t do this anymore.”

  I got that sick feeling in my stomach that comes with rejection. I didn’t say anything. I just bit the inside of my cheek, trying to inflict my own pain on myself so that his words wouldn’t sting so much. I didn’t want to cry. I was supposed to be the mature adult.

  “It’s too hard now that I’m friends with Jack. I mean, it was always hard…the sneaking around.”

  “So much for wanting me for years…The minute you get me, you’re done.” My tone was bitter. I couldn’t help it. My words were true. He was treating me like a conquest and the minute he got what he wanted, he no longer desired it.

  “I did want you. But I don’t like feeling guilty.”

  I remembered one of our last conversations. He had flirted with me, told me he wanted to see me, and said what he wanted to do when that moment happened. “So why did you say we’d be together soon? You even told me I looked delicious!”

  His next words were harsh. “That was a mistake. I guess I changed my mind. You were getting attached and we shouldn’t.”

  “You changed your mind. Just like that?” I couldn’t believe him. I felt sick and paced in front of the couch where he sat. “It would have been nice if you had a bit more control of your mind but then again, you didn’t have control of your body when it responded to me, why should your mind be any different?”

  When I didn’t get an answer I found myself back pedaling, apologizing for my own harsh words. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to shout. What if we kept it more casual? I said, knowing that I sounded like a teenager. Desperate. I hated myself for it.

  “Kat, you’re too invested in this relationship.”

  “I can do casual,” I insisted.

  “You can’t. And this relationship was fucked up from the beginning.”

  It was like a slap to the face. Was I fucked up to want him? I tried to remember the first time we were together…the first signs of flirting. I know that I didn’t start it. I wondered if he was being so mean to make me not want him anymore. It wasn’t working.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  I tried to get my mind off Cole. I went to the gym every morning, but as soon as I got home I was sad again. I watched my favorite movies, but most were romances so I ended up with puffy eyes and unable to breathe from all the tears I shed. I googled how to get over a guy, but every article basically told me to keep busy and I already knew that wasn’t working. I even went out with Megan, but with every guy who hit on me I was reminded of what life was like before Cole and why I fell for him in the first place.

  My latest blog post helped me send a little slice of my emotions into the stratosphere and the people who responded were my own team of therapists.

  I have to warn my readers who hav
e become accustomed to my perky posts about the glories of newfound love that this isn’t that kind of post. In short, I’m a wreck from heartbreak. It’s the best word to describe the rejection one experiences when a lover decides they no longer want to share their love with you because my heart totally feels like someone is slicing it open with a serrated knife. My heart is being cut into two slowly and mercilessly.

  I’ve told you all about the benefits of being with a younger man. Now I have to tell you about the pitfalls. However, I don’t want to be a total downer. I know many of you read this blog alongside your morning coffee, and I believe that the first cup of the day is something to be enjoyed and savored. So, with a mind to not ruin that welcome daily tradition, let me sum up these pitfalls in three concise thoughts.

  Younger guys can’t commit…at least not long-term.

  Younger guys are no doubt far more gorgeous than any 40-year-old you’ll come across, so if you start dating one, their perfect body will ruin your ability to ever be with someone your own age.

  Younger guys are fun and hot. The sex is wild and new. I know what you’re thinking…why is that a pitfall? Because when the relationship is over, so is the spice, the heat, and the heart-pounding goodness.

  So dear readers, I invite you to share your own stories along with any solutions you have for healing a broken heart. I want to move on, but I can’t seem to do it. And, at the risk of losing my job, I’ll admit that the only way I can tame my mind at night is with sleeping pills. Even that admission isn’t so scary because frankly, I think this is my last blog post on the subject. It’s just too painful. I hope you’ll all understand.