Old Enough (The Age Between Us Book 1)

by Charmaine Pauls

  I crawl up her body to stand on my knees over her face. We’ve already established she can deep-throat. She doesn’t need urging. Staring at me with hazy eyes, she parts her red lips. I go straight for the kill. There’s not enough willpower left to hold back. The fog lifts from her eyes as I push my cock so deep down her throat that my balls threaten to disappear into her hot mouth, too. One, two, three. I pull out slightly to let her breathe. One, two, three. Fuck, she’s good at giving head. Her tongue is flat when I’m deep and curled when I’m shallow. She’s going to make me come in no time. It’ll be a new record.

  “Suck me, princess.”

  I give her the space to do so, and when she does, it’s not the wicked work of her lips and wet tongue that sends me over, but the look in her eyes. Wide. Innocent. Submissive.

  Accepting.

  Fuck, I’m exploding. The first jet of seed shoots down her throat before I pull out and scramble back. The rest marks her where I aim my cock–her tits, stomach, and crotch. She’s a stunning picture of classy beauty and slutty perversity. Her posture is regal, even bound in rope. I made damn sure that lipstick is smeared. Her hair is a mess. Cum streaks her body and pubic hair. Her cunt and ass are well-used. She’s the most beautiful sight I’ve seen. I take a moment to commit the image to my memory. It’s one I’ll see on my deathbed and take to my grave. It’s the kind of image that defines a man, that makes you feel powerful and humble all at the same time.

  When I’ve had my fill, I stretch out between her wide-open legs, keeping my weight on one hand. I use the other to pump my cock before dragging the head over her clit. I needed that climax to blow off steam. I don’t want to come too quickly when I’m inside her. I keep on stimulating us both until I’m hard enough again to penetrate her. Wiping the excess cum from my cock with a corner of the sheet, I cover my sheath liberally with lube. One of the advantages of not having a thick dick is that anal is easy. My length makes up for what I lack in circumference, but the women I’ve fucked told me too big was more of a challenge to fit than a pleasure.

  My focus goes back to Jane. She’s boneless, lying back on the mattress, her head turned to the side.

  “Jane.”

  She faces me obediently. Her eyes are back to an alert state. Her breathing is calmer.

  “How are you holding up, princess?”

  Her full lips tilt. “I’m good.”

  It’ll be easier if I untie her and flip her over, but I’m too impatient. I also don’t want her to start coming down from her high. I only untie her ankles and knees, leaving her legs free. Kneeling in front of her, I throw both legs over my left shoulder and grip her ankles with one hand. The other grabs her hip to keep her in place. Her ass is ready for me. My cock goes stiff at the mere thought of pushing into her rear. Holding her still, I angle my cock and press forward. Despite my preparations, the broad head strains against her pucker. I apply pressure slowly until the ring of muscle gives way.

  She hisses and sucks in a breath.

  “Do I need to stop?”

  She inhales and exhales. “No.”

  I go slower, sinking in another inch.

  “Spank me, Brian.”

  I tear my gaze, which is riveted to where my cock is spearing her ass, to her face.

  “Spank me when you push deeper.”

  I get it. One erotic pain will ease another.

  With the next thrust, I bring my palm down on her ass cheek. The cry that tears from her throat is pain mixed with ecstasy.

  “Ah, yes,” she whimpers. “Just like that.”

  I continue like this, with a spank and a shove, until I’m inches away from being buried balls-deep.

  For the last stretch, I go flat-out. I drive in all the way while raining a quick succession of sharp slaps over her gorgeous globes. Her ass tightens, and her cheeks clench, but she doesn’t try to get away. Her screams and my palm on her flesh fills the room like music until her hips starts grinding, driving me in and out of her ass. Grabbing her legs with both arms, I angle her body and start pounding a steady beat. She gasps and moans, saying my name and other things, but her words are too incoherent to make out what she says.

  Release builds in my scrotum. I need to come so badly I’ll give up my birthright, but I’m not going faster or harder. I need her orgasm first. Without it, my release will be disappointing. Pushing one hand between her legs, I find her clit. I fuck her ass raw before her orgasm starts building. She’s going to need more to come. Throwing one ankle over my right shoulder, I sit back on my heels so her rear rests on my thighs. There’s not enough time or hands to lubricate the vibrator, but she’s so wet it slips right it. I go straight for maximum speed. When her thighs start to tremble and her ass clenches down on my cock, I give her all I’ve got.

  My grunts and her gasps mix as I fuck the air out of her lungs. Two more seconds, and she comes. When her orgasm hits, I let go, emptying my second load for the night where it belongs−in her tight asshole.

  It takes a long time to catch my bearings and breath. I almost remember too late to pull out and let my cum seep from her hole so I can watch. Like a perverted caveman, it turns me on. It’s like I’ve marked my property. Mine. Then I let her down gently.

  The sheets are tangled and wet with cum. The room reeks of decadence and pleasure. She looks tussled and ravished. With one tit falling out of her bra, her panties sitting sideways on her cunt, a vibrator stuck in her pussy, and her ass spanked red, she’s a sight to behold. A piece of art raw in its beauty, stripped down to its dirtiest fantasies.

  I’m in no better state. Sweat runs down my temples and back. My flaccid cock and balls are sticky with cum.

  We’re a mess. An awful, beautiful, arousing mess.

  Jane

  If Brian’s fucking is amazing, there are no words to describe his aftercare, which he tells me is part and parcel of sex to him. After untying me, he checks every inch of my skin. The marks where the rope chaffed my wrists worry him to no end. He applies a soothing balm from my medicine box and massages my shoulders, back, arms, and legs. He fetches a pitcher of water from the kitchen and makes me drink two full glasses. Then he settles against the headboard and pulls me into his arms. For a long time, we sit like this while he drags his fingers through my hair, extending the heavenly massage from earlier to my scalp, as he praises me for how well I did. Like the first time we had oral sex, he holds me until I’m not only rested and relaxed, but also inexplicably happy. Only then does he lead me to the shower and washes my hair and body like I’m precious porcelain.

  As he towels my hair dry, the ache of the spanking sets in. I guess the effect of the Triptan diminished the pain, and now the medication is wearing off. Seeing my discomfort, he rubs arnica gel onto my skin and makes me fetch clean sheets while he rips the sweat and sex drenched ones from the bed. He refuses to let me help and orders me to sit on the chair, which I do gingerly. When the bed is made, he lies down and brings me with him, pulling me tight against his chest. I didn’t expect him to stay, but I appreciate it. I’m not in the mood for being alone. Not after what we did.

  Originally, I was against putting a television in the bedroom, but Francois insisted. Now, I’m glad for it as Brian flicks through the channels while I rest my head on his chest. It’s close to four in the morning. My mind battles to digest that we’ve been fucking for three hours while my body tells a different story. I’m battered and bruised in the best way possible. Hands down, he’s the best lover I’ve had. It makes me curious. He’s young for that kind of experience.

  “Brian?”

  “Princess?”

  “Your sexual preferences…”

  “What about them?” he asks in a lazy voice.

  “How did you…?” I clear my throat. “Did someone teach you, or did you always know what you like?”

  He thinks for a while. “A bit of both. My first time was a defining moment, I guess.”

  My lethargy evaporates. I’m intrigued. “How come?”

  �
��She asked me to spank her. That’s when I discovered it made me hard.”

  I can’t help my curiosity. “Who was she?”

  “My teacher.”

  My body tenses in shock.

  He continues to play with my hair, unaffected by my question or reaction. “She was fifty-something, but by God she was a looker.”

  An arrow of jealousy pierces my heart.

  “Maybe she spoiled me for girls my age,” he continues, “but my guess is I’ve been spoiled long before she and I overstepped the line.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Close to sixteen.”

  I jerk my head up to look at him. “She took advantage of you.”

  Smiling, he pushes my cheek back to his chest. “It’s not what you think. It was me who instigated the sex.”

  “Why?” I don’t understand. “Did you have a crush on her?”

  “It was purely physical. We both acknowledged it before we fucked.”

  “You both took a huge risk.”

  “We were careful.”

  “You never told anyone?”

  “Not until now.”

  “She trusted you,” I say as the notion dawns on me.

  He chuckles. “The fact that she gave in to my seduction would suggest so.”

  I want to know more, and I don’t. Closing my eyes, I try to block out the picture that conjures the unfounded and unreasonable envy pinching my chest for this woman who will be fifty-something plus four years old now.

  “Tell me about your first time,” he says.

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m jealous of all the times you slept with someone other than me.”

  Talking about past sexual experiences with a new lover is a no-go. Everyone knows that. But for a reason I can’t explain, I want to talk about it. I want him to know.

  “His name was Evan.” I drag my fingertips over his chest, outlining the hard ridges of his muscles. “He was too old for me, at least according to my mother. He was the brother of a university classmate, Benjamin. We met at Benjamin’s birthday party.”

  He strokes my arm. “How old were you?”

  “Twenty-five.”

  “That’s when you had sex for the first time?”

  “It’s old by general standards, I know. I didn’t know what I wanted to do after school, so my parents sent me to do voluntary work for two years in Africa. They were kind of hard that way. They wanted me to learn about struggling and appreciate what I had. After Africa, I needed to clear my mind from all that suffering. I backpacked for two years through Europe before settling in my father’s company. I worked there as a secretary for another two years before I decided to take up studying at the ripe age of twenty-five. I guess there wasn’t the time or right person before then.”

  “Did you fall in love?”

  “It was love at first sight. He took my virginity on our first date.” I glance at him. “In the back of my car, of all places.” I draw a circle around the flat disk of his nipple. “He said the choice of venue was inexcusable, but he didn’t apologize.” I smile at the memory. “He wasn’t taking chances with waiting and giving someone else an opportunity to take my virginity.”

  “Go on,” he encourages when I lose myself to the past and fall silent.

  “He was starting up his own plumbing business. Times were hard, so he temporarily moved back to his parents’ place. Since my parents were in Cape Town, I stayed in a girls-only dorm on campus in Pretoria. We didn’t want to be disrespectful, so we didn’t make love in his room, at least not when his parents were there. We did it wherever we could–in dark corners of the campus and parked next to the river. Evan was always gentle, until one night in his old bedroom. The door was locked, and the music playing loud, despite the fact that we were alone. He got carried away and turned a bit rough. I liked it. That’s when he spanked me for the first time. It made me come so hard the neighbors must’ve heard me scream despite the blaring music.”

  My insides heat at the memory while a familiar pain crumples my heart. This is the hard part, the part that still makes my chest wheeze and my ears ring.

  His hand stills, his fingers clenching on my upper arm. “What happened?”

  “He died.”

  There’s a long moment of silence in which I feel him struggling with words. It’s there in the way his breathing changes and his chest heaves differently. I don’t want sympathy. I only want someone to share this with, and that’s exactly what he gives me. He offers no pity or useless words.

  He hugs me tighter and kisses the top of my head. “Go to sleep, princess. It’s been a long night for you.”

  I’m not sure when I fell asleep, but I slept like the dead, because when I wake up, which feels like in no time at all, the alarm clock tells me it’s past ten. Brian’s side is empty, but he hasn’t left. A clanging of pans comes from the kitchen, and the smell of coffee fills the air.

  Stretching, I flinch. Every bone and muscle aches. It’s nothing compared to how my backside hurts when I get up. I make my way with small steps to the bathroom. There’s no way I’m jogging today. I relieve myself, wash my hands and face, and brush my teeth. When I throw the hand cloth I’ve used to dry my hands in the washing basket, I notice my green underwear. Brian must’ve put it there. In the bedroom, I look around. The only disorder is the unmade bed. A quick look in the nightstand drawer confirms the vibrator has been washed and returned with the lube. Heat spreads from my neck all the way to my belly.

  Who was the wanton woman of last night? I’ve never gone that far before, although it’s not difficult to follow when Brian leads. I can’t believe he made me come three times. It’s a first for me, and not for lack of trying. The kind of stamina he displayed comes from lots of practice or youth, or a combination of both. Not willing to linger on his practice, which surely involves other partners, I pull on a T-shirt and shorts and follow the smell of caffeine to the kitchen.

  He’s wearing the same yummy jeans from yesterday, and he’s donned his T-shirt. His broad shoulders bunch under the fabric as he stirs something in a pot on the stove. I lean in the doorway to appreciate the view. As if sensing my presence, he turns a fraction, looking at me over his shoulder. His gaze is melting hot as he drags it over me, regarding me as if I’m a Playboy centerfold. His dark eyes soften, and his lips curve. That damn dimple. It’ll be the end of me. He turns toward the counter where two bowls are waiting. The rest of the kitchen is spotless.

  “Just in time for breakfast.” He shoots me a look from under his eyebrows as he puts the pot on a cork plate. His voice drops an octave, going gruff and sexual in the tick of a second. “How do you feel?”

  “Sore.”

  Alarm flashes across his face.

  “In a good way,” I add quickly.

  He dishes oatmeal into the bowls, sprinkles it with nuts and raisins, and adds a scoop of honey.

  “Come,” he says, carrying the bowls to the table where two places are set. He takes a cushion from one of the chairs and places it on top of another to form a double padding on the bench. “Sit.”

  I do so carefully, feeling every movement. He fetches coffee, sugar, and milk before taking the seat opposite me.

  “You made me breakfast.” I’m touched. Evan and I never had an opportunity to sleep over, and Francois never cooked.

  “I hope you don’t mind that I went through your cupboards.”

  “Of course not. There are eggs and bacon, too, you know.”

  “This is a better meal for you this morning.” He pours a mug of coffee.

  I raise an eyebrow. “Better than protein?”

  “Eggs are quickly digestible and bacon high in fat. Oatmeal will give you sustained energy for a longer time, the iron in the raisons will boost your strength, the nuts contain all the good oils and protein you need, and the honey is a natural antibiotic for your sore ass.”

  “Oh.” I flush a little, not sure what to say.

  “I know how you drink your tea, but how
do you like your coffee?”

  “Two sugars and milk, please.”

  He adds the milk and sugar, stirs, and pushes the mug toward me. “Eat up. You need it. Careful not to burn your mouth. It’s hot.”

  I can just sit here and bask in his care and consideration all day long. I haven’t felt this alive since… No, I don’t want to think about Evan now. I don’t want to compare a dead man with Brian when I should simply be enjoying the present moment.

  “What are your plans for today?” he asks.

  “Catching up with some work.” I take a spoonful of oatmeal and blow on it. “How about you?”

  “I’m working at the building site, but I’m free tonight.” He gives me an uncertain smile. “Want to hang out?”

  My heart lurches. “Sure. What did you have in mind?”

  He watches me over his untouched bowl of food, his arms crossed on the table. There’s a flicker of nervousness in his eyes. “How about I take you out to dinner?”

  “You want to take me out to dinner?”

  I expected a repeat of last night, but not going out. Somehow, I thought being seeing with me in public would be the last thing on his mind.

  “Yes,” he says. “I can make a reservation at Oscars.”

  I stare at him in surprise. The place is out of a student with a part-time job’s league, but I’m not going to insult him by bringing up money. If he suggested Oscars, it’s because he’s thought it through and decided he can afford it. Bringing me there must be important to him. The least I can do is accept gracefully.

  “Thank you. That sounds wonderful.”

  His face lights up. “Yes?”

  I laugh. “Yes. Is it a special occasion?”

  “Just dinner.”

  “All right, then. At what time must I be ready?”

  “Seven. I’ll pick you up.”