by Daisy Jane
“You can live in the dorms or we can find you a place—much safer and nicer than this. You’ll never live anywhere like that again,” he glances up at the apartment above the Chinese food restaurant, the one where my few things still reside.
“Or,” he curls his fingers into me and I lift on a moan, wild and breathless. His hands on me feel like the end of the world closing in around me, so fucking good.
“I buy a place in Connecticut and we live there together and I go into the city when I need to, otherwise, I do meetings virtually.” He presses his lips against my neck, down to my collarbone, his tongue dipping into the hidden flesh below my fuzzy white sweater.
“Oh Brooks,” my fingers filter through his hair and I tug at him gently, needing to taste his lips. We kiss, his tongue sweeps through my mouth and he bites my bottom lip gently before pulling away.
“Is it too much too fast?” he smooths a thumb across my cheek and wipes away a tear that I didn’t even know was there. “I don’t want to rush you or push you, baby, but I know what I want. After all these years, I know what I want. And it’s you.”
“You’d buy an entire commercial development in another state, move, you’d do all that for me?” I let my fingers walk down his chest until they reach his belt. The metal is cold against my hot, needy skin and I tug at it gently without unbuckling. “What if—” he stops me.
“I love you Britta. And you love me. There is nothing else that goes with those two sentences. I love you. You love me,” he cups my face in his hands, steady and powerful, and dusts the tip of my nose with a kiss.
“I can’t believe it, all of it,” I admit, “I was preparing myself to be let down easy.”
“You didn’t feel how much I wanted you the last six weeks?” he kisses me again.
“I didn’t want to believe it, in case it wasn’t real,” I admit, stray tears embarrassing me by colliding with his hands on my face.
“Be my girlfriend, that’s all you have to agree to and I will take care of everything else,” he says into my temple before he kisses me there, again.
“Together, in day light, outside of the house, for real,” I confirm.
“There’s no other way,” he finds my mouth and our lips pull together, one of his fingers slipping behind the elastic of my panties, dipping into my wet flesh.
And I know now, whatever conversations we need to have, will have to wait. They absolutely have to.
Falling back into my seat, I smooth my skirt out and calm my hair down as Brooks adjusts himself in the driver’s seat. He’s mine now, and though I know it, I still can’t help but feel a bit naughty and dirty when I glance across the cab at his crotch and see him, under those expensive black dress slacks, rigid and throbbing, all for me.
He sees me looking and I flush, a smile plays at his lips. Looking forward, he drives out of the parking lot.
“Wait, should I get anything from my place right now? Since we’re here?” I assume I’ll be spending the night. Maybe many nights.
“I am pushing my abilities to wait,” he moves the buckle at his waist and I get an eyeful of hard cock smothered in rich fabric. “If you need anything from your place, we’ll take a night drive through the city,” he says, planning a beautiful date so effortlessly and casually. I love how he does everything with such confidence and ease, it makes me feel secure, too.
“Okay,” I say, not caring enough about the apartment to cast it a second glance. “Are you good to drive?” I ask him, gnawing nervously at the side of my lip as I quietly unbuckle my seatbelt.
“Britta, I stopped drinking casually six weeks ago,” his brow dips with confusion as he casts me a sideways look, then he sees my seat belt off and glances back to me again. He groans before looking back at the road.
“I know, that’s not what I mean,” though it hits me like a ton of bricks as I slither over the center console of the car that he’d given up alcohol because of not wanting to spark any bad memories from my past. I didn’t ask, he did it on his own. It felt substantial.
“I can’t believe you’d do that for me,” I said, my eyes burning into his profile as I unbuckled his belt, too. His Adam’s apple bobbed as my hand grazed his chest, tucking the seatbelt by the door.
“I mean,” I continued, my fingers working his belt over, “are you okay to drive while I go down on you?” the sound of his zipper descending at my hand worked like a shot of adrenaline in my veins, making my whole body come alive. I was on a mission now.
“Fuck, Britta,” his heavy hand on my head, thick digits tangled in my wild hair, I heard him lean back, I heard his other hand close and squeeze on the leather steering wheel.
“It’s not safe,” he growled as my hand finally found him, under the tail of his shirt, through the cotton of his boxers. It’d been weeks since I’d felt him this way, bare and rigid in my hand. I gaze down at his thick, hardened cock, and his voice is rough when he says my name again.
“Britta,” and before I get tantalized by the hot steel in my fingers, I slip him into my mouth. I’ve missed him so much, in this way. He cages a growl in as I move my mouth down his length until my lips are pressed tight against his pants. The back of my throat tickles and spit pools inside my mouth but he’s so deep inside me now, I don’t want to let up. I want to feel him like this, straining, holding back for me.
“I don’t want to come like this,” he snarls as I let my tongue push past his rigid flesh, lapping at his skin. “Oh fuck, Britta, baby, not like this,” and I lift off him, the salty taste left on my tongue making me starving. Needing to devour him.
I have my fun putting him back in his pants and he gasps and rumbles behind the wheel, at my mercy, making my heart race knowing he’ll be in control when we get back to his house.
I can’t wait to give him control.
25
Britta
It’s been so long since we’ve been together in this way. Smoldering eyes, jaw clenched tight, his chest rises and falls along with the beats of my heart. It feels so good being with him again. Though we’re still a few feet apart I swear I can feel the heat radiating from him, fiery and raw. I’ve thought about him so much these last weeks, I know as soon as he touches me, I’m going to come so fast. Just the feel of his skin against my bare parts and I’ll fold, I know it.
“I’ve wanted you so bad,” I say on an exhale as he paces towards me, slow and intentional, the taste of him still on my lips. The look in his eyes tells me he wants this as bad as I do and it causes a surge of confidence inside me, to know a mature, handsome man like Brooks wants me. He wants me, not just my body, but he wants the actual Britta. The one with just dreams and no resume, the one who still hasn’t figured things out and is still learning. Despite it all, he wants me.
“You don’t know what want is,” he growls, bending down, slanting his mouth over mine. I moan and his mouth catches it, pens it in between us, the taste of him making my thighs tingle.
“I don’t just want you. I need you,” he says between wild kisses, his palms sliding under my sweater, cupping my breasts. Warm and rough, his touch is everything.
We padded our way from the garage to the kitchen, up the stairs and by the time we’d reached his room, all we had on was underwear. The room was dark, only a stream of light from the hall drawn across the floor. That sliver illuminated the side of his face, his arm and chest. My heart beat with the force of a thousand hammers as I took in his slender yet built physique, the delicious v dipping into his boxers from his hips. I loved that the hair on his chest was just a little grayer, a little softer than the hair on his head and I loved that when he reached for me, his muscled strained and tightened. His dark eyes held their gaze on me and as he pulled me into him and I nearly melted. Being held by him, our sticky, needy skin pressed together with nowhere to hide, it felt right.
He puts me on the bed then I feel him hook his fingers through my panties, his lips dragging a line down my leg as he tugs, tugs them off me completely. His erection rest
s on my bare ass, hot and heavy, as his lips fight my hair for that soft spot on my neck. He sucks in a deep, slow breath and I feel his cock flex and strain against me, and it nearly takes my breath away. I want him so bad. I’m afraid I’m going to come so fast and ruin it.
“Cake,” he rasps, “I smelled you in my house before I met you. You smell so fucking sweet, like cake,” he growls, nipping at my neck, the top of my shoulders, his lips now on my spine. Liquid heat spreads between my thighs, the pink flesh there swollen, aching.
“And somehow,” he grits, “you taste even fucking sweeter.”
He wraps an arm under my hips and yanks me to my knees on the bed, his rigid cock pinned to my bare ass. A squeal escapes me as I get my bearings, Brooks tearing through a square of foil behind me. I hear him work his dick to roll down the condom and I wish I could see him handling himself that way. And before I can even glance behind me, his fingertips drive into my hips and he pulls back, straight onto that impressive length of his.
“Oh!” I squeal, sitting back on him, absorbing him, letting my tight, wet pussy adjust to his size.
From his knees behind me, he wraps an arm around my chest and lifts me up, kissing behind my ear.
“Take it how you want it,” his voice sounds dark in my ear, low and rippled with passion. I nod, breathlessly, and fall forward onto belly, hollowing myself as he slides out of me. Flipping onto my back, I let my legs fall open drawing his darkening eyes to the hot, pink flesh there. He wraps a hand around himself and strokes, slow, base to tip, rolling his palm over the glistening need that forms at the peak of him. I can’t wait, I need him, everywhere.
“Taste me,” I whisper, shy to admit what I want, nervous to show him that side of me so completely now.
He runs his palms over the tops of my legs, making my nipples turn to stiff peaks, my spine rolls, breathing now jagged. And then his mouth is there, tasting as much as possible, as slowly as possible. His tongue discovers the seam of me, over and over, faster and faster until I am completely powerless to do anything but clench the sheets, scream for him, scream for more, now, right there.
I’m breathing, panting, gasping as he presses his lips over my clit, tightly, and introduces his tongue in small, tight circles, his fingers now to the hilt. The lights go out, my hips sail into the air, explosions fill the peripheral of my existence, noises everywhere but nothing makes sense. I am powerless underneath him, the orgasm he’s giving me is so big, powerful, profound. He opens his mouth with a moan and I come again, breathlessly, clenching on him, releasing him, over and over until I’m a puddle of sticky skin and sweat in his bed.
He lays next to me, in no hurry to get his, but as I make my way down from my orgasmic haze, I remember the road head in the car, on the drive here. Straddling him, I put his sheathed cock between us and slip it inside me, still wet and throbbing from my orgasm.
“Ohh,” he groans as I settle into his lap, his cock pushed so deep inside me that I cough as I adjust, making room for all of him. He’s so big it nearly feels like he tears me when I put him inside me, but my body adjusts, as if he were meant to fill me. Because as he rolls his hips underneath me, I know that nothing else could ever fill me up the way he does. It feels so right. I lean down and kiss his neck, taste his salty skin as he pins my power half with his palm, holding me still while he pumps his eager cock up into me, faster and faster. There isn’t a cinematic quality to what we’re doing, there is only raw hunger made more virile by the physical break we took, and we tear into each other now, my bra flying across the room as he rolls me on my back.
He slows his movements, rolling his hips tightly to mine, pushing and pulling himself out of me like he was playing a fine string instrument. His nose drags against mine as he impales me, moving me higher up the bed.
Though I’ve just come, I feel close already, Brooks’ arms caging me to the bed, his cock flattening me to the mattress. He’s so handsome, the way his body ripples and flexes over mine, how his neck straining tightly as he drives inside me, holding back from his own release.
“I’m sorry,” I pant, throwing a sweaty palm over my face.
He holds his body up on one arm long enough to tug my hand from my face.
“What’s the matter, baby?” he leans down and kisses me and it’s the last bit of contact needed to send me to the place of no return.
“I wanted to come with you,” I rasp, clinging to him, arms everywhere on his torso as my pussy nearly strangles him, squeezing hard, gripping him. “Oh god, Brooks,” I nibble the bottom of his earlobe, the faint scent of his amber cologne making my heart nearly trip up mid-orgasm. “Oh my god, I love you,” I tell him, my orgasm rolling through me with the subtlety of fireworks. I wrap my legs around him, dig my heels into the soft flesh of his ass and drive him deeper inside me as my ride comes to an end. The roar now just a soft lulling of water against melting sands. Finally, I can breathe.
When I open my eyes and find his in the darkness, he drives into me one more time, quick and hard, our gaze still held. Then he stills inside of me and he throbs, pulse after pulse and I feel it in my veins. He fills the condom, unmoving over me, our eyes still tangled in a nonverbal conversation.
“I love you, too,” he pants, pulling himself from me. As he slips away to dispose of the condom, I touch myself where he just was and think of how good it felt to have him inside me, coming inside me, giving me the most intimate part of himself.
He settles into the bed next to me and kisses my bare, raspberry nipple, then my neck, and grabs my chin and kisses me firmly on the lips. On his back next to me he takes my hand, like he did that first night, and weaves our fingers together, resting them on his chest.
“I remember my first vacation. I remember my first heartbreak. I remember my first drink. I don’t remember my first kiss. I remember everything,” his hand squeezes mine against his heart as I recite his words, his poem, the thing that piqued my interest in Brooks from the start. “It’s beautiful, you should write more,” I tell him, wondering if we would have ever met had I not read that note on the floor.
“Everything I wrote before was drab,” he explained, “but now that I have a muse, maybe I will. I don’t know.”
A muse. I smiled to myself, my cheek against his chest, my eyes growing heavy with post-orgasm bliss.
“It’s a shame you’ll have to forget that poem,” he exhales, tracing his fingertips down the length of my arm now, leaving my hands empty.
“What? No!” I protest, and I think though I’ve never explicitly stated it, he knows how much that poem had grown to mean to me.
“It’s just not true anymore. I had my first kiss. Today, at your apartment. I’ll never forget it,” his voice is low and though he’s swathed his admission in a gentle teasing, I know he’s being vulnerable and real.
“Me too,” I catch his fingers on my arm and bring them to my lips, kissing the tip of each one slowly, methodically. “Some actual firsts too,” I let my tongue wrap around one of his fingers and he groans, loud and low. “I’d never gone down on a man before, I’ve never given road head,” I trail off, enjoying teasing him this way. “There’s other things I’ve never done either.”
He rolls to his side where his dick stands against his belly, hard and ready. I eye it, and try to tell myself to get used to seeing him this way, since we’re together now. Still, though, it’s so hard to believe. Brooks is so handsome; I am so lucky.
“I’ll get you all caught up, baby,” he smiles and it makes sunshine inside me, warm and happy.
“Good,” I kiss his chest and let my fingers travel down to his hard heat that waits just for me. “I can’t wait to remember everything.”
Epilogue / Brooks
One Year Later
Even a year later we could barely stand being away from each other. When I’d hired a professional baker to train Britta privately from home, she said she fell in love with being home. I’d been working from home, too, and we got to spend so much time together. T
he bedroom door had never been closed this much. We couldn’t keep our hands off of each other. I was nearing fifty years old and having the fucking best sex of my life.
She wanders into the kitchen, her tangled hair a symptom of her wild yet peaceful sleep. I can’t believe that when I met Britta, she hadn’t slept in a bed in years. My t-shirt droops off one of her shoulders, leaving a patch of smooth skin exposed. I plant my lips there, slowly, as she groans a beautiful good morning under her breath, arms stretching into the air above. I press my body to hers and run my hands up the front of her shirt, filling my palms with her breasts. She moans, pushing her perky ass into my crotch, which thickens in my jeans.
“Coffee?” she yawns, reaching for the pot, pausing when she sees it’s made. She throws her head over her shoulder, back to me. “How long have you been up?”
“An hour,” I bury my lips in that long, golden hair as I kiss the warm skin on her neck. My belly still flutters. I still ache to be inside of her, to touch her, listen to her sweet giggles and her shocked gasps—she’s still everything to me.
“Anxious?” she winks as she lifts the pot, her small arm shaking to steady it as she pours more coffee into my mug, then hers. Always putting everyone before herself.
“No,” I say, honestly. “Excited.”
Britta’s home lessons had been grueling, but because she went at the pace she wanted—nonstop from sunrise to sunset, more or less—she had passed all necessary exams after just one year. Melody was excited to have Britta a bit ahead—she could help her practice for exams. The two of them still loved baking together. We’d made many a road trip to Connecticut so they could make tiny cookies in an equally tiny condominium.
Today we were driving to Connecticut to, for the first time, see the properties I’d purchased last year. At the time, it seemed so far off for her to own her own little bakery. But now that the dream was tangible, it seemed like a perfect time to see the locations.