Young Enough (The Age Between Us Book 2) Read online

  With him holding me like this, I can’t take anything, but he offers it to me when our mouths finally meet. Our teeth and tongues clash together. It’s rough and tender. He devours me with a sweetness I’ve never tasted. He places my hand on his shoulder and goes for the zipper of his jeans, not bothering to undo the top button. My gaze is drawn down when he frees his cock. His long length juts through the open fly, the head broad and wet with pre-cum. I slip my hand down his side so I can move the hem of his T-shirt up to expose the trail of blond hair that runs from his navel down into his waistband. I sweep my palm lower, not touching his cock, but weighing his balls through the thick fabric of his jeans. Golden hair cushions the base. It’s strangely erotic, seeing him naked through only his open fly.

  Bunching my dress in a fist, he pushes it over my hips. The crotch of my panties is damp. He moves the elastic aside with a finger and runs the tip through my slit. Satisfied that I’m wet, he bends his knees, positions his cock, and drives home in a hard thrust.

  The impact knocks the air from my lungs. My body shifts up the wall as he pulls out and thrusts again, harder this time. He’s splitting me in two, penetrating too deep, but pleasure is already gathering in my lower body. Gripping my thigh, he pulls it around his back, opening me wider. He sucks the skin of my neck, kissing and nipping his way to my jaw while he pounds into me with a pace that soon has my knees go weak. He’s jostling my breasts and body. He grips my hips with bruising force to keep me in place while he fucks me like this is our last moment. I don’t have enough strength to defy him, not that I want to.

  My pleasure is building. There’s friction on my clit where he penetrates me, but before it can accumulate into something substantial, he pulls out and pushes me to my knees. His cock rubs against my lips. I open to take him.

  “Taste your cunt on me,” he says, spearing his fingers through my hair.

  He goes straight for my throat. I barely have time to swallow. My eyes water, and I try to breathe through my nose as he takes me deep. When he gives me air, I lick over the head and down the underside of his cock. My taste on him is like rain before the storm. His taste is powerful, like the wet earth after the rain.

  He makes a grumbling noise in his chest. “Goddammit. Yes.”

  I’m hungry. Eager. I want more. I reach for the button of his jeans, but before I can undo it, he rips himself from my mouth, gripping the base of his cock hard.

  “Fuck. Fuck.”

  In a second flat, we’ve reversed positions. I’m pushed up against the wall once more and he’s on his knees, his teeth and tongue on my pussy. It’s too much. I’m too close. When he clamps his lips over my clit and sucks, I come violently, shaking in his hold. The aftershocks are barely over before he flips me around with my cheek pressed against the stone bricks and spreads my legs. I’m expecting him to push in from behind, but he’s smearing my wetness around my anus.

  “Not like this.” I start to wiggle. The position is not ideal.

  The slick head of his cock is already nudging my tight entrance.

  “Brian.”

  “Shh.”

  He pushes up a little, breaching my barrier. It hurts, but not as much as I expected. It’s a pain I need, a darkness I embrace.

  Painstakingly slow, he buries himself deeper. My body is soft from the climax, making his passage easier. He’s breathing hard. There’s a fierceness on his face as I glance back at him. Another thrust makes me moan in a mixture of ecstasy and agony. Towards the end, it’s harder to take him.

  “You’re mine, Jane.” Another inch. “No matter how. No matter why.”

  He shoves home. I cry out. My muscles tense involuntary. Our bodies are flush together, his balls pressed against my pussy. I can hear the crunch of his teeth as he grits them hard.

  “Jesus, Jane, you’re tight.”

  I try to relax with deep breaths, but it’s impossible when he starts moving. He’s careful, but his length is grueling.

  “Say it,” he says with a thrust of his hips. “Tell me who you love.”

  “You. I love you.”

  His pounding turns harder. My nipples scrape over the rough surface of the wall through the thin fabric of my dress. The breath leaves my body with every shove until I’m nothing but erotic gasps and a dark, forbidden kind of need.

  “Brian.”

  It’s a plea. I can’t take more but I need so much.

  His hand moves between my body and the wall. Cupping my sex, he sinks two fingers inside. My back arches from the sudden and instant pleasure, giving him my ass at a different angle. If at all possible, he penetrates me deeper. My scream must’ve been heard all the way to the main house. The pleasure starts again, more intense, this time. I’m too full. His cock and fingers work in sync to bring me to a second orgasm, one that starts from a darker part and that I instinctively know is going to shatter me. It’s when his thumb moves in circles on my clit that the first spark starts. It burns closer and closer. My senses are scrambled. I can’t tell pain from ecstasy or breathing from drowning. I close my eyes. Brian is punishing my body. He’s fucking my ass with brutal force, his fingers in my channel no less forgiving. His thumb is relentless on my clit. It feels as if he’s going to push me straight through the wall. My legs won’t carry me, any longer. Only his body holds me up as he demands even more.

  “Give it to me, princess.”

  I’m helpless to stop it. I only hope I’ll survive. I don’t have enough air left to cry out. It’s building, building, until I’m sure I’ll drown. It goes up and up, and I’m five years old in a rollercoaster and scared to death.

  “B–Brian!”

  “I’ve got you. Let it go.”

  I can’t, because my pleasure is a monster that won’t be dictated. Heat diffuses in my lower body, burning down to my folds and clit. It spreads through my thighs to the back of my knees and the soles of my feet. If it’s meant to prepare me for what’s coming, like the swell of a tide before the freak wave, it fails miserably. Nothing can prepare me for the pleasure that finally rocks me. It sizzles through my insides like an electric torrent, locking every muscle in place. Vaguely, I’m aware of Brian cussing madly. I’m much more aware of how hard his fingers grip my hip, and how his cock seems to swell and pulse in my ass. He jerks, crushing me against the wall with his weight. His hips roll, and his cock stabs one last time, and then he collapses over me, bracing his hands next to my face.

  One by one, my muscles relax. If Brian didn’t wrap an arm around my waist, I’d be sliding to the floor. He kisses my nape, whispering tender words and telling me to take a deep breath and relax.

  “I’m sorry,” he says with genuine regret before he pulls out of my ass.

  I hiss at the burn of his cum on the skin he fucked raw. There’s a rustling of fabric and pieces of clothing dropping to the floor. I’m not capable of agreeing or protesting when he scoops me into his arms and carries me to the bathroom where he swiftly undresses me. He keeps one arm around my waist while he turns on the water and waits for it to warm. There’s no place to sit, except for on the floor, and that’s what Brian does, pulling me into his lap. He washes my hair and body, his touch gentle, and after he’s cleaned himself, he lifts me to my feet and makes me bend over with my hands resting on the wall.

  “Can you stand like this without falling over?” he asks.

  I don’t have to answer. My legs are shaking too badly. I’ve never been fucked so hard. I’ve never come so hard. He holds my waist again, making sure I don’t slip on the tiles, and removes the shower nozzle from its holder to point it at my ass. I gasp when the first jet of water hits my dark entrance.

  “Sorry.” He kisses my back. “I have to wash the sperm out. It’ll help for the burn.”

  I let him tend to my most private parts until the water starts running cold. He first wraps me up in a towel and then himself before carrying me to the bed. Lying on his side, he pulls me tight against him. I snuggle deeper, absorbing his heat and the comfort of his arms.
There’s a quiet accord between us while the night outside is loud. Crickets chirp in a choir of agreeable harmony while frogs croak out of tune. A lonely bird calls from somewhere, strange for this hour of the night. Maybe a lizard is stalking its nest. It’s the hushed discord, the words that aren’t spoken, that breaks the peace.

  Don’t go.

  An hour or more passes before Brian quietly gets up. I clutch the pillow to my chest. If I pretend to be sleeping, will it be easier? Will it be easier to hear the sounds he makes as he sees himself out than hugging and kissing him at the door, letting the full force of the loneliness he’ll leave slap me in the face? Finally, I can’t bear it. I pull on a robe and walk through the dark house. He’s dressing by the light of his cell phone in the lounge, picking up pieces of clothing from the floor. I was so out of it, I don’t even know when he undressed. All I remember was his cock through his fly, his body clothed, and my soul naked.

  He pauses when he sees me. “I didn’t want to wake you. You needed the rest.”

  “What time is it?”

  “Just before midnight.”

  “You have to go.”

  Regret again. “Yes.” In the blue light of the phone, his expression is pained.

  “Stay for another hour. I’ll make us something to eat.”

  “Are you hungry?”

  “Starving.”

  He walks to me barefoot and wraps me up in his arms. “Didn’t you have dinner?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Jane.” His voice is angry. “You didn’t have lunch, either. You have to take care of yourself.”

  Going on tiptoes, I kiss his cheek. “Keep me company. Please.”

  His eyes soften. “What do you feel like?”

  “I have steak in the fridge, and I can throw together a salad. Will you join me?”

  “I can always eat.”

  Taking his hand, I lead him to the kitchen that is littered with half-packed boxes and uncertainty.

  Tonight, I’ve gained one more hour.

  Brian

  Jane is standing in front of the pan, a spatula in her hand.

  “Food’s ready,” she says just as I put the salad on the table.

  Taking the spatula from her hand, I serve the steaks on our plates and leave the dirty pan on the stove before I pull her onto my lap.

  She smells of fried meat and fat, and I find it oddly disturbing. I don’t want the dirty smells of the world clinging to her. I don’t want my secrets to soil her, but it’s too late. I’ve dragged her under the day I wrapped my hands around her waist to lift her onto her pull-up bar.

  I hug her tighter and nuzzle her temple. “I don’t like that you work so hard. You should’ve let me do the cooking.”

  “You call frying a steak hard work?”

  “It’s not just that.” I motion at the boxes. “You don’t touch another one until I’m here to help.”

  “I’m not made of glass.”

  “I know. Still.”

  “Still, what?”

  “I want to take care of you. I need to take care of you.”

  She kisses my cheek. “You are taking care of me.”

  Keeping my arms wrapped around her, I cut her meat into pieces, pierce one with the fork, and bring it to her lips. It gives me huge joy to do this, to take care of her. More than I can explain.

  “Your food’s getting cold,” she says.

  “My food will be just fine. Open.”

  She obeys, letting me feed her until her plate is empty. While I eat, she makes tea. I know what she’s doing. She’s delaying the inevitable goodbye. Fuck knows, I don’t want to go. I want to be with her every minute of every day. I want to be with her in the office. I want everyone to know, but there’s a lot of sewerage water that needs to run under the bridge before than can happen.

  When the tea is gone and the dishes done, I order her back to bed.

  “I’ll see you out,” she says.

  “I’m not done with you.”

  Her cheeks flush a little. “I’m not sure I can take more, tonight.”

  Guilt rides me hard for the way I’ve lost control. “I know you can’t. Go to the bedroom and bend over the bed.”

  She watches me nervously. “Why?”

  Taking her hand, I lead her to the bedroom and leave her by the bed while I go through her bathroom cabinet. I return with a tube of vaginal anesthetic cream.

  “Oh,” she says when she sees the tube.

  She bends slightly at the waist, watching me from over her shoulder. Putting a palm on her lower back, I push her down all the way and lift her robe over her ass. Her ass cheeks are creamy and soft. Just seeing them makes me want to plant my dick between them again, but I know she’s sore.

  “This’ll be cold,” I warn.

  I lubricate my finger with a generous amount of the cream and sink my finger slowly into her tight asshole that took my cock so prettily. She jerks.

  “You all right?”

  She nods, biting her lip.

  Twisting my finger a couple of times, I make sure I get the soothing lotion everywhere, before I pull out and give her a gentle slap on the cheek.

  “All done.”

  She yelps and straightens. The color on her cheeks has deepened to a bright red. It amuses me. She’ll let me bury my cock up to my balls in her ass but blushes when I rub cream into her with my finger. I pull her robe down and kiss each pretty red cheek before washing my hands and putting the cream away.

  When I take her in my arms at the door, our kiss is soft. It’s like we’re always doing things in reverse, the foreplay coming after the fucking.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, princess.”

  “I’ll be waiting.”

  “Will you welcome me at the door?”

  “If you wish.”

  “With a kiss.”

  “With a kiss,” she agrees.

  That’s the sweetest promise anyone has made me. No lover has ever waited for me at the door.

  Jane

  The week is spent signing a new lease contract, cleaning the cottage and new townhouse, and packing. It’s the second time I move in a few weeks. The shed snakeskin I find between my jerseys only confirms I’ve made the right decision.

  The exams have ended, and school has finished. Abby got special permission to do oral exams, since her vision is still not one hundred percent back to normal. The doctor assures us her eyesight will return. She’s still living with Francois and Debbie. I can’t wait to bring her home, especially since it’ll be Christmas soon, and we agreed she’ll spend her first Christmas with her father. I miss her. I want to see as much of her as I can before the holiday.

  Brian takes charge of another move, but this time Clive isn’t there to help. When I’m not working overtime to save my Monroe account, I’m unpacking. Brian is there every night, unwrapping crockery, washing the plates that have been wrapped in paper, and cooking dinner.

  It feels like forever before everything is once more in its place and I can call Abby to let her know her new room is ready. Francois offers to drop her and Dusty off on Friday after work. I gladly accept. It gives me time to cook a special welcoming meal.

  I put flowers on the table and let the chocolate mousse set in the fridge. The schnitzel is just done when the bell rings.

  Rushing to the door, I open it wide, but there’s only Francois.

  I peer over his shoulder to where his car is parked in the driveway. It’s empty.

  “Where’s Abby?” I ask.

  “With Debs.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “We need to talk.” He walks past me into the house.

  I follow him sheepishly into the lounge.

  He faces the window with his back to me for what seems like the longest time before he turns.

  My stomach tumbles and drops like a stone. “Francois, talk to me. What’s going on? Why isn’t Abby with you?”

  His expression is grave. No, beneath the mask he’s furious. “Abby says B
rian touched her. Indecently.”

  6

  Jane

  My legs threaten to cave in. I grip the chair back hard. “What?”

  “You heard me.” Francois’ arms hang passively at his sides, but underneath the calm there’s a quiet storm brewing. Those are the worst ones–the quiet storms–because they’re unpredictable and hit where and when you least expect.

  I’m trying to wrap my head around what he’s said, but the words don’t make sense. Not Brian. Never. But this is my baby girl.

  “They’ve met once.” One time. I trusted Brian. I trust him. Was I wrong?

  Francois’ tone is even, giving away nothing. “Did you leave Abby alone with Brian?”

  “For twenty minutes.”

  He gives me a strange look.

  “I was in the kitchen,” I exclaim. “They were on the deck. There were only a few meters between us. The doors were open, for God’s sake.”

  “Could you see them?”

  “No.”

  “Then twenty minutes were too long.”

  I round the chair. “What did she say?” My body is shaking, but the trembling of my heart is worse.

  “I’d rather she tells you herself.”

  “Why didn’t you bring her? I need to talk to her. This is my daughter, Francois.”

  “In the light of what’s passed, I don’t think it’s a good idea that she comes home to you.”

  My limbs turn cold. A sick feeling makes my stomach heave. My voice is calm, but I can feel the hysteria creeping up on me. “You can’t keep her away from me.”

  “You can see her tomorrow evening at our place. She’s in bed, now. Debs gave her something to help her sleep.”

  My lips feel numb. “When did she tell you?”

  “Just before we were supposed to leave.”

  Why didn’t she tell me?

  “We’ll see you tomorrow,” he says. “Make it at six.”

  He doesn’t wait for a confirmation. He walks around me and out of the room. The click of the front door confirms his departure.