Old Enough Read online

  “Yeah,” I say as he leaves the room.

  The gap between us has just become another inch wider.

  Jane

  The office is in uproar when I arrive on Tuesday morning. Erica, our receptionist, called in sick, and our recruitment company is still looking for a temp to stand in for the week. The assistants take turns to man the front desk and phone, which leaves my small team a member short for a few hours. Everyone is running behind schedule. On top of that, my Bakers client wants an emergency promotion to boost the relaunch of a cookie range that isn’t performing as well as anticipated. This adds another chunk of stress to my day. I’m barely meeting my deadlines as it is.

  By lunchtime, I’m mentally and physically exhausted. There’s no time to go out and get something to eat, and with my assistant in reception, I can’t send her to pick up something healthy from Woollies. I should’ve packed lunch, but I crashed into bed early last night, preparing nothing more than Abby’s snack for school, and despite being up before sunrise, I ran late this morning due to Abby’s hair crisis. I had to help her fix it no less than four times before she settled for a ponytail. The emergency stock of cereal bars and dried figs in my drawer will have to do. I’ve just removed the wrapper of a Snacker when Candice, my assistant, dials to inform me I have a visitor downstairs.

  I frown. Pulling up my agenda on my phone, I double-check that I have no appointments. Maybe it’s a proof delivery from the printer. With an inward sigh, I abandon my untouched Snacker, pull my jacket straight, and make my way downstairs. In the foyer, I come to an abrupt halt. Brian is standing in the middle of the floor, scanning the surroundings. My core heats with a rush of warmth before it hits my cheeks. Dressed in ripped jeans and a tight T-shirt, he’s mouthwateringly delicious. His dark blond hair is messy. The sun filtering through the windows catches the highlights. When he spots me, he smiles, exposing his dimple. His hands are tucked into his back pockets, stretching the jeans over his narrow hips. Even through the thick material, the long length of his cock is visible where it bulges beneath his zipper and rests against his inner thigh. I swallow, catching Candice’s eyes. There’s a question as well as admiration in her gaze as she drags it from Brian to me.

  “Hi,” I say, recovering quickly from my shock.

  He does that thing where he zones in on me, making the room and everyone else in it disappear.

  His voice is smooth and husky when he replies. “Hey.”

  Taking his arm, I lead him to the small boardroom off the side. I don’t talk until the door is closed, but we’re visible through the glass walls.

  “What are you doing here?”

  He cocks his head. “Not happy to see me?”

  I shouldn’t have told him where I work. I don’t mix business and pleasure, and Brian falls into the latter category.

  “Brian, I’m really busy.”

  He assesses my body, taking his time in doing so. “You look stunning.”

  Unable to stop myself from fiddling, I touch the hem of my jacket. “Thanks, but that doesn’t answer my question. Why are you here?”

  “Are you losing weight?”

  I stare at him in confusion. “What?”

  He motions at my waist. “I swear your stomach is getting flatter. When was the last time you ate?”

  “Last night, but–”

  “No breakfast?”

  “I didn’t have time.”

  “Did you go for a run?”

  “Of course.”

  “You ran without refueling your body?”

  “This morning was an exception.”

  He takes a step toward me, standing too close for what’s considered socially acceptable. “Did something happen?”

  I want to tell him he has no place coming to my office, but the genuine concern in his voice weakens my resolve. “Nothing serious. Abby had a bad hair day.”

  His face muscles slacken.

  “I’m sorry, Brian, but I have to get back to work. I’m drowning in deadlines.”

  “Health comes first.”

  Taking my hand, he pulls me toward the door.

  “What are you doing?” I ask through my teeth, glancing around to see if anyone is watching.

  “I’m going to feed you.”

  “Brian, please.”

  I dig in my heels, but I’m no match for his strength. He simply drags me along. If I don’t want to cause a scene, I have to follow.

  “My bag,” I say meekly when he heads for the exit.

  He smiles back at me from over his shoulder. “I’ve got this.” As we pass the reception desk, he says to Candice, “She’ll be back by two.”

  Her stare follows us into the parking where Brian bundles me into his truck. It’s as hot as a summer’s day in Pretoria can be and hotter. After the air-conditioned interior of the office, the pressing heat feels worse. The inside of the vehicle is an oven. I peel off my jacket, sweat already making the dress stick to my back. He reaches over me and unwinds the window, flashing me one of his irresistible smiles. The hot wind doesn’t do much to cool me down.

  I wipe the hair from my face, pressing it flat on top of my head to prevent it from blowing into my eyes as he pulls off. “Where are we going?”

  He glances at me. A smile flirts with his lips. When we’ve cleared the hill after Centurion, he puts his hand on my thigh. The contact makes a shiver race over my skin. His middle finger brushes under the hem of my dress, drawing circles on my inner thigh. The touch is precariously close to the crotch of my panties. A flick of his finger and he’ll stroke my clit. I bite down on my lip, trying to focus on the road to get an idea of what his plans are, but my core is swelling and getting slick. He doesn’t go any further, seemingly content to do nothing but tease, unless he’s unaware of the effect he has on me.

  At the mall, he pulls in at the Naturo drive-through and orders two vegetarian pitta breads, a fruit salad, and lemon water. I do have to eat, and I’m starving. Instead of questioning him again, I sit back and wait to see where he takes us. He drives toward Midrand. Where the office parks and housing development end, he takes an unfinished road and parks. We’re surrounded by tall Highveld grass. The plateau stretches to the horizon from where the skyline of the Dainfern Golf Estate is visible. The cars traversing the highway are audible, but otherwise it’s peaceful. The breeze moves the grass, the rustling sound serene. Grabbing the food parcels, he comes around and opens my door. It’ll be difficult to navigate the field in my heels, and I can’t go barefoot. Though the grass looks deceivingly soft, the polls are hard enough to cut your soles. I’m still contemplating the problem when he scoops me up and carries me to the shade of an Acacia tree. He lowers me to my feet and stomps on a few polls until the hard stalks are flat and harmless. Taking off his T-shirt, he spreads it out over the grass and guides me down.

  We eat in silence. The food is good and wholesome, and I start to relax despite my work stress. When I attack the fruit salad, Brian angles his body away from me. When he doesn’t move by the time I’m halfway done, I lay a hand on his back. The muscles contract under my palm.

  “Brian? Is everything all right?”

  He tenses further.

  “What’s going on?” I ask, suddenly alarmed.

  “You done?” he asks, eyeing me from over his shoulder with a wince.

  “Yes. Why?”

  He turns back to me slowly. “It’s a thing I’ve got with eating noises.”

  “Eating noises?”

  He pulls a blade of grass from the poll. “A phobia, I guess.”

  “A phobia? With eating noises?”

  “It’s noisy chewing or drinking, and talking with a mouth full of food. I can’t stand it. It’s like dragging nails down a blackboard.”

  “I’m sorry. Did I chew noisily?”

  “No.” He offers me a weak smile. “You eat very ladylike, actually. Don’t mind me. It’s not your fault. It’s the crunch of the apple.”

  I smile. “The crunch of the apple, huh?”r />
  He shrugs.

  “I’ll pay more attention.”

  “No,” he says quickly. “Please, don’t. As I said, it’s my problem.”

  “How are you dealing with it?”

  He gives me a sheepish look. “Avoidance.”

  I offer him the half of the salad, but he shakes his head.

  Putting the container aside, I ask, “That’s your solution? You avoid eating with people?”

  “Can you think of a better one?”

  “Hypnosis?”

  His laugh is scruff. “Been there, done that.”

  “It didn’t work.”

  “No.”

  “What about your family?”

  “They know my tics. They pay special attention.”

  “You ate breakfast and drank tea with me. You must’ve been irritated out of your mind.”

  “You’re the exception, Jane.” A flash of a smile curves his lips. “Unless you eat apple.”

  “How about when I suck cock?”

  He goes still, his expression shocked, but it only lasts a second before his cheekbones darken. His eyes take on that dangerous, lustful look.

  When he reaches for his zipper, it’s my turn to be shocked.

  He pulls out his cock. “Come here and show me. I’ll tell you what your sucking noises do to me.”

  We’re sheltered by the tall grass. If another vehicle approaches on the deserted road, we’ll see it long before it arrives. I don’t hesitate. I pull my dress up to my hips so I can straddle him and grab his cock in my hands. This time, he doesn’t stop me from touching him.

  He leans back against the tree. “Give me all you’ve got, princess.”

  I do. I suck him deep and move my hands where my mouth doesn’t reach. It takes five seconds before he takes over, fucking my lips with a fast pace. My saliva coats his cock as he pushes to the back of my throat. I flatten my tongue to make space for him. He pulls out before plunging back in, quickly finding his rhythm. My jaw is stretched to the point of aching. I can’t control the noises. He takes my mouth roughly, forcing me to utter gurgling sounds.

  “Yes,” he hisses, grabbing my hair and tilting my head for our eyes to meet. “This is what your cock sucking noises do to me.”

  His balls contract under my palms. A tremor runs through his body. His neck muscles strain so hard the tendons and veins pop out. With a roar, he comes down my throat, not easing his hold until I’ve swallowed every drop. Only when I’ve licked him clean does he release me, his shoulders slumping against the trunk.

  “Fuck, Jane.” He stares at me from hooded eyes, his chest rising and falling. “Fuck, fuck.”

  His weakness and pleasure make me feel like I haven’t in years–wanted, beautiful.

  “I guess that gives blowjobs a green light,” I tease, wiping away the wetness that coats my chin.

  There’s no humor in his gaze as he keeps his heated stare fixed on me. “Stand up on your knees.”

  “What?”

  “I’m going to take care of you.”

  My insides go up in smoke. I love that he cares about my needs. When I’m on my knees, he pushes his hands up under my dress to grab my hips. I almost combust with anticipation. The way he holds my eyes as he pulls down my panties as far as they’ll go is so hot.

  “Do you want to unzip my dress?” I know how much he likes looking at my breasts.

  “No. If someone comes I want you covered.”

  I appreciate his consideration, too.

  “Are you ready, Jane?”

  “Yes.” I’m wet and needy. I ache to find release.

  Fastening one hand on my hip, he slips the other down my leg and up my inner thigh. I jerk when his fingers reach my core. His touch is light as he drags one finger through my soaked folds. I don’t need to tell him how turned on I am.

  “Now,” he says at the same time as he plunges his finger deep inside.

  The effect is shocking, surprising, pleasuring, and judging by the satisfied look on his face as I arch my back and cry out, exactly what he was aiming for. He runs circles over my clit with his thumb and curls his middle finger inside, hitting a spot that makes my hips move of their own accord. I whimper when he starts moving his hand as harshly as he’s penetrated me, fucking me deep and hard with his finger. The rhythm is grueling. I have to grip the tree to stabilize myself. The bark digs into my palms. Spots dance in my vision as he fucks me until I can’t take anymore.

  Pleasure starts to coil in my abdomen just as he adds a second finger. His pace turns even more relentless. Every time he hits my pussy with the heel of his palm, the breath leaves my lungs with a hitch. There are the noises I’m making, and the sound of his hand slapping my flesh. It’s dirty and erotic, right here in the open between the innocent bird song and swaying grass.

  “Come for me, Jane, only for me.”

  He must’ve read my expression, because his words are perfectly timed. My orgasm erupts, my inner walls contracting around his fingers. Pleasure floods my body. The pressure of his thumb on my clit prolongs the aftershocks that tingle down my spine. When I have nothing left to give and my legs feel like jelly, he pulls out to cup my sex gently. The warmth of his hand is soothing. It’s as if he’s calming the storm he caused. I rest my head on his shoulder, wanting nothing more than to curl up in his lap, but he’s already straightening my underwear.

  He kisses the shell of my ear. “We have to go.”

  “I know.”

  My lunch hour will long be over. Toby isn’t worried about our comings and goings as long as the job gets done, but Candice will be wondering what’s taking me so long.

  With my breathing more or less back to normal, I sit back. Brian’s hands are on my ass, squeezing gently.

  The act is playful but his tone serious when he says, “You sound delicious when you come. Every sound you make, every cry, every gasp when I push into your pussy are mine. These noises belong to me and me alone.”

  Heat creeps into my face at his bluntness. When I don’t immediately answer, his palm comes down hard on my ass, making me jump and cry out in surprise. The sting hurts, but in a good way. The darkness I’ve hidden deep inside threatens to surface. I want more. The dragon opens an eye and lifts her head.

  “Say it,” he says, his voice urgent.

  I know the game. I played it with Evan. Men like Brian need control. They want to own the situation, because they don’t share well.

  Playing by the rules, I give him the right answer. “Yours.”

  He all but jumps on me, grabbing my head between his broad palms and plundering my mouth as if it’s the end of the world. He steals my breath and feeds me his until I know nothing but his lips and his will. I’m gulping in air when he finally lets me go.

  Brushing a tender touch over my cheeks, he says, “We need to fix you up, or everyone will know what you’ve been doing.”

  Damn, and I don’t have my bag.

  Brian helps me to my feet, his cock already semi-hard through his open fly. Undisturbed by his nakedness, he pulls down my dress and drags his fingers through my hair. He takes his time to fix me while I itch to touch him again. I suppress the urge. If I do, we’ll get back even later. Finally satisfied, he adjusts his cock and zips himself up. He gathers the garbage and lifts me over his shoulder like a bag of marbles, carrying me back through the field to the truck. Once he’s buckled first my seatbelt and then his own, he throws the truck into gear and drives us back to the office.

  He insists on walking me in, but luckily there’s no one in reception. Instead of going straight to my office, I visit the Production Department. The detour gives me an excuse when Candice questions me.

  “Where have you been?” she asks with a glint of suspicion.

  “I had a quick bite to eat with Brian.”

  She checks her watch. “I wouldn’t call an hour and a half quick.”

  “I’ve been to Production since I got back.”

  “That was Brian? Holy smokes. What’s he to
you?”

  “None of your business,” I tease, but she won’t let me off the hook.

  “Friend or more than friends?”

  “We’re in the same business.”

  “He’s in advertising?”

  “Studying to be.”

  “You’d like me to believe this was a business meeting?”

  “Exactly.” That may not be what it was, but that’s what I’d like her to believe. Candice has too big a mouth to trust her with the truth.

  She makes a sound under her breath, which gives me the opportunity to escape to my desk.

  The game we’re playing has gone too far. I’m completely trapped in the web. It’s too late to walk away. Even if I want to, I won’t be able to stay away from Brian. It’s a beautiful, fragile, and addictive game.

  It’s a dangerous game. No one can ever know, but I trust Brian. I trust him to keep our secret.

  Brian

  I’m mindful of when Jane’s daughter is home, which is why I stay away the following weekend, even if it damn well kills me. The stolen hour and some minutes at her office aren’t enough. I’ll go out of my mind if I don’t see her soon. At least the Saturday chore of helping Albert drive his trash to the junkyard occupies me. Albert drives with me in the truck, and Eugene follows in his dad’s Chevy to help with the offloading.

  As usual, we return with more junk than what we’ve driven away. Albert could never resist a piece of metal, no matter if it’s a rusted gutter pipe or twisted roll of barbwire. To him, everything seems usable. None of it ever gets recycled. The items he saves from the scrapyard gathers more rust until the next time Katrina has a fit and forces him to throw it away. Then he returns with an even bigger heap of new garbage, and so the cycle continues.

  We’ve barely offloaded all the shit in his yard when Monkey pulls up. He parks on the curb and gets out of the Corvette with some difficulty. Folding his arms over the top of the door, he yells, “Hey, Brian, come over here.”

  Wiping the sweat from my brow with a sleeve, I shoot him a wary look. Monkey is knee-deep in the mafia and has fingers in all the gang pies, which is why I stay away from him.