Old Enough Read online

  He adds sugar and milk to the coffee, playing a seductive game of stroking my nipple. “If I’m sure of myself, it’s because I know I can please you.” He bends his knees and grinds his erection against my ass. “I can make you come right here, on this spot.”

  My heart is beating erratically, not only from his proximity and dominant touch, but also from fear of being discovered. “You assume too much.”

  “We both know I’m right.” Backing away, he gives me space.

  I fling around to face him. “Is that so?” I’m starting to agree, but it doesn’t mean I have to admit it and add to his ego. Not just yet.

  Slowly, he leans forward. The intent in his eyes makes me stop breathing. Our lips are inches apart. I can’t let this happen. Not here. He lowers his head to mine. Instead of kissing me, he reaches for something behind me.

  “Avoiding me won’t do you any good, princess. It only makes me chase harder.” His breath is hot on my ear, his words soft but powerful. “If I catch you, I won’t go easy.”

  “I’m not playing hard to get.”

  “I didn’t say you are. Stop pretending I’m not affecting you and admit the truth. No one can give you what I can.”

  “That’s a rather confident statement.”

  “Don’t forget, I know how you like it.”

  The air trapped in my lungs rushes out on a gasp. “What?”

  “Your coffee.” He brings the mug around. “Two sugars and milk.”

  I take the mug like a robot, stunned to silence as he walks to the door. In the doorway, he turns. “Two weeks are way too long. I need to see you.”

  “You’re seeing me now.”

  “You want me to be more specific? All right. I need to fuck your tight little cunt. My dick won’t last another day.”

  Blood gushes to my face and then drops to my feet, heating me from my head down. “You know I’ve got Abby.”

  “She’s got ballet practice tomorrow. That gives us forty-five minutes.”

  With that promise, he leaves the kitchen.

  Brian

  Now that I’m earning a better salary, thanks to Jane, I can get a credit card at the bank. Credit allows me a better school for Sam. That’s where I start, meeting with the principal of a private school in Hatfield. The fees are steep, but I need to bail my sister out of the dump of a school she’s currently in before I strangle a bully or two. The registrations for the coming year have closed, but as my luck would have it, someone cancelled. I fill out the mountain of paperwork and provide the documents required. Then I swing by the building site office to pick up my paycheck. Mike went easy on me, not holding me to the contract period I signed. He’s a good friend, but we both know I’ll never earn the same money if I continue to work for him. It’s when I drive away from the site that I spot the poster on a lamppost near the main entrance of the theater. I slam on the brakes and reverse.

  The poster is advertising a symphony concert at the theater, but it’s not the information that holds my attention. It’s the photo of the star performer, a pianist. I’ll be damned. It’s the dandy from the bar. My hand automatically moves to my shirt pocket where I used to keep Jane’s photo, even if I’ve been hiding it at home since I started working with her. I cut the engine and get out for a closer look. Sure as hell, it’s the same, combed-back, Batman-black hair, fine-set features, and arrogant smile.

  Benjamin James.

  I’ve never heard of the dude, not that I’m into arts. Looks like I should’ve attended the concert Mike wanted to drag me to. I’m so flabbergasted, it takes me a while to register the honking in the street is aimed at me.

  “Move your truck or I’ll do it for you,” the guy hanging out of the window yells.

  With a last glance at the face forever committed to my memory, a face that now has a name, I hurry back to my truck. At the first available parking, I pull in and type the name in the search engine on my phone. Various articles come up. The guy is famous internationally. He’s done concerts in Venice, Rome, Paris, New York, and God knows where. There’s a photo of him with his wife and kid, a stunning, olive-skinned woman and a tall, slender, teenager son, who’s said to be following in his father’s footsteps. There’s another photo of the whole family with a tiny excuse for a dog sitting on a stuffed gold-and-burgundy couch in front of a fireplace in a fancy living room with velvet drapes, a pressed ceiling, and a crystal chandelier. The byline says it’s the canal apartment they own in Venice. It’s obvious the guy’s loaded, enough to have offered me a ridiculously handsome bribe, but that’s not what I’m interested in. It’s the surname. James. The same as Jane’s dead fiancé.

  I browse until I find what I’m looking for. Benjamin James’ parents. Fuck me. He’s Evan James’ brother. He said he wanted revenge for the death of his friend. That so-called friend happened to be his brother. Why would he lie about it? To protect his identity? Since he didn’t give me his name, it’s the only plausible explanation.

  I stare at the photo on my screen for a long time. I don’t know why Jane cheated on her fiancé, but I’m not going to judge her. I’m the last person to throw stones when I’m living in a glass house. Jane is a good woman, one of the few authentic people I know. Maybe one day she’ll tell me her history, or she won’t. It doesn’t matter. I’m not interested in the past. The only thing I care about is the future.

  Starting the truck, I veer back into the traffic, following the road toward Groenkloof. Shall I tell Jane about my encounter with Benjamin? How do I explain not having told her sooner? If I spill the beans, she’ll know nothing about how we met was a fluke. She’ll know it was a setup from the word go. I know her well enough to know she’ll never trust me again. She’s had one too many trust issues with the male species as it is. No. I can’t risk it. I can’t stand to lose her trust or worse, her. I’ll keep my secrets. So will Benjamin fucking James. He’s not going to admit he bribed me to take naked sex photos of his dead brother’s fiancée.

  As I pass the prison, I confirm my mental vow.

  I won’t say a damn word.

  The only truth Jane needs to know is the truth that matters. That I can’t go a day without touching her.

  Jane

  Forty-five minutes.

  It reverberates in my skull until it’s all I can think about. It’s all I want. Brian’s hands on my body. In my body.

  I need his touch like I’ve never needed. Every time he fucks me rough, he liberates a chained-up part of me. Every time he loves me tenderly, he repairs a broken piece of my soul.

  On pins and needles, I pull into my garage. I’m apprehensive about what awaits and at the same time scared he won’t show.

  All my worry is for nothing. When the garage door closes behind me, a figure emerges from the dark. Despite recognizing his tall and impossibly strong frame, I jerk in fright. He steps into the headlights of my car, letting me see his face. I drop my bag on the seat and get out.

  “Get over here,” he says.

  His tone tells me the same thing I feel–urgency. I walk over slowly, joining him in the light.

  “Tell me,” he says.

  “Tell you what?”

  “Tell me what you want.”

  At first, the order throws me off balance. I’m used to following, to be commanded in bed, but as I let myself go, feminine power races through my veins. My uncertainty falls away. I know exactly what I want.

  Walking around him, I lean against the wall, getting ready for a show. “I want you to take off your clothes.”

  Holding my gaze with the confidence I’ve come to associate with Brian, he reaches for the button of his jeans. It’s so typical of him to go for his pants first. I smile, but it vanishes quickly when he pushes the jeans slowly over his hips and down his masculine legs. Always commando. Always hard. The Jane from old wouldn’t have stared, but this new woman, the woman he awakens in me, looks long and hard, and he doesn’t seem to mind. He straightens and pauses, giving me a good view and time to admire his cock. He
’s got reason to be vain. His body is a sculptured work of art, but his cock is perfect. A perfect fit for me. His balls are heavy. I ache to feel their weight in my palms and taste the heat of his skin, but for now I only watch as he pulls off his T-shirt. His skin tone is equally bronze everywhere, including his groin. I imagine his chest and legs will gain a darker tan with summer on the doorstep. The way he stands there with his cock jutting out and his jeans around his ankles is simultaneously ethereal and dirty. I’d make him use me like this if I wasn’t worried he’d trip.

  Without breaking our eye contact, he kicks off his trainers and gets rid of the socks and jeans. Fully naked, he faces me again. Waiting.

  “Come over here.”

  He approaches, stopping short of me. Having him at my beck and call is a heady cocktail of desire and power going straight to my lower region. Commanding a dominant male such as the very naked, very compliant one facing me is such a turn-on.

  “Closer,” I say.

  He obeys again, advancing until his cock brushes my hip.

  “Good,” I praise. “Now go down on me.”

  With his eyes still locked on mine, he drops to his knees and takes the hem of my dress. Ever so slowly, he lifts the fabric over my hips. I help him out by holding up the dress so he can push my panties over my hips and down my legs. He does so watching me all the while with intense concentration, as if he doesn’t want to miss a single nuance of my expression.

  When he frees my feet from my underwear, I spread my legs for him. I would never have been this bold before. Somewhere along the line of life, I lost my confidence, but Brian is giving it back to me, little by little, soft kiss by–Oh, my God!–kiss. His tongue strokes over my clit, his lips raining kisses over my swollen folds. With him, I’m rediscovering myself. It’s as if every touch is pulling back a layer, unwrapping the masks and pretenses until I’m free to breathe again.

  “Oh, God.”

  Pants. Gasps. Sweet breaths. Freedom. It feels so, so good. My toes curl. I don’t care that I’m loud. I let him hear what he does to me as he ravishes me with his tongue, adding his fingers to bring me to ecstasy.

  He hooks my leg over his shoulder, stretching me open and touching me deeper. I brace my back against the wall and grab his shoulders for balance.

  His dark eyes are scorching me with heat and lust. His voice vibrates against my skin as his lips move over my pussy. “How do I make you come? Fingers or tongue? Pick your choice.”

  Staring down at him, I take in the sight. He’s eating me out with abandon, licking and sinking his teeth into my flesh, moaning as he sucks my clit into his mouth. It’s a decadent scene playing out in the car’s headlights. We’re on our own little stage under the spotlights. It’s dirty. It’s beautiful. My thighs quiver as pleasure builds in my core.

  My tone is hoarse and breathless. “Put your fingers in me.”

  He sinks two into my pussy and scissors them.

  “Ass, too,” I command.

  His eyes flare. Pupils dilating, he abandons my clit to bring a thumb to his mouth. He sucks until it’s wet. I close my eyes, knowing what’s coming. Unrivalled pleasure is full inside me as he fills every hole except for my mouth. His tongue goes back to my clit, working in slow circles.

  I look back down, searching his gaze. What I find is arousal. Admiration. Approval.

  Despite the pleasure rendering me boneless, my voice is assertive. “Now fuck me like you mean it.”

  He does. His fingers ram into me from two ends while he nips my clit. It’s all I need to go over. The force is electrifying. I grit my teeth against the intensity, letting the current snap me in two and sweep me away.

  When my orgasm ebbs, he goes softer, allowing me to ride the aftershocks until there’s nothing left. He stays down on his knees with my leg over his shoulder and my pussy shoved in his face, waiting for me to tell him what I want him to do next.

  “Get up.”

  Planting a reverent kiss on the inside of my thigh, he unhooks my leg and straightens. He’s breathing as hard as I am, his arousal no less than mine.

  My gaze drops to his cock. “Stroke it.”

  Taking his cock in his hand, he pumps twice. His head rolls back. His groan bounces off the walls.

  I need him inside me. I turn and bend, hitching my dress up before bracing my palms on the wall. The position puts my ass and pussy on display.

  I glance at him from over my shoulder. “You know what I need. Do it.”

  Fists clenching and nostrils flaring, he stares at me. “Say it.”

  “Fuck me with your cock.”

  The verbal command is all he’s waiting for. Charging like a beast, he grips my hips and sinks his cock into my pussy. He doesn’t wait for me to adjust to the intrusion. Our need is too urgent. He pulls back until only the broad head is lodged in my entrance, and slams back in. The breath leaves his lungs in loud grunts as he thrusts, working a hard but delicious rhythm into my body.

  “Yes.” I moan. “Now spank me.”

  He misses a beat, throwing us out of our synchronized grinding and pumping, but he’s quick to chase me, pulling my ass back to his groin and impaling me with bruising force. I feel him where it matters, where I don’t want it to end.

  “You only have to say the word, princess.”

  A thwack sounds as his palm comes down on my ass cheek. My pussy clenches on his cock, pulling him deeper. The sensations are overwhelming. Heat travels through my skin to my genitals. A succession of beats rain down on my ass. I’m on fire, burning for him. My body contracts, my muscles locking and holding me prisoner, helpless, as my release prepares to explode. Gripping Brian’s hand, I move it to the front of my body, between my legs.

  “Here,” I say. “Spank me here.”

  Again, he doesn’t hesitate. His palm burns on my clit, just where I need it. I come with a scream. His cock twitches and swells inside me. He drives even deeper, and then he roars out his climax. My inner walls grip him hard. He utters a string of expletives as he hammers his release into my body until neither of us has anything left to give.

  Falling forward, he catches himself with his arms braced next to mine on the wall, his chest warm on my back. He covers my shoulder with kisses. When we’ve more or less caught our breaths, he places a palm on my stomach, pressing my ass against his groin even as he pulls out. Warm cum runs down my thighs. We stay like this for a moment, reluctant to move.

  It’s Brian who steps away first. He kisses the top of my spine through my dress, and then the exposed part at the bottom, just above the crack of my ass. His palm smooths over my ass cheek.

  “Fuck, I love my handprint on your skin.”

  I rest my forehead against the cool wall, not sure my legs will carry me if I stand up straight. Something soft moves between my legs. I glance around. Brian is cleaning me with my underwear. He lowers my dress over my hips and turns me to face him.

  “You belong to me.” His eyes drill into mine. “My handprint on your skin says so. So does my cum in your cunt.”

  My eyelids flutter close. I’m lethargic. All I want to do is curl up on his lap.

  A soft kiss lands on my lips. “I’ve got to go if I don’t want Abby to catch me red-handed with my fingers under your dress. Naked, no less.”

  That makes my eyes fly open. He’s grinning at me. I check my watch. Shit, we’ve got ten minutes.

  “Don’t worry.” He picks up his jeans. “I’m out of here.”

  Guilt suffuses in my throat, making it hard to speak. Anyway, I don’t find words. I don’t want to treat him like a dirty secret, but I honestly don’t know how I’ll explain him to my daughter.

  He pulls on his jeans, adjusts his semi-hard cock, and zips himself up. I bend to retrieve his T-shirt. When he’s fully dressed, he comes to stand in front of me. He’s so close I have to strain my neck to look up at him. Rather than kissing me, he caresses me with his gaze, his eyes speaking volumes as they trace the lines of my face.

  Our hands touch.
He presses something into my palm. My underwear. His smirk is self-assured, but I don’t miss the spark of vulnerability in his expression as he says, “Tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow,” I agree, wanting so much more.

  He’s already pressing the button to lift the garage door when I remember what I wanted to bring up.

  “Brian.”

  He turns.

  “Give me your keys.”

  He arches an eyebrow.

  “The keys to my house,” I say. “You can’t keep on doing this.”

  “We’ll keep on doing exactly this.” His gaze heats on the last word as it finds the sore and satisfied spot between my legs. All the vulnerability disappears from his face. What’s left are dark lust and determined intent. “Sorry, princess. Game over. You’re no longer in charge.”

  The garage door has fully opened. The purple light of the evening filters into the garage, carrying with it the scent of Canna lilies. His silent stare dares me to defy him, and maybe I would’ve if it weren’t for Abby coming home at any minute, or that’s what I tell myself when he leaves.

  Brian

  The minute I get home, I email Benjamin James a message from my phone. I don’t even take the time to open the gate and pull into the yard. I do it right there in the street.

  Need to talk.

  A reply comes almost immediately. Do you have what I want?

  I slam out the text on my screen. In person. Now.

  My phone rings a couple of seconds later. I was hoping for a meeting so I could look the fucker in the eye when I told him I knew, but a call is quicker, and where Jane’s concerned, I can’t wait. I take it.

  “It took you longer than I expected,” his smooth voice says. “Was I wrong about your charm, or is Ms. Logan a hard cookie to crumble?”

  “Tell me again why you want a naked fuck picture of Jane.”

  “Told you, revenge.”

  “You didn’t say you’re her dead fiancé’s brother, Mr. Benjamin James.”