Young Enough (The Age Between Us Book 2) Page 9

“Don’t.” He points a finger at me. “Don’t even try that one on me.”

  “You expect me to stand here and accept your double standards?”

  “I expect you to act your age.” He narrows his eyes. “For the sake of your daughter.”

  I can’t believe my ears. I don’t even know what to answer. “It’s all right if you do it, committing adultery in the process, but it’s not okay for me?”

  “I don’t give a damn about your feminist arguments. That’s all good in theory, but it’s not the way the world works. You’re embarrassing yourself.”

  I lift my chin. “That’s your opinion, and you don’t get to have one of my life, any longer. My business is no longer yours.”

  As he opens his mouth, Debbie steps into the room. She stops just over the doorstep, her gaze moving between us. The air is sizzling with so much tension, if there was a voltage to it, we’d be charcoaled.

  Debbie’s huge, brown eyes brim with hurt. “You were taking so long I decided to come look for you.”

  Francois picks up the tray. It takes him three seconds to school his features into a mask of indifference. “I was just bringing these out.”

  When he turns to Debbie, it’s as if I don’t exist. It’s as if he never lost his cool, had an outburst, or said unjustly things. It’s like it’s always been between us. He walks past her through the door, the tray like a shield of armor. She stares at me as if she’s going to say something, carrying all that hurt on her sleeve, and just as I’m about to tell her it was nothing, she spins around and follows him.

  Lightning ripples through sky when I get outside. The crash of thunder follows two seconds later. Always in sync with my mood, Brian looks up. His expression turns broody.

  It’s okay, I mouth.

  Big, fat drops start falling. They plop on the table and make a hissing sound as they hit the coals. We scurry to gather what we can from the table and rush it inside.

  I catch Debbie in the dining room. “Stay here,” I say over the peppering of water on the roof. “You can’t risk slipping and falling.”

  The rain is coming down so hard and fast, the deck is already a centimeter under water when I get outside again. My bare feet slide over the wet, varnished wood. Drops pelt my face and body. It feels as if the sharp stings penetrate bone-deep. It’s freezing cold. Jack managed to save the tarts, and Ralph and Brian are working as fast as they can to close the two canvas umbrellas lest the fabric tears from the weight of the water. Those giant umbrellas cost a fortune. Since Mona and Loretta are clearing the last of the glasses from the table, I grab the designer cushions.

  We’re all soaking ducks, dripping water on Loretta’s hardwood floor. Thunder and crisscrossing bolts of lightning rip the sky apart.

  “Bloody hell.” Ralph drags a hand over his bald head.

  Francois wrings the water from his golf shirt. He’s standing in a puddle of water stained brown from the mud on his shoes.

  “I can do the tarts in the oven,” Loretta offers, patting her ruined hair.

  “I better get Debs home and into dry clothes before she catches pneumonia,” Francois says.

  “You’re probably right.” Mona takes Jack’s arm. “I wasn’t planning on swimming, but the rain took care of that.”

  “Can’t control these things,” Ralph mumbles.

  “The weather forecast said clear blue skies,” Loretta whines. “I’m so sorry about the dessert.”

  “It was a great lunch.” I put my arm around Loretta. “Don’t worry about the dessert.”

  It feels like a big anti-climax. Loretta’s effort to break the ice between Debbie and Francois and Brian and me didn’t work out as planned. I offer to help tidy the kitchen, but Loretta declines fiercely. I guess she’s worried about what Brian and Ralph would talk about if they’re the only ones left.

  The sky is still rumbling violently when we say our goodbyes. Brian pulls his jacket around me and shelters me under his arm as we run to his truck. He lets me in first before rushing around to his side. He closes the door on the wetness, but the noise of the water punishing the metal roof continues. He first buckles me in and then himself. Droplets of water runs down his temples and into his soaked T-shirt.

  “You okay?” he asks me as he starts the engine.

  I’m scared of all this water and the force with which it’s coming down on us, but the question has nothing to do with the storm. It’s about what happened between Francois and me in the kitchen. Brian doesn’t ask straight-out. He gives me an opening to talk about it if I wish.

  I put my hand on his thigh. His skin is warm under the wet fabric of his swimming trunks. “I’m glad the party rained out.”

  He covers my hand with his. “Let’s go home and have a warm shower.”

  “Yes.” It’s the only answer I can ever give him. “Let’s.”

  “I want to take you somewhere,” Brian says later that afternoon.

  We’re cuddling on the sofa in front of the television. We still have until nightfall before I have to fetch Abby from her year-end school party.

  He wipes a curl away from my forehead. “Somewhere you’ve never been.”

  My excitement perks up. “Where?”

  “A club.”

  “As in dancing?”

  His dimpled smile makes the dark look in his eyes slightly less dangerous. “Not exactly.”

  “Oh. What kind of club, then?”

  “A strip club.”

  “What? As in Teasers?”

  He trails his fingers up my arm. His voice is low and seductive. “Would you like that?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “There’s one way to find out.”

  “Why do you want to take me?”

  “To show you who I am. I want you to know all there is to know about me, just as I want to know everything about you.”

  It sounds sweet and scary at the same time, but he’s already on his feet, offering me a hand.

  “Now?” I ask with a tinge of panic as I accept his hand.

  His smile turns mischievous. “There’s no time like the present.”

  I look down at my skinny jeans and loose T-shirt. “I’ll have to change.”

  “Not for where we’re going.”

  “Are you sure?” My attire isn’t exactly club style.

  “Come on.” He pulls me gently to the door.

  We drive toward Waverley and park in front of an unassuming building with no sign.

  “You come here often?” I ask, peering through the windscreen.

  “That’s why I wanted to show you.”

  He comes around to open my door and takes my hand, not letting go even once we’re inside. I’m grateful for the silent support, because when he’s showed our IDs and we step into a large room with pumping music, I need it more than ever. I understand why my clothes weren’t of importance. Most of the people are naked. Men and women mingle around a stage where a couple is in the last throes of fucking. The woman comes with a loud moan just as we slide into a padded bench at the back. The man pulls out his cock and ejaculates on her stomach a second later. Thank goodness for the low lights. I’m not a prude, but my face is hot. The man kisses the woman passionately before draping a gown around her and leading her off the stage.

  Brian rests his hand reassuringly on my thigh while he orders two beers from the waitress. I glance around. The people who aren’t naked wear sexy outfits while others parade in daring lingerie. I must be standing out like a lighthouse in a storm. Most couples are openly fondling, and some are having sex. I swallow, grateful for the beer that arrives to relieve my dry throat.

  Staff are cleaning the stage and wiping down the hardwood bench on which the couple fucked.

  I motion at the raised platform. “What was that?”

  Brian leans over. His lips brush my ear. “Couples come here to fornicate in public.”

  I stare at him open-mouthed. “They’re not paid to put on the performance?”

  “They’re part of the a
udience like you and me.”

  The you and me part jars me. “You don’t want to…?” I can’t finish the sentence.

  His chuckle is deep. “No.”

  I sigh in relief.

  “I don’t want to fuck you on the stage, because I can’t bear the thought of other men looking at what’s meant for my eyes only, but you can kneel between my legs.”

  “What?”

  He leans back, spreading his legs. “Kneel between my legs.”

  Another naked couple walks on stage. The woman gets onto all fours on the bench and the man takes up a position behind her. The stage starts turning. Every person in the room will have a glimpse at every possible angle of their coupling.

  “How can they be comfortable with this?” I ask more to myself than to Brian.

  “They’re voyeurs just like everyone else here. They also enjoy being looked at.”

  “Do you?”

  “I like watching, but I don’t like sharing.” He regards me with his penetrating gaze, the one that cuts right into my soul. “Does watching turn you on?”

  I glance at the stage again where the man is now kneeling on the floor, eating out the woman. I can’t deny that my sex is swollen. How am I supposed to feel about that? Does that make me a pervert?

  “Down, Jane,” Brian says, a dare in his tone. “You don’t have to undress.”

  Taking a fortifying breath, I slide my ass off the bench to the floor and sit on my heels between Brian’s legs, facing him.

  His instruction is calm and collected. “Take out my cock.”

  The command makes the swelling between my legs throb, but I shoot a worried glance around.

  “No one will see,” he says soothingly. “Your head blocks the view.”

  We’re in the corner, but I don’t understand how he can be so blasé about flaunting his penis. Despite my unease that someone will see him naked, something dark stirs inside of me, begging me to do as he’s demanded. I reach for the button of his jeans tentatively. He doesn’t rush or aid me. He simply waits patiently for me to pull down his zipper and free his cock. His flesh is velvet hard and warm in my hand. I cover as much of the length as I can with two hands. His gaze is approving, heating my belly.

  Leaning over, he grabs my beer mug and brings it to my lips. “Take a sip.” He smiles. “You look like you need it.”

  I comply. My throat is as scratchy as sandpaper. He kisses my lips before depositing the glass on the table and sitting back again with his arms draped over the back of the bench. Behind me, the couple on the stage is panting. The woman moans loudly and then cries out as a smack reverberates through the space.

  Brian cups my head with one hand, his look tender. “Now suck me off.”

  I should resist. I should demand privacy, but nothing in me objects to his suggestion. If anything, I want to. Spurred on by the sounds of flesh slapping together and ecstatic grunts and mewls coming from the stage, I open my lips wide and take his length to the back of my throat. He groans. I feel the vibration rather than hear it. As I speed up my act, the show gets louder, but Brian isn’t looking at the stage. He’s focused on me. His eyes are riveted to my face. His thumb caresses my cheek, and his fingers play gently on the side of my head as I suck and lick. The only indication he gives of his arousal is the way his hips lift off the seat with every pull of my lips. His scent is musky, and he tastes of salt. I can’t get enough. The cocktail of dirty sounds combined with the way he feels on my tongue and how much pleasure I’m giving him is a heady aphrodisiac. The silk of my underwear is soaked. I open my throat and breathe through my nose, swallowing him deep. His fingers tighten on my scalp, and his face contorts in an agonizing expression, but the concentration in his eyes doesn’t diminish as he watches me.

  “I’m going to blow,” he grunts.

  His seed shoots down my throat and coats my tongue. I lap up everything, making sure he’s clean before I free his semi-hard cock with a pop. He’s breathing hard, his eyes shining like tiger stones and his smile appraising. The praise is all for me.

  He pushes his cock back into his jeans and adjusts it before zipping himself up. Then he offers me a hand to help me up. Instead of letting me take my seat next to him, he pulls me onto his lap facing forward. His arms come around my waist as the full onslaught of the show hits me. I’ve watched some porn, but never live. This is different. The man is pounding into the woman, making her whole body sway. Her face is a mask of undiluted pleasure. He bends over her to stroke her hair and kiss her shoulder. The look she gives him is not only lustful but affectionate. Their bonding is unashamed and exposed. While I’m enraptured by the scene, Brian opens the button of my jeans and slips his hand down the front of my panties. I’m close to coming from the blowjob and visual stimulation alone. His fingers on my clit are heaven. It feels so good when he pushes two digits inside that I don’t object. I lean back against his chest, watching the play on the stage near its end while he brings me to my own crescendo. I come with a violent spasm, my inner walls sucking his fingers deeper.

  “Don’t stop,” I whisper with my face turned into his neck.

  He obliges, gently playing with my clit while pushing his other hand up under my T-shirt to massage my breast. He tweaks first one and then the other nipple until my need is climbing again. The stage is once again empty. From my exposed position, people can clearly see what Brian is doing, but it’s hidden under my clothes, and I find I don’t care, not when I’m so close to coming again.

  “Oh, God.” I moan softly, grinding my hips down on his groin.

  Reading my signals perfectly, he starts fucking me again with his fingers. A coil of tension spreads through my body, winding tight.

  “Come again,” he says, sucking on my earlobe.

  The orgasm hits me like a big bang. I come for so long my muscles are aching by the time the vice finally lifts. Slowly, he pulls his hand from my underwear, raining kisses on my neck and smearing my arousal on my stomach.

  “You’re the best thing, princess,” he growls in a low voice, “the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

  The words are the cherry on the cake of my euphoria. I sink deeper into him, falling in love even more as he buttons me up and straightens my clothes. I feel satisfied, cherished, and liberated. Most of all, I feel special. There’s nothing Brian wouldn’t grant me. I didn’t ask for his body or his intimate secrets, but he gave me both.

  His warm breath washes over my ear. “Okay?”

  “More than okay,” I reply with a silly grin.

  He chuckles. “I guess that makes you a voyeur.” His tone turns serious, all the gentle playfulness gone. “My voyeur. Mine alone.”

  Brian

  People are fucked-up. They’ll talk about Jane behind her back, but not to her face. They’ll judge her for loving me while patting me on the back for scoring with a catch like her. I saw it at her friend’s house. I see it at the office, although no one knows shit for sure. They can’t point fingers. Jane has enough to deal with as it is. I make pretty damn sure I keep my distance at Orion, no matter how hard it is. There will come a time when we take it to the next level, but I haven’t yet figured out how to overcome all the hurdles in our way. There are so many of them, I’ve stopped counting. There’ll come a time when I have to face the music with Monkey, but I don’t think about it. All I can think about is Jane. It does something unspeakable to me to see her suffer. I’ll rather take a lance in the heart than let her hurt, which is why I’m at the office during lunchtime on Monday when I know she’ll be out.

  Jane has left to pick up her standard order at the health shop. It gives me the time I need to talk to Toby. She was right about losing the Monroe account. I had a long chat with Alex in Legal. Toby has a meeting scheduled with Mr. Monroe at the end of the month. Toby instructed Alex to go over the contract with a fine-toothed comb, to find any loopholes, and to send him a copy of Jane’s employment contract. I hate going behind her back, but she leaves me no choice.

&n
bsp; “Come in,” Toby says when I knock on his door.

  It helps that he has an open-door policy. I don’t need to make an appointment for a chunk of his time. I dive straight in. “Can I talk to you about the Monroe account?”

  He leans back in his chair and crosses his hands over his stomach. “What about it?”

  “Jane and I have a new idea.” I pray to God she’ll forgive me.

  “You and Jane, huh?” He gives me a half-smile.

  He doesn’t believe me. Maybe it’s better I tell the truth. If it’s a shit idea and it all goes to hell, at least he won’t blame her.

  “Me.”

  He nods, as if to say, I knew it. “Sit.” He slides down in his seat and kicks the visitor’s chair out from under his desk.

  The chair rolls to me smoothly. I catch it and sit.

  “Let’s hear it.”

  “Freddy has to go digital.”

  He catches his moustache between his teeth, chewing it for a while. Just when I think he’s going to dismiss me, he says, “Go on.”

  I tell him about my idea for Freddy’s own app, and why not a dedicated television show? National television comes cheap, these days.

  He hears me out quietly to the end. For another while, he doesn’t say anything, and then he nods slowly, riding his chair. “Not bad. Not bad at all. I’ll tell you what. I’ll run it past Mr. Monroe.”

  “Thank you.”

  Damn, I hope it works. I hope it saves Jane’s account. If it does, she can be angry with me first and forgive me later.

  “You keep on surprising me,” Toby says. “I like that in an employee.”

  “Thank you,” I say again.

  “Now go study. Straight As.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He grins as I leave his office.

  Jane

  I can’t get Jasmine out of my mind. Her ordeal keeps on turning in my head. Her situation is awful. There must be something I can do to help. A good start is understanding what she’s suffering from better. I’m reading information about agoraphobia and treatments on my laptop at the garden table after I’ve finished cleaning the cottage. Abby is hanging the washing on the line. Including setting the table, it’s part of her agreed weekend chores, even if that agreement came after huge resistance and a lot of arguing.