Age Gap Romance by Penny Wylder

10

Saturday comes, and I turn the tables on Trevor. I wake up before him, and I see the opportunity for payback. He’s woken up before me every morning, and it’s my turn.

Moving slowly, I crawl under the blankets covering the two of us. Even in the dark, it’s not hard to find his cock, already hard with his morning erection. I take him in my hand, stroking softly, and I feel his body stir. He’s not awake yet, but he will be. Placing my lips on the tip of his cock, I suck him in slowly. I feel it as he comes awake, his cock already deep in my mouth. He pushes the blankets off, staring at me. I choose that moment to pull back, running my teeth along his length, and I’m treated to a sleepy moan.

I take my time with him, teasing him with my tongue. I make a point of covering every bit of him with my tongue—down to the very base of his cock—before sucking him down again. His breath comes in short little gasps, and I feel his muscles tense. With a sigh, he comes in my mouth, shuddering, still half-awake.

But two can play at his game. I haven’t forgotten the tree house, and I don’t waste any time licking him back to hardness. He bragged about his stamina, and I’m going to take advantage of it. This time there is no teasing. I seal my mouth on him and take him as far as I can go, holding my breath, pressing down and working him into my throat. Trevor is cursing, and I see his fingers grasping at the sheets. I drag my mouth back, taking a breath before taking him again. I swallow him, tightening and releasing. I flick my tongue along the underside of him, and he stiffens.

When he comes again, he’s looking right at me. I open my mouth to him, letting him come, showing it to him before I swallow it all.

I’m debating trying to make him come a third time when he catches me by the arms, hauling me up to him. “You’re going to kill me if you do that again,” he says, voice scratchy with pleasure and morning.

“But at least you’d die happy,” I say, smiling.

He leans over me, pressing a kiss to the side of my neck. “Yes, I would.” His lips continue to tease my neck and chest, and I relax into the feeling of laying skin-to-skin with him.

“I wish we were alone,” I say.

He murmurs his words against my skin. “We are alone.”

“I mean today, alone in the house. We could stay in bed and I could take further advantage of that stamina you keep talking about.”

A kiss on my lips. “That sounds like the perfect day.”

I sigh, “I should get up and start on the turkey.”

Trevor wraps his arms around me. “Not yet.”

“Do you want to eat today?” I say, trying to wiggle out of his arms.

“Of course I do.”

I laugh, “Then let me go.”

A sly grin moves across his face. “You didn’t ask me what I wanted to eat.”

He dives down the bed, grabbing my legs and pressing them towards my chest. I’m totally open for him, still naked from the night before. He kisses my thighs, slowly working his way inward with light touches, never more than a brush of skin. He circles, getting closer, his kisses and licks more deliberate, avoiding where I want him to touch until I’m crazy for it. I’m seconds away from trying to force him to touch me when his mouth connects with my clit.

“Oh god.” It comes out of my mouth like a prayer, and I wonder if I would ever get tired of the way he makes me feel. I don’t think so.

He works me with his tongue, relentlessly bringing me to the edge. He seals his mouth over me, sucking deep, and my orgasm shatters open. It’s bright and fierce and wild and for a few moments I’m soaring over myself.

When I come back, breathless, Trevor’s grinning at me. “Now you can go make the turkey.”

* * *

I can’t remember the time I’ve actually put this much thought into my clothes. I like to look good, professional for my job, but I’ve never dressed knowing someone would be looking. I know Trevor will be looking. So after I put the turkey in the marinade and take a shower, I dig through my closet for something that’s going to make me feel sexy. Appropriate but sexy.

I finally find something, a deep blue sweater that’s been hiding in the back of my closet. I generally avoid wearing it because it clings to my skin and I don’t want the attention. I want that attention today. I pair the sweater with soft gray pants, and I feel good. Pretty.

The doorbell rings, and I hear Brad answer it. I come into the living room as Maria, Anna, and Richard all come inside.

“Has hell frozen over?” Maria asks loudly.

“What?”

She points at me. “You’re wearing color. Without being forced.”

“It felt like a colorful kind of day.” I give a nervous laugh, heading into the kitchen.

My sisters follow me. “Seriously, Stella,” Anna says, finding a stool, “What’s the occasion.”

I give her a look. “Is it really such a surprise that I chose to wear a sweater that was in my closet?”

Maria unloads a bag of food that she brought with her. “When you choose to wear something that blue? Yeah.”

“Maybe she’s finally found someone she wants to impress,” Anna says.

“Really Anna?” I take the turkey carefully out of the marinade and slip it into its pan as the oven beeps that it’s hot enough. “I just wanted to wear this.”

“Well,” Maria says, “you look good.”

“Thanks.” I shut the oven door and check the time. It’ll be a few hours before it’s ready. It’s a small turkey. I’ve learned that cooking one of the giant ones just usually means a lot of leftovers in my fridge.

“But,” Anna says, “have you met someone?”

I groan, and make sure they see me rolling my eyes. “You two are ridiculous. It’s a sweater. Can we stop with the grand inquisition?”

“That’s not a no,” she says.

“It’s time to open presents,” I say, gritting my teeth. “Let’s get everyone into the living room.”

I have met someone, and that’s great. But it’s frustrating to no end that they think I wasn’t happy before. I was happy. I was fine. I don’t need to be married to feel completed. The boys have transformed the living room so everyone has room to sit. The couch has been pushed back against my bedroom doors, chairs from the dining room brought in so that there’s a giant circle.

I take the armchair that’s been pressed up against the window, and I notice that Trevor takes the space across from me in the circle. It’s the first time he’s seen me dressed today, and I watch his gaze slide slowly down my body and return. He gives me a slow nod and a smile, and a warm glow takes up residence in my stomach, all my annoyance at my sisters disappearing.

I love family Christmas. I always have. We have enough people that the pile of presents under the tree is large, and it’s fun to see them passed out. I love seeing joy brought to people’s faces by something I thought to buy them. We don’t tear into the presents either, we take turns. June always acts as ‘Santa,’ trying to make sure the gifts we’re opening are evenly distributed so no one opens all their presents at once. It takes longer, and I make sure that the snacks keep flowing, but I think it’s way more fun than everyone pouncing on their gifts and being done ten minutes later.

The twins love their headphones, and June enjoys the gift card I got her to her favorite make-up store. My own haul is good. I get some expensive tea that smells delicious, and a DVD of an obscure TV show I liked when I was younger, along with some clothes and a few gift cards. All in all, everyone seems to be very pleased by the gifts.

Even Trevor received gifts in the form of gift cards to use at coffee shops around BU. I liked watching him be surprised—I knew he thought he wasn’t getting anything at all. He’ll have a gift from me on the real Christmas day, but he doesn’t know that either.

When all the gifts are open, it’s early afternoon and we’re all starving. The house is beginning to smell like turkey. We attack the kitchen to prepare for the rest of the food, and we all fall into our familiar roles of what to do and where to be. Luckily, Richard doesn’t have to run to the store for anything. In the middle of everyone getting ready, I manage to pull Trevor aside.

“No under the table things this time.”

He just grins.

“Trevor, please. I’m serious.”

He leans down and gives me a quick kiss on the mouth. “All right. I’ll behave. I don’t want to go back to sleeping on the couch.”

I punch him lightly in the arm, and he catches me to press another kiss against my lips. “You’ll get my present on Christmas.”

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” I whisper.

“But I did. So there’s nothing you can do about it,” he says, grinning and pushing me back into the kitchen before anyone even realizes that I’m gone. Sure enough, when we gather around the table, Trevor has claimed the seat next to mine again. Although this time I’m not anxious. I enjoy the feeling of our legs pressed together, the secret contact grounding me.

The food is good. The best sign of a good meal is silence, and we’re preoccupied with eating for a long time before anyone speaks. And when we finally do, it’s a slow start to the conversation. It’s only when our bellies are stuffed full of turkey, trying to debate how long we need to wait for dessert, that we really start the talking.

“So,” Anna asks Bradley. “When are you guys leaving?”

“Tomorrow morning,” he says. “We’re going to spend some time with June’s grandparents. They live down near us and are still kicking.”

June laughs. “They’re going to outlive everyone.”

“Maria,” I say, “what are your plans for Christmas?”

She shrugs. “I don’t have any solid plans. I figured I’d just drift.”

“You want to come over for dinner? It’ll be just me and these two.” I nod towards Brad and Trevor.

“Sure,” she says, and I think I hear a bit of relief in her voice. “That sounds like fun.”

“I just want to say—in case I forget because of pregnancy brain—thank you everyone for the gifts.”

“Yes,” I say, “thank you.”

There are murmurs of additional thank-yous around the table, and Bradley laughs. “You got almost everything you needed, Stella.”

“Almost?”

“Well, you got everything you asked for except a man.”

My stomach drops, and I feel Trevor go stiff beside me as people laugh. “Ha-ha. Very funny,” I say, trying to brush it off.

“But maybe he’s just not here yet,” Anna chimes in. “Who knows, maybe Santa will drop him down the chimney on Christmas day.”

“Can we not do this today?” I ask.

Bradley doesn’t listen, his words overlapping on top of mine. “You might like that. Right, Stella? Someone dressed in nothing but a Christmas stocking?”

“Seriously?” I say. It’s loud, and everyone falls silent. I don’t care, they deserve it, and I deserve to be loud. “I’ve asked you to stop. It’s our family Christmas, can’t you give it a rest? Even just for today?”

I grab my plate and take it to the kitchen. I resist the urge to throw it in the sink. Instead, I just stand there. I wonder if I should leave, take a walk, and cool my head. It might be less awkward than the deathly silence that I hear behind me. I hear the screech of a chair being pushed back, but I don’t look to see who it is, who they silently elected to come talk to me.

The doorbell rings, and I jump. I make a mental calculation, just to satisfy myself that everyone is here. They are. So who could that be? I’m closest to the door anyway. When I pull it open, I find the last person I was expecting standing on my front steps—it’s Brad’s ex, Leigh.