Age Gap Romance by Penny Wylder
12
The next morning, I wake up blearily to Russ’s alarm clock blaring, hours and hours before my angry, exhausted body wishes it would have gone off. I struggle to shift off of Russ’s arm as he flails over toward the nightstand to shut it off. I groan, and then tug the covers up over my head at the assault of sunlight pouring through his large windows. I thought those windows were really cute the last time I stayed over, but today I wish they had blackout curtains or that he lived in an underground bunker instead.
Beside me, Russ chuckles softly. “I know. I’m feeling it too.” He leans down to kiss my shoulder. Then the nape of my neck. I let out another sigh, this one less irritated and more contented.
I could be convinced to tolerate this hour of the morning with the appropriate motivation. I roll over to face him just as he runs a hand through my hair, curling it between his fingers. I let him draw me close, kiss me softly, and then tuck my head under his chin, just holding me for a minute.
That single motion is enough to make me sigh and let go of all the tension that flooded me a minute ago when I woke up. When I remembered yesterday and everything that exploded in our faces. “I can’t believe I said all that to Dad’s face,” I mumble into Russ’s chest.
He laughs softly, a sound that vibrates through my cheekbone where it rests against his ribcage. “You can’t believe you said it? I can’t believe I finally told him what I should have half a lifetime ago…”
I heave a deep sigh, one that I can feel Russ echo a moment later. “So what do we do now?” I ask softly, trying to disguise the tight worry that knots in my throat. Dad won’t really fire his best friend, will he? I know he’ll probably sack me, but honestly, Russ is right. If I want to pursue my dreams, I need to do that, not just sit around in this job Dad forced me to take in the first place, feeling comfortable but not like I’m living up to my potential or doing what I was placed on this earth to do.
If I want to make a difference in the greater world, I have to start by changing my own life first.
“Well, we gave him time to cool off. And last I checked, I’m still on the schedule at the hospital today. How about you?”
Reluctantly, I peel myself out of his arms and reach over to grab my cell phone. I shut it off last night, not wanting to deal with the world. I turn it back on now, and tense, waiting for the other shoe to drop. I expect screaming, ranting, at least a million texts from Dad. Maybe even some from Mom.
But there’s nothing. No new messages. No missed calls either, though those probably wouldn’t show, if someone called while the phone was shut off. Still, they would have left a message, right? It surprises me that not even Mom called to check up on me or ask where I was spending the night. Maybe Dad filled her in on our fight. Maybe they both assume I just went to a friend’s house to cool off for a bit.
If only they knew…
But first things first: I can only handle one huge fight at a time. “No texts to inform me I’ve been fired,” I say, to which Russ smiles ruefully.
“Well, that’s step one I guess.”
“It does mean I still need to be at the hospital in less than two hours.” I collapse back against the pillows with a long sigh. “And I don’t have fresh scrubs to change into.”
Russ props himself up on one elbow, watching me. His gaze dips down over my body where the blankets have fallen away from my chest. I flush with pleasure, but I don’t cover myself. Normally I feel shy at being naked around guys, even the ones I’m hooking up with. But not Russ. The way he stares at me makes me feel like I’m the hottest woman on earth, every damn time.
He’s doing it again now.
“I can’t say I’m complaining about your lack of proper attire,” he murmurs, leaning in with a sly grin to kiss me again, slower this time.
I sink against him. But only for a moment. Then I draw back, lifting an eyebrow. “Unfortunately, I can’t exactly show up to the hospital in my birthday suit, so…”
He chuckles. “Much as I’d enjoy watching you do that, I agree it’s probably not the best move, especially when we’re both already in trouble.” He winks. “I can run you by your house to pick up a change of clothes. It’s no trouble.”
My stomach sinks at the thought of going home. Of facing my parents. But what else can I do? “Yeah, I guess that would work. Maybe we can wait until Dad’s already left for the morning at least, though…”
“Well, I know of one way we can distract ourselves.” Russ’s arm snakes around my waist, his fingertips trailing slow circles over my skin. It’s maddening, the way he always knows exactly how to touch me to drive me wild.
“Oh really? What might that be?” I bat my eyes up at him, suppressing a grin of my own.
He tugs me toward him so that I roll over, my backside pressed against his, the same way we cuddled last night. Big spoon and little one. Except that I can feel the hard press of his cock against the backs of my thighs now, clearly eager for me at this hour.
“Do you know what I dreamt about last night?” he whispers against my shoulder, his lips caressing my skin, ghosting across it as he speaks in a way that sends a shiver all the way from my scalp down to my toes.
“What?” I manage to ask, breathless already and he’s barely even touched me. Damn. How does he always know just how to get me going?
His hands glide over my hips, then down. His hand parts my thighs gently, and he trails one finger along the edge of my pussy lips, lightly, not entering my slit, not yet. “I dreamt about you and me on a trip of our own. Far away from here. Off somewhere you’d like to go and help save the world.”
“And you’ve come to help too, I suppose, in this dream?”
“Naturally.” His fingertip presses a little deeper between my thighs. Soon his whole hand slides between my legs, parting them. Two of his fingers dance back and forth along my lips. “But first, I’d insist that we take a pit stop, in order to gear up for our trip. Just you and me and a gorgeous beach somewhere, practically deserted…”
“I see… and what are we—” my breath hitches in a faint little gasp, as his index finger slips between my pussy lips and starts to stroke back and forth along my slit. I can already feel how wet I am, as my juices slick and coat his fingertip. “What are we doing on this gorgeous beach?” I finish, my voice steady once more. Though not for long.
His fingertip reaches my entrance, and he presses against it. A moment later, his finger slides into my pussy. Slow and careful. “Well. Since we have the whole beach to ourselves, we don’t bother to get dressed in the mornings, that’s for one thing,” he murmurs. His fingertip glides deeper, deeper. Then it starts to withdraw again, and I whimper faintly, hating how empty I feel without some part of him inside me right now. “First thing in the morning, we jump into the ocean—”
I shiver as he inserts a second finger into my pussy. “Sounds cold,” I say faintly.
“No, no, it’s a very warm ocean. Almost like our own personal bathtub.”
I laugh a little, but the laughter turns into a slow hiss of pleasure as he begins to work his fingers in and out of me, thrusting them in quick and drawing them out much slower. He curls them just a little inside me, so the pads of his fingers drag down my front inner wall, right over the hard little nub of my G-spot. He knows how to find it every time, and it makes my toes curl as my hips rock back and forth a little, trying to grind against his fingers instinctively.
“I swim out there with you, to a spot where you can hardly stand,” he whispers. “And then I pull you up into my arms. You wrap your legs around me, and I push my cock inside you, right there in the water. At least, that’s what I dreamt about last night…”
My mouth feels dry, my throat tight. “How often do you dream about me?” I can’t help asking, in a hesitant voice. I don’t trust myself to speak too loudly right now, or I’ll go all unsteady. What with the fireworks he’s setting off inside me right now.
He withdraws his hand suddenly, and I let out a faint mewl of protest. But I don’t have to wait long. I feel his cock slide between my thighs, the tip of his head positioned against my entrance, dipping between my pussy lips. He feels wet already, maybe from the moisture gathered between my thighs. “Every night, Maggie,” he whispers against the nape of my neck.
Then he pushes his cock inside me.
I gasp as he moves into me, inching deeper and deeper as his hips make small thrusts against mine. I arch my hips backward to grant him better access, grind against him as he forces his thick cock deeper and deeper into my tight pussy. With every inch he gains, I feel more awake, the nerve endings throughout my whole body more on fire.
Finally, he reaches the end, pushed all the way inside me. We both groan a little in unison, my heart racing. I feel more awake at this hour than I ever have, even in spite of our late night and emotional day yesterday.
“Fuck, I love being inside you,” he murmurs, and the words make my stomach tense, a pleasant little curl tightening in my belly.
“I can’t ever get enough of you,” I breathe in return, but I’m not even sure if he hears me or not, because he’s already moving, drawing back out of me. Just when his cock reaches the entrance of my pussy, almost completely out of me, he drives back in. I gasp and fist my hands in the sheets. His hands, on the other hand, are wrapped tight around my hips, pinning me in place where I’m curled up against him. Holding me steady as he starts to drive into me, building toward a faster and faster rhythm.
I lose track of time, place, any of my anxieties and fears, while we move like that, together. There’s just me and him and the heat between us, the thrust of his cock deep inside my pussy. He slides a hand between my legs and fingers me until I come, screaming his name as I do. Then his hand returns to my hip, where he holds me in place, makes me come all over again using only his cock, angled right over my G-spot with each thrust.
Finally, after what feels like hours lost in one another’s bodies, he finishes deep inside me with a guttural growl. I roll over to face him again, kissing his lips, his stubble-scratched jaw, his neck. Every inch of him I can reach.
Then we roll ourselves out of bed and head for the shower, only to do it all over again there.
By the time we’re finally clean and presentable enough to brave leaving his apartment, it’s already past the usual time when Dad heads to the office. I trudge down to Russ’s car, parked in a garage a few blocks away from that vintage and very bachelor-y apartment he’s got. It’s a little uncomfortable to walk, my pussy feels so sore, but it’s a good kind of discomfort. One that reminds me, with every step, exactly where I got these sore muscles and deep aches from.
It leaves me aching for more of them, all over again. And again and again and again…
I drift into daydream as we reach the garage, and Russ chuckles when he has to touch my shoulder to get my attention. “Come on,” he says, amusement written all over his face. “Car’s ready.” The garage attendant has already pulled it around. I don’t know how long I was standing there, lost in memories.
My face flushes as I climb into the passenger side seat, and Russ walks around to the driver’s side. “Good to know you distract so easily at this time of day, Maggie,” he comments with a wink as he takes the wheel.
I clear my throat, embarrassed. “What can I say? It was a memorable morning.”
“You can say that again.” His eyes find mine, and the searing heat in them, the sheer, obvious desire, takes my breath away.
I turn back to the road, mostly because if I don’t, I’ll do something insane like climb over the gear shift and into his lap for round three. Or would it be round four? I lost count when we were getting dressed after our extra-long shower…
My gaze drifts to the console. “Dad should be gone by this time,” I comment, a statement that’s sure to take sex off of both our minds.
Russ clears his throat in acknowledgement. “Well, if he’s still around, you can run in by yourself, if you’d rather not deal with all the awkward questions yet.”
“Screw it.” I let my head fall against the seat back, shaking it gently side to side. “I don’t care what he thinks anymore. He made it pretty clear last night that he’s not going to take any kind of feedback, ever, so why should we just spend our whole lives catering to his comfort?”
Russ smiles. Then he reaches over, as we pull out of the garage and onto the Manhattan streets, to loop his free hand through mine. “You’re a smart girl, Maggie. I’m lucky you picked me.” He raises my hand to his lips and kisses the back of my knuckles.
Heat rushes up my arm from where he’s touching me. “Yeah, well. I had help from a smart guy along the way, pointing the obvious out to me,” I reply with a grin. “Couldn’t have stood up to my father without you. Seriously.”
“We make a good team,” Russ says, as he lets our hands fall clasped between us on the gear shift.
We fall silent as the radio clicks on. We listen to the morning traffic report, until Russ switches it to a music station. Rock. I flash him a grin. Good to know we have similar taste in music, too.
By the time we reach my parents’ house, I’ve almost calmed down again. Almost.
One glance at the windows tells me the house is empty. Mom always leaves half the lights on whenever she’s inside. Sure enough, we pull up the driveway around the side, and find the back empty, Dad’s car gone. Mom must have gone out too. Some mornings she goes to meet friends for brunch or runs errands and picks up things we need for dinner.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to wait out here?” Russ asks, his forehead puckered with concern, though not about my father.
“I told you, I’m done tiptoeing around his stupid rules. If you want to stay out here, I understand—”
“I’d rather come with,” he says, with a shrug. “But it’s up to you.”
“Come on.” I step out of the car, and he follows a moment later. Both our car doors slam, loud enough they should get an answer from inside the house, if anyone is in there. Nothing.
I fetch the spare key from a hidden fake rock in the backyard and open the backdoor. “Hello?” I call as I step into the kitchen. “Anyone home?”
The house sits silent in response. I shrug and walk all the way in, Russ close on my heels.
“I’ll just be a couple minutes,” I tell him. “If you want coffee or anything, the machine makes it each morning automatically. There should still be plenty left.” I leave him to help himself and jog upstairs, two at a time. In my room, I toss off my scrubs and throw on fresh ones. I wash my face and do a quick dash of makeup—nothing fancy, just foundation and mascara, the way I usually do every morning.
Then I trudge back downstairs, feeling refreshed and ready to face whatever today is about to throw my way.
In the kitchen, Russ has prepared us both cups of coffee, and he’s in the middle of frying some eggs he scrounged from the fridge. I smile at the sight of him at the stovetop. He turns to wink in my direction, smiling broadly. “Have a seat,” he calls. “Breakfast will be served in one minute.”
I slide onto a barstool with a wry grin. “You do realize that we have to be at work in less than half an hour.”
“Guess we’ll both just have to enjoy our gourmet meal quickly, then,” he counters. He pops some eggs onto each plate, and presents mine to me with a flourish. I take a sip of my coffee as I watch him dig into his own.
It feels strange to be here with him, in my parents’ kitchen, in the house where I grew up. In the house where I spent my early twenties eying him with desire every time he visited, too.
Yet somehow, despite the strangeness, it also feels… right. I’ve never felt this at ease here, even when I’m home alone. Some part of me is already dreading my father’s return and his scolding. But with Russ here, I feel relaxed, calm, even happy.
I take another long drag from my coffee cup and poke at my eggs. “So… are you really sure about this?” I ask. And somehow, I don’t think I’m talking about work or disagreeing with my father professionally, anymore.
Russ reaches over. His hand comes to rest over mine, and I let the fork fall to the plate. “Maggie, look at me.” I raise my eyes to his. “Of course I’m sure. But I want you to be, too.”
“I am.” I search his eyes for any hint of hesitation or disagreement. I don’t find it, though. All I see there are his feelings for me, clear and obvious, shining through.
He really does care, I think with a faint smile, some part of me still unable to believe my luck. But a bigger part feels like this was always inevitable. Like we were inevitable.
I swallow around a sudden lump in my throat, and slide off my kitchen stool to step over to where he’s leaning against the counter. “To be honest…” I start slowly. “Losing my job is terrifying. Losing my security, having my parents not willing to speak to me anymore maybe.” I gesture at the empty house around us. “It’s all terrifying. But I’ll manage. In the past, I was too scared to think about what life would be like without all the security they provide, the wealth and the safety. But how secure was it ever, really? How safe was I before, if Dad was always willing to fire me with a snap of his fingers the second I stepped out of line?”
He watches me, sensing that I need to get this all out now.
“I’m ready to take the leap,” I say. “I’m ready to stand on my own two feet and see what comes of it. And, if you’re willing… I’d like you to be there, too.” I smile as I finish speaking, because Russ is already beaming too, ear to ear.
“Maggie… of course.” He leans down to kiss me, slow and soft and deep. I sink against him, wrapping my arms around his neck as he deepens the kiss. When we break apart, our faces hover a bare inch from one another. “We’ll be fine,” he murmurs. “Especially since we’re in this together.”
I tighten my grip on his neck. Kiss him again. When we break apart, he’s gazing at me with an intensity I’ve never seen before.
“I love you, Maggie Owens,” he says, loud and clear and steady. The words set off fireworks in the pit of my stomach, make my nerve endings light up with pleasure.
That’s when a gasp from the doorway interrupts us.
