The Years Between Us

by Stephanie Vercier

  “I’m old enough to be your dad is what.”

  I roll my eyes and tighten my grip on his hand. “My dad is fifty-three, Luke. You are not old enough to be my dad.”

  He swallows hard, remaining still. “Dani would never forgive me.”

  “What is there to forgive? You’re single, aren’t you? And so am I.”

  “Yes, but… how would you feel if she took up with your dad, Claudia?”

  For a brief moment, he has me. I’d used the same scenario to attempt to quell my attraction to Luke, but it isn’t a fair comparison. “My father is married, and he’s way older. This isn’t the same.”

  “It might be in her eyes. And I’ve promised your parents that I’d watch out for you, that I’d—”

  “Fine,” I say, anger edging my disappointment. I drop my hand from his, not wanting to be like David who couldn’t take no for an answer, who kept on pressuring me because he wanted something I wasn’t willing to give him. “If you don’t want me, fine. I’ll just go upstairs.”

  I start to walk away from him, hurt and sad, but not wanting to do something that will make him unhappy—I’ll get over this. But that all changes in an instant when his hand is around my wrist, stopping me, and then pulling me back to him.

  “I want you,” he says in a voice rough with pain. “Okay? Maybe I even need you.” He slides both of his hands to the small of my back before cupping my ass and pulling me close to him, kissing me with his warm lips while his erection presses against me.

  Overwhelmed, my mind incapable of forming coherent thoughts, I simply follow the cues from my body, pushing my hands between us and undoing the button of his jeans, sliding the zipper down and wanting so badly to see him, to feel him, feeling like I’ve waited all my life for just this moment.

  “I want to do this right,” he says, after pulling his lips from mine. His voice is deeper and those beautiful hazel eyes of his full of need.

  “Okay,” I get out in a whisper, more than happy to let him take the lead on what he deems the right way to do this.

  He moves back, takes my hands away from his crotch and then slides one arm behind my back, bending down and sliding the other below my knees. And I’m in his arms just like that, being supported by him, his eyes on me as he carries me up the stairs, up to the second floor of this giant house and toward the space that is his own.

  Afraid he’ll see the inexperience in my eyes, I rest my head against his shoulder, taking in his clean masculine scent but averting my gaze.

  “This is it,” he tells me once we enter his room, a large space with big, masculine furniture and simple décor.

  Then he sets me down so that I’m standing again, and I feel almost naked without his body touching mine as he steps back toward the door and shuts it behind us. When he turns back to me, he unbuttons and then peels his shirt off of his torso in one quick movement, tossing it to the ground and barely even giving me a chance to admire him before his hands are on my hips and he’s kissing me, long and deep, sensual and soft.

  There are feelings everywhere, in every inch of my body, all of them good, and when I glide my hands over his muscled arms and up to his strong shoulders, there is a deep yearning within me that I somehow know will become painful if the appetite controlling it is not quenched.

  There is a sharp intake of breath followed by an exhaled, involuntary moan when he touches his fingers below the hem of my dress and then pushes the fabric up my thighs and over my hips. There is a humming, damp sensation between my legs when his hands move to my belly and continue upward. With a gentle, unspoken cue from him, I raise my arms, and he steps back just enough to pull the entire dress up and over my head.

  I’m unconcerned about where it’s ended up as I stand in front of this man in my bra and panties, my summery wedge heels still tethered to my feet. He looks me up and down as he drags his big, warm hands over my skin, eventually hitching his thumbs under the fabric of my panties where they cling to my hips.

  “Are you really sure about this?” he practically growls.

  He’d know how sure I was if he could feel the wetness between my legs and the warm, thrumming sensation through my groin that won’t be settled until he’s inside of me.

  “Yes, I’m more than sure,” I’m able to say for good measure, just in case.

  There is relief written all over the smile he gives me, and without wasting a moment, he prods me to the bed, the backs of my thighs against the mattress. Then he reaches around my back, expertly undoes the hook of my bra, takes it off and gently puts it on his nightstand. My eyes nearly go into the back of my head when he cups my breasts, at first massaging them and then placing his lips on my erect nipples, sucking them like ripe fruit, the bristled hair of his beard rough against the smoothness of my skin.

  Unable to resist feeling the thing that must drive so much of his want, I reach out and press my palm against his hardness, wondering at the size, so thick and long that I’m suddenly curious if it will even fit inside of me. Will it hurt? Will I even care?

  He groans. “Oh, god… you’re killing me,” he says, his lips off my breasts, his hazel eyes on mine again. “I need to be inside you, Claudia. Are you really sure?”

  I again reply, “Yes,” to his question, the simple response somehow feeling inadequate.

  He lets go of my hips and slips out of his shoes, his socks, his jeans and finally his boxers. This man, this beautiful man is naked in front of me, not just in his body, but in his heart too. I can feel a connection to him, something that I’d be unable to convince anyone of in words, but something deep, something that is exposing both of us to one another.

  I sit on the bed, unbuckle my heels and let them drop to the ground. And as he’s opening the drawer of his nightstand, pulling out a box of condoms, I step back up and slip out of my panties, already soaked with my need for him. Sitting on the bed again, I edge back and watch him rip open the package and roll the condom over his hardened manhood, the way I’d seen them do it in health class, in porn videos, but never up close, never like now.

  After he’s finished, he looks down on me with so much want and need, and I’m sure my eyes convey the same to him. I scoot further toward the head of the bed while he climbs onto it, kneeling and crawling over me. He’s kissing me, so very gently, and then he’s nudging my legs apart.

  When his lips are pulled from me, I whisper to him, “This is my first time.” I want him to know before he puts himself inside of me. I need him to know, wanting to be honest but also wanting him to realize how important this is to me.

  “Claudia…” He pulls his head back, studies me. “You’re a virgin?”

  I nod. “I want you to know. I’ve been waiting for just the right time.”

  He sighs, and for a few seconds I’m afraid I’ve said the wrong thing again, that this will only remind him of the guilt he’d felt earlier. Before that can happen, I drag my hands up to his shoulders and grip onto him firmly.

  “Please,” I say. “It’s meant to be a compliment.”

  There is a strain to his face, a clenching of his jaw, an entire inner dialogue seeming to take place behind his eyes. But in the end, he can’t resist this any more than I can.

  “I’ll be gentle,” he finally says, pressing my thighs apart, taking hold of his stiffness and pressing it up and into me.

  I cry out and hold tight to him like this is my first time on a ride he’s been on so many times before. The feeling of his stiff member inside of me is both the best and worst feeling in the world, pain mixed right along with a blissful kind of pleasure.

  His breaths are heavy, but his thrusts into me are gentle. “Are you okay,” he asks me, caressing my hair and the side of my face, worry etched on him.

  “I’m okay,” I tell him. “You’re just… you’re big,” I manage to say amongst all the feelings and physical sensations I’m experiencing. Being able to say it out loud only amps up my desire for him, gives me an even deeper sense that I’ve just entered into an e
ntirely new phase of womanhood.

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” he reiterates with what I think of as pride mixed with concern in his eyes. “Tell me if you need me to stop, and I will.”

  “I’ll… be okay,” I whisper, knowing how painful it would be for him to stop while at the same time being sure I don’t want him to.

  He kisses me again and lets out a short groan as he continues to gently thrust himself into me.

  Eventually, whatever pain there was subsides so that all I’m experiencing is the bliss of wanting more. Feeling more sure of myself, I drag my fingers down his strong, solid back until I’m just able to reach the firmness of his ass. Not wanting—or not able—to speak at the moment, I put as much pressure as I can on him, a sign of me needing him to come at me harder.

  He catches my eyes and raises his brows, as if to ask for permission again. With my nod, he repositions himself above me, and I watch his movements with fascination, a part of me still unbelieving that this gorgeous man, a real man, not some kid, is above me, rooted inside of me, my first and maybe, hopefully, my only.

  There are another few minutes of pain with the faster and harder rhythm, but I just keep my eyes locked on his for comfort, one of his hands gripping and holding tight to mine, our fingers threaded together as our bodies fuse closer. When the pain subsides, it’s paradise again, and then a sense that part of my body is floating up, further and further, toward an unseen point while Luke and his manhood keep me grounded toward the earth, his body the source of all the pleasure, the reason I’m experiencing this cloud-like feeling, something that builds and builds until it bursts and, like a giant water balloon exploding, wave after wave of pure blissful pleasure rolls over me, makes me cry out.

  “Ohhhh… ohhhh… Luke,” I moan, holding to his back as he groans, as his thrusts push harder and deeper until he eventually moans out in the same kind of ecstasy I’m feeling, his back arching, his body shaking, his cock pushing hard and deep inside of me.

  He nearly collapses on top of me, the light hair of his chest and abdomen slightly rough on my bare skin, his cock still deeply rooted inside of me. His breaths, so labored against my neck, eventually calm, and when they do, I swear I can hear his heart beating.

  I could lie here forever like this, our bodies connected while I gently draw my fingers over his skin, feeling closer to this man than I’ve ever felt to anyone in my life. Maybe he’s feeling the same as he looks down on me. But eventually he unlocks himself and turns to his side, his muscled arms still wrapped around me, the condom still on his thickness.

  “Claudia,” he says after expelling a huge breath, his eyes on mine. “That was so special… so perfect. I hope I didn’t disappoint you.”

  Disappoint me? Never.

  “It’s more than what I could have hoped for,” I tell him in all truthfulness. I’d had orgasms before, knew my way around a vibrator and just the right finger motions to use, but this had greatly surpassed any of those moments when I’d achieved the pleasure of an orgasm on my own.

  He kisses my neck, then my lips, his big hand resting on my belly. “This meant a great deal to me. It wasn’t just sex. I truly care about you. You realize that, don’t you?”

  “Yes. It’s why I wanted my first time to be with you because I know you care. I just do.”

  “We should probably keep it to ourselves for now, don’t you think?” The way he says it, he’s giving me a choice, an option to tell if I want to.

  My first thought is that I want to tell the world. Why would I want to keep something this wonderful a secret? Why not share it with everyone I love and care about? But that thought clears and is replaced by a new one, one where I envision Danielle’s reaction to me having sex with her father perhaps not being a good one. And maybe I’m not ready for her to look at me that way.

  “Okay,” I find myself agreeing. “Just between you and I.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  LUKE

  I wake up pressed against Claudia’s naked form, sunlight filtering through the windows that highlights streaks of copper in her hair. My hand is on her stomach, her skin soft and flawless, nearly a pure milky white against my more tanned, roughened skin. I kiss her shoulder and shift my body against hers, my cock already at full attention. I’m like a kid on Christmas morning, wanting her to wake up, wanting to look her in the eyes, to talk to her, to kiss her.

  She lets out a slight moan, smiles and then flips her body around to me, running her delicate fingers through the hair on my chest.

  “You’re beautiful in the morning, Claudia. You make a man feel a little desperate.”

  “And you’re very handsome.” She lifts a finger, tracing it along my beard, then against my lips. “Will you… can you do what you did to me last night again?”

  Oh, man. Vocalizing her desire makes me even hotter than I’d felt when I woke up next to her. I’m rock hard now and overcome with this powerful physical and emotional sensation to own this girl, body and soul.

  “If that’s what you want, it’s absolutely what I want to do to you,” I tell her, nearly taking her finger into my mouth when I do.

  When she drops her finger from my lips, I kiss her, caress her and bring my hand down between her legs. She’s already glistening, ready for me just like that, and I feel a primal urge to be inside her. Easily, I spread her legs, grab hold of one of her gorgeous breasts, and then guide my erection up and into her, feeling an intense and immediate relief as I push into her tightness.

  She cries out loudly enough that I assess her with my eyes to make sure I haven’t done something wrong. Then she holds tight around my neck, cries out, “Luke… please…” Then I know she feels just like I do, that the real pain would be in denying ourselves.

  With every thrust, I’m more drunk on her, unable to close my eyes, so focused on her face, so beautiful, and her body, so perfect. I drive into her, with more force than I’d started with last night, but she doesn’t push for me to stop, just keeps that tight grip on me, on my hair, my neck, my back, my ass.

  Every plunge into her seems to heighten my desire for her, my pure lust and longing driving me wild, any thoughts that are not of her erased from my mind.

  “Luke… I love you so much,” she whimpers, holding tight around my neck.

  “Love…” I repeat the word, it catching along with my breath. Yes, love. She loves me. Maybe I love her too. Yes, I must. I drive deeper into her, pushing my pelvis hard against her, wanting to become one with her, harder and harder, her cries and whimpers ones of pleasure, and then she’s moaning along with each breath, faster and faster until she cries out just as I hear myself groaning, feel it deep in my chest, just as my muscles tighten up and I release my seed into her.

  “Oh… fuck… fuck that’s good…” I’m breathless, sweaty, my back arching and my eyes lolling back as wave after wave of orgasm hit, spilling more of myself up and into this pure, beautiful girl.

  Her body tightens and loosens again against mine, another orgasm, more shared pleasure that goes on for some time before I finally collapse, pull myself out of her, me dripping with sweat while she’s nothing more than beautifully dewy.

  “You’re crying.” I notice her tears after the time it takes me to catch my breath, then wipe them from her cheeks, all of a sudden terrified I’ve hurt her in some way. “What did I do?” I pull away and attempt to scan her body for signs of injury, of me not controlling myself as well as I should have. She had bled some last night, but I don’t see any sign of that now.

  “I’m just so happy,” she tells me. “They’re tears of joy. You’re just who I’ve been waiting for. I love you, Luke.”

  She said it again. I love you. I caress her cheek with the back of my hand, and her declaration brings me back to earth.

  I might very well love her, but would it be responsible for me to tell her that so soon when I can’t be sure, when I don’t want to confuse how much I care for her with everything that love entails? And beyond that, I’d just had se
x with her without a condom, so amped up on wanting her that I’d entered into momentary insanity, not thinking, just doing, coming into her bareback because it had felt so damn good.

  “You don’t feel the same way,” she says, her voice trailing toward sadness.

  “I do… I do.” I hold her close to me. “But I’m a lot older than you, Claudia. I’ve been in love before, and it doesn’t come fast or easy. It’s work.”

  “You think I’m lying to you or that I don’t know what love feels like?” She’s not accusatory, maybe just afraid that’s what I’d think, like her feelings are immature.

  “We’ll grow into love,” I tell her, stroking her back and down to the curve of her ass. “I care so deeply about you, Claudia, but love is a word that’s kind of hard for me right now, because saying it means so many things.”

  “Like what? What will it mean beyond what we have right now?” I can hear fear in her voice now, and I hate that I’m responsible for that.

  I sigh inwardly. That’s not always easy to explain, but I do my best. “For one, it will mean that I’ll never want to lose you, that we’ll belong to each other, body and soul. But you have a future to think about, Claudia. You have your own dreams, and I’m not going to hold you to promises right now. Do you understand?”

  She bites at her lower lip and sighs. “I think so? You think that I’ll leave after these two months and go back to WSU and forget you?”

  I let out a small laugh. “I hope you won’t forget me entirely, but I won’t be responsible for holding you back.”

  She is silent for a minute or two, seeming to consider what I’m telling her. And as she thinks, I feel almost like the young, clueless teenager I was when I’d married Isabelle, so afraid to lose her, afraid now that Claudia will think that I’m right, that she’d wanted to lose her virginity to someone she could trust. But with that experience, a new world will open for her, one she might be comfortable in navigating on her own without the burden I may become to her, even more so than she might realize.