Convincing Cate

by Jamie Hill

  "No.” He scooped her up and turned her around gently. “Look at me as I love you.” He sat her on the edge of the sofa and spread her legs with his knee. His cock nudged her opening and he found her wet and ready. He drove into her and they kissed, eyes wide open, watching each other. “Let me love you,” he whispered, thrusting into her deeply.

  She fisted one hand in his hair and yanked his head back. “Yes, fuck me,” she snarled, panting.

  "Watch, Cate,” he replied, glancing down between their bodies. He pulled his cock out and slid it back in with a slow, agonising pace. “This is more than fucking.” A sharp thrust sent her head flying backward. “So much more."

  "Oh God!” she moaned.

  He felt her pussy convulse, clutching him tightly. “Come on, beautiful,” he coaxed. “I love to make you come."

  Cate squeezed his neck as her orgasm took control, and Vince set his jaw. He wanted to hold out. He wanted to give her one more climax before he lost himself in her.

  When her shuddering subsided, she leaned her forehead against his. “How do you do that to me?"

  "I'll never tell,” he teased, smiling. “Want me to do it again?"

  "Vince,” she looked at him seriously. “This doesn't change anything. I'm still ten years older than you and I can't live with that. I'd always be worrying that you might notice someone younger, someone your own age. I'll be old and wrinkled and you'll still be a young stud—"

  He hammered his cock into her and she gasped. Looking into her eyes, he said, “Lordy, girl. I can't even get you to go out with me, and you've already aged us to senior citizens.” He withdrew and thrust into her again. “Live for now, Cate. Don't worry about the future. Tell me this is what you want right now."

  She clung to his neck and wrapped one leg around his ass. “Right now? Hell yeah. I want it bad. But I won't be your Mrs. Robinson, Vince. I'm not equipped to be with a younger man."

  He leaned down to where her breasts bobbed against his chest. Her nipples grated against the coarse hair there. They were rosy, erect and so beautiful he couldn't resist scooping one into his mouth. First sucking then nibbling, he bit the nipple gently and let it fall away. “I think you've got the perfect equipment."

  "You don't play fair.” She gazed into his eyes.

  Her pussy clenched and he knew another climax was imminent.

  His insides churned and his balls drew up. This was his last chance. “Life's not fair, baby. But it can be pretty sweet sometimes. This—” he thrust into her, “this is as damn near as close to perfect as two people can get. Tell me you don't love this.” He clenched his teeth.

  Cate's head drooped and he yanked it forward, needing to look her in the eyes. “Tell me, Catherine!"

  "I love this!” she cried, and came explosively.

  He held on with all his might and poured his seed into her quivering body. He hadn't played fair, he knew it. But she hadn't admitted she loved him—just the sex. It was a start. Vince shuddered as the last waves of his orgasm tweaked every nerve in his body. It was a damn fine start.

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  Chapter Four

  "You came through for me, big time!” Vince grabbed his mother and twirled her into a spinning bear hug. He was several inches taller, and she was as light as a feather.

  Marissa chuckled and steadied herself when he returned her to the floor. She clutched his arm. “Did he like your work?"

  "Like it?” Vince shouted. “He loved it! He gave me a showing on February fourteenth, from three to six p.m."

  "February fourteenth? That's Valentine's Day.” She raised her eyebrows. Then apparently realising the more pressing issue, she added, “Oh! That's less than three weeks away!"

  "You're right.” He nodded in agreement. “That's actually why he had an opening. Most artists don't want that day. I said it sounded good to me.” Vince paced the floor and waved animatedly as he talked. “His next opening wasn't for months! What a stroke of luck!"

  "Not just luck,” his mother shook her head. “Karma. Fate. This was meant to be. You're good, and the world is going to know it."

  He chuckled. “Well, our little corner of the world, anyway."

  "You have to start somewhere."

  "I know. Oh! There's one other thing. The artist showing before me won't have his work taken down until noon that day. We'll only have three hours to hang my exhibit."

  "Three hours?” she repeated in disbelief. “How are you going to manage that?"

  He grinned and reached for her hand, kissing the back of it. “First, I thought I'd cajole my beautiful mother into helping me. Then Roger, the guy who runs the gallery, said he and his wife would help. I figure they must know a lot about art, so I took him up on it. I know we can do it."

  Nodding, she agreed, “We can. You want this badly, I can see that. Of course we can do it.” She folded him into her arms and hugged him tightly.

  Vince rested his head on his mother's shoulder and accepted her hug. She was a wonderful person, and he loved her a great deal. Her support meant everything to him. Well, almost everything. There was someone else's support he was after, and he thought he'd crafted the perfect plan to earn it.

  When he left Cate the last night they'd been together, they had an understanding. She didn't want a relationship but wouldn't mind an occasional roll in the hay. Vince implied that he could live with that, but in truth he wanted much, much more. He hadn't spoken to her in several days, hoping the old adage ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder’ would ring true. He actually hoped she'd be horny as hell without him.

  He'd arranged to have a single red rose delivered to her house every day. No cards, no notes, just the roses. A week before the exhibit he'd enclose an invitation to the art gallery. With no way of knowing whether she'd accept, he was on pins and needles. But with his first showing just weeks away, he knew he'd be too busy to think about it—much.

  * * * *

  He dressed carefully for the exhibit in a black suit with a crisp white shirt and open collar. No ties for him. He liked the ‘bad boy’ attitude it gave the suit. Vince gelled his curls so his hair looked sleek and polished. He fretted over his appearance more than he ever had in his life, wanting to look his best. There was so much riding on this day.

  He'd spent the weeks prior selecting the pieces to show, framing his work and trying not to think about Cate. She hadn't called, and he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. If he stopped to dwell on it, his stomach twisted into knots. Instead he focused on the exhibit and all its preparations.

  "There he is!” Roger Nelson met him in the gallery. “Hello, Vince."

  "Hey, Roger.” He'd liked the owner from their first meeting. The man was obviously very successful, yet as friendly as could be.

  "Honey, come meet our artist of the day. Celeste, this is Vincent Mason. Vince, my wife Celeste."

  "Mr. Mason, it's a pleasure.” The tall, good-looking woman extended her hand.

  Vince shook hands with her and eyed her carefully. Her long dark hair and deep brown eyes seemed familiar. She was very attractive, but the tingle in his cock wasn't because of Celeste. She reminds me of Cate. All it took was a fleeting thought of his beautiful lover, and his erection flared. He truly hoped his plan worked. He was dying to see her again. “Please, call me Vince."

  "Roger's spoken highly of your work."

  "Mommy, grandma's here!” A small blonde-haired child ran into the room.

  "Good, more help!” Celeste leaned down to the child. “Deidre, this is Mr. Mason. Can you say hello?"

  "Hello, Mr. Mason,” the child repeated in a soft voice.

  "What a beauty!” Vince grinned and bent over to face her. “Didn't I see you on the cover of Vogue?"

  "No!” the child giggled.

  "I could have sworn...” he trailed off as his mother entered with another woman. “Hey there."

  "Hello, Vincent.” Marissa kissed his cheek and held on to his arm. “This is my friend Celia, the woman you
have to thank for all this."

  He smiled at the other woman, extending his hand to her. “It's a pleasure. I'm forever in your debt."

  When she offered her hand, he kissed the back of it. Celia blushed and smiled at Marissa. “What a handsome one your son is! And a charmer too."

  "Yes,” Celeste chimed in. “Some girl's going to snap you right up."

  "Not too quickly.” Vince looked at all of the ladies. “I'm enjoying the company right here."

  "As delightful as this is,” Roger broke in, “We have about two and a half hours to set up this exhibit. Shall we get started?"

  "Yes,” Vince replied and inhaled. He removed his jacket and got to work.

  With the help of Roger, Celeste and his mother, the exhibit took shape. Celia mainly watched her granddaughter but offered suggestions and input when she could. Vince thought it went smoothly for the amount of time they were allowed.

  When the paintings were hung, Celeste poured them each a glass of champagne, and they toasted Vince's success. Patrons to the gallery began to arrive, and Vince slipped back into his jacket and went with Roger to greet his guests.

  According to Celeste, it was a good-sized turnout. Vince couldn't believe the number of people there. He mingled with them, discussing his work and future projects. The afternoon passed rapidly.

  He had taken a breather, stepping off to the side with his mother and Celia, when he saw Cate approach. She wore a short black dress and heels that made her legs look a mile long. Clutching a glass of wine in one hand and a small black handbag in the other, she joined the group saying, “Hello."

  "You made it!” Vince and Celia said in unison, then looked at each other.

  "You know my daughter?” Celia asked him.

  "Your daughter?” he repeated in amazement and looked at Cate. “You've got to be kidding."

  "You know my mother?” she asked, surprised.

  Celia spoke up. “Cate, this is my friend Marissa from Pilates. Her son Vincent is the artist having the show today.” She reached out and pinched his cheek. “Isn't he the cutest thing? And he's so good! His artwork is just beautiful."

  Cate had an amused look on her face as she turned to his mother. “Pleased to meet you, Marissa. Mom's told me good things about you.” She looked at Vince. “But I've never heard a word about you."

  "Same goes,” he eyed her levelly. His heart beat rapidly, but he forced himself to remain calm. His eyes trailed down the neckline of her low-cut dress. The fullness of her breasts swelled, nearly causing him to drool.

  "Celia,” Marissa said, “you certainly have beautiful daughters. Cate, your mother's spoken often of you. She's very proud of you and the career you're building."

  "Thank you.” Cate replied.

  "Here you all are!” Celeste and Deidre joined the group.

  "Aunt Cate!” The little girl reached for a hug, and Cate picked her up. “You came!"

  "I did. You know I love the shows at your daddy's gallery. I try to come to as many as I can."

  Vince caught the jab at him, as if her showing up was nothing special. He could dish it out as well as Cate, and intended to do so. Leaning in to Deidre, he said softly, “You're a little heartbreaker. Have you decided if you're going to be my Valentine?"

  The child giggled and reached for him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Vince smiled as he took her and said loudly, “I'll just have to wait for you. You wouldn't mind the difference in our ages, would you?"

  "No,” she said solemnly, shaking her head.

  Cate threw him a sideways glance.

  Her mother waved a hand in the air. “Age difference? In this day and age? Who cares about that stuff anymore?"

  "No kidding,” Marissa agreed.

  Cate smirked. “So you'd want your granddaughter to marry a man twenty years older than her?"

  "Why not?” Celia shrugged. “Actually, it'd be better if she was twenty years older than him.” She raised her eyebrows suggestively, and Marissa and Celeste broke into peals of laughter.

  Vince turned to Cate and shot her his best ‘I told you so’ glance.

  She wrinkled her nose at him.

  Before he could speak, Roger joined the group. “They sold,” he announced excitedly.

  "Which ones? The gulls?” Vince asked. The gulls on the beach were his favourite pieces, he felt sure they'd sell. He wasn't so sure about the lakeshore paintings.

  "The gulls, the lakeshores, all of them. Every piece you brought sold. I've never seen anything like it. It's quite rare."

  "No way!” Vince was astounded.

  "If I'm lying, I'm dying! Some of them were bought by an investor, but plenty were individual sales. And I've got enough commissions to keep you busy for months. You may have to quit that sideline job of yours so you can paint full time."

  "I can't quit. I need a new heater in my car, for one thing. And I've grown accustomed to eating."

  Roger leaned in and spoke with confidence. “Vince, you can't fix the heater in that old car. But after today, you can afford a new car. And I'm serious about the commissions people want to hire you for. You'll be amazed how well my clients pay. You've made it, my friend."

  "Oh my God!” Vince couldn't believe what he heard.

  "Stop blaspheming him, and start thanking him!” Marissa teased.

  "Thank God!” Vince looked to the ceiling. He leaned in to his mother and kissed her cheek. “And thank you!” Leaning in to Celia, he kissed her cheek next. “And thank you for arranging all this!"

  He looked at the child in his arms and kissed her cheek excitedly. Then he passed her off to her mother and shook Celeste's hand. “Thank you for helping us today. We couldn't have done it without you.” He turned to Roger and the men shook hands. “I can't thank you enough, Roger. I'm flabbergasted."

  "Enjoy it.” Roger pumped Vince's hand and patted his shoulder. “You've earned it."

  "I've earned it,” Vince repeated softly to himself and glanced at Cate. “We need to talk.” He removed the wine glass from her hand and set it aside. Taking her firmly by the elbow, he said to the others, “Excuse us."

  "What are you doing?” she muttered under her breath.

  Vince found a private hallway and stopped, facing her.

  "You're nuts!” she insisted. “You haven't even called me."

  "I was letting you stew in your own juices, so to speak."

  "So to speak,” she snorted. “I thought we had an understanding."

  "Oh, Cate. Don't you know by now that I want so much more than a few one-night stands? That could never be enough for me. That's why I did all this.” He motioned around the gallery. “I wanted to make something of myself that you could be proud of."

  Her eyes narrowed and she scowled. “You've got to be kidding me! I told you it wasn't about your being a waiter! That never mattered to me."

  "I think it did,” he said softly.

  "Well, I hate to break it to you, because you seem to think you know everything. But it didn't. You're ten years younger than me—"

  "Nine."

  "Nine, ten, whatever! You'll always be young and virile and handsome, and I'll be getting older and older."

  "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. You think I'm not going to age? Who am I, Dorian Gray?"

  "Men age more gracefully than women. I'll be old and you'll still be gorgeous."

  He took a step closer to her. “You think I'm gorgeous?"

  Cate swatted his chest. “Stop it. You're not making this easy."

  "I don't want it to be easy. I want your pushing me away to be the hardest thing you've ever done. I love you, Cate Reynolds."

  Her mouth dropped open, but he went on. “I've been infatuated with you from the first time I saw you. It's full-blown love, now. And frankly, I'm tired of this game. I'm tired of figuring out ways to get you to notice me. I want to spend my time thinking of ways to make you happy.” He brushed the back of his fingers along her cheek. “I want to think about new ways to bring you pl
easure."

  She gasped.

  "Here.” He patted his chest over his heart. “Find your support here, Cate. Lean on me. I think you're smart and funny and beautiful, and I'm going to love you when you're fifty, sixty, seventy, or eighty. I won't care how old you are, because I never have."

  "I know,” she said softly.

  He looked at her, a flicker of hope in his stomach.

  "You've convinced me. Age is just a number. My family obviously doesn't have a problem with it. Hell, if I don't snatch you up, I think my mom will!"

  He grinned and shrugged.

  She laid a hand on his chest. “But we need to be clear about something. I'm not changing my mind because all of a sudden you're an artist with a following instead of a waiter. That never mattered, and if you really know me, you'll realise it."

  He covered her hand with his. “You've convinced me. So why did you change your mind?"

  She ran her free hand over his temple and across his cheek. “Because you're smart and funny and beautiful ... and persistent. No one has ever sent me flowers every day the way you did.” She leaned in close to him. “No one has ever done a lot of the things that you did to me. I sat home alone, night after night, wondering if chasing you off was the right move. I missed you, damn it. Not just the sex, but you. Being with you."

  Vince smiled and kissed her gently, then pulled back. “That's exactly what I hoped for."

  She swatted his chest lightly. “I guess I'm going to have to get used to you being so smart."

  "I guess so.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a small black box. “I knew you'd think it was too soon for a ring, but I wanted to get you something.” He opened it and showed her a heart-shaped pendant with a diamond setting.

  "Oh, Vince!” She inhaled. “It's beautiful!"

  He removed the necklace and clasped it around her neck. Looking into her eyes, he murmured, “Yes, it is."

  She touched the pendant. “How did you—"

  He smiled. “Credit. At least now I can pay my bills. The flower shop will be happy, too."