Old Enough To Know Better

by Carolyn Faulkner

  Of course, he wasn’t going to allow her to prevent him from enjoying any part of her. She was his, and he intended to impress that on her this evening, as many times as he physically could, and continue to do so until she could see it for herself.

  But, on the other hand, he also didn’t want to bully her. He wanted her to come to the realization by herself, but with whatever help was needed from him to guide her in the right direction. It seemed, however, that he had a distinct ally in her body. She writhed every time he kissed her, and kissed him back with all of the fervor he could ask for. He could see, peeping out from behind her upper arm, that her nipple was peaked, and her sweet breath was coming in soft pants.

  She wanted him, whether she liked it or not, and he intended to capitalize on that, reaching out to brush the tip of his finger over the distended tip of her breast. He heard her shocked, indrawn breath, and she tried to arch away from him, but he wouldn’t allow it. Instead, he caught that impudent tip and held it, not tightly, not painfully, but just held it, so that she couldn’t move away from him.

  It made her drop her arms away from her body and concentrate on retrieving her nipple and her own indignation, which was his intention. “Finn, stop! You can’t look at me, really, I’m not pretty anymore, I’m old!”

  Finn carefully, but deliberately, maneuvered her wrists until they were pinned by her head in a classically submissive position that he didn’t necessarily favor, but that got the job done, saying, “I feel several rules coming on about not putting your looks down, and not trying to stop me from touching you, and calling yourself old, and I’m sure I’ll come up with a few more if –”

  Out of self defense, Cat raised her head and kissed him before he came up with any more edicts, but then she ruined it by saying, “I can’t help it. I only speak the truth.”

  She found herself flipped over onto her tummy in seconds, his hand claiming her rear as it already had earlier this evening. “I can still see the imprint of my hand on your wonderful butt, but I’d be glad to warm it up for you, if you feel the need . . .”

  It was interesting that he was leaving the choice up to her. Sort of. But not really, because in the next instant, that redwood palm connected with her already tenderized rear because she was taking too long to answer him.

  “All right, all right, already,” her feet beat a bratty tattoo on the bed. “I won’t do that anymore.”

  “And what won’t you do, sweetheart?” he asked, his lips kissing the area he’d just scourged.

  Cat twisted her head to look up at him and said in all seriousness, “You can’t ask a forty five year old woman to remember that kind of thing, honey. I won’t do whatever it was that you just told me not to do. I’ll remember the details later, in the middle of the night, when I don’t need them.”

  He dissolved into laughter, but swatted her twice, hard, as he reminded her what she was agreeing to, then flipped her back over and claimed a nipple with his mouth, suckling greedily.

  And then he stopped, for no reason Cat could discern. He leaned away from her, his hand lying possessively on her stomach, unable to keep his hands from playing with her breasts.

  Cat was moaning, and wondering what she’d done that had caused him to stop suckling, and she gave him a quizzical look.

  “I just . . . realized we haven’t talked about what we like and don’t like, and I don’t want to do something you don’t like.”

  She rolled towards him, hoping things shifted into some resemblance of a reasonable looking order. “I think you can safely assume that what you were about to do is definitely acceptable. And my list of don’ts is probably a lot shorter than you might think.”

  “Really?”

  She wasn’t at all sure she liked how amazed he was at that thought. “Yeah. Did you think I was going to be that high maintenance – ‘don’t touch me here, oh, I couldn’t possibly do that?’” her simpering tone had him laughing, but it was almost uncomfortably close to some of the younger women he’d dated.

  “I really didn’t know what to expect, frankly, but I want to know.”

  They lay together, on their sides, facing each other.

  “Well?” Finn was nothing if not impatient.

  “Jeez, gimme a minute. I’ve never had to come up with this list.”

  He was amazed. “Never? Didn’t you have to . . . you know . . .” He really didn’t want to bring her dead husband into the bed with them, but it seemed somehow unavoidable at this juncture. “Tell Clint?”

  There was that luscious shade of pink again that made him want to nibble her all over. “I was a virgin with Clint. I didn’t know what I liked or disliked, beyond spanking, really.”

  He was intrigued. “How did you know you liked that?”

  Cat snorted. “I was an advanced reader, and my parents let me read pretty much anything. My mom had a huge stock of those historical romance novels – bodice busters. You know the ones, with Fabio on the cover, but before he came along. That was back when quite a few of them were A. not much better than soft core porn, and B. had spanking scenes in them. So I scarfed every one of them that had a spanking scene out of her bookshelf, and got her to buy me more. Even some of the mainstream, like Harlequins, had spanking scenes before they became more ‘enlightened’ in the eighties.”

  He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer to this question, but he asked it anyway. “How old were you then?”

  She shrugged. “Too young. Way too young. Young enough that I really didn’t know what I was reading about, at first. Eventually, I began to read only by author because I knew which ones wrote books that contained the scenes I would be interested in. One of them turned out to be a man, which I thought was interesting. I haunted the used bookstores in Ellsworth and Bangor religiously, looking for more fodder for my overactive imagination.”

  Filing away all of that information about her, Finn kissed the back of her hand. “So, what would you say are your likes and dislikes?”

  Chapter Eight

  She became an even more brilliant pink, if it were possible. “Uh, I like most things. I like oral, both ways, but not sixty nine. It just feels really . . . forced to me, in either direction. I feel like I can’t concentrate on what I’m doing or on what’s being done to me – there’s just too much getting going on.”

  Finn smiled and nodded. “Any other positions you like or don’t like?”

  Cat tilted her head while she was thinking. “No, not really. I hate to sound all stodgy and vanilla, but I really do like missionary the best.”

  “Good,” Finn pronounced. “So do I.”

  Thinking again, Cat said, “I don’t think I have to say anything that involves those who can’t consent . . .?” She looked up at him.

  “Of course. That goes without saying.”

  “FACE. Do NOT lick my face.” She actually shuddered at the thought, and he knew he was going to need to remember that. “I don’t know what it is, but that really bothers me. I’ll lick yours, if you like, but just don’t do mine.”

  His eyebrow rose. “Anything else in particular you don’t like done to your face, or on your face?”

  “No. I just don’t like tongue on my face. Cum is fine.”

  Well, that answered that question.

  “What about you?”

  Finn was deciding that he liked this position, so he divested himself of his clothes, finally, which, as he’d hoped, helped her feel free to explore him, and he adored her touch. Her fingertips teased incessantly because her touch was so light, but he was learning to endure it. He could see it was going to be a lifetime of low level arousal around her. “Oh, I think mens’ lists are pretty non existent, beyond the non consensual, if they’re honorable in the least.” He was busily trailing his own fingertips up and down the very sensitive inside of her right arm, lazily, as if he hadn’t a care in the world.

  “I guess I could say that I don’t much like having my toes sucked. I had a girlfriend once that was really into feet, and it g
ot her off to spend a lot of time down there, but that’s just not my thing.” He took a distended nipple into his mouth and suckled hard for a moment, then released it and soothed it with the tip of his tongue. “Now that’s my thing.” Finn looked up at her. “Your moans, your hard nipple in my mouth, on my tongue, feeling the way you’re panting as I’m pleasuring you – your reactions to what I’m doing get me harder than anything but your touch, and all I want is more of both.”

  He pushed her over, onto her back, and she was powerless to stop him, not that she felt the need. He wasn’t threatening her in any way, he was simply being a very primal male. He rubbed his face all over her, as if he was marking her with his scent, nibbling on the more interesting areas he found until he encountered the triangle of hair between her legs.

  Cat knew that she was out of vogue. She wasn’t supposed to have any hair there at all, and if she did, it was supposed to be shaved into something cute or interesting or funny, or waxed to within an inch of its life. The mere thought made her cringe. Her pubic hair was fair, like the rest of her body hair, and barely noticeable. More so the more she aged, and the older she got the less likely she was to futz with it.

  Clint had never cared about it, and he was the one that was confronted with it the most. She was the least likely of the two of them to do anything about it.

  “Sorry about the thicket,” she felt compelled to say, certain that he probably never seen such a jungle, considering that the clean shaven look had been in style for quite some time.

  “Stop that,” he frowned up at her. “I’ll let you know if you have something to feel sorry about.”

  Cat didn’t like the sound of that idea at all, and frowned back down at him, but she couldn’t hold it when his mouth descended upon her, and he reached beneath her to use her hips to pull her towards him. Her legs fell away, naturally, and his shoulders held them well up and back, granting him unrestricted access to every intimate inch of her.

  He was ready. He was more than ready. He’d been ready for her since before he was really capable of dealing with a woman of her caliber. Yet here she was, now, lying before him, open and yielding, allowing him to pleasure her and take her for his own, trusting him with the honor of all of herself.

  It was almost overwhelming.

  He could smell the rich scent of her, feel her heat, see the moistness that he had created within her. He had done that to her, made her ripen and swell to his touch. His mouth teased at first, raining butterfly kisses over that entire exposed, vulnerable area, making her moan and arch and plead wordlessly for his favor.

  “Shh-shh-shh, my love. In a minute. These things cannot be rushed,” he whispered against the inside of her thigh before biting it gently, then wandering back down to the secrets hidden inside those distended lips. He was of a mind to press his fingers inside her, but he decided against it. He wanted to open her with his cock, knowing it had been a good long while since she had been made love to, and wanting to feel that gloved tightness around the steely length that was clamoring for his own end.

  But not before hers.

  Finn ruthlessly clamped down on his own desire and pressed a loving kiss directly on top of that burgeoning bud, licking it gently back and forth with only the veriest tip of his tongue. He could hear her moans at being treated that way, knowing it was nowhere near enough to give her what she wanted. She was demanding, his love, keening and nearly crying in her desire for fulfillment.

  It was music to his ears.

  “Please – Finn – please –” she cried.

  “Oh, darlin’, you don’t have to beg; it’s coming, it’s coming,” he crooned, settling better into his spot and addressing her more seriously, fingers of one hand holding her wide open for his greedy delectation while the other reached under to remind her that she’d been spanked not too long ago, squeezing what was probably a still aching bottom cheek.

  It was more than Cat could bear. Much, much more. She’d held off for as long as she could, not wanting to sully Clint’s memory, not wanting to give in, not wanting to let go of him and sully what they’d had together, but Finn was relentlessly pushing her past all of those self imposed barriers with his calmly dominant attitude and his warm, wet mouth.

  When she finally contracted beneath those all too knowing lips and fingers, it was unlike anything she’d ever experienced before. It wasn’t one big explosion and then a lot of little reverberations, it was one, gigantic explosion that seemed to go on and on and on, never diminishing in intensity at all. It went on so long that Cat began to get scared, and the person she would normally turn to wasn’t there.

  Finn was very attuned to Catherine, but he hadn’t been expecting this. There was no way he could have anticipated it. When he realized what was happening, all thoughts of his own pleasure dissolved in the face of trying to reassure her that she was okay.

  She seemed to be trying to leave, which he wasn’t about to allow, so he simply caught her and rolled with her, gathering her in the bedclothes and swaddling her against him. She was crying, and it was horrid. He’d thought it was bad when she cried when he spanked her. This was a million times worse, especially since he wasn’t exactly sure how to help her. “What can I do, honey?” He held her tightly against him.

  “T-tell m-me t-to s-stop,” she shivered out.

  “Stop?” he asked densely. “Stop what?”

  “Cu-mming!”

  Instead of doing it immediately, Finn had to stop and think about that. In some ways, women had all the luck. What he wouldn’t give to be able to engage in a non stop orgasm. Who was he kidding? If that was possible, he’d never leave the house. Hell, the whole male population of the planet would never leave their house.

  “FINN!”

  “Stop, baby, stop. I want you to do as I say and stop cumming right now, Catherine, or I’ll flip you over and give you a spanking.” He wasn’t at all sure if the threat would help, but he figured it couldn’t hurt, and he would certainly do it if she needed it.

  She’d stopped shaking and spasming almost immediately. Finn was kind of proud of himself for the achievement. He’d never given a woman a continuous orgasm before. Hell, he’d never even heard of one before now.

  “Are you okay?” he whispered against her ear.

  She just nodded, still crying silently.

  “I’m sorry,” they both said at the same time, then laughed somewhat awkwardly.

  “What do you have to be sorry about?” Finn asked. “It was your orgasm.”

  “Well, you gave it to me,” Cat answered, laying her head on his chest where it was already wet with her tears.

  “I guess there’s really no harm, no foul, with an orgasm, but I’m sorry it scared you. I take it that’s never happened before?”

  She shook her head. “Never. Usually it – well, it’s a big first contraction and then smaller, like aftershocks, and then it just kinda fades away on its own, but this one’s intensity never abated. It just kept going and going . . .”

  “The Energizer Bunny of orgasms. I like that.” He liked it better that he’d made her smile.

  “You okay?” he aaksed, for the umpteenth time.

  “Yeah. Sorry for the interruption in what has otherwise been a wonderful evening.” Cat reached up and kissed him on the lips a little tentatively, then with more passion.

  It didn’t take much to spark Finn’s interest again, but he didn’t want to be an insensitive pig. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  In answer, she kissed him again, more deeply this time, then reached down between them and gently grasped him, ruining the effect by giggling at the way he moaned uncontrollably at her touch.

  “I’m going to have to remember that the next time you’re threatening to spank me! I have a secret weapon to use as a diversion!”

  He rolled them both just slightly so that she was on her back, inserting his legs deliberately but slowly between hers, giving her more than enough time to object if she needed or wanted to. “Oh, you might suc
ceed in that at first, but remember: I’m younger, and I have a better memory, so you wouldn’t get away with it for long.”

  Cat frowned. “Hey, that ain’t right! That’s another reason why we shouldn’t be together. I need someone my own age who’s more likely to forget my transgressions than remember to correct me for them!”

  He’d brought her legs up and back further than she would have thought they’d go, but hadn’t entered her yet, although she could feel the head of him pressing insistently against her.

  “Look at me, Catherine,” he commanded, his tone far from the teasing one he’d just used.

  She did as she was told.

  He didn’t say it, but he didn’t want her thinking of Clint when he took her for the first time. Finn wanted her to watch him, to acknowledge and know in her heart that he was the one who was making love to her. He wasn’t going to allow her to use him as a substitute for Clint.

  Dear God, he was enormous! Or maybe it was just that it had been a while, but he was stretching her almost to the point of discomfort, despite the ample butter her body was generously providing.

  Each soft keen, the way she gripped his shoulders and half mewled made him want to plunge himself into her to the very hilt. But he refused to do so. He wanted this possession to take a long time. He didn’t want to hurt her, and he wanted her to remember every second, every millimeter of it.

  Finn hooked her legs over his elbows, forcing her back even further, forcibly lifting her bottom off the bed and opening her even further to him as he let his body weight do its job. Their eyes never wavered from each other; he could see that she was just short of pain, just shy of it, riding that edge carefully, and when he finally stopped, he rocked in just that much harder, pumping with his hips, pressing and shifting side to side, fitting himself into her completely while she gasped and moaned and fought to accommodate him.