Wreck Me: An Older Man, Younger Woman Standalone Romance

by Lane Hart

  “Hey, how was the trip down?” she asks.

  “The trip was fine and my old Sentra made it, just with no AC the whole way,” I tell her.

  “And? How was it to see him again? Have you jumped his bones yet?”

  “No!” I tell her. “That’s not why I came down here.”

  “Isn’t it?” she asks. “You can say it was for the job and all, but deep down, you went back for Brody.”

  “Maybe a little,” I agree. “And I was gonna remain strong, you know, keep things strictly professional, maybe get closure…”

  “But?” Cheryl guesses where the conversation is going.

  “But then he told me how much he missed me, and that he wants to be with me.”

  “Wow. He didn’t waste any time, did he? And what happened to his promise to keep his hands off of you?” she complains in my ear while I try to watch the rhythmic rise and fall of the waves in the ocean. “So…what did you tell him?” she asks when I stay silent.

  “I told him I couldn’t go through the whole crash and burn with him again when he refuses to pick me over Sara; that it was too hard the first time and I know he won’t ever make the decision to drive away his daughter. Nor do I want him to do that…”

  “Then why do you sound so unsure?” Cheryl prods.

  “Because then he came up with this idea of a compromise…”

  “A compromise to what?”

  “To us actually being together and just hiding it from Sara,” I explain.

  “Oooh, sneaky.”

  “And it’s crazy for me to think that could ever work, right?” I ask her.

  “I dunno. Maybe not,” Cheryl replies, filling up the balloon of hope in my chest with a gust of air. “Sara doesn’t really see him often because she’s still so angry with him. I’m sure she would give him plenty of notice if she plans a visit, so you could get out of dodge until she leaves again, with her none the wiser…”

  “So you don’t think this is a crazy idea, or that I’ll end up getting my heart shattered again?”

  “I’m not saying that there’s not a possibility of it ending badly, because there are no guarantees with anything, especially this,” she tells me.

  “I know that,” I mutter as I step back into the cool air of the hotel room. “And it’s possible that within a week, we could both realize that this is nothing more than great sex and there’s no future for us, not even one that has to be kept a secret. I just wish there was some way to know how it will go before I make the jump.”

  “Well, I don’t have my crystal ball in front of me, so you’ll have to figure it out on your own,” Cheryl teases. “Or ask divine intervention for a sign.”

  “Hmm, the divine intervention way sounds easier, so let me see if the Gideons stashed a Bible in my room,” I joke with a smile she can’t see.

  Sitting down on the edge of the queen bed, I pull open the top drawer on the bedside table, looking for the Good Book just to snap a photo of it to send to Cheryl for a laugh. Instead, I discover something even better.

  “Holy shit!” I exclaim into the phone.

  “What?” she asks.

  “He’s in my drawer,” I tell her, as I look at the sexy image on the front of a local magazine.

  “Who? Jesus?” Cheryl asks.

  “No, Brody!” I reach for the magazine with a shaking hand so I can get a better look. “You won’t believe this, Cher, but he’s on the cover of Coastal Leisure issue, in nothing but a fucking towel.”

  “What? No way!” she replies with a laugh. “There’s your sign, Riley. Now send me a pic!”

  “Okay, hold on,” I tell her as I read the headline. “‘Local photographer strips down to save our shores.’” I flip through the pages, one right after another, to find the main article, and there he is…camera around his neck, wearing a white button-up and gray slacks, leaning his back against the edge of the desk I assume is in the studio, but didn’t see today.

  “I’ll call you back,” I tell Cheryl so I can concentrate on the words on the page instead of her rambling in my ear.

  There’s an interview with Brody about why he decided to take it all off for the ‘Save Our Shores’ fundraiser. His response is that a friend on the committee convinced him it could raise money and get attention for them, so he agreed and shot the image himself. There’s an online auction for the twenty-four by twenty-six canvas on the charity’s website, and the response has been so overwhelming that he’s now offering three photos instead of just one. The article says he’ll be selling eight by tens at the event in the park next weekend, for five dollars each, and all proceeds go toward protecting sea life and cleaning up the local beaches after hurricanes.

  The reporter then asks Brody about his photography, how long he’s been in the business (nine years), his favorite subject (beach and beach life, of course), and how he manages to capture such breathtaking images. I reread his response to that question at least three times.

  “Over the years, I’ve learned a little more with each click of the camera, and am constantly looking for ways to improve my work, but someone recently told me that I don’t just capture images, that I put my heart and soul into them. I would like to think that’s true, that I treat each subject like they’re the center of my universe. And they are. When I’m looking through my lens, everything else disappears but my subject, at least for a few seconds.”

  He quoted me. He still remembers what I said one night, all those weeks ago.

  And if Brody on the magazine in my hotel room wasn’t enough of a sign, I spot another one while I’m looking at the photo of him. There, on the corner of his desk in a frame, is a close-up of a girl. Even from this far away in a picture, I can tell that the girl is definitely not Sara, who has light, sandy blonde hair. I hold the page closer to my face to see it better, wishing I had a magnifying glass. This girl in the photo on his desk has long, nearly black waves, blowing in the wind, the bright pink strings of her bikini showing.

  It’s me.

  Brody snapped the shot while all the girls and I were on the beach in June. And not only did he take the photo, he printed it and framed it, giving it a place of honor on his desk.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Brody

  After tossing and turning for over an hour, I haul myself up into a sitting position on the edge of the bed, running my fingers through my hair in frustration because I desperately want to know what’s going on in Riley’s head right about now.

  Knowing I may as well give up on sleep for the time being, probably for the night, I get up and walk over to slide open the door that leads to the balcony overlooking the ocean.

  The moon is high and almost full tonight, reminding me of the first night I kissed Riley.

  Below me, the waves crash and then retreat back to the sea, over and over again, but even that soothing repetition won’t be able to ease me into sleep tonight. At least I don’t have to be up early tomorrow. The studio is closed on Saturdays because that’s when I usually schedule my on-site shoots and weddings. Then I take off on Sundays, just for me. Tomorrow, I’m free until the afternoon, when I need to be at the church an hour before the five o’clock ceremony. Now I’m wondering if I’ll be there alone, or if Riley will be with me.

  Along the empty beach, I spot a lone figure out walking. It’s not uncommon to see someone on a late-night stroll, but this person wearing white practically glows in the darkness. And it’s damn dark because, other than the moon, it’s lights out for all houses and hotels up and down the coastline. The lights deter female sea turtles from coming up on the shore and laying their nests this time of year.

  As the figure comes closer, it becomes obvious that it’s a woman, wearing a dress that billows in the wind. She looks like an angel, wandering the beach sadly in the hopes of finding answers…

  “Riley,” I mutter softly in recognition when she comes to a stop in front of the house and looks up at it.

  Can she see me up here in the shadows? Probably not, s
o I go back inside and turn on the light in my bedroom, signaling to her that I’m awake, before I jog down the steps to the beach, wearing nothing but my boxer briefs.

  …

  Riley

  When the light at the top of the house where Brody’s bedroom is suddenly flicks on, I know that he’s not only awake, but he must have spotted me out here.

  Hours ago, back at the hotel, I decided to go for a walk on the beach to clear my head after finding that article. It didn’t take long before I knew where my feet were taking me --- right where my heart longed to be.

  It took more time than I expected to get here, and I was certain Brody would be in bed asleep by now, but I guess he wasn’t.

  Over the winds blowing around me and crashing waves, I hear the sound of his footsteps coming down the creaking wooden stairs. Each step that brings him closer makes me know that this is what I want.

  He is who I want to be with.

  When he’s right in front of me, I jump into his arms. Brody catches me, lifting me off the ground and kissing me, as I wrap my legs around his waist and bury my fingers in his hair.

  “Can I take this as a yes?” he whispers against my lips while his hands on my ass squeeze hard enough to leave bruises.

  “Yes,” I answer.

  “Thank God. I need you so much,” he tells me as he kisses down my neck, to my chest, swiping his tongue down the line between my cleavage, sending jolts of tingles to my core, reminding me how incredible his mouth feels even lower.

  Brody kneels in the sand with me still in his arms. We kiss as he moves backward, with me riding him down to the sand, unable to remove my lips from his.

  “I’m starved for you, baby. Let me taste you,” he says between gasps, yanking me up by my hips unexpectedly. I end up straddling his face, my knees in the sand on either side of his head. His strong hands grip the V-neck of my dress and tear it apart, ripping it down the center, while his hot, panting breaths seep through the crotch of my miniscule panties, making me shiver. I may be on top of him but there’s no doubt that Brody’s the one in control. He owns me from the bottom and I’m at his mercy, his to do with as he pleases. God, I’ve missed him.

  “Oh, yes!” I moan when his tongue attacks the string of my thong ravenously, trying to get to my flesh. Frustrated with the fabric for impeding his tongue lashing, he reaches up and jerks it to the side, then licks me with the precision of a man who knows my body better than I do. With my head thrown back in ecstasy, I grind my pussy on his face with no shame; just urgent, single-minded need for sweet relief. It’s been way too long.

  And Brody gives it to me. At least twice, my body convulses above him and I scream his name.

  “Now show me how wet you are for me, sweetheart. Pull my cock out and ride it.” He looks up to tell me with an impatient slap to my ass.

  Needing to finally feel him inside of me, I squirm on my knees backward until I get to his boxer briefs. Tugging them down, I gasp when his long, thick cock bobs free, looking even bigger in the darkness than I remember, and just as yummy. I can’t resist leaning down for a slow lick. But that’s not enough either, so I wrap my hand around his wide girth and feed his head past my lips and down my throat as far as I can go.

  “I’ve missed that mouth,” Brody grumbles. “But right now, I want my pussy where it belongs; where it’s gonna stay for the next few days, until I remind it that I’m the only one it comes for.”

  Lifting my head and pulling my mouth off him, I reply, “Yes, sir,” as I line myself up, pulling my thong to the side so I can mount him. I take him one slow inch at a time into me, until I’m so full I can’t breathe, and there’s still more of his cock to take.

  “Fuck, you’re tight,” Brody groans underneath me as his hands squeeze and fondle both of my breasts.

  “It’s been so long…” I say as my body stretches for him.

  “How long?” he growls, eyes sparkling in the moonlight, holding mine.

  “Seven…eight weeks ago,” I tell him honestly, meaning my last time was with him.

  “No,” he replies and I freeze, thinking that he doesn’t believe me. But then he says, “I’ve been in this pussy every night. You just didn’t feel it.”

  That makes me smile in relief. “Oh, I felt it.” More relaxed, I lower myself down his shaft, taking the rest of him. “Because I was riding this cock every night when my hand would slip down the front of my panties.”

  Brody closes his eyes and groans. His cock twitches inside of me. “God, I’ve missed you,” he says when he opens them again. “Now show me how you rode my dick, and don’t you dare come until I do.”

  “Yes, sir,” I tell him as I lean forward, putting my chest to his and running my fingers through his hair to kiss him before I start fucking him.

  …

  Brody

  After me and Riley both come together on the beach, I pick her up in my arms, naked now except for her panties, and carry her into the house. I don’t stop until I get to the guest bedroom she stayed in. Flipping on the overhead light with my elbow, I toss her onto the center of the mattress.

  I want to fuck her like that first night, except this time, I won’t be leaving her afterward. All the wild horses on the island couldn’t drag me away.

  Without asking, Riley goes up on her hands and knees, knowing what I want, offering that perfect ass to me. I climb on the bed behind her and grab the string waist of her white thong to pull the hindrance over her ass and down her thighs, raising each of her knees to finally remove it from her legs.

  Looking over her shoulder, her long dark hair forming a curtain around her face, she asks, “Will you fuck me hard?”

  “You know I will,” I tell her. “Now spread your legs wider for me.”

  She adjusts her knees, spreading them apart like I asked.

  Reaching for her long hair, I pull it all together so I can use it to tug her head backward.

  “If you want my cock, I want to hear you beg for it, each and every thrust,” I tell her.

  “Please give it to me,” Riley says. I hold her hips steady with my free hand and plunge inside of her, filling her to the hilt and making her cry out. My eyes close with a groan because of how amazing she feels. God, I’ve missed her so damn much. Not just this, but everything, seeing her, being near her. I can’t let her go again.

  Easing my hips back, I wait, even though my cock wants to take over.

  “I want it so bad, please, Brody…Oh God!” she moans when I slam into her again.

  “Please don’t stop,” she begs. I retreat and give her another stroke. “Yes, yes! I need you! Fuck me harder!”

  “Like this?” I ask, pounding into her so hard she moves a foot across the bed.

  “Yes! Oh God, yes!” she screams. Desperate for more, Riley rears back to drive me deep inside of her again without me even moving. And fuck, it’s good. So good that I let her keep going until her walls start clenching around my aching length and I spill my release inside of her. With the last of my full body tremors, I collapse on top of Riley and kiss the back of her neck over to the top of her shoulder.

  “Thank you,” I tell her, not meaning for the sex but for the chance to be with her. “But just so you know, now I’m never letting you go.”

  Turning her head to the side so she can see me, she says, “You better mean that.”

  “I do,” I reply, kissing her cheek. “And I’m not just keeping you around because of this, even if this is pretty fucking amazing.”

  “Yeah, it is,” she agrees with a smile.

  “I know it’s important to you, so tomorrow we’ll start working on your photography,” I tell her as I keep peppering her skin with kisses. “Why didn’t you tell me you studied it in school?”

  “Because it was only a few classes. I don’t know much more than the basics,” she replies.

  I roll off her back and lay beside her so I can see her beautiful face. “Knowing the basics is about all there is. Then you just practice, find subjects
, and take photos. The more you do it, the better you get at finding the right light, the right angles.”

  “You make it sound so easy,” Riley grins.

  “It is easy. And you’re starting out with more training than I had.”

  “Really?” she asks, her dark eyebrows raised in surprise.

  “Yeah. I taught myself, played around to see what worked and what didn’t.”

  “And now you’re one of the best beach photographers there is,” she says, making me smile.

  “I don’t know about that,” I say, brushing a wavy strand of her hair behind her ear. “But I heard you’re a fan of ‘Full Moon Fever’.”

  Riley looks at me silently for a second before she asks, “How did you know that?”

  “A little bird told me,” I reply with a bigger grin. “Screensaver, was it?”

  “Cheryl,” Riley says with a sigh, covering her face with her hand in embarrassment.

  “I’m flattered,” I tell her. “And it makes me wish I would have spent more time talking to you that week we had together. But once you had awoken that sleeping beast inside of me, I couldn’t keep my hands off of you.”

  “And now the beast is under control?” she asks.

  “No, of course not,” I reply with a chuckle. “Now that there’s no expiration date hanging over us like the guillotine, I’m just not as frenzied.”

  “I’m so glad there’s no expiration,” she says, laying her head down on her folded arms. “And it will be nice not to have to wake up early to sneak into a different bed.”

  “God, yes,” I agree, pulling her closer to me. “We can finally sleep in through the morning together.”

  “Looking forward to it,” Riley replies, pressing her lips to mine.

  And I keep kissing her until both of us eventually drift off to sleep.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Riley

  “To give me an idea of your experience, do you have any of your photos I can look at?” Brody asks, as he helps me bring up the last of my things to stow in the guest bedroom.