His gaze was locked onto hers. The only sign that he was undergoing the same emotional transformation as her was the way he squeezed her leg harder when he looked at her. “I’m going to fuck you, hard,” he said calmly. “I’m going to pound your tight pussy so hard, you come ten times on my cock. How does that sound to you?”
He moved his hand up her leg, up and up until he came to her shorts. Then he pushed her shorts aside, wiggled his fingers between her legs, and underneath her panties. When his finger pressed down on her clit, she felt as though a mini-explosion had happened down there. Heat bloomed from his finger and pleasure seared through her in tendrils that reach through her body.
“How does that sound?” he went on, rubbing her clit fast now, pressing it like a button and moving his finger from side to side.
Samantha was a virgin, and the few (very few) sexual experiences she’d had were nothing like this. They’d been with nervous, shy college boys who hardly knew where the clit was: boys who blushed when they touched her; boys who didn’t turn her on in the least. Jason Sykes was so separate from these experiences in her mind that’s she felt this was the first time her pussy had been touched.
“Good,” she breathed, her chest rising and falling quickly. “Really good.”
“Call me sir,” he said calmly, and moved his finger even quicker.
She took a quick breath, breathing deeply. “Sir, I want it.”
“Good girl,” the fifty-year-old billionaire said. Yes, yes, the fifty-year-old billionaire! The pleasure was too intense to second-guess herself. It was too all-encompassing. She wanted it, hard, now. She had never had it, but she wanted it now. “I’m going to slide my cock into your tight pussy. Is your pussy tight?”
“Yes, sir,” Samantha cried, as the pleasure mounted in her pussy, emanating from his fingertip. “It’s very tight, sir.”
“Good,” he said.
He rubbed harder and harder and harder—
The orgasm kicked like a shotgun blast, jolting her whole body. She keeled over, the pleasure blooming like a flower made of fire, and then soaring through her body, all the way to the top of her head and the bottom of her toes, filling her entirely, all from that one point of burning pleasure in her clit. She moaned loudly; she heard the moans mix with the tweeting of the birds around her. People might hear her; she didn’t care. She didn’t care about any of that right now. She only cared about having her pleasure, about feeling something so otherworldly she could not believe that another woman had felt it before.
And then it passed, and her breath came heavily, her eyes felt tired, her pussy throbbed—tired and yet hungry for more. Jason removed his hand and stood from the log. He turned, and stood over her. His cock was visible beneath his shorts, huge and rock-hard. She hadn’t seen many dicks, but even so Jason’s cock was huge, ginormous, massive, even intimidating compared to the dicks she had seen.
“Have you sucked cock before?” he said, looking down at her in that matter-of-fact way, in that powerful way.
“No,” Samantha answered honestly. “Never.”
“I’ll teach you,” Jason said.
He pulled down his shorts. His cock sprung up, at least ten inches long and thick, too. There were a few gray hairs in his pubes, but Samantha didn’t care. If anything, it turned her on more. He was older than her, more experience than her. He knew how to take control. He reached forward and placed his hands on her head, and then pushed his cock forward toward her mouth.
“Open,” he commanded.
Samantha opened her mouth as wide as she could, but still she didn’t think it was wide enough to take this cock. Her teeth scraped the hardness as he pushed it into her mouth, he was so big. He didn’t seem to mind, though. “Oh, fuck,” he moaned. “Now, suck.”
The rest moved on in a blur of heat and pleasure, and sex. Sex, Samantha thought in wonder, when he was atop her, thrusting, fucking her. This is sex. It hurt at first – hurt a lot – but after a few minutes she opened up to him, and his huge cock sent an electric burst of pleasure through her.
Afterward, they lay in the fresh green grass, the sun shining directly down upon them. “Wow,” Samantha breathed, thinking she could sleep here forever if she had to.
“Wow,” Jason agreed.
*****
Three Months Later
The afternoon came to her again and again. She returned to New York after the weekend with the feeling that she had done something important. She felt lighter, freer, than she had in years. She and Jason had sex twice more over that weekend, on Sunday and the Monday, and all three times had been the most pleasure Samantha had ever experienced. But real life – as always – could not be ignored, and she had a job to get back to.
October came, autumn replacing summer – leaves turned brown, the wind was no longer a light breeze, and she began wearing hats and jeans and jackets instead of summer dresses. But these changes were infinitesimal compared with the larger change that happened within her. Today, Saturday morning, she stood in front of the full-length mirror in her bedroom completely naked, studying her belly. If her belly was not normally flat, it was pretty close. She spent some time in the gym, and prided herself on her appearance. But now a tiny, tiny bump had appeared. It was a three-month pregnancy bump. The tests couldn’t be ignored, nor could the visit to the doctor. She was bonafide pregnant by her dad’s boss, but the man who she had lusted after since she was a teenager.
And now it was time to tell him.
The phone conversation hadn’t been as awkward as she thought it might be. Jason’s advertising agency was in New York, too, and they hadn’t made any attempt to see each other since that weekend (despite holding each for a long time afterward on the third occasion, and kissing passionately, and beginning to bridge the gap between fucking and making love), but now Samantha had to see him. She was keeping the baby, and he had to know.
“You need to come over,” she’d said the night before, the phone pressed against her ear, dreading his reply. He might hang up on her. He might see her as a one-time – one-weekend – fling. He might laugh at her. Maybe there were loads of girls like her, a long string of them, and he had forgotten all about her.
But he wasn’t mean. “I was waiting for you to call,” he’d said instead, and followed it up with: “I’ll come by anytime you want me to.”
Samantha had asked him to come tomorrow – today – and he had agreed. She felt strange about inviting him into her apartment. It would be like inviting him into her private place, into a place that had nothing to do with the days in the woods. But there was no alternative. The father of her child deserved to know that he was going to be a father. It was that simple. And yet she was wracked with nerves. She’d vomited twice this morning, and not just because of morning sickness. They had been incautious, that was the truth, and yet Samantha could not connect those three passionate, taboo-shattering days with what was about to happen.
The doorbell rang.
“Damn,” she hissed, and ran to her bedroom.
She threw on whatever clothes she could find – sweatpants, hoodie – and ran across the apartment to the door. Rain pattered against the glass, light autumnal rain, and when she answered the door she saw that droplets dripped from Jason’s black beard onto the carpet. “Thank you for coming,” she said, her tone coming across more stiffly than she’d intended. “Come in.”
Jason walked into the apartment with the gait of a self-assured man, as he walked everywhere. Without waiting for her to offer, he sat on the chair that faced the couch and waited for her to join him. She slumped down on the couch opposite him. Suddenly, she wished she’d turned the radio on. The apartment seemed deathly quiet with the just the rain and the silence between them. She sighed, rubbed her eyes with her thumbs, blurring her vision, and then blinked to clear it.
When she looked at him, she saw that he was looking directly at her. “I have something to tell—”
“You’re pregnant,” he interrupted.
&nbs
p; “How . . .”
He shrugged. “What else? We have those three days. We are so caught up in it that we don’t bother with protection. And then you call me out of the blue. It’s the only thing that makes sense.” He said it all matter-of-factly. Samantha was stunned, and a little angry. He spoke about it as though it were not life-changing.
“Maybe I have an STI,” she spat vindictively, meaning to make him cringe, or recoil, or something. But he didn’t.
He just shook his head. “That’s impossible,” he said calmly.
“Impossible? How?”
He bit his lip. It was the first time Samantha had ever seen him not completely self-assured. He bit it for a few moments, and then seemed to realize what he was doing and stopped. He’s nervous, Samantha thought in wonder. He’s actually nervous.
“How?” she persisted.
“I haven’t slept with anyone in twenty-five years,” he said.
“Twenty-five . . . Liar!” Rage moved through her, as thick and hot as liquefied steel, infusing her body and clogging her mind. She jumped to her feet and waved her hand at him. “Why are you lying?”
He sighed and rose to his feet. Samantha stepped back uncertainly. He held out his hands in a show of peace. “I’m not lying,” he said. “I’m not lying at all. I have not slept with anyone in twenty-five years. That is the truth. There was a woman, once, but she broke my heart. Yes, I know, you probably think I am the kind of man whose heart cannot be broken. But it was, once. And then women did not interest me very much. But then—you, Samantha.I don’t know what I expected when I joined you and your father at Lake Diamond, but whatever it was, I got better. It was the best weekend of my life.”
Samantha felt the rage seep from her, as though physically pouring from her body. She sighed, deflated, and fell onto the couch. “I haven’t got an STI, by the way,” she said, looking at the coffee table. She’d left so many rings on it over years of editing that it looked like it was built into the pattern. “I don’t know why I said that. To hurt you, I guess.”
“Why?” Jason asked. His voice was close; his shadow blocked the cool yellow electric light.
“Because you sounded so calm.” Samantha breathed lightly, her head clearing. She wasn’t angry anymore. She was tired. Her eyes felt as though they wanted to close. “How can you be so calm about it?”
He knelt in front of her and lifted her chin with his finger, turning her gaze to his. “Because I know what we’re going to do,” he said. “I know what we have to do. But saying that we have to do it diminishes it, because I want it. The only question is do you want it?”
“Want what?” Samantha said, her voice low, her eyes locked on his.
“Marry me,” he said simply. “Samantha Bines, marry me.”
Samantha gasped.
What am I supposed to say to that?!
*****
She looked into his eyes and could hardly believe what he had said. Here was this hard, cold man (or so she had thought), this tough man, this implacable man, and he was casually offering to marry her. And what he had said about not having sex for a quarter-century . . . Quarter-century, she thought. When you put it like that, it sounds very long indeed!“Why do you want to marry me?” she asked, her voice too calm for the situation. His calm had infected her. If he wasn’t going to lose his mind, go crazy with anxiety, that she wasn’t going too, either. “Jason, why?Because of the baby?”
“Partly.” He nodded. Then he moved his hand from her face to her shoulders. He held her shoulders firmly. Each finger seemed to transfer some of his strength to her. She didn’t know this man. He had taken her virginity – they had shared three days of sex – but she didn’t know him. He was a stranger to her, just a man. But that was no true, was it? She knew it wasn’t. He wasn’t just a man to her. He was the man: the first man she had ever wanted with that bone-deep lust that comes so infrequently in a lifetime.
“Partly,” he repeated, and rubbed her shoulders. “But I want you, too, Samantha. I have thought about that weekend every day for these past three months.”
“So why didn’t you reach out?” Samantha said. “I have been here, in the same city as you, this whole time. It would have been simple for you to reach out to me. It would have been simple to pick up the phone and be like: Hey, remember when he had sex? Yeah, me too! How about a coffee? But instead, I get nothing from you. Nothing at all. Just silence. And I’m left here with the baby, wondering what the hell I’m going to do—freaking out, in all honesty. And now, out of the blue, you want to talk about marriage? How about a date first?”
“You don’t want to get married?” Jason asked.
“I asked my question first,” Samantha countered.
Jason sighed, and then nodded (his hands never leaving her shoulders, his strength never leaving her). “There wasn’t any malice or – or maybe that’s the wrong word – intention. Yes, there wasn’t any intention behind it. I just assumed you were young, free, single. You would be out with younger men. Have each other for a weekend? Fine, sure, I can see how that might appeal to you. But have me for longer than that? I don’t know.”
“You’re not that insecure,” Samantha said.
“I’m not insecure at all,” Jason said. “But I’m a realist, and I understand that what happens in a clearing in the forest doesn’t always translate well to the city, to real life.” He shrugged; his hands moved slightly on her shoulders, tickling her. But she liked it. “And with your dad . . . hang on, does he even know that you’re pregnant?”
Samantha blushed. Her foot began to tap on the floor as it had used to when she was a girl and the teacher called her out in class. “No,” she muttered. “No, I haven’t told him yet. I’ll have to soon, though. I wanted to tell you, first. It seemed more important.”
She didn’t think that anybody would understand that – how could she not tell her own father? – but Jason nodded as if he did. And Samantha believed that he truly did; he could see deeper into her than most people. It was an intimacy as inexplicable as it was evident. He’d known, that day three months ago in the forest at Lake Diamond, that she’d respond to him; he’d been able to see that in her. And he knew just as well that she needed him to know before Dad knew. He knew this wordlessly, without having to be told. It was a relief like having a weight taken from your arms—not to have to explain everything all the time.
“We’ll tell him together,” Jason said. “If that suits you?”
Samantha thought about this. “I haven’t agreed to the wedding,” she said. Her foot had stopped tapping. Jason’s hands were too calming for that. “I haven’t agreed to any of it.”
“I know,” Jason said. “But you will. I know you will. But—but we don’t have to think about that right now, do we? We don’t have to think about any of it. Right now it’s just me and you. There’s no reason I shouldn’t stay here for a while.”
“To do what?” Samantha said, and was shocked by the lust that rose within her. They were speaking about serious things – about things which would shape the paths of their lives – and yet the lust rose within her all the same. She imagined a volcano, full of lava, bubbling, out of which a great monolith rose. That was how she saw her lust. Formed in the fire of their emotions, it rose within her. Or maybe it is just the hormones, she thought prosaically. And I’m being overdramatic about it all.
Jason had been about to say something innocent – watch TV, order some food – but he must’ve seen the change in her face. He moved his hands from her shoulders, down past her breasts, past the tiny bump, to her pussy. He clamped his hand down on the sweatpants, and Samantha let out a long moan. Light fired in Jason’s eyes – the type of light that fires in the eyes of a man who has not known a woman for a long time – and he leaned into her.
She found his lips through his black beard, kissed them softly—and then with more force. He pressed his lips firmly against hers, so firmly that she could feel their teeth pressing together behind their lips, cutting into the flesh
. But she didn’t care, because he was working his hand under her sweatpants now. He touched her bare pussy, rubbed her clit, and then went further and slid his middle finger deep inside of her.
“Oh . . . fuck . . .”
His eyes widened at her voice, and when Samantha looked down she saw that his cock was hard in his suit pants. She pulled at his tie – a tie that looked like it cost more than some cars – undid it quickly, and then began to unbutton his shirt. She got tired of the buttons and pulled it apart, the buttons spinning through the air and clattering to the carpet with soft thump sounds. Jason stood up and unbuckled his belt, let his pants fall to his ankles. His cock sprung up, and Samantha immediately jumped at it, rubbed it, sucked it.
Jason moaned and placed his hands on her head. “Fuck, yes, Samantha . . . fuck, yes . . .”
Afterward, they lay together in bed. They had fucked all day. Samantha only knew this because there was no light in the room and the paltry cloud-shielded sunlight had faded. She snuggled into the crest between his armpit and chest, resting her head on his pectoral muscles, feeling the hardness – the solidity, the safety – of them on her cheek.
They lay in silence for a long time, and then Jason reached down and laid his hand on Samantha’s belly. “My child is in there,” he said wondrously. “My child. Fifty years old – fifty one soon – and I am going to have my first child. Does it scare you, Samantha?”
“Does what scare me?” she said, her eyes heavy from the sex, her body sore, but content.
“My age,” he said, his hand massaging her belly.
“No,” she said. She meant it, too. It didn’t scare her in the least. She would have been much more scared, in fact, if the father of her child had been a younger man. Having an older, experience, rich-as-god man as the father of her child made her feel safer; warmth filled her chest when she thought of it like that. “Not in the slightest.”
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