by Hazel Jacobs
The age difference wasn’t terribly difficult. In fact, it made it a bit… naughtier. A bit sexier. I never thought I’d be attracted like that to an older man, but it turns out that all I needed was to see a well-sculpted model in motorcycle leathers to unlock that part of me.
I wondered what it was he saw in me. I must seem unbelievably naïve to him. Did he think it was funny or stupid that I’d caved so easily to his request to come and watch him argue his case? I’d done my best to turn down his offer to go over to Benson & Cole, so by the time he’d hit me with the second question, I’d used up all of my will power.
But it was flattering to have him make that offer to work with him. To hear him say that I could be getting something more–something better than what I was getting now–and to have someone with actual experience in the field tell me that I was better than Page & Sons. The way he said it too, with his smooth, husky voice as he’d run his fingertip over the sensitive flesh of my neck… well, that made it even harder to say no.
So then I found myself making my excuses to Luke Page, telling him that I wanted to observe more court cases in the mornings before getting back to work in the afternoons. He’d actually believed that. He was stupidly grateful for me winning the case for him yesterday.
While he’d been thanking me, I’d thought of what Christopher Cole had said about what I could be getting out of Benson & Cole.
“It’s fine, Luke… really,” I said, reminding myself that I was not the kind of woman who burnt bridges on her way to the top.
“No, really, you’re a lifesaver, Ava!”
And it was. In hindsight, being put on the spot like that had turned out to be a good chance for me to practice arguing a case. Would I have had that chance with someone like Benson & Cole? Probably not. They’d never put a first year associate in charge of a case at the last minute. But is that a positive or a negative in this scenario?
I drove to the courthouse. I was able watch Christopher argue his case. But I couldn’t concentrate on the words he spoke, or the way he argued because I was so focused on his presence. The way he seemed to fill the room with his own confidence, so anyone who wanted to work against him got the air pulled right out of their lungs before they could even try.
The entire time, I could feel his focus on me. When he was speaking to the judge or someone on his team, there were three interns helping him, and when he was cross-examining, I could feel the way he was watching me out of the corner of his eye. Is he trying to figure out what I think?
“Your Honor, I would like to strike that from the record.” He flicks his eyes to me. “I want to draw the court’s attention to the third paragraph of page forty-seven…” He turns his chin in my direction. “Due to the precedent in this matter…” He turns to face my seat and I tune out.
As I watch the closing argument I feel a surge of excitement, because even though he hardly ever looks at me during his closing statement I still feel like I’m a huge part of his focus.
Flattering, exciting–whatever the word I put on it—I find myself becoming addicted to his attention. His eyes draw toward me over and over. I want them on me all of the time. When he wins, he turns to look at me full-on, and I think my heart is about to stop at the aura of power surrounding him.
After the lawyers are done packing up their case notes, he pushes himself away from the table and comes toward me. I stand quickly. My head barely reaches his chin, but when he looks down at me I don’t feel small. I feel worthy of his notice. It’s an incredible feeling.
“What did you think?” he asks.
I want to admit that I had barely focused on the case because I’d been too enamored with the way his button-up shirt stretches over his toned muscles. I’ve noticed over and over that he’s well built, but it’s particularly noticeable when he’s in the courtroom and striding around with his chest puffed out, drawing the world into him. He’s a bear of a man, all solid muscle and warm presence.
“It was excellent work,” I say because I’m sure it was. “Benson & Cole are lucky to have you.”
“We’d be lucky to have you,” he says.
I feel myself blushing and I wish I wouldn’t. High school girls blush. Women smile coyly and swat men on the arm–I’ve seen it at Fever. If Emma were here, she’d have him melting with desire and totally relaxed. If Kayley were here, she’d have him coiled like a spring, ready to burst with lust.
“I think I’m happier to stay with Page & Sons,” I say.
That’s the one thing I’m almost sure about. How could I work alongside this man? I’d never be able to concentrate.
Christopher hums thoughtfully looking me up and down, and I have a sudden, thrilling feeling that he can see through my clothes. He glances over his shoulder to his interns–again, I feel the thrill that the corner of his eye remains focused on me–before turning back and taking my hand.
“Come with me,” he says.
I follow numbly. He takes me out of the courtroom and through the halls. His skin is warm on mine and I can hear my heart beating over the sound of my heels clicking and echoing on the mahogany walls around me. This feels like the part of the movie where the hero convinces the heroine to leave everything for him.
He takes me toward the rear of the courthouse, to one of the back exits which leads out to the parking lot. There’s a moment when I realize he’s trying to take me outside before he pulls me around and shoves me against the wall.
“Ava. I’ve been dying to do this to you. Don’t you fucking move,” he growls.
My brain shuts down. My heart stops. As I feel his beard scratch my chin and his lips touch mine, hard and insistent. I find myself kissing him back even though my mind is still scrambling to catch up.
He’s kissing me.
Christopher Cole is kissing me and pushing me against the wall out the back of the courthouse.
Holy shit!
He grinds against me and I start to feel my body responding. Heat pools in my groin, a heart-stopping groan escapes my throat, and my ankle hooks over his leg so I can pull him closer. I want more. It’s been so long and he’s so good. Older and more experienced in every way. The things I could learn from this man…
Christopher pulls out of the kiss and I find myself chasing him.
“Sure I can’t change your mind?” he asks.
I’m a little breathless, but I have the presence of mind to shake my head. “You’re a good kisser, but not good enough to make me leave my job.”
He grins down at me like I’ve said exactly what he wants to hear. Then he runs his hand down the front of my shirt, cupping my breasts, trailing down toward my skirt. I can hear my own breathing like someone’s gasping into my ear. We’re alone and it’s deserted, but I wonder how long that will last.
When Christopher’s finger traces around the top of my skirt, I realize I don’t care much about getting caught. And that’s a feverous thought.
“Not here,” I plead.
“If I take you somewhere, will you do as you’re told?”
I try to fight the desire to say ‘yes.’ “Within reason.”
“Ever ridden a motorbike before?”
I smile at that. “No. But I want to.”
He pulls away and I immediately miss his heat. But then he offers me a hand and I accept without hesitation.
“Come with me, Little Rose.”
CHRISTOPHER
I hadn’t planned to seduce her at the courthouse, but she’d been watching me through the case with such wide, awed eyes that I’d wound up with a hard on by the end. It’s only right that she help me with it–it’s her fault after all.
I’d expected her to be a bit nervous. Or maybe to hide her nerves with too much assurance, so that she’d wind up going too hard in the kiss. But this girl continues to surprise me. She’d melted into the kiss, drawing herself close to my body but allowing me to lead. The way she’d demurely taken my non-verbal direction told me she could handle what I’d planned for her–the bike in
the alley behind the courthouse.
The alley is clean. I checked it out when I parked the bike that morning. It’s also half-concealed along the side of the building, so it’s unlikely people will go there. I’ve been thinking about Ava Rose riding my cock since the moment I saw her, but since we still haven’t gotten those drinks I’d mentioned, I think it might take more than seeing me do battle in the courtroom to fuck her.
Ava’s eyes fall onto the bike and I see the sudden impressed look. I’m not sure if she knows anything about bikes, or if she’s instinctively aware of status symbols even when she’s not entirely sure whether or how they demonstrate that status. Regardless, she reaches out and runs her hand over the polished handlebars. I take a moment to observe her. This beautiful, young woman with her hair in a tight, professional looking bun. Her jacket is tailored to embellish her limited curves, her pantyhose covers the skin on her calves and her skirt is long enough to touch the tops of her knees. She is the picture of propriety and professional awareness. No one looking at her would think she’s a sexual being. But that’s their loss.
When Ava turns her eyes back to me, I see them flicker down to my crotch.
I feel my lips curling up into a smile. “You look gorgeous,” I tell her, and then lick my lips to show her exactly what I’m thinking about. Ava shivers and her eyes fix on my lips, so I reach out, grip her by the back of the neck, and pull her into a rough kiss. I half-expect her to pull away or try to withdraw, limit the roughness, maybe try to coax me into something softer, but she doesn’t. She meets me lick for lick and I feel my cock twitching as she attempts to not only match me but to take control of the kiss.
That won’t do at all.
I pull away, gripping her hair just on the edge of rough, and reach down to run my fingers through her cleavage. She has gorgeous small breasts, but they’re firm and I’m getting even harder thinking about them.
Ava leans up to try and kiss me again. I pull away. “Would you like me to fuck you in a way no man has before, Little Rose?”
She nods almost instantly.
“Sit on the bike,” I tell her. “And hold onto the handlebars.”
She looks confused but, after a moment, she does as she’s told. Good girl. She has to hike her skirt up to get her legs over the saddle and I watch as she settles herself down with her thighs exposed and her pantyhose on display. They’re black and sheer and all I want to do is rip them off and bend her over the bike.
All good things in time.
I had hoped that things would go this far. But that hope had been slim. This girl continues to impress.
When Ava is settled I put my hand on her back and press her down, so her chest is flat to the bike and her crotch is heavily pushed down to the leather of the seat. I wonder if it will smell like her later and that thought makes me run my hands over her back, feeling the lean muscles beneath the somber, boring black suit jacket.
“You were so powerful in that courtroom yesterday,” I tell her. “Do you like being in charge? Do you like standing in the middle of a room and knowing that no one can take their eyes off you?”
“Yes,” she replies. Her voice is breathless and it sends a jolt of electricity through me as I anticipate what’s coming next.
“What about now?” I ask, running my hand over her back again. “Do you like doing as you’re told, putting yourself completely in my power?”
She nods. I slap her sharply on the rear and it forces her forward, pressing her pussy hard against the leather of the bike saddle, and she moans. She liked that. I slap her again. She moans.
“Answer.”
“Yes.”
She writhes under my touch as I stroke her back. I bend forward and push some of the hair that’s fallen out of its bun aside. Her body shudders as I lick a stripe along the back of her neck, making her gasp. Tasting her on my tongue, I realize she’s grinding down on the seat. Enjoying the friction.
“Can I help you with that?” I ask her. “Would you like my help, Little Rose?”
When she doesn’t answer right away, I raise my hand off her back ready for another slap, and she gasps out, “Yes!”
I slap anyway and she moans, rocking forward and thrusting against the leather. “Don’t keep me waiting, baby!”
She’s grinning. It’s a pleasure-haze grin, but there’s also a hint of mischief there and that just makes me harder. I want to see her riding me, but right now I’m more interested in seeing her ride my bike. The way she’s shoving her pussy against it lets me know the seat will definitely smell like her when we’re done here. The thought makes me even more excited.
Turning my head, I glance up and down the alley. I already know it’s unlikely anyone will find us, but I want to make sure. This is the sort of shit that might come back to haunt Ava someday.
When I’m confident we’re alone I kneel down and reach for the key in the ignition, turn it on and watch the bike come to life with a low rumble. Immediately, Ava’s hands spasm on the handlebars and she strains and writhes against the seat, her eyes fluttering shut and her grin falling into an open-mouthed silent moan.
Pressing down on my erection through my pants, I ignore the ache of want pulsating through me. Placing my hand on the bike I double-check that it’s completely stationary, and then lean over and whisper in her ear, “Turn the handlebars, Little Rose.”
Ava whimpers. Slowly, she does as she’s told, and the sudden surge of power and vibration stimulates her pussy in an all-over attack. Ava instantly starts thrusting harder against the bike saddle. Her movements are vigorous, targeted, and desperate. When the revs die down, she whimpers.
I come around to the back of the bike, lift up her skirt, and tear the pantyhose around her crotch. There’s dampness on her black panties and when the pantyhose are torn I begin to smell her delicious scent. While palming myself through my pants I take a moment to admire the view, as Ava strains her neck around to try and see what I’m doing.
“I liked those,” she mutters, her voice husky and deep.
“I’ll buy you new ones,” I tell her. I shove the panties out of the way and enjoy the sight of her waxed, dripping pussy, pink and swollen with desire. She’s all lubed up and moans when the comparatively cool air hits her intimately. “Keep turning the handlebars, Ava. Don’t stop.”
She obeys, sighing and leaning down to rest her head on the bars as she turns, revving the engine, I send whining growls into the air that mingle with her moans and gasps. When she begins grinding against the saddle again, I watch as her pussy starts becoming wetter, enjoying the sight and the scent, before shoving two of my fingers unceremoniously inside of her.
Ava moans out a noise that sounds suspiciously like a loud, “Yes,” and she starts revving the engine harder. I don’t need to do anything more. Standing there, I press the heel of my palm against my erection while I watch this gorgeous blonde fucking herself on my bike and on my fingers.
The harder she goes, the stronger my desire for her builds. I have to stop palming myself through my pants because I’m actually starting to worry that I might come in them. I want to come in her mouth, when she’s still limp from her own orgasm. I want her to remember this moment, to remember the way I made her feel, and I want to see her lidded, exhausted eyes while I’m enjoying myself. And the best thing about this is, I know she’ll be up for it. How many other women would climb onto a bike and fuck themselves into oblivion? Especially with a man they hardly know?
My Little Rose, that’s who.
Ava’s hair is falling out of its bun, her skirt has hiked up so much that her ass is on display. I consider pressing my thumb up a bit, but I decide this is the sort of thing that should be saved for a second date.
And there will definitely be a second date.
I’d decided that the moment I saw her staring hungrily at my cock before clambering onto the bike to follow my instructions.
This girl is too good to be true.
AVA
I still can’t bel
ieve I did that.
I’ve never been okay with taking directions from a man in bed. But for some reason, I want to do exactly what he tells me. I think it might be the age difference. He looks like he’s old enough to be my father, and as soon as that thought enters my mind I scramble to shove it away. But there’s something sexy about being with an older man. Something that makes me willing to take direction, even obey orders, if it means he can show me everything I’ve been missing out on in the years I’ve been dating boys instead of men.
After he’d had his way with me on the bike, he’d invited me for drinks. I’d been too dazed—messed up and still vibrating with the hum of the bike running through my body, from my clit to my brain–to remember that I had a shift at Fever. I’d considered calling in sick until I realized how foolish that would be. Instead, I’d sent Christopher an email from home to cancel, shoved my disappointment down with my pride and gotten ready for work.
I still can’t believe I did that. Let a man have me fuck his bike in the alley behind the courthouse–right next to my workplace. I’ve never, in my life, thought I could do something so unprofessional. I considered I was better than that, but within ten minutes of him kissing me I was bending over without a second thought.
I called Emma and Kayley right after and we’d talked it out.
Kayley congratulated me on getting out of my comfort zone. Emma just wanted to know how big he was and was immensely disappointed to find out I never saw it. After a few minutes of teasing, they got serious.
“But for real, Ava… did you enjoy it?”
“Yes,” I replied without hesitation, parked in the parking lot of Page & Sons, still vibrating from my orgasm. “Very much.”
“So there’s nothing wrong with it,” Kayley said dismissively. “You shouldn’t be ashamed of your sexuality.”
“I might be when I go to jail for public indecency.”
“Well, if you do, you know a good lawyer.”
“You’re fine, Ava,” Emma said soothingly. I could hear a soft scraping from her end of the phone–she must have been shaving her legs or something while we were talking. “This is normal for people who don’t get frisky in public very often. If this is how attracted you are to this man, then you should embrace it. You babysit all of us every night, have some fucking fun for once!”
