I hear her restart the dryer, lingering in there, not wanting to come back.
She eventually moves through to where her coat and boots are, and I can hear her unzipping something.
I spin around, worried she’ll leave just wearing that coat and boots; but she’s holding up her phone.
“I should charge this,” she says. “I should let my dad know where I am, he’ll be worried sick by now.”
I feel a flush of indignation until I remember just how worried I was about Valentine.
“Of course. Uh, use the phone,” I tell her, motioning to the one on the wall.
“Or the one in the hall,” I correct myself, figuring she might want some privacy, but there’s a different look on her face, almost a lost inquisitive look.
“You just push the buttons and wait, like a regular phone,” I tell her, realizing she maybe hasn’t used a landline phone before. Lots of people haven’t nowadays.
Christ, I feel so fucking old.
Watching her move towards the kitchen phone, I decide to clear the dishes and maybe give her some of that privacy.
Valentine snuffs himself awake and makes a high pitched sound before I treat him to the leftover meat and fat from our plates.
I only glance over to make sure she’s got the phone figured out, and I smile when I see her concentrated face before it clicks.
It doesn’t take long for me to realize her dad’s a little more than just worried though.
I can hear him from where I’m standing, and the phone is a good thirty feet from the sink.
Everything in this place is huge. The rooms, the kitchen. I can hear the man as if he were right here with us.
I can feel Rachel’s embarrassment too. My jaw tightens and so do my hands as I hear him, hear her trying to explain herself until the snap of bone china makes me realize just how tense I am.
“I couldn’t call you, could I?” I hear her explaining, “…Because, like I just told you, my phone-”
I catch most of his reply, “Rachel, I said I was sorry about this morning, but I want you back here right now… Moving the day after tomorrow… Been worried sick about you… Where you are and I’ll come get you…”
She doesn’t want me to hear and I don’t want her to see how mad I’m getting.
I thought she was just going to call up, say she’s fine, and then we could continue what we were doing.
But this, I don’t like it and I won’t have it, not in my house. Not anywhere.
Father be damned, I won’t have him or anyone else talking to Rachel like that.
In three strides I’m by the phone, Rachel’s eyes pleading with me not to, but I can’t help it.
My finger presses down on the receiver, hanging up on her dad and ending her call.
Her eyes narrow in anger, but I can feel her quick breath on me as my own heart rate soars. The pounding in my temples starts to become that familiar throb in my pants whenever I get close to her.
“Why did you do that?” she asks, trying to sound mad, but her eyes are flashing with need now. The same need I’m feeling.
“Because I told you, I don’t want you to go, Rachel. You belong here with me now, mine!” I growl, reaching for her wrist and thrusting her hand against my hardness.
“See what you do to me? Can you feel that, Rachel?”
She gasps, and I think she’s trying to pull her hand back, but I groan once I feel it press harder against my aching dick, rubbing its full length through my jeans.
“Why didn’t you kiss me before,” she says, breathing so heavy she can hardly speak.
“Because,” I warn her, “Once I start kissing you… I know I’ll never stop. Not ever, understand?”
I let go of her wrist, but her hand lingers, drawing another low sound from me before she turns away, torn between me and the life outside.
The life with her father we both know she’s expected to return to.
The life we both know is so different from mine, the one I can’t let her return to.
CHAPTER NINE
Rachel
He’s only doing what I feel like doing, hanging up and grabbing hold of each other instead.
What we should have done from the moment he found me in his bedroom, bent down on all fours like that.
Who are we kidding? Even I know there’s something undeniable between us, even though I’m scared to death to act on it.
But Conor’s not.
“Why didn’t you kiss me?” I ask him, really I’m asking myself the same question, why do I run, why do I always put myself down? Why do I always tell myself nothing good ever happens to Rachel Beckett?
Well, something good is happening and it won’t happen any faster if I run now, if I go home to my dad.
If I move away I will live the rest of my life wondering what would’ve happened if-
I turn to face him again, both my hands on his chest. I can feel his heart pounding, the same pulse I feel from his jeans once he pulls me closer.
I only hear one word before his mouth covers mine.
It’s hot, sweet, and wet. He’s as good a kisser as he is at everything else, I can just tell. And I should know, I’ve been an expert kisser for all of two seconds now.
“Mine,” he tells me, demanding, before drawing me closer to him, lifting me somehow as if I weigh nothing.
His huge, strong arms surrounding me and caressing me, his lips like electricity over mine. Our bodies pressing so close I feel my robe starting to come undone, wanting it to.
Wanting to be naked against him.
Wanting him to put those hands and that mouth all over every single inch of me and give me more of this feeling.
It’s lips only at first, but once I feel my robe sliding open and a warm hand cupping my chest, it’s only natural our tongues meet and we both groan with pleasure.
I feel my legs hooking around his strong waist, my soft thighs against his hard body, that fat dick of his riding straight up my slick valley as I start to grind against him like some wild animal in heat.
His fingers on my chest circle my nipple, almost pinching before relaxing until I whimper hard, urging him to pinch me.
Tell me I’m not dreaming, prove this is real.
I wince when his hand moves to my shoulder, reminding me of that random fall I had, and hear my intake of breath becoming a low purr, I hope it leaves a bruise so I can remember this day for as long as I can.
There doesn’t need to be any words between us now, I feel Conor starting to move, walking as he holds me up.
Walking me towards the hallway.
“Valentine, stay,” he says in a firm tone, shaking slightly with what I know is his own arousal. I can feel the thick heat of it grinding into my pussy with each step he takes, making me moan louder and with an impatience, I can’t understand until I feel my own climax building. Feeling my own wetness running down my thighs and pooling in my ass where Conor’s hands suddenly are, holding me up.
“I’ve got something to help with that,” he promises me, and we pass through the familiar carpeted hallway into a huge sitting room.
Nudging the door open with his foot, I can smell the warmth of old books, leather, and more of that subtle scent of his. It’s like each room in his house has a slightly different version of it, like the moods and actions of the man himself.
I feel him bending down but I don’t want us to separate, and I make a strangled sound that seems to tell him everything.
Once I feel the warm leather under me, I understand, and just like I imagined, I feel those thick hands start to move up and down the inside of my thighs, my head thrown back as I let out a low moan.
The robe I’m wearing is wide open and so am I once his fingers find their mark, spreading my pussy lips apart and wasting no time before I feel his whole mouth over my quivering hole.
I swear loudly, bucking against his face so hard I’m sure it must hurt him, but he only lets out a low sound, a deep and powerful sound that vibrates throug
h my clit, right up inside me to a new place I know I want to feel him reach with that huge cock of his.
But for now, I need more of his mouth right where it is. The legs I had around his waist are now up and over those massive sloping shoulders.
His whole body feels so hard but so gentle at the same time, and those fingers are working double-time to keep up with the magic he’s started to work with his tongue.
The leather under me gets hot and creaks before I feel myself starting to slip on it, my drenched pussy only making Conor more and more excited as he laps up my essence, running his fingers and hands up and down my thighs as he covers me in it.
I feel hands on my chest and my eyes dart open, wondering how.
But to my shock and I have to admit pleasant surprise, I watch as my own hands squeeze and knead both my own breasts, pinching my nipples hard and thumbing them with each pass of Conor’s tongue over my swollen clit.
I can feel it almost coming now, uncontrollable. Conor knows it and his grip on me strengthens, giving me permission to climax whenever I have to. I know how much he wants it and I know how much I need it.
But I have no idea just how much more of this he has in store for me.
I can only hope every time is as good as this.
It feels like I’ve been so close now for what must be half an hour, maybe more. Each time I feel it building, feeling like I’ll burst, I only feel him bring me higher to a new level of arousal that’s ten times more than the last, and each one leveling up to something I never thought possible.
It’s not the end though, not when I do feel myself coming right into his mouth.
It’s a whole new wave of pleasure which he grips me even harder through, feasting on my climax and running his hands all over me as I squirm my hot pussy harder into his face.
I think I can hear Valentine, howling in the distance but it’s hard to say.
My own guttural voice is growling Conor’s name, swearing again and ordering him to eat my cunt so I can come all over his face again and again.
The waves that jerk my whole body gradually start to subside and I feel like I’m coming back to earth, feel like maybe I’ve been possessed by something that’s slowly shrinking but not disappearing completely.
Whoever that was, whoever made those sounds and said all those things, I know Conor approves.
His mouth over mine again, letting me taste myself mixed with him as he groans with satisfaction is enough to tell me he doesn’t mind a bit.
“Better?” he asks finally, moving back just enough so he can look into my eyes as he holds my still shaking body right up against his.
He’s still dressed, and I can only imagine the hardness in his jeans. It makes me feel guilty.
Almost, until he reminds me of something I know he’ll tell me more than once.
“I want to pleasure you, Rachel, always,” he says firmly. “Above anything else, you’re mine and this mouth is made just for you.”
He kisses me deeply again, and once I shift my legs from his shoulders back around his middle, I can feel just how hard he is.
“I want you,” I gasp, meaning it. I really do want him inside me. I want to feel everything he just did, but with his huge cock inside me, all the way.
“I want you to make me scream your name, fill me with it,” I hear myself saying, almost pleading as I start to squirm and buck against him.
Without taking his eyes from mine, I feel his hands move down to his front, and in a second he lets out another low sound as he undoes his jeans, slipping out of them before peeling off his sweatshirt too.
I feel stunned.
The sudden sight of him naked, so close to me is too much. I feel my pussy drenched all over again and watch my hands start to run over every inch of him I can reach.
His whole body is pure muscle, rippling with each tiny movement he makes. His rich, golden tan only broken up by the boundary of his V-line and abs. The lighter flesh so smoothes with me finally able to see his full manhood for the first time.
I reach for it, only grasping the tip which feels hot and almost spongy in my hand until I feel him flex.
His swollen, plum sized head is instantly hard, with a thick bead of something I instinctively start to circle him with, bringing what’s left up to my mouth and wanting him to kiss me again so I can really taste us both.
He does this, and without having to guide it, I can feel the hot bluntness of his cock pressing against my opening as he holds himself up over me with those massive arms.
My hands trace the shape of his muscles, wanting him to push inside me.
Wanting him more than ever.
But he knows something’s not right.
He knows this isn’t perfect.
I know he’s perfect. All of him is, all of this…
It’s just.
“What is it, Rachel?” he asks me tenderly. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
I feel stupid suddenly.
The wild woman’s gone, replaced with an awkward, thick girl who wants to cry again.
“I’m a virgin,” I cry. No other way to say it really.
No other way to explain what I probably should’ve mentioned before we started.
“Sorry,” I blub, feeling foolish. Thinking he’ll probably have me call my dad pretty damn quick now.
Come get the girl who’s trying to be a woman out of my house.
But he doesn’t do that.
That’s not what Conor Fox is all about.
CHAPTER TEN
Conor
If there was any way she could be any more perfect, it’s not what I would ever have thought.
I repeat the word, but only because I feel my luck for the third time today.
First I got Valentine back, then I got Rachel and now she’s telling me I’ll be her first?
It doesn’t get any better than this.
But why is she so upset about it? Why is she so down on herself?
“Rachel, I don’t think you understand,” I explain, brushing her hair back from her face with my fingers, kissing her nose.
“You see? This means you’ll be mine for real. A hundred percent, and I’ll be yours,” I tell her, not really helping but only noticing her confused expression.
“I’ll be your first and you’re my only, not just now but forever,” I explain, feeling my own arousal still, but more relief than I could ever have given myself.
Knowing I can wait if that’s what she wants, but just knowing she’ll be mine.
“I am yours,” she says with a little more certainty. “I want to give myself to you, Conor, I really do,” she says again, but there’s that look again.
That face.
“But?” I ask, looking down at her, trying to meet her eyes.
I know what she’s thinking. Not just about giving herself to me, an older guy. She’s thinking about her dad, about having to move, and the million other things she had to worry about before she met me today.
Before I showed her something else, a new way of feeling.
“Will you just hold me?” she asks, shivering.
Moving myself up onto the couch, I lay us both down, and grabbing the blanket behind her head, I spread it out over both of us.
I feel her shifting under me, rolling on her side. I’m the big spoon and she’s the little spoon.
My hands curl up under her chin as she holds them with hers, kissing them lightly and thanking me.
Her rear end presses up against my hardness, which we both know has a life of its own, but even that’s reassuring for her.
Pressing back against me a little, making both of us give a little sound of pleasure as we feel each other skin on skin. Her softness against my hardness.
Two spoons, a matching pair. Same because we’re so different.
“You don’t mind?” she asks sleepily after a while, sounding sweeter than she tastes, I kiss the back of her neck.
“How could I mind? I ask her. “I’ve got ever
ything I need right here,” I tell her, relaxing fully once I feel her sigh with relief, melting into me as we both close our eyes.
I don’t know how long it takes, but her hands eventually relax and her breathing becomes slow and deep.
She’s asleep, and I’m wondering if I’ll ever sleep again. Not wanting to miss another second of this life as long as she’s in it with me.
It’s not long though before this exquisite peace is interrupted.
I feel it behind me, slowly creeping up before it’s like hot, damp air on the back of my own neck.
“I thought I told you to stay,” I murmur, chuckling softly when I hear him make a sound of protest.
“Alright, boy,” I whisper, hearing Valentine settle down on the rug beside the couch once he’s given me a sloppy kiss of his own.
I wonder how he’ll get on, not being the total center of attention. But I can already tell that can work both ways because I already know how much attention he’s gonna want to give Rachel over me.
I saw how she was with him today. I know he found her all on his own and brought her back here.
It makes me smile, to think I could double down and come up winning for once. The two most important things to me, here under my own roof, having felt and experienced everything we have so far.
And it’s only been one day.
I eventually hear both of them breathing, making little sleep noises with Rachel pressing back into me every now and then.
I can feel the little smile on her face, and leaning over to see it I kiss her cheek.
She’s perfect.
All of this is just perfect.
So why the hell can’t I stop thinking about her damned father?
David Beckett.
I had no idea he was even living in the same city, let alone had a daughter.
It’s been that long? I guess it has.
They say blood is thicker than water, but something tells me all of that’s going to be put to the test and soon, whether I like it or not.
I try to push it to the back of my mind. It’s ancient history, over twenty years ago now.
But I’m snuggled up right next to David Beckett’s past twenty years of fatherhood, his only daughter.
She will be mine, I know she will. I’ll claim her properly when the time’s right.
Lost And Found: An Instalove Possessive Age Gap Romance Page 5
