“What is it?” I ask, worried that he’s having second thoughts, then wondering if maybe I should be. “Did you... change your mind?”
“What?” He sounds incredulous, and his eyebrows furrow in disbelief. “Not at all. It’s just...I wasn’t expecting something like this to happen. I don’t have any condoms.”
“I’m on the pill,” I assure him with a smile, trying again to pull him forward.
He remains unmoving. “And my wife just cheated on me.”
Shit just got serious. “So this is one of those scenarios where ‘no glove, no love’ really does apply, huh?”
He groans, clenching his eyes shut. “I’m afraid so.”
An idea starts forming in my mind. It’s a little messed up, but I’m feeling pretty desperate and a little bit drunk, so I don’t think Owen would object as long as I don’t go into too many details. I bite the bullet and decide to tell him. “I think I know where some are. Wait right here.”
The knowledge of what I’m about to do may stay with me to my grave, but I shove it from my mind and quickly run into my father’s room after pulling my robe on. I’m in luck—and equally disturbed—to find what looks like a pretty new and open box of condoms in the drawer, and when I reemerge with the all-important foil in hand, Owen smiles, reaching out and pulling me back to him.
“Thank god,” he exhales as he rips the robe from my body and worships me with his mouth and tongue for a few minutes.
When he takes the condom from me, I lie back on the bed, propping myself up on my elbows so I can watch him roll the rubber over his stiff length. Once it’s in place, he repositions himself between my thighs, his hands moving from my knees to my thighs and pulling me toward him until we are aligned. Bringing one of his hands inward, his thumb brushes my swollen clit, and my hips buck against his touch. The up side to being with an older man: he knows his way around a woman’s body. If I’m not careful, he’ll ruin me for all future relationships.
He wastes no time easing his way inside of me until his hips rest flush against the back of my thighs. The sensation of him inside makes me moan, and I reach above me to grip the headboard as he pulls back and thrusts forward a little harder. Every muscle in my body begins to tighten in preparation of my release. I’m so lost in the moment that I don’t notice him lower his face to my tits until his mouth is on one and his hand is cupping the other. He pinches one, and sucks, licks, and nips the other, bringing me closer to my orgasm. His hips move faster, forcing the waves of my release to crash down all around me until I’m crying out his name. Bringing my hands back to his shoulders, I coax him back up my body to kiss him deeply, and his hips stutter and jerk against me, thrusting deep inside me once more as he comes before collapsing on top of me.
We lie in silence, basking in what just happened, before I look down at him. “So,” I say quietly. “Any regrets?”
Owen chuckles, raising his head and kissing my sternum. “Not a single one.”
“Me either.”
8. Run to You
The rest of the weekend leaves Amelia and me with very little time to talk about what happened. I know we’d agreed that it would be just the one time, but I get the feeling she wants more…
Actually, if I’m being completely honest with myself, I find I’m craving her company more and more as the days go by. Unfortunately, we’re never alone long enough to find out if I’m just imagining things. I’m beyond transparent, and I know it’s going to get me into trouble if I’m not more careful, but I look for any excuse to be alone with her: asking to help prepare dinner, offering to carve the turkey while she makes the gravy, assisting her with the cleanup and dishes—but we’re constantly interrupted by someone. It’s frustrating, and I think Amelia would agree.
My thoughts are so clouded with Amelia that I have trouble sleeping, too. I find myself staying up late every night, trying to convince myself that this is just me seeking solace over my failed marriage. That Amelia really only wanted a one-night-stand.
I think back to the day I left Gretchen and came to stay at Alan’s house; I never dreamed that anything would happen between Amelia and me. Had I fantasized and dreamed about it more times than I could count? Yes. Yes, I had. What man my age doesn’t, at some point or another, fantasize about being with a younger woman? I just never thought I would act on it.
Amelia’s very persuasive, though.
I’m a sick bastard—I know this—and yet, a large part of me just doesn’t fucking care.