Mid Life Love (24 page)

“I’m allergic to
your lies, Claire.” He looked over at me and smiled. “Your poker face doesn’t
work on me anymore.”

I sat back in
the seat and looked out the window, laughing on the inside.

I watched as the
bright skyline of downtown disappeared in my side mirror, as the street lights
that hovered over the lanes became less frequent.

I could see that
we were driving past property estates—mansion like houses with sprawling lawns
and mile long gates, houses that were standing further and further apart. 

Jonathan began
to slow his car down, pulling up to a colossal black gate. He rolled his window
down and punched in a code, causing the gate to slowly slide open.

He drove down a
long gravel road that was lined with bright yellow gingko trees. There was a
small courtyard in the distance and a gray stoned fountain stood stoic amidst a
large bed of well-trimmed grass.

I kept my eyes
forward, thinking that whatever his house looked like, it couldn’t be grander
than any of the yachts he’d shown me. But once the house came into view, I had
to hold back a gasp.

It was
unbelievably beautiful.
Stunning
. An architect’s dream.

It was a
colonial style mansion with white stones that gleamed against the sunset. It
had to have been built in the 1930s—the marbled pillars that led into the
entrance were reminiscent of the ones I’d seen in my history design books.

The arched
windows—there were far too many to count, were at least eight feet tall and the
glass within them was tinted black.

“Claire?”
Jonathan was standing at my door with his arm outstretched. “Would you like to
come inside?”

I stepped out of
the car and followed him up the smooth slate steps and past the vintage front
door.

The inside of
the house was a stark contrast to the outside. While a few remnants of the
colonial style had been saved, most of the house had been completely
modernized: There were walls constructed completely from glass and
free-standing spiral staircases. There were also high vaulted ceilings and
recessed lighting.

Why does he need
all this space?

He stopped
walking once we arrived in what appeared to be an old parlor room. He pulled
out a chair for me and walked behind the enormous bar.

I looked all
around me, admiring the original artwork that hung in sparkling silver frames.
“Will you give me a tour of everything before we leave?”

“Of course.” He
opened a cabinet. “I can show you around the whole place tomorrow.”

“Do you really
need more than one house in the same city? Why can’t you just stay in this one?
It’s
more
than big enough...”

“I see my
properties as investments.” He uncorked a bottle of wine. “This house isn’t really
a home
right now. It’s considered to be a landmark.”

“Why?”

“It once
belonged to Charles Ellis, the other designer of the Golden Gate Bridge. He
built this house to show off how innovative he could be, how far he could push
structural design in the 1930s. Apparently he was spending too much time on it,
so they put him off the bridge project before it was completed.”

“He never got
credit for helping?”

“Not until
2007,” he said as he handed me a glass. “He’d been dead for decades by then
though.”

“How sad...What
made you buy it?”

“I was looking
for an estate to invest in years ago, and it caught my attention as soon as I
drove by. It reminded of a house in a book I read once. It’s a classic, but I
can’t remember the name of it for the life of me right now...”

“What’s the book
about?”

“Are you going
to try and guess the title?” He smiled. “Are you
that
good with books?”

“Maybe...”

“1920s. Jazz
Age. Wealthy guy who loves to throw lavish parties. Townspeople have no idea
how he acquired his wealth and he’s in love with—”

“
The Great
Gatsby
?”

He nodded and
took a sip of his wine. “I’m impressed.”

“This house
doesn’t really feel like single person space. It seems like it’d be more
fitting for a family.”

“I can see that.
Maybe someday I’ll have one here...”

I stilled.

It was moments
like this that the insecurities I’d managed to bury crawled out of the ground
and laughed in my face. I knew damn well that this fling wouldn’t last forever,
that we weren’t meant to be together, but there were small instances that made
those facts more apparent, more glaring.

And anytime
those instances came up, the confidence I’d built up quickly crumbled into a
million little pieces.

“Can I be frank
with you for a few seconds, Jonathan?”

“You’re asking
for permission to speak?”

I sighed. “You
just reminded me of a reason why I shouldn’t be with you.”

“
Come again
?”

“You and I
should end this before it gets—”

“Before it gets
what
?”
He set his glass down and narrowed his eyes at me.

“You just said
you wanted to have a family of your own here one day and I can’t give you that...
Ever
. My tubes are tied and even if I were to get that reversed, it’s
pretty risky for someone at my age to...
Anyway
, we’re not that serious
about each other so I don’t know why I even—” I sighed. “I think we should go
back to the strictly sex thing that we had before. I don’t want to hold you
back from enjoying your twenties. I definitely enjoyed mine and I want you to
do the same. After we get done having sex tonight, take me home and we can try
to put whatever this is back to where it once was...”

He stared at me,
blinking slowly as if he was trying to process everything I’d said. I braced
myself for his rebuttal, but he simply rolled his eyes and downed the rest of
his wine.

He strolled over
to me and pulled me out of my chair. He placed his arms around my waist and
pressed his forehead against mine. “One, I’ve never had any desire to have kids
of my own.
Never
. Two, when I said I wanted a family here, I was
referring to one that would
rent out
this house because I’m putting it
on the leasing market at the end of the year. Three, you should’ve told me that
your tubes were tied a long time ago. I would’ve stopped buying so many fucking
condoms. And four, you’ve never struck me as the insecure type so I’m not sure
why you’ve been backpedaling so much lately, but let me make this clear: I
am
serious about you. I am enjoying my twenties. We’re not going back to a
strictly physical relationship, and I’m not taking you home until
tomorrow
.
Are we clear?”

“Yes...” I
whispered and felt my heart skip a beat.

“Good. Let’s
take a shower.”

“
Together
?”

“Of course not.”
He released me from his arms. “I’ll take mine upstairs and you’ll take yours
downstairs. As soon as we’re done, I’ll tuck you into bed and kiss you
goodnight.”

Before I could
fire back, he clasped my hand and led me out of the parlor and up the grand
staircase. He twisted the doorknob to a black door and pulled me inside a
massive bathroom.

Wow...

It was the size
of my living room five times over; the crystallized glass shower alone was the
size of my office. From its windows, I could see that there was a wet bench
that wrapped around its insides, a sleek entertainment system that was embedded
into the wall, and rotating panels with water jets that hung from the ceiling.

Across the room,
was a marble spa tub that looked like it was meant to be a wave pool. And on
the back wall, an open sauna puffed steam across the room’s sparkling white
floors.

I stepped
forward and ran my fingers against the marble countertop. Curious, I reached
out to touch the quartz-like material that surrounded the wall length mirror,
but I felt Jonathan wrapping his arms around me from behind.

“You frustrate
the shit out of me, Claire.” He looked at me in the mirror, sighing. “That
said, I can’t get enough of you for some reason...Every time I think that you’ve
almost accepted
us
, you come up with some new ridiculous reason to pull
away...”

“Well, you’re
not exactly the—”

“Shhh...” He spun
me around and kissed my lips. “You’re not allowed to talk tonight.” He slowly
lifted my shirt over my head. “But you can scream as loud as you want to.” He
kissed me again and my heart started beating faster.

Looking into my
eyes, he slowly pulled the silver clip I was wearing out of my hair. He tossed
it onto the floor with my shirt and began unsnapping my bra.

He unclasped my
pants and let them fall into a pool on the floor. Then he stepped back and
looked at me, really looked at me, as if he were regarding something valuable,
something he genuinely cared about.

He bent down and
lifted my feet up one at a time, carefully slipping my heels off. He moved the
shoes to the side and delicately kissed his way up my legs, stopping once he
reached my waist. He held me steady as he ran his tongue above the outline of
my lace panties, pressing soft, warm kisses against my skin.

As he slid my
panties down to the floor, my body became a quivering mess.

He hadn’t
touched or kissed me since that day he told me about the “promise” and I was
suddenly feeling nervous.

“Why are you
shaking?” He stood up and brushed his fingers against my lips. “I’m going to
make it perfect for you.”

“Make what
perfect?” I barely managed.

“You’re not
supposed to talk, Claire.” He ran his fingers through my hair. “If you say
anything else, I’ll have to punish you. Are we clear?”

I nodded.

“Good.” He
caressed my breasts and stepped back, gesturing at his clothes. “Your turn.”

I stood still
for several seconds, not sure where to start—what to do. He and I had had sex
hundreds of times, and we’d definitely become comfortable with each other’s
bodies, but this felt more sensual—more intimate.

“Claire?” He
grabbed my hand and placed it on his chest. “Start with my tie.”

I rose up on my
tiptoes and looped my fingers through the knot, trying my best to avoid his heated
gaze. As the tie fell to the floor, I began unfastening his shirt’s
buttons—smiling as I felt his skin warm up, as I felt his reaction to me.

I reached up and
slid the shirt off his shoulders, taking my time with his sleeves. I stared at
the perfectly chiseled chest that stood in front of me, running my hands across
it and biting my lip.

“
Finish
.”
He caught my wrist and darted his eyes from mine to his pants.

I unbuckled his
belt, sliding it free from the pant loops. I undid the button on his slacks,
and they fell down to the floor without any help.

Since he’d
already slid out of his shoes, he smirked and playfully tugged at his dark blue
briefs, where his huge erection was straining against the fabric.

I bent down to
pull them off, but instead of using my hands, I used my teeth. I sat up on my
knees and rubbed my hands up and down his length—making him gasp, and then I
took all of him into my mouth.

I eased him in
and out, slowly flicking my tongue against his shaft. I cupped his balls in my
hands, softy massaging them as I sucked on him faster and faster. 

“
Claire
...”
He groaned. “Claire, stop.”

I slowly pulled
back like I was going to consider his pleas, but then I twirled my tongue
around his thick tip, watching him shut his eyes in tortured pleasure.

His guttural
response to me was driving me insane; I felt so in control. I forced all of him
into my mouth again, feeling his muscles twitch and spasm with the hard
pressure of my tongue.

I started
massaging him with my hands again, sucking on him even harder, but he yanked me
up by my shoulders and spun me around.

He bent me over
the marble counter and slid a finger inside of me, forcing wetness to slip down
my thighs.

I waited to feel
exactly what I wanted—what I
needed
. I waited for him to impale me and
make me scream, but nothing came. Before I could turn around and ask what was
wrong, I felt him lifting me into his arms and carrying me across the
room—towards the shower.

The glass doors
slid open as we approached, and as soon as he set me down on the floor, the
lights that hung above started to glow in a soft yellow. The water jets that
protruded from the walls and the ceiling began to spray warm water over us.

He walked over
to a hanging shelf and picked up a couple of pink bottles. “Tonight isn’t about
me, Claire. It’s about you.” He spun me around so my back was against his
torso. Then he began palming my breasts with one hand. “You are
very
tempting though...” He pressed his erection against my ass—frustrating me, making
me want to turn around and—

“Are you about
to say something,
Claire
?” The way he said my name made me yearn for him
even more. “Are you
frustrated
?” he whispered in my ear. “Tempted to
try
me
because you don’t believe what I said about not talking?”

I sucked in a
breath and shook my head.

“I hope not.”

The next thing I
felt were cool droplets being squeezed onto my head. Then I felt his hands
gently spreading the cream all over my hair.

I shut my eyes
and leaned against him as he lathered my hair, as he moved his fingers around
my scalp in a circular motion, leaving no part untouched.

Please don’t
stop...

He poured more
droplets into my hair and massaged me again and again, making me weaker with
each rotation of his fingertips.