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Copyright, Secret Narrative, 2014
All rights reserved including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form. This is a work of fiction. All characters and events are the product of the author’s imagination, and any similarity to any persons living or dead is entirely coincidental. The opinions expressed are the author’s own and are not representative of the opinions of the publisher or distributors.
Cover image: ©Andrey Kiselev|Dreamstime.com
This book contains strong language and sexually explicit content that some readers may find offensive and which is unsuitable for persons under the age of 18.
Break it to Love
A Contemporary Erotic Romance.
An older man, younger woman, contemporary erotic romance, packed with sexy pleasure.
Break it to Love
“Do you remember me? We were at school together.” The blonde extended her hand.
Scott squeezed her fingers and forced a smile, which didn’t quite reach his eyes. He sifted the past, revisited the upper sixth and his final year in the UK. He hadn’t returned. Until now.
“Sara, Sara Fyne.”
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t recognise you.”
She didn’t look like the girl he once lusted after, along with most of the other boys in school; Sara was the hottest girl in town, and everyone fancied her, even some of the teaching staff. Tall, blonde, curvy, sporty, temptingly sexy and bright too. For a long while, he thought about her when he was with other girls, but Sara had started dating someone else and that was that. He didn’t even get to first base before his family left Britain for Australia.
“Jet lag… I…”
“Don’t apologise, let’s face it, it’s a different lifetime. Are you over for a holiday?”
“No, for work. We have offices in London.”
“How long are you here?”
“About twelve weeks, I’m staying near Barbican.”
“Is your family with you?”
“Mum and Dad don’t travel with me for work.” He laughed. “Do you ever see what’s-his-name? You know, that arsehole, always picked for the first team in every bloody sporting event. What was his name?”
“Phil Michaels. Yes, I often see the arse, I married him.”
“Don’t be. I’m not. Look, here’s my card, if you’re at a loose end while you’re here, text me, come over, reconnect with the arse,” she said, getting out at St Paul’s.
Scott left the tunnels at Chancery Lane and made his way to work.
That night, he took out Sara’s card and thought about all the times he had fantasised about her. Jeez, she’s really let herself go. Wonder Boy is probably a slob too. He hadn’t reconnected with anyone, and wondered if it was a good idea, but sent a brief message anyway.
Are you busy this weekend? said Sara’s reply.
Scott hesitated. He wasn’t sure whether he could be bothered; still, he had a low boredom threshold and although he’d had a couple of nights out with colleagues he didn’t fancy spending too much time and money in bars or clubs.
Nothing in particular.
We’re having a barbecue on Saturday, just a few friends. The address is…
By Saturday, Scott regretted his hasty acceptance and could not have been more pissed off with himself. He’d show up, and leave as soon as possible. On the way, he stopped off to buy beer and wine, and headed for the DLR to take him to Greenwich. The river always looked the same, and parts of his familiar old territory hadn’t changed. Sara’s house was walking distance from the Naval College, so he went through the grounds, mingling with tourists, taking his time.
At the Michaels’ house, the door was opened by a girl who could only have been Sara’s little sister, all grown up. Surprise punched the air out of him.
“You must be Scott. It’s great that you’re here. I’m Lizzie, come in.”
“There’s beer and wine, it’ll probably need chilling,” he said, pointing to the bag.
“Okay, I’ll sort it out in a minute. Come through, everyone’s in the garden, you might know a few people. Sara and Phil kept in touch with most of their school friends, mad, isn’t it?” Lizzie led him through to the back of the house and into the garden.
“Sara, Phil, here’s Scott.”
Phil waved from behind the grill. “Hi, pleased you could make it. Sara, get Scott a drink, will you? I can’t leave the steak. Lizzie, give me a hand, I’m losing the plot!”
Scott watched the girl wiggle away.
“I see you’ve met Lizzie,” said Sara, arriving with his beer. “Cheers.” She chinked her glass against the bottle.
“Cheers, thanks for inviting me. Is that Peter Burrows over there?”
“Yes, you recognised him then?” Her words triggered a prickle of embarrassment.
“Phil looks just the same too,” said Scott, nodding towards her husband.
“Keeps himself fit.” She self-consciously adjusted the straps of her sundress.
Most of his former school friends had married people from the neighbourhood and settled nearby; although one or two had moved to other parts of the country or world, the rest were still within twenty square miles of where they had been brought up. He looked the women over, absorbing every detail, particularly the hot looking ones with decent figures; he lingered a little too long once or twice. But none of them was a patch on Lizzie. Scott ached. She looked fresh, lovely. He itched to see her again, and took advantage of Sara’s news that her sister needed a temporary job. Scott promised to help and staggered home with Lizzie’s mobile number stored in his iPhone, and head too.
Later, Scott looked out at the city sky and lazily rubbed his cock. He imagined Lizzie lying beside him, legs open, dark, springy hair hiding the treasure between her thighs, he licked his lips and thought about running his tongue up and down her slit. He dreamed of bringing her to orgasm, fantasy coinciding with ejaculation and a decision.
Seeing Lizzie standing hesitantly in the doorway of his office, Scott looked up with an easy smile. “Come in, how are you?”
“Fine, thank you. I wanted to say thanks for helping me get the job.”
Unable to drag his eyes away from her mouth, Scott had difficulty concentrating; his heartbeat throbbed a pulse in his ears. “I only passed your resume to Recruitment; you did the rest. Settling in?”
“Yes. Everyone has been great.”
“Look, why don’t you let me take you for a drink after work? Celebrate your first week. I’ll be at the Blackfriar from about six.”
“Thanks, I’ll see you there.”
Thursday’s ‘get off your face night’ in the City, in spite of needing a clear head on Friday, most risked mega hangovers to party. Scott had just made a deal with himself to call it a night when Lizzie arrived. He saw her before she spotted his group. Rising, his heart flip-flopped and he shouldered his way through the throng, closing in on her as she turned to leave. “Lizzie, over here…”
Catching sight of him, her lips parted into a breath-taking smile, and Scott felt what was left of his heart drop into the pit of his stomach.
“What can I get you to drink?” He guided her towards his table.
“Dry white wine, please.”
“This is Lizzie, she’s working at the firm for a while,” he announced to the others, as they moved their chairs around to make room. Scott went to buy Lizzie’s drink and, frustrated by the long wait at the bar, raced back to monopolise her. Gradually the others melted away, leaving just the two of them.
“Get you another?”
“No, thanks. It’s gone straight to my head.”
“I’ll see you home if you like, or into a cab, you can’t get the train alone if you’re pissed. We’ll catch a cab, I’ll drop you off.”
“Okay, thank you. You live near here, don’t you?” she said.
“Not far at all, but I can’t leave you to go home alone. Your sister would never forgive me if I didn’t look after you.”
“I said I was going out with a girl from work and may stay over. I don’t want to go back to Greenwich tonight.”
“You want to come back to my place?”
“Yes.” She smiled.
He felt as if he were a dumb teenager. She had a weird effect on him; he couldn’t think straight. Even though his flat was only a short distance, Scott hailed a cab. They were silent on the journey, but electricity charged the space between them. He breathed deep, filling his lungs with her. At his flat, Scott’s nerves threatened to engulf him, astounded at the impact she had; he busied himself with drinks, and joining her, saw she had kicked off her shoes and made herself comfortable on the sofa. His heart beat crazily, palpitating as he handed Lizzie a glass.
“To my new job,” she toasted. “This is a nice flat.”
“Not bad, but it isn’t mine, the company owns it.”
“It’s still out of this world, how long are you here?”
“Perhaps another month, it depends on the new team, as soon as they’re up to speed I’ll go home.”
“Are you married?”
“No, are you?” They laughed easily. “Are you hungry?”
“Famished,” she replied, “I was too nervous to eat lunch. I think that’s why the wine’s gone to my head so quickly.”
“There’s nothing to eat here, I don’t bother keeping stuff in. I’ll go get us a Chinese, I’d phone but I think I need a brisk walk,” he said, draining his glass. “Here’s the remote, watch TV or something, at least there’s plenty to drink…help yourself.”
She texted while he was waiting for the food, Hurry up, I’m starving. He laughed out loud and wrote a silly reply, Ping-pong texts, jokey, silly, and sexy.
All was quiet when he returned; leaving his shoes by the front door he went in search of her. She wasn’t in the lounge, or the kitchen, he put the cartons down, and went to investigate.
“Lizzie?” he called, going back into the hallway. “You in the bathroom?”
“No, I’m in here,” she replied, her voice coming from behind one of the doors. Scott pushed it open.
Sitting in the middle of the bed, with a sheet pulled up to her chin, she looked divine, and if the clothing strewn across the floor was anything to go by, naked. Scott’s cock hardened and pushed painfully against his zipper.
“My sister used to fancy you,” she said, her tongue made a small circuit of her lips.
“Did she? I didn’t know that.”
“Oh yes, she told me after the barbecue the other week, I think she was drunk, said that all the girls used to fancy you.”
“That’s not true. Phil was the school heart-throb, not me.”
“Well, that’s not what she said, and I can see why too,” giggled Lizzie, her eyes fixed on the bulge in his trousers.
“I’m not sure about this…”
“Because I’m naked, drunk and in your bed?” she giggled again and hiccupped.
“Not sure this is wise…” He tried to squash the lust flooding his brain, matching his hard-on, never knowing which arrived first, the hard-on or the ping in his head, there was little separation. Did his cock rule him or did he rule his cock?
Crossing the floor in a couple of easy strides, in spite of his erection, Scott stood beside the bed, in wonder at his fantastic luck as he gazed down at Lizzie.
“We can eat afterwards,” she said. “I want you, you want me… Don’t you?”
Scott’s hard-on drooped. Not quite what he had in mind, she was way too forward. In spite of her beauty and fabulous body, Scott’s cock softened inch by inch. He hesitated; he didn’t want to let on that she’d just fucked up. At least she had unknowingly answered his question about the rule of cock.
“Get up, let’s eat.” Her stricken face didn’t move him, and he headed back to the kitchen, poured another drink and served the food.
“I’m sorry, Scott, I got it all wrong.” She arrived in the lounge wrapped in the sheet.
“Don’t worry about it. It’s not you, it’s me.” He used the phrase he rolled out when he wanted to offload a hanger-on. “Try to eat something. You’re all over the place. It’ll soak up the alcohol.” His words made him sound as old as he suddenly felt.
After eating a few mouthfuls, Lizzie crashed out on the sofa, the sheet still tangled around her, her hair messy, limbs as if disjointed, she resembled a broken mannequin. A surge of pity rippled through him as he prepared for bed and without waking her, set his alarm, and fell asleep within seconds.
“Stay here. Sleep it off… You’re in no shape to go to the office, call in sick. I can’t phone in for you, it’ll seem odd, and I don’t need gossip. I’ll leave the number on the table, there’s juice in the fridge, drink lots, and don’t go home. I’ll see you back to your place later. Let your sister think you’ve gone to work.”
“Lizzie, stay here, sober up. I’ll rearrange a few meetings, and be back before you know it.”
Even though she was in a state, crumpled on the settee, his cock stirred; the sheet had slipped, exposing her breasts and Scott’s cock twitched. Happy that everything was in working order again, he made up his mind to have her before the day was through; he intended to demonstrate that their first fuck would be worth the wait.
Mid-afternoon and Scott arrived back at the flat, managing to hide his delight that Lizzie was still inside. She had bathed and tidied the place too.
She looked vulnerable, curled up on the sofa, TV remote by her side. A swift pang hit him; his favourite DVD was still in the machine.
“Much. I’m so sorry about last night; I had too much to drink… I, I, er, I hope I didn’t embarrass you? No. Don’t tell me anything, it’s all a bit hazy, and I’d rather keep it that way.”
“I’ll make us coffee.” He picked up the remote and pressed play.
The screen filled with images, but he didn’t look at the women in the film, instead, kept his eyes firmly fixed on Lizzie’s face. Sobriety coloured her deep scarlet.
“Is it too much for you? Only, last night you mentioned that you had never seen a porn movie. I thought it might be fun to get a few firsts out of the way in one afternoon. Apparently, you have a long list of firsts to work through, starting with your virginity, which you seem anxious to be rid of.”
“You’re making it up…”
“Afraid not,” he said, moving in on her, remote in hand, he turned up the volume so the sounds of the women on the screen filled the room.
“Argh, mmmm, oh yes, baby, oh yes, like that, yes do it like that.”
The woman’s legs wide, her red, shiny lips open while the girl between her thighs licked and slurped noisily.
“Would you like me to do that to you?” he whispered.
“I don’t know… I’ve never done it before…”
“I know, but I promise you’ll like it, and, guess what? You’ll still be a virgin.”