Page 52 of Her Age Gap Match

“He’ll google you before you meet them,” I added. “Then he’ll pretend he never did, and he’ll be incredibly embarrassed if you bring it up.”

“Noted.”

He slid the cutting board toward me, all the veggies sliced now just as I’d asked. I kept my eyes on the pan and let my smile grow as he came up behind me and slid his arms around my waist, his lips finding my throat.

“When you said clothes were optional I figured I wasn’t going to be the only one,” he said, playing with the hem of my sweater. “Can I have this?”

I laughed under my breath. “Seems fair.”

I let go of the spatula just long enough for her to pull my sweater over my head, leaving me in the white lace bra I’d had on since that morning. John tilted his head to kiss my neck again, the crook of my shoulder…one hand coming up to cup my breast.

I moaned softly.

“I was going to tell you you’re distracting me, but I guess I did the exact same thing to you at your apartment,” I said.

“Turnabout and all that.”

“Right.”

His other hand moved to the button of my jeans, then slid the zipper down. He didn’t bother taking them off—just slipped his hand beneath my panties and found my pussy.

“I wanna know everything about you,” he said.

“Kind of…hard to cook and get fingered and tell you about myself at the—oh god—at the same time⁠—”

“Try harder.”

"Okay," I gasped. "Okay. Um." I grabbed the spatula again, tried to remember what vegetables were. "I have two older siblings. Sarah and Michael. Sarah's in Denver, she's a pediatric nurse, married to a guy named Tom."

"Mm." His fingers moved and I knocked the spatula against the edge of the pan.

"Michael is in Kansas City, he does—he does something in finance, I've never fully understood it, and he has a three year old named—named Clara who is the funniest person I've ever met—" I broke off, pressing back against him.

"Keep going," he said. His voice was low and completely unhurried, like he had all night, like he wasn't currently taking me apart in his kitchen while I tried to make dinner.

"I'm the youngest by six years," I managed. "My parents didn't plan me."

"No?"

"My mom says I was—" I exhaled hard, gripping the counter with my free hand. "She says I was the universe's idea, not hers."

"I like your mom," he said.

"John—"

"You're doing so well," he said. "Don't stop."

“But it needs to simmer,” I rushed out. “Nothing left to do⁠—”

He moved me to the side enough so I could brace myself on the counter, bending me at the waist.

“Good,” he said. “Hold on then.”

A rush of fumbling hands; my knuckles white on the counter.

Then he was inside me.

I howled, my jeans around my ankles, John Lawson’s cock buried to the hilt, his hands on my breasts. I rocked back against him and took him deep, sobbing in pleasure.