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It’s too much and not enough and I’m climbing toward something huge.

I grab a fistful of his shirt and wildly buck my hips against his arm because I can’t help myself. I’ve never even come close to this level of bliss.

Beau’s thumb moves faster. With his other hand, he presses down on my stomach. “Slow down. I’ve got you, sweet girl. Feel it build and let it go.”

It’s the low-voiced command. It does me in. Sends me over.

My first-ever orgasm rockets through my pussy and out through every pore at once. I’m wailing. Loud. Unguarded. Beau’s name somewhere in the noise. Bucking like a crazed beast in my dead mother’s living room with Beau’s mouth on my throat and his fingers working magic between my legs.

In twenty-two years I’ve never experienced anything within a mile of this.

I float back to myself in pieces, slumped into Beau’s side with his arm around me. He carefully removes his fingers, wipes them on his jeans and I realize he’s holding himself dead still.

Shaking with the effort.

He presses his mouth to the top of my head, soft. Untangles himself completely and scoots away. This isn’t the way a man acts if he’s into you.

I want more.

He wants out.

From across the couch, Beau’s pained look reinforces my worst scenario. “Elodie. Sweetheart. I shouldn’t have… I’m so sorry for taking advantage of you.”

I feel the words more than hear them.

Except.

Why am I so certain neither of us believes him?

eight

A Few Days Later

Elodie is the only thing I fucking think about.

Her face. The sounds she made.

How her tight little pussy convulsed around my fingers when I made her come for the first time.

The memory is on an endless loop in my brain. I’m borderline obsessive.

Also, I hate myself for not resisting temptation. Her first orgasm wasn’t mine to take.

I’m ashamed. Feels like I’ve reverted back to the selfish bastard who fucked for sport. Who the hell do I think I am? Surely, if I’m ready to have sex again, there’s someone more age appropriate out there.

Right?

If Elodie didn’t need the class credit to graduate, I’d have probably bailed on the whole thing. Going forward, I’m not going to let my libido screw up her future. I’ll keep my boundaries and see this assignment through.

For her.

Especially because she seems to be taking everything in stride. When I apologized, she told me I was overthinking it so I guess nothing’s meant to be awkward between us. I’d forgotten young women in her generation are used to having “situationships,” as I’ve gleaned from overhearing Billie gossip with her friends over the years.

Don’t understand it. Not my generation or in my vernacular.

Best to keep distance between us. If she realized how often I beat off to the fantasy of fucking her… Christ. She’d run away from the pervy old man screaming.

Tonight, there’s no need to worry. I have reinforcement. Chaperones.