Warning!!!
This chapter contains steamy and sexual content!!!
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He walks inside, and I lock the door behind him.
“It’s been a while since I visited your place,” he comments, and I nod, leading him to my room.
“What are we looking at?” he asks playfully.
“Literature,” I say with a slight laugh, and he rolls his eyes.
“How about I read it to you while you just listen?” he suggests, and I shrug.
Alex takes my book and starts reading, but I can’t seem to concentrate. Fifteen minutes pass, and he stops.
“Did you understand any of that?” he asks, and I shake my head, he sigh.
“Alright, how about this: I’ll ask questions, and you answer,” he proposes. I agree hesitantly.
“Who is the most significant writer in English literature?” he quizzes. I think for a moment.
“Shakespeare?” I venture, and he nods, making me smile.
“Why is International Book Day celebrated?” he continues, and I frown, unsure.
“What was the first book written for?” he asks, and I listen.
“Because of Shakespeare’s death,” he replies, and we continue with the questions. I get several wrong, leading me to flop back onto my bed in frustration.
“Nothing’s sinking in,” I pout, and Alex runs a hand through my hair soothingly.
“We may need to turn to extreme measures,” he suggests with a glint in his eye.
“I’ll ask again: for every right answer you get, I’ll remove a clothing item. For every wrong answer, you take off something,” he states, and my eyes widen.
“But I’m only wearing underwear!” I exclaim, and he laughs.
“Go put something on,” he instructs, and I dash to my wardrobe, throwing on jeans, socks, shoes, a shirt, a sweatshirt, and a hat. He watches me and chuckles at my endeavor.
“You’re a cheater,” he teases, and I sit on the bed facing him.
“Alright, let’s begin: Who said, ‘Every failure teaches a man what he needed to learn’?” he asks, and I gulp.
“Do you want options?” he offers. I nod, and he gives the names: “Shakespeare, Dickens, and Wilde.”
“Wilde?” I respond hesitantly, receiving a smile and a head shake in reply.
“Dickens,” he states with a smirk. “Start easy-take off one shoe.” I comply.
“Next question: Whose work is The Picture of Dorian Gray?” he asks with the same three options.
“Wilde,” I answer confidently, and he removes a shoe, prompting a grin from me.
“I write under the pseudonym Boz,” he informs me, and I sigh.
“Shakespeare?” I guess, and see a smile grow on his face again.
“Take off your other shoe,” he laughs as I comply, knowing it’s Dickens.
“Who were the trio of literary greats who met in Paris?” he probes, and I smile.
“Shakespeare, Dickens, and Wilde,” I answer, but he laugh- sighs that it was different.
“Dickens, Dumas, and Verne,” he corrects with disappointment. “He once survived a train wreck where many perished; he dedicated himself to helping others, which inspired some of his work, especially in ‘The Signal-Man.'”
“Dickens,” I say sarcastically, which earns me another grin from him while he takes off his other shoe.
Alex continues asking questions until I find myself in just my underwear and him in boxers.
“How many children did Dickens have?” he asks in a whisper and I tilt my head.
Two- I answer and he smiles.
Ten.- He whispers and I run my hands down my back to take off my bra.
As soon as I remove the bra and it was no longer on me, Alex gulps and turns his gaze back to the book.
“I invented over a thousand seven hundred words and phrases,” he murmurs, locking eyes with me as I bite my lip.
“Shakespeare,” I guess, sensing his frustration.
“That would be wrong-Dickens,” he asserts, laying me back on the bed and removing my panties, trailing his hand over my stomach.
“Have you learned anything, baby?” he asks, and I reply with a sigh and a nod.
“I hope for an A+ tomorrow,” he chuckles, and I moan as I feel his breath on my pussy and his cold hands opening my legs.
He run is tongue all over my pussy and lick it, I moan again.
Daddy- I whisper and run my hands through his hair.
Stay still, love- he murmurs and sucks on my clitoris, I hunch my back and Alex follows.
“Daddy, please, just fuck me already,” I plead, and he laughs before kneeling and looking down at me.
“I don’t have a condom,” he mumbles, causing me to sigh and roll my eyes.
“I’m joking; you should have seen your face,” he continues, making me blush.
Then he pulls out a silver foil packet, puts it on his cock, and enters me, eliciting a moan from my lips. He gently raises my right leg onto his shoulder, and begin to thrust slowly, and I respond with soft moans.
I love you so much, Nina – he growls and begins to thrust into me speedily.
Alex- I moan and dig my nails into his back.
I lower my leg from his shoulder and wrap it around his hips. I feel the pleasure all over my body, I feel Alex inside me and that gives me enough satisfaction.
Every part of him has me enthralled.
Feeling my body tense, I tuck my face into the crook of his neck as he thrust into me speedily, gasping, I feel his gaze on me every second and he kiss me from lips to my collarbone. I love this man, I have to admit it. I love his masculine essence, his way of doing everything he does, his look, his voice, his body, his way of being, everything.
Absolutely everything.
I feel my body tense and I place my face in the crook of his neck as he thrust faster, I let out a small gasp at his name i cum and soon after he cum as he moans hoarsely.
He rests his weight on me, then sits upright, pulling off the condom to throw it aside.
Wrapping his arms around my waist, he covers us both with a blanket. I entangle my arms around his chest, trying to catch my breath.
“Nina, I want you to be mine,” he whispers, and I meet his gaze.
“Am I not yours already?” I ask, and he sighs deeply.
“Even more than that,” he replies, making me frown. “I want to take you out without hiding our relationship. I want to be able to kiss you in public without pretense.”
“You want a serious relationship,” I deduce, and he nods.
“I’m not sure, Alex,” I murmur, feeling uncertain.
“I love you so much, Nina. You don’t even know,” he confesses, taking my hand. “Just tell me how I can make this happen, and I promise I’ll do it.”
This feels overwhelmingly awkward.
“I don’t know, Alex,” I answer faintly.
“I’m only 17,” I add, and he swallows hard.
“I don’t care about your age; I love you,” he insists, and I agree hesitantly.
“I really don’t know,” I admit.
“Alex,” I call him gently, and he focuses intently on me. “I think I need time to think,” I explain, and his expression turns puzzled.
“Is it not okay?” he murmurs, and I shake my head.
“I just need time to figure everything out-about sex, our relationship, you, everything,” I say, and he looks thoughtful.
“Do you need time to decide?” he asks, and I nod hesitantly. His laughter is incredulous. “Nina…”
“Alex, I’m unsure about this serious relationship,” I say, watching his expression change.
“I love you, but I worry about the age difference,” I confess, feeling the weight of my words.
“Age is just a number,” he asserts, i sigh
“It’s a big number,” I argue, and he nods slowly.
“Please understand where I’m coming from,” I implore, and he exhales deeply.
“I just need some time to think it over; I’ll be honest with you,” I promise.
“Okay,” he says, gathering his things and getting up to leave. I watch him as he prepares to go.
I notice the tension in his body from his jaw to his clenched fists, sensing his agitation. The slamming of my house door echoes as he storms out.
As I sigh, I don’t regret asking for time, as I truly need it. I’m conflicted about continuing this relationship-not because I don’t want it, but because I suddenly realize I may be stepping into something significant.
Eight years is a considerable age gap. How would my mother react? What would my friends think? Would I lose them to him? What if I sacrificed my friendships and family only for him to walk away?
What happens if he breaks my heart? Maybe he’s just pretending, seeking only physical affection.
Tears fill my eyes as I grapple with the despair swirling inside me.
I’ve never felt this kind of intense fear-fear of loving the wrong person, of losing everything to a relationship that may not yield good results, or of missing out on a whole life because it leads nowhere.
But there’s also the fear of losing him, of not taking the chance. I’m terrified of losing my first love based on my own doubts. The weight of this decision feels crushing as I wonder if I’ll make a blunder by letting him go.
I’m utterly confused and lost, not knowing which way to turn.