Craving the Older Man: (An Erotica Collection)

Mira

My mouth fell open, and I couldn’t even hide my surprise. This man was gorgeous. I had seen good looking men before, but he was on an entirely different level.

“Mira, meet my dad,” Anna repeated, snapping me out of my completely inappropriate thoughts about all the ways I could gladly devour this man.

Anna and I met at a bookstore last month. We clicked instantly and became close fast. Since then, she had been begging me to come over to her house, and now here I was, standing in front of the most breathtaking man I had ever laid eyes on.

He was tall, broad-shouldered and dressed in a simple black shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, exposing tan skin and veins that should honestly be illegal. His dark hair was slightly messy, like he had run his fingers through it one too many times and his sharp jawline looked carved by the gods themselves.

And those eyes…

God.

His gaze landed on me calmly, yet there was something intense under it that made my stomach tighten.

“Dad, this is Mira,” Anna said excitedly. “The friend I told you about.”

His lips curved into a slow smile, deep and confident enough to make my knees weak.

“So you’re Mira,” he said, his voice was low and smooth. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to remember how human interaction worked.

“Good things, I hope,” I managed to reply.

His smile widened slightly.

“That depends.”

“You can call me Bruce,” he said with an easy smile. “Come in and make yourself at home.”

I nodded, still trying to act normal while my brain short-circuited over how attractive this man was.

The house was just as stunning as him, with warm lighting, expensive furniture, and the kind of effortless elegance that screamed old money without trying too hard. Family pictures lined the walls, most of them were of Anna and Bruce together.

Before I could look longer, Anna grabbed my wrist and dragged me upstairs.

“Come on! I’ll show you my room.”

The second we stepped inside, I glanced around curiously. Her room was cozy and colorful, filled with books, fairy lights, and little sketches pinned to the wall.

“Your mom isn’t home?” I asked casually.

Anna’s smile faded almost instantly.

“She’s rarely home,” she muttered, sitting on the edge of her bed. “Always on business trips. It’s always just been me and Dad.”

“Oh,” I said softly, suddenly regretting asking.

There was a brief awkward silence before the door opened again.

Bruce walked in carrying a tray of snacks and drinks like some unreal domestic fantasy designed specifically to ruin my peace of mind.

“Hope you girls are enjoying yourselves,” he said.

“Yes,” I replied quickly, sitting up straighter. “Your home is lovely.”

I smiled politely, trying my best to keep my voice steady even though my pulse was doing something ridiculous in my throat. Bruce’s eyes stayed on me for just a second longer than necessary or maybe I was imagining it. God, I hoped I wasn’t.

“Thank you,” he said, his deep voice was smooth like aged whiskey. “You’re welcome here anytime, Mira.” The way he said my name made heat crawl up my neck. He set the tray of snacks down on Anna’s desk, it contained fresh juice, some fancy chocolates and little sandwiches that looked too perfect to eat. Then he gave us both a smile before stepping back.

“I’ll leave you girls to it. Call me if you need anything.”

The door clicked shut behind him.

Anna flopped onto her bed with a dramatic sigh. “He’s such a dad sometimes. Overprotective but sweet. You okay? You looked like you were buffering for a second there.”

I laughed, a little too loud, and dropped onto the chair by her window. “He’s… intense. In a good way. How are you not used to that?”

She shrugged, already digging into the chocolates. “I mean, he’s just Dad to me. Handsome, sure, but I’ve seen him in dad mode too many times, burning pancakes, embarrassing me with corny jokes, the whole thing.”

I nodded like I understood, but my mind was still replaying the way Bruce’s shirt stretched across his shoulders when he leaned down to place the tray. The faint scent of his cologne that drifted past when he walked by. The low timbre of his voice.

We spent the next hour talking about books, the new romance novel we both pretended not to be obsessed with, and college plans. But every time I heard footsteps in the hallway, my stomach flipped.

Later, when Anna went downstairs to grab drinks, I stepped out of her room to find the bathroom. The house was quiet. As I passed what looked like Bruce’s study, the door was slightly ajar.

I shouldn’t have looked but I did.

He was at his desk, reading glasses perched on his nose, the sleeves of his button-down rolled up to his forearms. The sight hit me low in the belly. When he glanced up and caught me staring, instead of looking annoyed, the corner of his mouth lifted in a slow, lazy smile.

“Lost, Mira?”

“I….bathroom,” I managed, my cheeks burning.

“Second door on the right.” He didn’t look away. “Take your time.”

I nodded quickly and hurried down the hall, my heart hammering like I’d been caught doing something filthy.

When I came back out, Anna was still downstairs. Bruce was now standing in the hallway, leaning against the wall like he’d been waiting.

“Everything alright?” he asked.

“Yeah. Your house is really beautiful,” I said again, stupidly.

“So you’ve mentioned.” His eyes traced my face, then lowered for half a second before returning to my eyes. “Anna’s mentioned you a lot. Said you’re sharp, funny. Easy on the eyes, clearly.”

I swallowed.

He stepped just a little closer, not enough to be obvious, but enough that I could smell him again, that clean, masculine scent that made my thoughts scatter.

“I’m glad you finally came over,” he murmured. “I was curious about the girl who’s been taking up so much of my daughter’s time.”

Before I could think of a reply, Anna’s voice floated up from the stairs. “Mira! I got the good snacks!”