CHAPTER 2: OLDER MEN DO IT BETTER

The moment the penthouse door shut, Alistair’s restraint evaporated.

He pinned her against the door, his large, calloused hand sliding up to grip the back of her neck with a terrifying but delicious pressure, and he slanted his lips over hers again.

He was rough, but in a calculated way that made her body melt.

She whimpered as his large, calloused hands slid up her thighs, bunching up her skirt until his palms met bare skin. And at the same time, his lips kissed down, finding the sensitive dip of her collarbone.

He pulled back, stripping her and looking down at her like she was a rare steak and he was starving. “Goddess… You have no idea what you’re doing to me," he growled, his voice low, vibrating against her skin. "I’ve spent thirty-eight years in control, Solange. And you broke it in a single second."

He lifted her, and her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist as he carried her toward the massive king-sized bed, his kisses becoming more frantic, more starved.

When they hit the silk sheets, the contrast was jarring: her pale, trembling body against the dark, expensive linens.

She watched as he quickly stripped, revealing a body that made her mouth water: broad shoulders, a defined chest, and arms corded with muscle. She let out a tiny gasp when she got to his cock. It was so thick she knew he’d be a challenge taking him in… just the way she liked it. 

When he moved over her, the sheer heat radiating from him made her breath hitch.

He took his time exploring her, his mouth trailing fire over her breasts and down her stomach.

Solange arched into him, her fingers digging into his shoulders; her body felt like it had been waiting for him since the moment she was born. Every touch felt like a homecoming.

"Look at me," he commanded when she closed her eyes with bliss. His eyes were no longer bright blue; they were a dark, swirling midnight. "Tell me you want this."

"I want you," she breathed, the words a jagged plea. "Please …"

He moved lower, his large hands parting her thighs, his gaze dark and appreciative.

She let out a high-pitched moan, her hips bucking off the bed when his tongue gave her clit a slow, devastating stroke.

His mouth worked her with a relentless, hungry rhythm, then he slid two thick fingers inside her, stretching her slick walls, his movements deliberate and firm as if he were memorizing every inch of her, ramping her pleasure higher.

Just as she thought she couldn't take any more, he hooked his fingers and pressed into her G-spot, sending a jolt of electricity straight to her core. At the same moment, he increased the suction on her clit.

The dual assault was too much. Solange’s fingers tangled in his salt-and-pepper hair, her back arching as she let out a broken, high-pitched moan. The tension coiled tight in her belly before finally snapping, a violent, total-body orgasm that left her shaking and breathless.

“God, her old roommate had been right,” she thought. “Older men were actually better.  They knew the map of a woman’s pleasure better than she knew it herself.”

He leaned over her and slid into her with a slow, agonizing thrust.

Solange cried out, her fingers digging into his shoulders as his thick girth sent a mix of sharp pain and an overwhelming, soul-deep fullness.

He froze, his forehead resting against hers, his breath coming in ragged hitches.  "I've got you," he whispered, his voice tender though it was strained. "Just breathe for me."

"Fuck... please…" she begged, her head tossing on the pillow. She couldn’t even put into words what she wanted. All she knew was that she wanted something… specific that would ground her, that would make her pleasure complete.

As if reading her mind, he reached up, closing one hand around her throat. It wasn't enough to hurt, but it was firm enough to make her gasp, her airway tightening just enough to send a rush of adrenaline through her veins, making other sensations explode.

He watched her face as he started thrusting in and out of her, his gaze possessive and dark. “Good girl,” he growled out, rocking deeper into her. “You take me in so well.”

All she could do was moan; her brain had disconnected from other functions except the exquisite pleasure bordered on pain she was currently feeling.

He smirked down at her, his eyes filled with satisfaction, then he grabbed one leg, bent it to her chest, and the pain vanished, replaced by an exquisite, building tension.

The world narrowed down to the friction of skin, the sound of their combined breathing, and the strange, golden light she felt behind her eyelids.

Solange buried her face in the crook of his neck, her back arching as she let out a broken, high-pitched moan. The tension coiled tight in her belly before snapping in a violent, total-body orgasm that left her shaking and breathless.

"That’s my good girl," he rasped, his voice a low, gravelly vibration in her ear. "Your pussy grips me so good, baby. You feel like heaven."

Solange could barely think. The praise was like a drug, making her heart swell even as her body shivered with the aftermath of her orgasm, her walls convulsing around his length.

Without giving her time to recover, he turned her shivering, sensitive body onto her side, pulling her back against his chest in a sideways position. Then he reached around, his hand finding her throat again, cutting off most of her oxygen.

She whimpered in pleasure as the world turned fuzzy at the edges. She felt lightheaded, like she was floating in a sea of pure sensation, as he started moving inside her again; his thrusts hit her g-spot head-on with every deep stroke.

"You like that? Only I can make you feel this good," he growled, his breath hot against her neck. "Tell me you're mine."

Solange couldn't form words. Her moans became slurred and incoherent as she slipped into a blissful headspace where nothing existed but his voice and the way he owned her.

She was oversensitized, every nerve ending screaming, and when the next climax hit, it was the most intense yet.

Alistair let out a guttural moan of his own, his muscles locking as her spasming walls clamped down on him almost painfully. He found his own release, pouring himself into the condom with a force that left them both spent.

"I’ve never felt anything like that in my life," he panted against her skin, his voice thick with wonder. "What is it about you that drives me so crazy? Why am I so intoxicated by you?"

Solange only heard him through a fog of post-coital bliss. Then she felt him gently clean her up before pulling her into a tight, protective cuddle.

For the first time in her life, she felt completely safe and cherished. As she drifted off to sleep in his arms, she truly believed the nightmare of her life was finally over.