I've never known how good it could feel to be taken care of by a man who knew what he was doing.
Until I was with Hugo...
I was older than her.
She was innocent, hadn't experienced all that life had to offer.
I could give her that experience.
Sabine consumed my thoughts, made me desire nothing else but her. No other woman compared to her, and because of that, I haven’t been with a woman for four years, which was also the last time I saw Sabine.
But I was done feeling guilty for what I desired. I wanted Sabine in my life, by my side, and I was about to make that a reality.
I didn’t know if she’d ever been treated the way a female should … but I was going to show her how a real man takes care of a woman.
Warning: If you’re into super short, hot, dirty reads containing a much older hero and younger heroine … keep on reading. This story is guaranteed to make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside, give you that sweet HEA we all deserve, and make you want to search out an experienced older man for yourself.
She’s all I thought about for the last four years.
Since I left after her high school, and eighteenth birthday, celebration, Sabine had been on my mind.
Four. Fucking. Years.
I closed my eyes and pictured her.
I always thought about Sabine.
I could picture her long black hair ... strands I wanted to wrap around my hand as I made love to her.
I imagined her blue eyes staring up at me, wide, pleasure-filled, as I thrust into her body.
I could picture my hands, mouth, and tongue moving along her womanly curves.
Four years of me wanting a woman I knew I shouldn’t desire, but whom I couldn’t get out of my head.
She was so much younger than I was, but that wasn’t an issue. The age difference didn't bother me in the slightest. She was a woman, twenty-one years old, and she was smart, perfect for me. Sabine had always known what she wanted out in life, and she’d excelled at what she put her mind to. I might not have seen her in years, but I knew she had only gotten more determined in that regard. That wasn’t a trait someone just let go of.
It had been four long years since I’d even been intimate with a woman. I just couldn’t bring myself to go there with them, not when the only one I wanted was Sabine.
After all this time, I knew she was the only one I'd ever want, and as experienced in life as I was, I knew this wasn't a passing desire.
I ran a hand over my face, breathing out wearily.
“Would you like something else to drink, Mr. Alfonso?”
I looked up at the flight attendant and shook my head. “No, thank you, Marcella.” I had three more hours to go before I landed in New York, and another hour drive to get to get to Leo and his wife Annabelle’s house. And by the time I even got to their home, it would be too late to see anyone really.
Getting a hotel would have been a simpler option, but it was out of the question, not when Leo and Annabelle insisted I stay in their guesthouse. I knew better than to argue with either of them.
I’d missed Sabine's graduation, and even though I'd known about this event for some time, switching my business obligations around hadn't been possible. That didn’t stop me from feeling this immense guilt.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out the white leather box. Opening it, I stared down at the diamond tennis bracelet I'd bought for her.
Sabine was the only woman I’d ever given jewelry to, and although it might seem like an innocent gesture, a congratulatory gift for her accomplishments, the necklace, and now this bracelet that I'd give to her, meant a little more to me than she’d ever know.
She meant more to me than she'd ever know.
It had been four years since I’d seen him.
Four years of me wanting a man who I knew I could never have.
Four years of me comparing every guy I tried to have a relationship with him ... Hugo.
But telling myself what I should and shouldn’t want was a lot harder to accomplish when what I wanted was unattainable, yet still within my reach.
I stared across the table at my parents. We'd finished throwing a small dinner party in celebration of me graduating college and getting my bachelor's degree, and now it was just the three of us. I should be focusing on graduate school, getting my Master's in education, but knowing Hugo was coming in tonight was all I could think of.
Just thinking his name had my skin prickling with awareness, had every part of me speeding up. Adrenaline rushing through my body gave me this reaction.
“He’ll be here sometime tonight, although I’m not sure what time.” I looked at my father. He leaned back in the dining room chair and lifted his wine glass to his lips. He looked over at my mother, who also had a wine glass in front of her.
“It’s been what, four years since he was last in the States?” my mother asked.
My heart sped up knowing he'd been here, probably states away, yet still closer than when he was in Europe.
“I bet you’re excited to see Hugo again,” my mother said and took a sip of her wine, looking over the rim at me.
I shrugged, not about to show how nervous I was, or how much anticipation thrummed through me.
We’d finished off a bottle of wine between the three of us, and the second bottle was already half empty. I reached out and ran my finger along the base of my glass. “It’s been a long time,” I replied softly, thinking about the last time I'd seen him. I remembered vividly the way he smelled of dark and delicious cologne. But he’d also smelled of aged books and experience, and it was such a heady, intoxicating aroma. On instinct, I lifted my hand and touched the rose gold feather necklace he’d given me. It had been a present from Hugo for my accomplishment on graduating high school, but also making valedictorian.
I'd worn it every day since receiving it.
“You two always had this special bond.”
“Of course you did. Hugo would spend hours with you at the kitchen table teaching you Russian. Remember?”
I did, vividly. Our last lesson had been when I was seventeen years old, and he'd come to visit after being away on business in Russia.
“That’s because Dad wanted him to make me more 'rounded.'” I smiled at my dad. He’d been teasing when he’d made the suggestion I start learning a language, but Hugo had taken it seriously. For the next two years, from the age of fifteen to seventeen, whenever Hugo was in town, he’d spend hours with me, teaching me his native language—one of the four he spoke fluently.
The truth was I could only speak a handful of phrases of Russian, mainly because I wasn’t able to concentrate when he was near.
But I’d tried to come to the realization that my personal reality did not include Hugo in it.
And even after all these years, it was still hard to make that sink in.