The Trouble With Love: An Age Gap Romance (The Forbidden Love 1)

“And you so easily came back?”

“To see if you truly are a one-night-stand-type-of-guy and your reputation precedes you.”

His eyes battle, almost as if I’ve struck a nerve. Will pulls back, momentarily, his face turning away. Then, as if something clicks, his stare swiftly moves back onto me, thirstier than before.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he reminds me.

“So you’ve said, yet here you are. In fact, you insisted I come here to do what exactly?” I search the room knowingly. “I’m yet to see your new TV or the hot men you promised me?”

A slight growl escapes his throat, his lips pressed flat while adopting a sullen look.

“Don’t push me, Amelia.”

Without a second thought, he lunges onto me, kissing me deeply as his hands explore my entire body. In a matter of seconds, he has unbuttoned the front of my dress, desperate to expose my breasts. Tugging my bra down, his mouth finds its way to my nipples, sucking hard without an apology for his ferocity.

I arch my back, welcoming his desperation but equally desperate to feel him inside me. My hands wander to his belt, fiddling with his buckle until he assists me, and his cock springs free from his boxers. I swallow at the sight—perfect and hard—eager to taste him, yet I know he just wants to bury himself inside me.

I lay on the sofa, my chest rising and falling as he enters me slowly, my mouth opening with an uncontrolled pant. Closing my eyes, I writhe in pleasure with every thrust, the quick and fast pounds to the sound of his groans. My eyes spring open, drawn to his tortured face as he begs me to come with him.

My hands clutch onto the sofa arm behind me as I warn him loudly that I’m ready. His movement picks up, the build of pleasure overwhelming me until his fingers wander to my nipples, tugging them hard and causing a sudden flush of warmth to spread throughout me. The air in the room is stifling hot and barely attainable while I try to breathe in, basking in a state of euphoric satisfaction.

Resting my hand on his cheek, willing him to calm down from his pleasurable victory, he kisses it but then pulls it away swiftly.

“Shit, I have to go.”

In a frenzied panic, he jumps off me, pulling

his pants back up and escaping quickly to what I assume is the bathroom. As I sit here, fixing my attire, he returns to the room.

“I need to be downtown to meet your Dad in fifteen minutes,” he states, distracted by patting down his pockets. “You can let yourself out.”

And with a quick kiss on the forehead, he’s out of sight, though not out of mind.

I beg to hold back my questions, knowing once I start the thought process in my head, it will be a vicious cycle with no end.

But I’m weak and vulnerable, having just fucked a man who kissed me goodbye on the forehead, then walked out the door.

What now? I need to go back to campus, study for classes, and immerse myself back into college life. Are we in a relationship, or is this it? A two-day stand?

What if he sleeps with other women? Or he wants to pursue a friends-with-benefit type of relationship. Is that something I can see myself getting involved in?

I know I’m inexperienced, but is it so wrong of me to question where we stand? I let out a long-winded sigh until I realize that being in this apartment will cause more harm now than good.

The damage is done.

Just how much, I’m yet to find out.

Twenty

Amelia

I try my best to bury my head in studying.

Attending Yale has been my dream for as long as I can remember. I know others would’ve killed to get into an Ivy League college. Yet, here am I, staring blankly at the wall again and stuck in this vicious cycle I like to call hell.

In front of me, the glare of my laptop is the only light inside my room. The darkness from outside has crept in, and the sound of the rain tapping against the window is warning us of this cold, wintery night. It’s been quite the season, and having grown up in California, I desperately miss the sunshine and palm trees.

Though the wild winter storm is perhaps a reflection of my current mood—cold, uninviting, and unpredictable with its temperament. It’s what happens when a week passes with not a single call, text, or even a cheeky slide into my DMs.