Lessons In Love: An Older Man, Younger Woman Romance Read online

  I pulled beside her and beeped. I knew the tinted window made her uneasy, so I rolled it down.

  “Ms. Winters, get in!” I shouted over the rain.

  She saw my face and slipped inside. She was completely soaked.

  “Don’t any of your friends drive?” I asked her. Anger bubbled under my voice.

  “Yeah, but they’re all in class or really busy now. I didn’t know it was going to rain. Thanks, Mr. Dent,” she said, keeping her eyes on her knees.

  “It’s nothing. Where are you living?” I asked her.

  “Oh, the North Park dorms on Sunny Street,” she said, chancing a glance at me.

  My eyes followed down to her shirt, and I could see the outline of her pink bra. I scolded myself silently and took my eyes off her small body. Paying attention to the road, I followed her directions to drop her off back at her dorm.

  “Thanks again, Mr. Dent,” she said, her voice light and airy.

  “It’s my pleasure,” I said. And it really was. “Oh, Cecilia, don’t you have a boyfriend who can make sure you get home?” I shouldn’t have asked such a risky question but the urge got the best of me.

  “Um, no, I don’t. The college guys here are immature and I don’t have time for that,” she explained. Good girl.

  “You have your head on straight. I expect a lot out of you, Cecilia. Have a good afternoon.”

  “See you next class, Mr. Dent.”

  She got out and disappeared into her dorm building.

  “What am I going to do with you, Cecilia?”

  As soon as I entered my front door, I threw my briefcase onto the wooden floor and undid my belt. I needed to get her out of my system, out of my mind. Fuck, I needed her out of me now. Her subtle floral scent, her eyes, hair, voice, everything.

  Only a firm hand with the thought of her lips wrapped around me could satisfy me. It was the only thing that I'd allow to satisfy me.

  I kicked off my leather loafers and went into my room. With my cock in hand, I began to dream of my Cecilia tending to my needs with her innocent mouth and my coaching her on how to give good head.

  This was forbidden. She was a fruit that couldn't be touched. That was just like me to want the untouchable.

  But my hand was just that. My hand. It wasn't her sweet pink lips or the embrace of her pink folds.

  No, it wasn't going to take care of the deep guttural urge I had to make her mine. Yes, I wanted her under me, but I also wanted to protect her from the ills of this world. My dear Cecilia had almost gotten stuck walking home in torrential rain.

  Those people she called “friends” were nowhere to be found. She needed someone to watch the weather for her, watch over her period. Cecilia straggled along by herself, and seeing that image of her in the rain made my teeth grind together. Cecilia deserved VIP treatment, a limo waiting on her hand and foot.

  The temptation to have her taste on my tongue was strong. But then the large sum of inheritance money and my reputation were on the line. If I were to cross that line before the semester was over, I could kiss my money and life goodbye. The crux of my life had always been privacy and anonymity. It shielded me, protected me, allowed me to exist comfortably in the shadows.

  I could have Cecilia after this semester, but I wasn't a keen waiter. Patience was far out of reach in my vocabulary.

  I was on the edge of coming when I heard knocking at my door. The heat between my cock and hand diminished.

  For a moment, I thought it was Cecilia and jumped over to the door with my dick still in hand.

  When I looked out the peephole, a jolt of annoyance struck through my body. This Hawthorne lady was disgustingly persistent. A man should run for a woman, never the other way around.

  Cecilia had the right idea. Too bad Ms. Hawthorne didn't. I cracked open the door with the chain still on.

  "Hello, Ms. Hawthorne. May I help you?" How'd she even find out where I live?

  "I live nearby. Would you like to pop the bubbly with me?" she asked, her harsh perfume scratching at my nose.

  "Oh, Ms. Hawthorne, I'm terribly sorry, but I'm very busy grading some papers."

  She pouted. It wasn't a good look on her with such dark colors on.

  "But the school semester just started. I know you don't have that many papers to grade."

  "Touché."

  Too persistent. It was starting to make me feel suspicious. The glint in her eyes was ominous.

  "How about you let me help you then? I do teach the same level and subject as you," she begged.

  Was I not sending her enough signals of 'I don't want to date you'?

  "Really, Ms. Hawthorne. I'm good. I don't even drink alcohol. Plus, I do like to spend my evenings alone, and I'm not currently looking to date anyone."

  She wrinkled her nose and frowned. "Ah, what a shame. You're a handsome man, George. I live in the Downy Apartment Homes if you ever decide to change your mind," she said, holding the bottle of wine close to her open cleavage.

  "Have a good evening, Ms. Hawthorne." I closed my door and looked down to see my cock soft. Her presence alone killed it for me. That meant that Cecilia was still in my system, and now, I didn't want her to leave.

  Shoving my cock back into my pants, I zipped up and plopped down on my plush tan sofa, pulling out my laptop. The old scent of coffee still lingered in my living room, easing my tense nerves. I even caught my shoulders tensed and relaxed them.

  I searched Facebook for Cecilia's profile. When I found it, I roamed around to see how much of her info was online.

  Nothing much. Her most recent post was six months ago about studying law with her new scholarship.

  I was glad that I didn't find any risqué pictures of her online and that she didn't have much of a Facebook presence.

  Then it occurred to me—if that were Cecilia knocking on my door, what would I have done? Took her in? Tutored her and seduced her with my old man charm?

  She was welcome to show up unannounced. But what in the hell made Ms. Hawthorne think I'd appreciate that? What'd she do? Pay someone to tell her where I lived?

  I took my mind off her desperate attempts to get inside and began to set up the next class's quiz. I needed to stay on track to my inheritance. It’d only be a short two and a half months, then I could leave with my money . . . and maybe Cecilia too. Then I could really celebrate. Life had begun for me long ago, but it was as if it had started again with a fresh new purpose. Seeing new things could do that to you.

  Cecilia was that new thing. Look at me, an old man cooing over a young lady.

  "Cecilia, sweetness, I hope you're studying," I thought aloud to myself.

  Chapter 3

  Cecilia

  The next day after Mr. Dent dropped me off, I felt like I was on cloud nine.

  “Whoa, someone’s feeling special today!” Alison chirped, looking at me curling my hair in the mirror. “Is there a special guy catching your eye?” she asked.

  “No, just feel like doing something with my hair today,” I lied. Of course there was someone who caught my eye. But he was pretty much off limits. Still, didn’t hurt to doll myself up and pretend like he’d notice. Mr. Dent was a nice older guy.

  They were the ones who knew how to take care of a home. If I were to marry, he was the type of guy I’d want, more mature and well-versed.

  Goddammit, why was this mascara not agreeing with me? Maybe this outfit looked too slutty? I examined my body up and down in the mirror, trying to weigh my choice wisely.

  What was I kidding? Mr. Dent wouldn’t notice me. I wasn’t anything too special anyway.

  I gathered my small makeup collection and swiped it back into its bag.

  “Giving up?” Alison asked.

  “No, just leaving it alone. I’m fine as I am right now. I don’t want to wear too much makeup. It’ll make me look too—”

  “Desperate, you’re right! Glad you have an eye for that, Cecilia. Never thought you were the makeup kind.” She waved her phone around while she sti
ll danced around in her sweats and T-shirt. Alison was carefree and wealthy. Her parents paid for her to go to school, and she got to study any major she wanted, which was fashion.

  You wouldn’t have guessed looking at her right now, but she was good at putting an outfit together.

  I packed my bags and looked over last night’s notes. Yep, I started studying last night, and since the notes I got from Mr. Dent’s class were really helpful, I began to feel some sort of confidence with pre-calculus.

  “See you around. I have to go to a doctor’s appointment with my little brother, so no math class for me today.” Alison sighed.

  “You really like math, don’t you?”

  “Meh, it depends. It’s kinda like playing games, you know?” She pushed me out the door with a pat on the back. “Go get him, tiger!” she said, growling and pawing her hand like a tiger.

  “Oh my God, Alison!” I chuckled.

  I left the dorm building and started my journey over to my math class. When I looked at the sky, I saw a smattering of dark clouds. Damn it, I forgot my umbrella again.

  A warmth blossomed in my chest with the memory of yesterday. Maybe dumb luck would have that scenario repeat itself?

  I hugged my book close to my chest and continued to class. Once I was there, I peeked in to see if Mr. Dent had arrived early. Nope, not yet. That was a relief.

  I scooted inside with the rest of my classmates and took my seat.

  Everyone was busy shuffling through papers, popping gum, surfing the internet, or catching a few Zs before Mr. Dent arrived.

  My heart was pounding against my chest like a drum. Why was I so nervous to see him? Was it my outfit? Was I afraid he wouldn’t approve?

  The clock’s hand moved another minute closer to the beginning of class, and Mr. Dent strode through the door with his dark blue suit coat and tan slacks. The presence he brought along with him was enough to fill the entire classroom.

  “Good afternoon, class,” he greeted, looking over at me. I smiled and shifted in my seat. God, he was looking at my outfit! I searched his face for approval or disapproval and saw neither.

  “Today, we’re having a pop quiz. So put your things aside—calculators are allowed. It’ll only take you a few minutes to complete.”

  A pop quiz? Oh, damn, I studied, but now I didn’t feel so sure of myself. What was going on with me lately?

  Mr. Dent walked around and passed out his quiz, and once one of the students handed me a copy, I looked over it.

  Okay, so there was like, one or two questions that I didn’t know out of the seven on here. Small improvement.

  Mr. Dent walked up behind me, and I could feel his heat and smell the scent of his cologne. My back prickled with this presence looming over me. Oh, no, was he looking at my quiz?

  Was I doing something wrong?

  He wasn’t moving either.

  Okay, act normal. Keep chipping away at this quiz and he should keep moving along.

  My hand began to tremble and my heart did backflips. He was still behind me. I hurried and raced for some sort of logical looking solution, even if it wasn’t correct.

  Mr. Dent hummed behind me and moved on. A huge sigh of relief puffed out of my mouth as if I were holding my breath.

  I was on the last problem. I could do it.

  I got my breathing back to normal and thought of what I studied last night before scribbling my final answer. There, done.

  Mr. Dent had all of our exams and placed them neatly on his desk that was nestled in the front of the class. It sat to the side so he had a good view of all of us—especially those who liked to cheat.

  “Today, we’ll be learning about Conic Sections,” he began, grabbing a marker and heading to the board.

  I leaned in, pencil in hand, copying anything he wrote down on the board. With his extra touch of tutoring today, I’d be able to pass this class, never look at another math class again, and keep my scholarship.

  Happiness should’ve enveloped me completely at the sight of a near-success, but I still felt pretty blasé.

  The door to the classroom opened and Ms. Hawthorne slipped in, looking at Mr. Dent like a steak. She had shark eyes for him. Was she out of her mind? We were in the middle of a lesson.

  “Yes, Ms. Hawthorne?” he said with a slight sigh. It sounded like he was annoyed by her presence.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt you, George,” she said, using his first name, “but do you have a marker? All of mine have run dry.”

  Mr. Dent threw her one of his and turned back to the board.

  “Thank you,” she said, leaning on the doorjamb.

  “No problem.” He turned back to the class. “Now, for these specific functions . . .”

  Ms. Hawthorne idled by the door and frowned, slinking out, disappointed by the lack of communication.

  Something in my gut irked me. That marker was going to be returned at the end of this class, and I’d be the one to see to it. I knew Ms. Hawthorne’s drift. She always cozied up to the rich teachers on campus. Didn’t that hag know she had a reputation?

  I tore my eyes off the empty door and scribbled down some notes of what was on the board.

  Mr. Dent’s teaching was pure magic.

  “You may start,” he said.

  I took my pencil and scribbled away with different formulas. There was a spark of satisfaction with each answer I put down. Whether it was right or wrong, I didn’t know. My confidence said I was good though.

  The rest of the class went by in a breeze since Alison wasn’t here to pester me with more text messages during class. I even kept my mind off Mr. Dent’s looks while I scribbled down notes.

  Class was over, and everyone rushed by me like a rush of water. I gathered my things, and as usual, was the last one to leave. Yet I didn’t want to leave just yet. I had something to get.

  “Mr. Dent, wait here just a second. I’m gonna get that marker back for you,” I said, breezing out the door to pop into Ms. Hawthorne’s class.

  Odd. Mr. Dent threw her a black marker, yet she was using a red one. She didn’t need that marker! She just did that to disturb him.

  “Ms. Hawthorne, Mr. Dent needs his marker back,” I said to her, approaching her desk while I eyed his unused marker.

  “Oh, he does? I’ll give it right back in a few—”

  “He’s leaving now. I’ll just take it over to him, thank you!” I chimed, picking up the marker and heading back to his classroom. That razor look in Ms. Hawthorne’s eyes was dangerous. She was just looking for a way to attach herself to him. Her silent rage from behind me left the hairs on my neck standing.

  “Here we go! Here’s your marker, professor!” I said, handing it to him. “I’m surprised that she didn’t even use it.” Wow, my mouth was too big sometimes. I shouldn’t have said it like that.

  “Really? Hmm, not surprised,” he said in a hushed tone.

  Huh, so he knew too?

  He took the marker from my hand and waved it in the air.

  “Thank you, Ms. Winters. Are you still coming for tutoring?” he asked, packing up the rest of his markers and papers.

  “Yes, of course. Your notes are very helpful, so a few days with you and I’ll be a pro!”

  “What’s your major again?”

  “Law . . .”

  He tilted his head to the side. “Why do you seem so unhappy? Don’t you like your major?”

  I perked back up and brushed some hair behind my ear.

  “Well, I do . . . I just . . . you see, law is interesting but—”

  “That’s not what you want to major in, is it?”

  I paused. Mr. Dent was seeing right through me. “I’ll see you later on. Thanks again, Mr. Dent.” I zoomed out the door and ran toward my dorm.

  Moments like this had me asking what the hell I was doing with my life. Law was the reason I was here in school. That was the only possible scholarship option.

  I’d double-major, but then the workload alone would kill me. I was lucky enou
gh that I was one of the few on campus who wasn’t loaded on energy drinks and drugs.

  I returned to my dorm and watched the hours roll by. I took out some of my notes and did some homework from other classes I had yesterday.

  Biology, English, and Political Science were my other classes along with Law 101, and out of all those classes, my least favorite was Law 101. I didn’t even like law.

  I could digest math better than law. And it wasn’t because I was bad at it either. The love just wasn’t there.

  Not anymore.

  Alison didn’t return to the dorm yet. She was probably still out looking after her baby brother.

  Six o’clock was rolling around soon, and I got myself ready. My choice of clothing scared me, so I downgraded from this morning’s outfit to something simple. Something that was me.

  I was an odd mix of neutral. I wore frilly things sometimes, but I really just preferred some skinny jeans, a nice turtleneck, and boots.

  This time, I took care of looking at the weather report and brought along my umbrella.

  “Hmm, let’s put this address into GPS,” I said to myself, taking out the piece of paper Mr. Dent had given me.

  When the directions appeared, I was pleased to see that he was only a fifteen-minute walk from where I was.

  On my way there, the sky grew darker. The sky sure liked raining on me, didn’t it? I threw up my umbrella and shielded myself from the thick droplets of rain that began to fall.

  The rain gradually got harder, and I was worried for a second.

  Now it was a pure white-out and I could barely see where to run.

  Shhhhh. Rmmmb.

  Thunder? Great.

  Hail started to fall, and I saw a coffee shop just ahead. I ran over, but my foot caught an uneven part of the pavement that stuck up and I fell. My knees broke most of the fall, but the pain had me lying there for a minute.

  The force of rain and hail blinded me, forcing me to cover my eyes. I tried dragging myself over, but the pain was bad.

  Car lights shined in my face, and a figure came up to me. It was Mr. Dent.