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  “Almost twenty,” he answered, looking away. “Well, twenty in about ten months.”

  “Oh man,” she groaned. “You just turned nineteen?” He nodded and she closed her eyes and shook her head. “Do you know how old I am?”

  Daniel knew he could guess freely, but decided against it. “I don’t know that your age makes any difference to me,” he answered, honestly.

  “27,” she supplied, anyway. “I’ll be 28 in May.”

  “Wow – so, we’re literally May and December,” he smiled.

  “Yeah, but the other way around.”

  “You know, I don’t get the problem about age,” he shrugged. “As long as both people are adults, what’s the big deal?” He realized a moment of panic, wondering if he was assuming too much, referring to them as if they were considering a relationship. But the way she had been looking at him during brunch made him think he wasn’t just falling prey to wishful thinking here. “Besides, women live longer than men, anyway, so doesn’t it make sense that the man be a little younger when the relationship starts, and do it the reverse of how people usually do it?”

  “Craziness,” she murmured and shook her head, standing from the table.

  “Who? Me?” he asked, innocently.

  Refusing to answer further, she instead asked if he wanted coffee.

  Out if habit, he almost said no, but changed his mind. “Yes, actually,” he said, gratefully accepting the steaming cup from her, adding silently that today seemed like a good day for change.

  He insisted on doing the dishes, and cleared the table while she disappeared into another part of the house. Scrubbing at the maple syrup, he almost didn’t notice her return until she was right behind him. The pressure of her front against his back was subtle, and he wanted to dismiss it as accidental since she was placing a fork he had missed into the sink, but the feel of her breasts against him made his chest tight, and instantly brought a response from his body.

  He felt her stretch away to the counter, but she made no effort to put distance between her belly and his buttocks, making him slowly realize that the pressure had not been so very accidental.

  “Drink?” she asked, her voice now a bit husky as she held a flute of orange juice around his chest for him.

  Though it looked like plain orange juice, the flute glass and the naughty tone in her voice almost made him mention he was technically not old enough to drink legally in that state, but he quickly decided that might be a mood killer given their situation, and took the sip she offered. It was frothy and had a slight flavor of wine to it, and he wondered if it were the bubbles that were suddenly making him feel light headed or something far more primitive.

  Sitting the glass down, Bronwyn reached beyond him and turned off the tap, her breast now overtly sliding against his back, which was now taut with attention to her every breath and movement. Unsure whether to turn around or not, and unwilling to risk breaking the spell they were weaving or letting her know he was already hard as a rock, Daniel stood stalk still, only his chest rising and falling deeply as he listened to that intoxicating rustle of her clothing against his.

  “So,” she whispered against one of his shoulder blades, “what are your plans for today?”

  He managed only a weak croak that indicated nothing. Hell, at that moment, he could have been expected for a NASA launch that afternoon and he would have sworn his calendar was free.

  “Coast is clear all weekend,” he joked, hoping he sounded debonair.

  Hot and cold shivers and waves skittered down his nervous system when he felt the puffs of her hot breath against the downy curls at the back of his neck, and he felt an uncomfortably un-masculine weakness in his knees. A humiliating little squeak even escaped him, from somewhere below his heart, from deep in his belly.

  “Oh God,” he breathed as he could feel her rub his length through his thick cords, praying for fortitude.

  Finally, he could take no more, and spun into her arms, where he found her in nothing but a robe of alluring dark teal made from yards of a floating, dreamy cloth he couldn’t name. Sending up a silent prayer of gratitude, he finally allowed his instincts to take over, and grasped her by the fertile hips to pull her into a somewhat clumsy but passionate kiss.

  “I knew you’d taste this good,” he murmured absently against her lips, and followed her as she backed up towards the table without breaking the link of their mouths, even when she hopped up on the surface and began to undo his fly with eager hands.

  “Are we… I mean, this is really going to…” not yet fully believing his luck, Daniel’s brain fumbled as all of his usually articulate speech flew out of his brain, or was left behind as the rest of him flew into the stratosphere. Unsure how to say what he knew he needed to ask, he ground out, “A rubber – I don’t have any.”

  “Were you born this practical?” Bronwyn asked as she whipped off his plain, black belt. “I’ve been on the pill since I was your age,” she laughed. She pulled him down to her so she could playfully nip at his ear lope before whispering, “Have you been a dirty boy?”

  “Only by myself,” he promised, thanking his lucky stars, “I swear it.”

  Bronwyn laughed a moment, then suddenly pushed at his chest lightly. “Wait… You’re serious?”

  Discomforted, Daniel couldn’t answer, but he watched the realization about his virginity dawn on her face and he wanted to pour through the floor and never be seen again.

  “Well…” she said, giving a mischievous little grin that seemed to drip with some mysterious overtones of feminine power and satisfaction. “Now this is interesting,” she purred, licking the lobe where she had just nipped. “We might need the whole weekend, after all,” she nuzzled into his neck. “Seems I get to break you in,” she teased with a saucy laugh.

  “Really, help yourself,” he offered, magnanimously, and they folded in on one another.

  “Mmmmm, now,” she squealed, taking him into her hand. “You are a big boy, now, aren’t you?” They were her last words before they both were too preoccupied to speak.

  In the release of all his pent up lust, Daniel lost track of where everything was at any given time. All at once, his pants were at his ankles, and he could feel her fingernails driving like a master’s lash on his ass and hips and back, and he lost most rational thought after that, except for how delicious it was to find the soft, wet and hot entrance to her with his long-deprived manhood, and push himself into her, feeling the honeyed velvet of her flesh cling to every bump and groove of him. And then to feel her muscles working on him, like slick magical fingers, milking him, making it harder and harder for him to maintain control.

  At one point, to his amazement, her legs were even on his shoulders, and he had to focus on recalling the arpeggio chords to keep from exploding at the sheer eroticism of having her so wildly wrapped around his body, so willing and hungry for him. Him! Of all people…

  Despite his best efforts, he knew it wasn’t likely that he lasted all that long, but his youth and enthusiasm couldn’t help but please, and Daniel fucked her hard and fast, even if quick.

  “Wow,” Bronwyn puffed, feeling a bit knocked about by his onslaught. “You bring some pretty impressive natural talents to the… well, the table.” They both snickered breathlessly at the pun.

  Daniel couldn’t help but moan at the pleasure of still resting inside her body when she laughed, and he was slightly shame faced to feel himself grow hard again.

  “Oh my!” she laughed, joyfully. “Now that really is a good quality in a man,” she praised, grinding her hips against him to feel his cock leap in response. “I think we need to get to the bedroom.”

  Kicking his trousers off the one remaining ankle they clung to through the maelstrom, Daniel lifted her off the table, feeling bereft when he popped out of her.

  “I didn’t hurt you, or anything?” he said, his voice betraying the vulnerability he was feeling.

  “No, honey,” she placed a long, sweet kiss to his lips which were a
lready swollen from the day’s activities. “But there’s always next time,” she winked and ran, laughing, for the stairs to her room and he followed, feeling like he was being lifted on clouds.

  How was it even possible that dreams like this could come true?

  ***

  The rest of that day and into the evening was spent in bed, where Daniel learned more in one day than he had in whole years of sex ed. Always an eager student, he dedicated himself to learning every inch of her body, and every means by which he was able to give and receive pleasure.

  He was only vaguely aware of the sounds from his parents’ driveway as they returned home from work and left again for their mini-vacation, and pushed away the unwanted thoughts of them spending their own weekend in bed, unwilling to allow any stomach-turning images to intrude on his fog of joy.

  The main lesson he was learning was that his body was designed for this, and seemed to know instinctually what she wanted from him, as they rolled together up and over, and made love front ways and back, and even sideways once. There were times he felt his heart might explode from exertion and emotion, but he couldn’t get the ridiculous grin off his face, except when it was chased away by a grimace of pleasure or strain.

  “Feel good?” she liked to ask him, taking obvious pleasure in all his firsts. She told him she loved how verbal he was with his feedback, and he bit his tongue against reminding her that that is a plus to dating someone who had evolved the gift of speech instead of grunts.

  They hadn’t mentioned Warren again, but it bothered him that the only reason he seemed to be in her bed was to chase away the thoughts of her recent breakup. He refused to think about it, and focused on enjoying making her happy, over and over again.

  “You know, I might be a little late with this…” he said, as they rested from another bout of excitement. “But I think I should ask you out or something.”

  She laughed at his belated offer. “I’d say you kind of lucked into the next step, there, kiddo,” she giggled, and flexed the hand she had wrapped protectively around his sensitive parts.

  “Well, it’s Friday night – you wanna do something?” he shrugged, eager to make the most of the weekend.

  “Watch a movie?” she offered. “That way, we can stay in our jammies.”

  “I don’t have any jammies here,” he reminded her. “And I’m pretty sure I might look kind of awful in any of yours.”

  She bounced off the bed and retrieved a pair of loose gym shorts from her bureau. “Voila – makeshift jammies.”

  “Ah, yes,” he said, crawling out of the warm nest they had made. “I forgot you athletic types always have formal wear on hand,” he teased, and she hit him in the side of the head with a pillow for his back talk.

  “Lordy,” he sighed, admiring his long, wiry form in the rather shockingly short red shorts.

  “You’re adorable,” she laughed, and he flexed his rather unimpressive muscles in response, just to soak up more of her delight before slipping on the oversized jersey she handed him.

  “What did I do to deserve you today, just when I needed you?” she asked, kissing him with a loud smack of appreciation before heading downstairs.

  “And what can I do to deserve you for longer than today?” he asked himself, silently, still too uncertain to voice his wish out loud.

  There would be time for the “relationship talk” later. He hoped.

  ***

  The movie she picked would not have been his choice, he admitted, being something about a rebellious military guy showing up a bunch of eggheads in their efforts to save the world, and a part of him felt the presence of Warren there with them in her choice of date materials, but he couldn’t fault the company. With Bronwyn curled against his side, reaching across him for popcorn, and occasionally rubbing her cheek against his shoulder, that movie was the most romantic thing he’d ever experienced.

  “Bronwyn,” he said, almost to himself.

  “Yes?”

  “Oh, sorry, nothing. I just like the name. Bronwyn,” he rolled the tones over his tongue. “It’s very musical.”

  She laughed and a faint blush kissed her cheeks. “Yeah – it’s the classiest thing my parents ever came up with, that’s for sure.”

  “I love it,” he told her, and inhaled the scent of her hair. “And I also love the way you smell like me now. Is that weird?”

  She turned intense green eyes on him, searching his face with a renewed flicker of desire at his primitive enjoyment of her. His nerves jolted alive as her gentle hand moved slowly down his chest and over his belly.

  She easily pushed aside the yielding waistband of the gym shorts, and found him, already stirring in anticipation. He could hear the blood pound past his ears as he watched her sleek head follow her hand.

  “Oh… God…” he said, nearly whimpering as her hot mouth took him all, and he didn’t know if he should tell her she didn’t have to or beg her never to stop. Watching her cute nose buried in the dark curls around his sex, though, he knew a moment of frantic instinct to grab her head and prolong the agonizing pleasure of her ministrations.

  And when her clever hands found the tender flesh beneath his penis, a thousand sparks exploded behind his eyes, and he sank into the sofa.

  “Yes,” he hissed. “I like it.”

  Her laugh was muffled against him, and the auditory proof that she was actually doing what she was doing drove him into action, and he found her newly wet pussy with his hand, giving her as good as he was getting, impulse driving him until his mouth had managed to find her, and he licked at her until he thought he would drown a happy man, drunk on the musky sweetness of her.

  After they had both found completion, they lay, sated for the moment, in a tangled heap on the sofa, the forgotten movie now flickering on the DVD menu before them.

  “Bed?’ she whispered against him, flickering the tip of her tongue against him.

  “Mmmmm,” he sighed against her thigh. “Well, my intentions were good suggesting a movie,” he teased. “How was I to know you were such a sex fiend?”

  “I don’t think you are in any position to taunt me,” she growled in mock warning, nipping him sharply on an inner thigh.

  “Okay, back to bed it is,” he capitulated. “And, just so you know, feel free to taunt me any time you want, lady.”

  ***

  Daniel didn’t know the instant he made the error that would drastically change the direction of their weekend, but he could pinpoint it later.

  He stayed over that night out of silent mutual agreement, and they eventually slept wrapped together and exhausted. When he woke the next morning, his arm was dead from the shoulder down after having pillowed her all night, but it was worth it. He slid himself out from under her and brought her English muffins and jam in bed, because, after all he had experienced that weekend, he was still something of the creature of habit he always was. Only now, he added two mugs of strong coffee and cream.

  “Are you sorry you didn’t get any skiing in this weekend?” he asked.

  “Yes and no,” she sighed. “I like skiing, but I can’t say I’ve been under-exercised at all.”

  “I can attest to that,” he said, rubbing his sore abs ruefully. “It’s been a great workout. I work on my endurance a bit more, and I can change my major to bagpipes.”

  “Oh, don’t be so hard on yourself,” she winked. “I don’t think your endurance needs that much work.”

  He watched her take a hungry bite of muffin and lick a glob of grape jelly off her lip. How beautiful she was, so natural and at ease with herself in a way the young girls he had known never were.

  “It snowed last night,” she noted. “Build a snowman with me?”

  Laughing and shaking his head, he couldn’t deny her any request, and soon found himself running to his house for enough winter wear to survive her seemingly inexhaustible appetite for outside activity.

  The snowman, lopsided and slightly pathetic from their failure to take the project seriously,
was his first one in years.

  “Here, I think this side is a bit wonky,” he said, aiming to adjust the oddly deformed shoulder, but ending up knocking half the snowman’s body off.

  Deflecting her mock revenge for the death of her masterpiece, Daniel scrambled over the mass of defunct snow person, and sought refuge on the porch.

  “Prepare for icy death, Vouks,” she growled though clenched teeth in an adorable improvement on Clint Eastwood’s most menacing moments, and launched a fleet of snowballs at his head.

  Dodging off the steps, and away from the fragile window panes, he headed to take cover behind the obscured bench in her backyard.

  “Are you running from snow?” she scoffed, foiling his attempts to avoid a soaking by twanging the branches above him and dumping a slew of icy slush down upon him.

  “Hey now,” he yelped, shaking off the burning cold and tackling her into the snow bank behind her and falling on top of her in a laughing heap. “No more Mr. Niceguy,” he ground out.

  “Good,” she sighed. “I was wondering when Mr. Badboy would arrive.”

  “You want bad?” he asked. “You want mean? I’ll show you mean,” shoving a whole glove full of snow up under her shirt, just as she countered with a wad of snow down the back of his jacket.

  Shivering and giggling, breath coming in puffs that hung around their chilled mouths and red noses, they laid there a moment, feeling the heat rise again within them. All of a sudden, as his awareness of her rose, his realization that every curtain twitch brought a prying eye from one of his mother’s long term friends nagged at him.

  “Wanna go in and… warm up?” he recommended, suggestively.

  “Thought you’d never ask,” she smiled, and bounced towards the house, having rolled him into the snow for one last shot.

  He knew what he was feeling for her was more than a weekend fling, and that sooner or later they would have to deal with going out in public without worrying about twitching curtains.