Alone With Alexa (An Erotic Romance)

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Authors: Virginia Wade

Tags: #flirting, #erotic romance, #adultery, #explicit, #older man younger woman, #breeding sex, #creampies, #busty heroine

BOOK: Alone With Alexa (An Erotic Romance)
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Alone With Alexa

 

 

By Virginia Wade

 

 

Copyright © 2012 Virginia Wade

All Rights Reserved.

Published by I Love Stacy

Smashwords Edition

 

Virginia Wade

http://virginia-wade-erotica.com

 

http://twitter.com/VirginiaErotica

 

Email:

[email protected]

 

 

All characters appearing in this work are
fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is
purely coincidental.

 

This book contains material protected under
International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any
unauthorized reprint or use of this book is prohibited. No part of
this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any
means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording,
or by any information storage and retrieval system without express
written permission from the author.

 

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Chapter One

 

 

 

The first time I met Ryan…

My mother approached me in the kitchen one
evening. “Alexa, I want you to meet someone special. I want you to
meet Ryan.”

“I figured.”

“He’s…really wonderful.”

“Cool.” It was about time she found someone.
My positive reaction pleased her because her smile broadened.

“I wanted to make sure before I brought him
home.”

I’d only met one of her other boyfriends
before, and he hadn’t lasted more than two months. “You seem happy,
mom.”

“I am. He’s a really nice man, Alexa. He
never had kids because his wife couldn’t and then she had that
illness.”

“I’m not exactly a kid anymore.”

“No, honey, you’re not. Your birthday’s
coming up. I still have to plan your party.”

I shrugged. “Don’t make a fuss. Ice cream
cake is all I want.”

The doorbell rang. “Oh! That would be
him.”

Alarm raced through me. “He’s here now?”

“Ah, yes. I…he’s a little early. He was going
to take us to dinner.”

I didn’t know I would be meeting Ryan at this
very minute. “Okay. Whatever. Bring Mr. Fabulous in.”

She laughed and hugged me. “Oh, you’re gonna
love him. He’s amazing.”

“If you say so.” I followed her to the door,
where a tall, dark haired man stood behind the screen. His hands
were in his pockets, and a smile was on his face. He was younger
than a lot of the other men she dated, although I had never met
most of them. I frequently overheard her discussing her love life
with her girlfriends.

“Come on in.” She pushed open the door. “I
want you to meet Alexa. Alexa this is Ryan.”

He held out his hand. “Hi. It’s good to
finally meet you.”

I was struck dumb. As I gripped his warm
skin, my mouth parted slightly, the words of greeting on my tongue,
but I couldn’t get them out. My tummy flipped over and tingled,
which was odd. His was the most pleasing male face I had ever seen,
the strong jaw, the perfectly proportioned nose, and deep blue eyes
that blazed with humor and interest.

“Well, this isn’t a good start, now is it?”
His smile grew.

“I…um…h-hi.”
Omigod! I’m such a dork!
He withdrew his hand, which was a shame. It had felt strong and
warm and…soft.

“I don’t bring a lot of men over,” said my
mother. “She’s a little flustered.”

“We have a six-thirty reservation at the
restaurant. We’ll get to know one another better over dinner.”

He smelled incredibly good; the citrus,
woodsy quality of his cologne teased my senses. I stared up at him,
noting that his height made the room seem small. Our little
townhouse hadn’t seen a lot of male company, especially someone
with such broad shoulders. I didn’t realize I was staring, until he
pointed it out.

“I’m not what you were expecting, huh?”

“How do you mean?” Mom glanced at me
sharply.

“You’re kinda hot for an old guy,” I
whispered.

A peal of laughter escaped him. He grinned,
flashing straight white teeth. “Thanks.”

My mother gave me a look.

From the first moment of our awkward
introduction, I knew my life would never be the same again. The
feelings I had experienced on that initial meeting had grown,
plaguing me, haunting my waking dreams and stirring my desires,
which frequently kept me up at night, burning with need. And now a
year later, I was a confused and jumbled mess, wanting something
that wasn’t mine, and worse, utterly forbidden.

I loved Saturday mornings because I would
slip into mom’s bed and squirm my way between her and Ryan. She
found it annoying, but I used the opportunity to get close to him,
sometimes snuggling right into the warmth of his chest. He would
groan slightly and turn his head. This allowed me to stare at the
side of his face. I loved the way his chin looked with the little
cleft in the middle and a day’s worth of stubble darkening the
skin.

“God,” moaned my mother. “What time is
it?”

“Eight.”

“Ugh.” She threw her leg over the side of the
bed. “I’m jumping in the shower.”

She was meeting a girlfriend to go antiquing.
While the shower ran, I stared at Ryan’s profile, never tiring of
his face. He seemed to sense my appraisal, an eye opening. Rolling
into me, he pulled me to him, and I snuggled into the musky warmth
of his chest. Sighing with bliss, I closed my eyes and fell asleep.
When I woke, I was alone in the bed, my nightgown having bunched up
near my lower back, exposing tanned legs and pink panties. The
smell of coffee lingered in the house.

I went to my room to change, pulling up a
pair of shorts, fastening my bra, and tossing a t-shirt over my
head. I ran a brush through my long, straight blonde hair, staring
at myself in the mirror. I knew I was pretty, because I received a
lot of attention from the opposite sex, especially over the last
two years since my breasts had grown, but I couldn’t seem to get
Ryan to notice me. Sometimes I felt ashamed for even trying. Mom
was so happy with him, and I adored him because he treated her like
a queen, and I, his little princess.

I found him at the kitchen table on his
laptop. He glanced at me. “Hey, squirt.”

“Morning.” I opened a cabinet and retrieved a
cereal bowl. “What are we doing today?”

“I gotta clean out the garage. I was supposed
to do it last weekend.”

“Ooohh…ex-cit-ing.” He laughed at that. I
poured cereal into the bowl and added milk, bringing it over to the
table. I ate while staring at him, which was a favorite activity.
He wore a blue t-shirt with a Harley-Davidson logo embossed on the
front. “I could help you, if you want.”

He smiled. “Yeah? Great. I gotta move a bunch
of boxes and organize stuff.”

“Okay.”

It was hotter than hell with a high humidity
index. I pulled my hair into a ponytail and stepped into white and
pink sneakers. Ryan had the radio on in the garage, with a portable
fan blowing, but it did little to alleviate the heat. He had moved
a variety of items from the shelves.

“These are going to the dump. Can you put ‘em
in the back of the truck?”

“Sure.” He began breaking down boxes. Mom and
I had moved in with him six months ago.

“Take this too.” He handed me an old
suitcase.

“Okay.” We worked for the better part of an
hour, rearranging things and sweeping away cobwebs. I struggled to
move a heavy box, bending to pick it up.

“Lemme help you with that.”

“What the hell is in here?”

“God only knows.”

I stacked packages of nails and screws inside
a cabinet. Closing the door, I caught my pinky, pinching it.
“Ouch!” Pain flared, sending tears to my eyes. “Oh, shit!”

“Lemme see.” He sat on a crate and pulled me
onto his lap. He took my hand, examining my finger. “You’re gonna
bruise pretty good.”

“It hurts.”

“You should put some ice on it.”

I wrapped my arms around his neck. “I
will.”

He patted my back. “You can quit now if you
want. You’ve been a real help. Don’t you have somethin’ better to
do anyway?” Being this close to him was the only thing I desired.
He smelled of muskiness mixed with perspiration, but I loved it.
His bristly beard scratched my cheek. “Honey?”

“Hum?”

“Hop on off. Go get yourself some ice.”

Reluctantly, I disengaged myself and stood.
“You want a soda?”

“That’d be nice, thanks.”

“Okay.”

Later that evening, I helped mom make dinner.
I was skilled at making spaghetti Bolognese, which wasn’t hard to
do. Ryan was easy to please where food was concerned, since he ate
everything that was placed before him. He was always extra
appreciative when I made brownies. I drained the noodles, the steam
rising from the water. I placed the salad bowl in the middle of the
table.

“Thank you, Alexa,” said my mother.

“You’re welcome.”

I felt as if I were being scrutinized for
some reason, but when I turned around, they were otherwise
occupied, Ryan with his laptop and mom with her phone. After the
food was on the table, we ate in comfortable silence; the only
sound was of a lawnmower droning on in the background.

I got up to put the dishes in the sink. “I’ll
get that,” said mom. “You’ve done enough.”

“Okay.” I had to use the bathroom, and I
hustled out of the room, only I had forgotten my phone. I was
halfway up the stairs, when I turned around and went back down.

“I don’t know what you’re accusing me of,”
said Ryan.

I slid to a halt by the kitchen door,
listening.

“You were totally staring at her.”

“What?”

“I saw the way you looked at her.”

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking
about, honey.”

“Maybe you don’t realize it, but you were
looking at her.”

“No more than I look at anyone else.”

“This was different.”

“Jesus fucking Christ! What’s the matter,
Kris?”

“It’s just the shit that’s been going on.”
She sounded irritated. “She’s always touching you and flirting with
you. You do nothing to stop her. I’m gonna talk to her about
it.”

There was a lengthy pause. I pressed my
forehead to the doorframe, wondering what was going to be said
next.

“I think you’re reading way too much into
nothing.”

“This morning. You were sleeping together.
You were holding her in your arms. Every fucking Saturday it’s like
that. It’s disturbing.”

He sighed. “Lock the door then. She won’t be
able to come in.”

“Ryan…I want you to tell me something. I have
to know. Is there…are you—”

“No!”

“But you want to. Don’t you?”

“Kris…I’m just a male figure in her life.
That’s all I am. I can’t help it if she’s attached to me. Why don’t
you talk to her about it? I don’t even think she realizes how she
comes across. Maybe she’s lonely?”

“She’s grown up so much over the past year. I
know you see it.”

“I have no control over what somebody else
does or doesn’t do.”

“Could you at least discourage her?”

“How?”

A chair scraped on the wood floor. I prepared
to run.

“Never mind.”

“Don’t be pissed.”

“It’s too late. I am pissed.”

I took the stairs and dashed to my room
before I was seen.

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