Page 11 of Age Gap Bear's Enemies-to-Lovers Mate

She nods and laughs again. “I see. Well, that beats my story. My first pet was a spider I hid in my room in a cup.”

“A freaking spider? What’s wrong with you, lady?”

“Nothing, nothing, I swear. I have a healthy adult fear of them now, but as a kid, well, yeah. My mom wasn’t too happywhen I went running through the house looking for Mr. Spinny after the cup tipped over.”

We both laugh and it’s so natural and sweet, I almost don’t see it for what it is.

But Olivia’s smile shakes a bit. “Well, I better get going.” She looks at me and I feel the need to protect her like a hammer in my chest. She leans in and kisses me softly. Her lips are just a sweet breeze against mine. “Thank you, Clint.”

She heads out before I can even pull myself together enough to walk her to the door.

Chapter Eight

Olivia

And here I am again.

What the hell is wrong with me?

I can almost taste his cock, can almost feel the weight of it in my mouth. I’m waiting for him. He returns just seconds ago from his three days at the fire station. I’m waiting for him at his place. I see him pull up his truck and then just get on my knees to wait for him to step through the door. I’m naked. This whole thing is from the internet. A lot of girls calling their boyfriend’s Daddy or Master and stuff and then being required to wait for them on their knees like some twisted idea of a “good girl.”

Well, I figure the inherent humiliation of that kind of thing and the stupidity of submitting myself to Clint is going to do what everything else hasn’t. I’m finally going to feel so disgusted with myself that my addiction is going to be broken.

The door opens, and he says, “…but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t inventory it along with the disposable…” He sees me and says, “Tommy, we’ll need to get back to this conversation when I’m back at the station,” and hangs up.

“I don’t understand,” he says as he looks at me.

“You have a twenty-four-year-old girl naked and waiting for you on her knees,” I reply.

“But why?” he asks.

“Hmmm. Let me think… Oh yeah, my mouth is really empty and you need to fill it, dummy!” I’m really starting to panic that he’s not going to let me do this, that I won’t be able to just jump past yesterday and get back to how things were. So, I say softly, “I’m really sorry about yesterday. I was overwhelmed and I took it out on you. Please don’t cut me off.”

No, there’s sincerity to the part about not wanting him to cut me off. There’s honesty to the part about me being overwhelmed and taking it out on him. It’s just that I’m overwhelmed because of him and he’s the right person for me to take it out on. I’m sorry, too. It’s just that I’m apologizing to myself with that, not him.

“What if what we’re doing is bad for us?” he asks.

It’s a fair question. It’s a question I no longer ask because I’m pretty sure I know the answer and pretty sure I want to stop telling myself the answer. “What if it not doing it is worse?” I ask. “What if it’s bad for us but going without it is worse than bad.”

He steps forward, closing the door behind himself as he does. He looks at me and I can tell already that the argument is won. He surprises me, though. He puts his keys on the console table and says, “I’ll do this but you need to promise me we can talk afterward.”

“In the morning,” I counter.

“All right,” he says, “in the morning but if you leave my home before we talk, this will be the last time. I’m not kidding, Olivia.”

“Livvy,” I whisper. “Call me Livvy.” Holy crap. I haven’t ever let anyone call me that. It’s just from fantasies. You know, silly schoolgirl romantic fantasies. The hero of those fantasies always called me Livvy. I think I’m going to start crying. I quickly add,“Tomorrow morning we’ll have breakfast and we’ll talk for as long as you like.” I want to scream at him. I want to tell him to be a man and drop his damned pants. Instead, I say, “So since I’m committing to that, why don’t you come over here and enjoy yourself.”

I don’t think I could ever have foreseen a time in my life when having a dick in my mouth would be the most comforting thing imaginable. That’s how it feels for me a few seconds later, though, as I move my lips along his shaft.

I find that I'm almost greedy about the experience. That may seem weird to say, but I can’t think of any other way to describe how I work my mouth up and down on him and moan like I’m slurping on the most fantastic popsicle ever. I moan like my mouth on him is some kind of direct link to my own pussy.

I cup his balls in one hand while I balance myself with my other hand on his leg. I pull my mouth off to dip lower and suck his balls. This is something completely new for me but again, I’ve watched some videos.

It seems to really do the trick though, since Clint starts to groan and growl like an animal. It’s so realistic I almost think I'm going to look up and see some wild creature instead of him. That image is with me when he looks down at me as I lick up and down his shaft. I pause at the pure intensity of his stare.

He swoops me up at that moment. It’s like I’m nothing more than a doll to him, a weightless doll. He brings me to the couch and drops me down and without preamble, spreads my legs, kneels, and puts his mouth on my pussy.

I’m already aroused. This drives me right to the edge. His tongue toys with my clit and I can’t stop myself from yelling, “Oh holy… Oh! Clint! Yes, oh… Yes! Yes!”At least, it feels like I can’t stop myself from yelling. All of that comes out in a hoarse whisper. Not a single cell in my body feels in my control. He thrusts his tongue into me and I howl and it’s silent.

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