My finger hovered over the screen, heart pounding in my chest like a drum I couldn’t silence. The motel’s flickering neon sign buzzed outside the thin window, casting erratic shadows across the stained carpet.

Will York had left me here, high and dry, after promising the night of my life, my first time, no less. Now, alone in this dump with its musty smell of old smoke and regret, I had no ride home, no one to call but him. Mr. Harrison. Rob. The thought of dialing his number sent a flush up my neck, mixing shame with that secret thrill I’d buried deep.

He was Susan’s dad, twice my age, and way out of my league. But he’d slipped me his card months ago at the community center, saying, “Call anytime you need something, Jenny.”

This favor? It felt dirtier than that. I tapped the call button before I could chicken out. The line rang twice, three times, and then his voice, deep, smooth, like aged whiskey, filled my ear.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Mr. Harrison. It’s Jenny Macklin.” My voice came out smaller than I wanted, shaky.

“Jenny? Everything alright? Susan’s not with you, is she?”

“No, I know she’s at her mom’s. Um, remember you said to call if I needed a ride? I’m ... kind of stuck. At a motel off Route 12.” I didn’t mention Will or the virginity fiasco. Not yet.

There was a pause, then a low chuckle that made my stomach flip. “Stuck, huh? Give me the address. I’ll be there in twenty.”

I texted the details and paced the room, my sneakers sticking slightly to the floor. Every creak of the building made me jump, imagining what Mr. Harrison would think when he saw me like this, hair messy from Will’s clumsy attempts, skirt rumpled, eyes probably red from holding back tears. But underneath the embarrassment, a forbidden spark ignited.

I’d caught him watching me at the center, his brown eyes lingering on my legs when I bent to pick up supplies, that Cheshire smile pulling at his lips. He made me feel seen, desired, in a way no boy my age ever had.

Headlights swept across the parking lot exactly nineteen minutes later. A sleek black Audi purred to a stop, its engine humming with quiet power. The driver’s door opened, and there he was, Mr. Harrison stepping out, tall and broad-shouldered in a fitted button-down that hugged his chest, sleeves rolled up to show forearms corded with muscle from his gym routine.

At fifty, he moved with the easy confidence of a man who knew exactly what he wanted. His dark hair, streaked with silver, caught the streetlight, and that perpetual stubble shadowed his strong jaw. He looked every bit the silver fox, distinguished and dangerously attractive.

I pushed open the motel door, the cool night air hitting my skin like a slap. Humiliation burned my cheeks as I approached, arms crossed over my chest. “Thanks for coming, Mr. Harrison. I didn’t know who else to call.”

“Rob,” he corrected gently, his voice wrapping around the name like an invitation. His eyes met mine, warm chocolate depths crinkling at the corners with that smile. Intense, unflinching eye contact that pinned me in place, making my pulse race. “And it’s no trouble, Jenny. You look like you could use a friend right now.”

I slid into the passenger seat, the leather cool against my thighs, scented with his cologne, something woody and masculine that filled my lungs. The door clicked shut, sealing us in this intimate space. As he pulled out of the lot, his hand brushed mine on the gear shift, a fleeting touch that sent electricity zipping up my arm.

“So, what happened? Boy trouble?” Rob asked conversationally.

My throat tightened. How could I explain? “Yeah. Will ... He bailed. Left me here after ... Well, it was supposed to be special, but it wasn’t.” The words tumbled out, laced with the ache of disappointment and that deeper, unspoken longing for someone who knew what they were doing.

He glanced over, his gaze dropping briefly to my lips before flicking back to the road. “Special, huh? Sounds like he didn’t deserve you.” There was an edge to his tone, protective, almost possessive. His fingers tightened on the wheel, knuckles whitening. “You’re too young to waste on idiots like that.”

Heat pooled low in my belly at his words, the way he said them, as if he saw through my shy exterior to the girl craving his approval. I shifted in the seat, my skirt riding up slightly, exposing more thigh than I meant to. Did he notice? His eyes darted down again, lingering this time, and I swear his jaw clenched.

“I ... I thought maybe tonight would be it, you know? My first time.” The confession slipped out, bold and vulnerable, hanging between us like smoke.

The car slowed at a red light, and he turned fully toward me, his presence filling the space, commanding, unyielding. “First time,’ he repeated, voice dropping an octave, rougher now. His hand reached over, resting on my knee, thumb tracing a slow circle that made my breath hitch. “That’s not something to rush, Jenny. It should be with someone who knows how to take care of you. Make you feel ... everything.”

My heart hammered, desire twisting with the taboo thrill of it all. Rob was Susan’s father, old enough to be mine, but in that moment, his touch felt like permission, like he wanted this as much as I did. I didn’t pull away; instead, I leaned into it, my skin tingling under his palm.

“Like you?” The words escaped in a whisper, flirtatious and daring, testing the line we’d danced around for months.

His smile turned wicked, eyes darkening with intent. “Careful what you ask for, sweetheart.”

His hand slid higher, just an inch, possessive and teasing, hinting at the power he held, the way he could unravel me with a single command. The light turned green, but neither of us moved, the air thick with unspoken promises, my body aching for whatever came next.

He finally eased the car forward as the light turned green, the engine’s low rumble vibrating through the seat and into my core. My skin still burned where his thumb had circled my knee, that simple touch igniting a fire I couldn’t ignore.

Rob’s eyes flicked back to the road, but I felt his gaze pulling toward me every few seconds, heavy and assessing, like he was mapping out every inch of my body in the dim glow of the dashboard lights. The tension hung between us, thick as fog, making the air feel too small for just the two of us.

I shifted in my seat, the leather creaking softly under me, my floral dress riding up a bit more from the way I’d angled toward him. The smoky makeup around my eyes probably smudged from the night’s chaos, but I caught him stealing glances at the low neckline of my top, where the lace of my lucky bra peeked out just enough to tease.

My coppery hair had mostly escaped its messy bun, strands brushing my shoulders, and I wondered if I looked as wrecked as I felt, embarrassed, yes, but alive with this forbidden pull toward him.

“Rob,” I said softly, testing the name again, letting it roll off my tongue like a secret. “About going home ... Could I maybe crash at your place tonight? I told my mom I was sleeping over with Susan, so it’s basically the truth. I can take her bed or the couch, no big deal.”

He let out a low, bemused laugh, his hand raking through that thick, silver-streaked hair. The sound sent a shiver down my spine, warm and rough, like he was already imagining more than just a guest room.

“Yeah, that works. Susan’s bed has fresh sheets. No trouble at all.”

The first stretch of the drive passed in charged silence, the city lights blurring past the windows. I could feel his eyes on me, making my cheeks heat, my thighs press together instinctively. He broke it first, his voice steady but laced with something deeper.

“I meant what I said. You don’t have to explain anything. But if you want to talk, I’m here. No judgment.”

I tucked a loose strand behind my ear, my green eyes meeting his for a beat before darting away. Honesty felt risky, but with him, it spilled out anyway. “Plans just ... fell apart. Bruised ego, still a virgin, nothing fatal. I’ll get over it.”

We hit another red light, and he turned to me fully, his chocolate eyes locking on mine with that intense stare that always made me feel exposed.

“You were going to lose it tonight?” Rob asked.

I nodded, biting my lip.

“Do I need to go back and kick that kid’s butt?”

The protectiveness in his tone wrapped around me, stirring that ache low in my belly.

“No, nothing like that,” I assured him, offering a shy smile as the light changed and we moved again. “He came before he could, err, put it inside me. He got mad, said it was my fault, then he left. Will wasn’t my boyfriend or anything. We were just casual. I was curious about sex, you know? Intellectually. And he seemed game. I guess he couldn’t handle the pressure or something.”

Rob shifted beside me, his grip tightening on the wheel, a flicker of something, apprehension? Desire, crossing his face.

“Sorry, was that too much information?” I asked.

“No,” he murmured, voice a touch huskier. “I like the honesty, Jenny. Appreciate it.”

“I couldn’t stay in that motel alone,” I went on, my voice gaining a little boldness. “And explaining to my mom? No way. So, you’re my knight in shining armor tonight.”

He paused, processing, his jaw working like he was wrestling with a thought. Emboldened by the way his eyes kept drifting to my cleavage, I pushed further.

“I’ve never been that into guys my age anyway. Maybe I should wait for ... a real man.”

He shook his head sharply, like shaking off temptation, but his smirk deepened, that Cheshire curve promising trouble. The road curved toward his neighborhood, the houses growing larger, more secluded. His eyes stayed on me longer now, even as he drove smoothly, the Audi handling the turns with effortless control. The tension coiled tighter, my pulse thumping in my ears, every glance from him feeling like a caress.

“That so?” he said finally, his tone low and teasing, laced with the flirtation we’d skirted for months. “Older men, huh? What makes you think they’d know what to do with a girl like you?”

My breath caught, heat flooding my face, and lower. “I don’t know. Experience, maybe. Someone who takes charge.” The words hung there, vulnerable and inviting, my body humming with the taboo thrill of admitting it to him, Susan’s dad, the man I’d fantasized about in quiet moments.

His hand left the gear shift, sliding over to rest on my thigh, just above the hem of my flared skirt. His palm was warm, callused from whatever workouts kept him so fit, and he stroked upward slowly, possessively, fingers tracing the edge of the fabric. The touch sent sparks racing through me, my skin prickling, a soft gasp escaping my lips as his thumb brushed the sensitive inner curve.

“Rob...” I whispered, not pulling away, instead, leaning into it, my body betraying how much I craved his control, the way he could make me feel small and cherished all at once.

My core tightened, wetness gathering between my legs, the emotional pull of his attention mixing with the raw want building inside me. He didn’t stop, his hand inching higher, claiming territory under the skirt with a confidence that made my head spin.

“Curious about sex, you said.” His voice rumbled, eyes dark with intent as he navigated the final turns. “With a man who knows how to handle that curiosity?”

I nodded, breathless, my hand covering his lightly, not to stop but to feel more. The forbidden edge sharpened everything—the age between us, the power in his touch, the romance blooming in stolen glances. My heart raced with equal parts fear and longing, emotions swirling as his fingers pressed firmer, teasing the line of my panties.

The Audi turned into his driveway, the garage door humming open ahead. He killed the engine, the sudden quiet amplifying our breaths. Leaning close, his stubble grazing my ear, he murmured, “Tonight, you’re mine, Jenny. No more waiting.”

His words hit like a promise, my body trembling with anticipation, the night stretching open with possibilities I both feared and yearned for. I wanted this, craved the way he made me feel seen, desired, but the taboo weight of it all pressed down, Susan’s face flashing in my mind like a warning.

He reached out, his hand settling on my knee in what should have been a reassuring pat. But there was nothing fatherly about the way his fingers lingered, warm and deliberate, sliding up just an inch before he pulled back. They grazed the bare skin of my inner thigh, leaving a trail of tingling fire in their wake. My flesh prickled, a soft ache blooming between my legs as I fought the urge to press closer.

“So,” he said, switching gears with a casual ease that snapped the tension like a taut wire, though his eyes still smoldered, “How are college applications going?”

I blinked, caught off guard, but played along, my voice dipping huskier than intended. “They’re ... coming along. Stressful, but exciting.”

We kept up the small talk for the rest of the short walk from the garage into the house, but I couldn’t shake the heat his touch had ignited. Testing him, I let my words carry a subtle edge, crossing my legs as we slipped off our shoes in the entryway, the hem of my dress hiking higher to reveal more of my pale, supple thighs. My fingers worked the tie from my bun, copper strands tumbling free across my shoulders. I combed through them slowly, ‘accidentally’ brushing the swell of my breasts, feeling his gaze snag on the motion.

As the Audi had pulled into the driveway earlier, I’d stolen a glance at his lap, a distinct bulge straining against his slacks. He was affected, sneaking peeks just like I was stealing them now. The forbidden spark between us crackled, age and authority twisting it into something intoxicating.

Once inside, Rob gestured toward the kitchen. “Drink? You look like you could use one after tonight.”

He headed for the liquor cabinet, pulling out a bottle of amber whiskey that caught the light. His back to me, I leaned against the counter, eyes tracing the broad lines of his shoulders, the way his shirt hugged his fit frame. Fifty and built like that, confident, commanding, it made my stomach flip with shy curiosity.

“Are you drinking tonight, Jenny?” My name on his lips sounded sinful, low, and intimate. “That’s not a trick question, by the way. I know you kids drink.”

“Just cola for me, please,” I said.

I watched him pour, his movements precise, then crossed to me and handed over the glass. He leaned in close, his nose nearly brushing mine, his woody, masculine cologne mixing with the faint trace of the night’s rain. The cool water shocked against my flushed skin, but it did nothing to douse the warmth pooling low in my belly.