Unfurl: A Hot Age Gap Romance
Unfurl: Chapter 23

I put my hand out for the flannel and try to twist my head away, but Rafe grips my chin more tightly. ‘I can do it,’ I tell him.

‘No way,’ he says. ‘It’s my mess; I’ll clean it up.’

I push his hand off my face. This game is well and truly done. I just want him out of here.

‘I said I’ll do it,’ I grit out.

‘Belle?’ Dammit. He’s sinking to his knees in front of me and dipping his head so he can meet my averted gaze. ‘What’s wrong? Are you okay?’

‘I’m fine,’ I lie. ‘I’d just like to be alone.’

‘Just let me, for God’s sake,’ he says, ‘before you get too cold.’ He puts the flannel to my chest, and I sigh and lift my chin so he can wipe me down. I’m too drained to argue, and I suspect I’ll get rid of him more quickly if I acquiesce on this point.

I don’t know what’s wrong with me. It was so hot, and I was so into it, so completely committed, until it finished, and he ejaculated all over me like I was some… blow-up doll, and he went all cold and distant and dismissive.

I got off on being used, being played with.

It was exactly what I wanted. What I asked for.

And now it’s done I feel sordid and disgusted with myself. With what I did, and how I reacted, and what I let the guys do to me. To be honest, I’m spinning out a little, and the last thing I need is Rafe in my face, pretending he cares. I’d rather he just buggered off and did what he really wants to do, which is presumably to find someone to shag.

As he cleans me up, I stare at the leg of the bed as if its ability to hold the bed up is a great miracle of nature. I don’t miss the gentleness with which he swipes the flannel over my now cold and sticky skin, or the thoroughness with which he cleans up every spot of the mess he made on me, or the fact that he respects my clear disinterest in conversation while he does it.

‘I got some in your hair.’ He dabs ineffectually at my hair with the cloth.

‘It’s okay,’ I say flatly, twisting away from him. ‘I’ll get in the shower when you’re gone.’ My throat is tight and aching from holding back tears. For some reason, I feel like curling up in a ball on that bed and bawling my eyes out.

Alone, obviously.

He stands up. ‘Don’t move. I’m getting you a robe, okay?’

I nod as he heads back into the bathroom. He returns a second later and wraps his fingers around my bicep, urging me to my feet. As I stand, I hold out my arms and he slides the deliciously warm, soft sleeves of the robe up them before shrugging it around my nakedness and tying the sash.

‘Thanks,’ I say.

‘Belle.’

I look up at him. He’s so close to me, and he’s so gorgeous.

Why, oh why, does he have to be so gorgeous?

This was a terrible idea. I should have done this with Harry when I had a chance. I should have given this gift to him, and not to some sex club owner who looks like sin, and makes me feel things I’m absolutely terrified of, and will have forgotten the random, overly emotional little virgin who went down on him before he’s even reached the Playroom.

He grips me softly by the biceps. ‘I’ll be very clear. I’m not leaving this room till you’ve talked to me. That’s not how we do things here.’

Ugh. He’s in teacher mode again. One orgasm and he’s flipped from a black-eyed, feral beast to Mr I’m Here For Your Safety and Probably Carry a Clipboard.

God, does he know how to make me feel like crap. He’s the adult, and I’m the stupid little girl who got overly affected by her first oral sex-athon. Unspilt tears are shuddering against my lower lids, threatening to drop at any moment, and I blink them away furiously.

‘Don’t patronise me,’ I say. ‘I’m fine.’

Next thing I know, his hands are releasing my arms and I’m being picked up and deposited on his lap as he sits down on the bed.

What the—

He keeps one arm banded around my back as I sit sideways across his lap. His other hand slides under the lapel of my robe and splays over my neck in a way that feels otherworldly good. He uses his thumb to nudge my jaw so I’m turning my face towards his.

His mouth is so close to my lips. So close. He bends his forehead to mine and pulls me even more tightly against him. ‘You are not fine. I made you cry after you took a huge step in your journey, and if you think you can brush that under the carpet you’re insulting me, and you’re definitely insulting yourself.’

I let out a shuddery breath as I attempt to make sense of the flurry of emotions in my head.

‘So here’s how it’s going to go, sweetheart. I get that it’s tough talking about this stuff. I’ll start with a few questions and you’ll answer me yes or no. Okay? And if and when you feel like elaborating, you do it, because I don’t want to put words in your mouth or make any assumptions.’

I can feel his breath on my lips. ‘Okay,’ I whisper.

‘Am I right in believing you enjoyed what Callum and I did to you?’

I nod. ‘I loved it.’

That earns me a squeeze of his strong fingers around my waist. ‘Good. But it seems I took it too far, getting you to suck me off?’

Our faces are so close that his is out of focus, but I can still pick up on his genuine concern. Maybe it’s his arm around me, or the fact that he has me cuddled up on his knee, but I take that concern in the manner it’s meant and not as a sign he pities me.

‘It wasn’t,’ I manage. I risk a brief moment of eye contact.

‘Okay,’ he says slowly, like he’s navigating a minefield. Which, I suppose, he is. I blame myself for my reaction, but I can see it’s not ideal for him to have an Unfurl member crying moments after he persuaded them to go down on him. ‘Was it the manner I did it in, then? I was pretty rough—I’m sorry. I was so fucking turned on, but that’s no excuse.’

‘I don’t think it was that,’ I tell him honestly.

‘Do you feel like trying to articulate it, then?’

I hesitate, choosing my words.

‘I dunno—I feel a bit used and grubby.’

He goes to speak, and my hand flies up to cover his mouth.

‘I think I felt vulnerable, after you… came on me. But I know the whole point of that role play was for me to be used, and it was exactly what I wanted.’

‘But when it came down to it, you didn’t like it?’ he mumbles through my fingers.

I lean backward slightly so I can see him. So I can make my confession properly.

‘I absolutely loved it. It was everything I’d fantasised about.’

‘But…’ he prompts.

‘But the problem is I hate that I loved it, or the part of me that’s still stuck in that convent hates it. I can’t stop judging myself, and it’s like my mind and my body are operating on two totally different wavelengths, and I’m exhausted.’

He frowns. ‘So you’re slut-shaming yourself, basically?’

I let out a mirthless laugh. ‘Basically.’

‘Shit, sweetheart.’ His warm hand strokes the crook of my neck, and I tuck my head sideways to lean into his touch. He lets out a breath. ‘That’s not good.’

‘Tell me about it,’ I say. ‘It was all great in the moment, but as soon as you walked away I felt… I don’t know. Disgusted with myself.’

‘You know you didn’t do anything wrong, Belle. Correct? We were three consenting adults in there.’

‘I know,’ I say meekly.

‘I’m serious. If the way Cal or I acted was out of line, or we didn’t pick up on your needs or your limits, then I’m horrified. I would never want to make you feel shitty about yourself.’

‘You didn’t.’

‘But it was a big fucking deal for you,’ he says. ‘Jesus, you’ve just had a threesome, to all extents and purposes, even if poor old Cal didn’t come.’

I giggle.

‘What I mean is, you’ve gone from nought to sixty in a short time. Were you okay the other night after we left you in the chair?’

‘I was fine, weirdly.’

‘But tonight I made you feel cheapened.’

‘I made myself feel cheapened. I think I felt like a hooker.’

He sucks in a breath.

‘Even though, ironically, the hooker thing is one of my fantasies. I think it’s hot.’

‘I know,’ he says, smirking. ‘Believe me, we’re on the same page there.’

I roll my eyes. ‘You’ve read my questionnaire.’

‘Yep. And it was the sexiest thing I’ve ever read. But forget that for a sec. What I’m hearing is we may have looked after your sexual needs tonight, but we didn’t take care of your emotional needs.’

I remain silent, because that sounds pathetic on my part.

‘That’s not your job,’ I say finally.

‘Damn right it is. We should have paid more attention—I should have thought about it beforehand.’ He huffs out an exasperated breath. ‘I was just going to clean you up and put you back in bed to close out the scene and walk out, you know? Leave you to come down in private. I didn’t even consider an alternative.’

‘I know you were,’ I say. ‘You told me about how you had sex with that girl the other night in the club, and you walked off and left her there. I wasn’t expecting anything more.’ I have to admit, his retelling of that particular tryst has haunted me more than I can say.

‘Jesus Christ, Belle. They’re two totally different situations.’ He looks genuinely shocked.

‘They’re exactly the same. Don’t worry, Rafe. I know cuddles aren’t part of the Unfurl package.’

I wish they were, because I suspect that’s what this session was missing. Rafe and Callum nailed it tonight. They touched me everywhere I needed, but each touch was strategic, with the singular objective of making me come.

And boy did it work. But maybe I need more. Maybe I need some intimacy afterwards, so I don’t feel like a total slut when I come down.

Maybe I need not to be left alone with my thoughts.

Rafe’s beautiful eyes search my face beseechingly. ‘Listen to me, sweetheart. That other woman—Izzy—she likes that. I was just the warm-up act for her. She would have been there all night. It meant nothing to her.’ He swallows. ‘I was going to walk away from you this evening because it was programme protocol, not because I wanted to. It was so we didn’t blur the lines. We’re all well aware that we have to keep strict boundaries with Unfurl participants so we don’t put too much on them.’

I squirm in embarrassment, my eyes smarting again. I blink and look down at his shirt. God his stomach is flat. I bet it’s washboard hard.

‘I know that. I get it, believe me.’

And I do know that. I know all too well what this is. It’s a programme, and Rafe is my mentor and teacher, and that’s it. If I want emotional sustenance after fulfilling my sexual goals and needs, I have to search within for it. He can’t give me that. And I won’t have him thinking he’s messed up because his needy little virgin client couldn’t hack it.

‘I want to tell you something,’ he says. ‘Look at me while I say it, Belle.’

I drag my eyes up to that lovely face.

‘Every time I have fucked my fist, or fucked another woman, or eaten her cunt,’ he says, his words slow and deliberate, ‘I’ve fantasised it was you. Every. Fucking. Time. Since the first time I met you at your parents’ drinks party.’

I gaze at him in shock, not really computing what he’s saying.

‘What?’ I ask dumbly.

‘I mentally had your perfect lips around my dick about three seconds after I laid eyes on you,’ he says, and my jaw falls open, because that’s such an outrageous thing to say on every level.

There’s no way I had such an instant effect on a gorgeous man of the world like Rafe. No way in hell.

‘You’re talking total nonsense to make me feel better,’ I tell him.

‘Nope.’ His eyes dance with mischief. ‘Let’s see. Blow job within three seconds, and within five I had your sexual history down pat. I estimated you’d slept with one guy, probably a hockey player called Carl, and he’d never given you an orgasm.’

I laugh in shocked amusement. ‘Well, you were wrong.’

‘I know that now.’ He’s smiling, and when this man smiles at me all feels right with the world. He is devastating. ‘Carl never got laid. And he never got to put his tongue or his fingers in your pussy, did he?’

I shake my head, biting down on my lip. How is he so dirty and yet so sweet? ‘Harry, actually. And yeah, he was a hockey player. How the hell did you do that?’

He rolls his eyes. ‘So predictable. But I’m glad you held out for me.’ His voice lowers. Deepens. ‘I’m so glad I was the first, even if fucking Callum was in the room.’

‘Yours is definitely the first dick I’ve put in my mouth,’ I tell him, marvelling that I can say those words now and mentally high-fiving myself for upgrading from penis to the more nonchalant dick.

He grins like a schoolboy. ‘I love that.’ His fingers tighten around my waist. ‘I fucking love that, sweetheart. Jesus, I’m a lucky bastard.’

The way he’s looking at me—with desire and wonder and tenderness— takes my breath away. I can’t quite believe that Rafe Charlton, who has a club full of experienced women at his disposal, is looking at me like I’m the only woman to walk this earth. It’s extraordinary. It’s making my chest tight.

His eyes move to my lips, and I can’t bear it anymore.

I lean forward, and put a palm to that square, sandpapery jaw of his, and I kiss him.

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