6 comments/ 20221 views/ 22 favorites Eighteen Candles By: Seanathon This short story is an entry to the 2015 Literotica Valentine's Day Contest. I hope you enjoy it and, if you do, please don't forget to vote! *All characters involved in sexual situations in this story are eighteen or older* * * * * "So, do anyone special for Valentine's Day?" Craig smiled at the screen, where his sister's image froze for a heartbeat as she waited for his answer, and shook his head. "I just stayed home -- alone." "Alone? What about that girl Mom told me you've been seeing?" A clear glass vase, filled with a dozen red roses, was hidden behind the laptop, just out of his sister's view. He couldn't help stealing a glance at them. "Kelsey? She's just a friend." "That's not what Mom said. She said it sounds like things are getting serious." He laughed. "I'm surprised she hasn't already planned the wedding. Honestly, Kelsey's just a friend." "Good...because I was a little worried when Mom told me you were dating a teenager." Craig rolled his eyes. "You make it sound like she's still in high school. I mean, sure, she's only nineteen so I guess technically that means she's still a teenager, but she turns twenty next month. "Anyway, it doesn't matter," he said, as his eyes darted once more to the dark red roses behind the screen. "She's not my girlfriend." His sister arched an eyebrow, as if she wasn't sure she believed him. "Well, like I said...good. I hate thinking of you stuck all alone out there, but you need to find someone closer to your own age. You're too old to be dating someone who's only nineteen." "You make it sound like I'm fifty. I'm only twenty-nine. Nineteen isn't too young." "You know it is. Don't try to tell me you forgot the rule: half your age plus seven. That's the limit. And you're going to be thirty this year, which means you're not allowed to date anyone younger than twenty-two." Craig sighed. "Don't worry, I'm not." His gaze flicked back to the roses as his sister's image flickered on the screen, her eyes filled with concern. "You sound so lonely," she said. "Why don't you move back home? Come back to your friends. Come back to us." He shook his head. "I can't. I need to be here if I'm going to keep this job." "I understand, and it's getting late. It's after eight here. I better help get the kids to bed." She kissed two fingertips and touched them to the edge of her webcam lens. "We miss you." "I miss you too. Bye." Behind his sister, he saw his brother playfully chasing his niece and nephew around their living room, yelling that it was time to put their pajamas on. And then the connection was broken. Craig closed his laptop and stared at the glass vase; the water that had filled it two weeks earlier was now long gone. He slammed his fist in frustration against the table, and as the vase jumped the petals broke loose from the dead flowers and fell as silently as tears. He wiped his eye with the back of his hand. Even without the roses as a reminder, he couldn't stop thinking about her. He knew Kelsey was too young. He'd known it from the first time she'd smiled at him. And he wasn't an idiot. He knew, as a server, it was part of her job to be friendly toward any guy seated in her section; you had to flirt if you wanted to get a good tip. But he'd thought it was different with him. There was something about the way she'd watch him while he was reading the menu, trying to decide what he wanted, and the way she'd brush her sleek blonde hair back behind her ear and blush when he'd catch her looking. Something about the way she'd lean close to him, reading the menu over his shoulder as if she wasn't familiar with the item he was ordering even though he knew she knew every word on the page by heart. So close that her arm brushed against him, so close that his senses were filled with the scent of the sweet perfume kissing her skin. He ate at the restaurant six or seven times before finally working up the nerve to ask her out, and his heart skipped a beat when she said okay. She wanted to go to a club. He wasn't sure if you could call it their first date; is it a date when she brings along three of her girlfriends? They'd all danced, both together and with him, and at the end of the night he'd paid for everything, including all of their drinks and the taxis that took the four of them home. They went out three more times after that, always to a club, always with her friends. Craig hadn't objected; it was better than sitting home alone. But he wanted to spend time with Kelsey somewhere where they wouldn't be surrounded by pulsing lights and a pounding beat he didn't recognize, somewhere where they wouldn't be surrounded by a throng of her friends. So he drove her home one night, just the two of them, and told her the way he felt. And he thought she felt the same way. At least, that was the assumption he made while they were parked in the alley behind her parents' house, sitting in his car as she gave him a handjob in the dark. Valentine's Day was a week later. He ordered a dozen red roses and made a reservation for two. And then he invited her with a text -- she said only old people phoned -- but never received a reply. When he went by the restaurant they told him she wasn't there. She'd had the week booked off for months. He found her on Facebook in a photo tagged Cancún. She was dressed in a tiny white bikini and had a grin from ear to ear as the sun set behind her. Who wouldn't be happy enjoying a romantic Valentine's Day dinner on the beach with their fiancé? Craig never went back to the restaurant, never answered the texts she sent after she returned. And now he was alone, and as he stared at the dead roses and the unopened box of chocolates beside them he wondered why he hadn't thrown them away. More than two weeks had passed since Valentine's Day. Tomorrow, February would be gone and so, he hoped, would be the bitter memories of Kelsey. He shoved the vase full of flowers and the foil-wrapped box into a small, white garbage bag, sweeping the loose petals strewn across the tabletop in after them. He knew his sister was right. He'd known it every time he'd followed Kelsey and her friends inside that club. He was done with the young ones. And as he headed to take the trash out he did the math in his head and wondered where he might meet a twenty-two-year-old. He reached for the doorknob and a soft knock from the other side surprised him. His sister had said it was already past eight where she was, and he was three hours ahead of her. Who could be at his door this late? His heart skipped a beat as the answer whispered inside his head -- Kelsey. He opened the door and blinked in surprise. Standing on the other side, barefoot, was a teenage girl with pale green eyes and tousled auburn hair that tumbled down past her shoulders. He'd never seen her before in his life. "Hi...can I help you?" he asked. She gave her lower lip a tiny chew, obviously nervous as she twisted the hem of her long-sleeved tee back and forth with her hands. "Yeah...umm...my name's Beth. You're Craig, right?" "Yeah, do I know you?" "No, but you know Liz, right?" "Who?" "My aunt, she lives across the hall." She gestured back over her shoulder and for the first time Craig realized the door opposite his was wide open, warm light pouring out from within. "Oh, yeah...sure." He was too embarrassed to admit that, though he'd lived there for more than three months, he didn't even know his neighbor's name. "Is something wrong?" She shook her head. "Nothing's wrong. I'm just...uh...I'm just staying with her for a few days and she's out so I'm, like, all alone. And I was just wondering if -- I mean, I know it's late and all -- but I was just wondering...do you want to come over and have a drink?" The unexpected invitation caught him off-guard, and Craig couldn't help laughing. "A drink?! You've got to be kidding. Aren't you a little young?" "No, not at all," she said, sweeping her hair back behind her shoulders as if trying to appear older. "I mean, it's just wine." For the first time, he noticed the sour smell of it on her breath. And as he looked into her eyes, and saw how she stared back at him just a little unsteadily, it was obvious she'd already had more than one glass. "Come on," he said, "tell me the truth. How old are you?" "I'm, uh, I'm eighteen," she said, crossing her arms as she rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet. "And my aunt really is out all night. So what do you say, do you want to come over?" He stared at her, still not completely convinced she was telling him the truth. She was young -- really young. "Eighteen?" he asked, still skeptical. "Uh huh," she said, as she twisted the hem of her shirt again. "It's actually my birthday today. That's kind of why I came over. It didn't feel right spending it all alone and my aunt said you...umm...you seemed like a nice guy." Craig leaned to his right, looking over her shoulder, and for the first time noticed the cake on the dining room table, a single candle burning. And as Beth smiled invitingly, he tried not to notice the way her tight yoga pants hugged the soft curves of her thighs, or the way her breasts strained against the fabric of her long-sleeved tee as she pulled it tight, twisting the hem back and forth as she waited for his answer. He ran his fingers through his hair, honestly hoping he was misreading the situation; maybe she was just hoping to celebrate her birthday with a glass of wine. But every instinct told him to turn around, told him she was too young. His sister's voice echoed inside his head, repeating the rule over and over, but he didn't need to do the math. "Eighteen?" he said again, hoping he'd misheard her the first time, desperately wishing she was twenty-two. "Uh huh, eighteen," she answered, flashing her eyes as she gave him a mischievous grin. "And I've got cake. So, what do you say?" Craig took a deep breath; nineteen had been trouble, he didn't even want to think about eighteen. But he couldn't help himself as he reached into the bag, pulled the unopened box of chocolates out and held it toward her. "I say...happy birthday!" * * * Beth opened a bottle of wine, letting it breathe as she grabbed a second glass from the cupboard. In the living room, Craig checked out her aunt's apartment. It was the same size and layout as his, but that was where the similarities ended. The lighting, along with a collection of framed photos and art adorning the wall, gave the space an intimacy that his sparsely decorated apartment sorely lacked. And the tasteful assortment of furniture that filled the place, instead of making it feel cluttered, made it feel like home. He wandered over to a small bookcase and spotted an old photo album sitting on top. He was just picking it up when Beth appeared beside him, handing him a glass of wine as she took the book away. "Don't bother with that," she said, as she hid the album out of sight on the bottom shelf. "This place is already boring enough. We don't want to waste our time looking at a bunch of old photos of people you don't even know." "I wouldn't call this place boring," he said. "Your aunt has some great stuff. I mean, look at this thing, I haven't seen one of these since I was a kid." He ran his fingers along the edge of an old turntable from the seventies, sitting on a stereo cabinet above the rest of the sound system. "Does it work?" "Yeah, of course," Beth said. "Do you want me to put a record on?" "Sure." As she knelt down and started to flip through a stack of vinyl stored on its side in a small wooden crate beside the cabinet, Craig wandered over to the dining room table. He stared at the plain, round chocolate cake, with no decoration other than a plain pink birthday candle in the center. The candle was already more than half burned down. "You better make a wish before this thing goes out," he said. Beth looked up in alarm, realizing for the first time where he was standing. "Get away from there!" she cried out, jumping to her feet as she grabbed his hand and pulled him back from the table. He blinked at her in surprise. "Whoa! What's wrong?" She held her breath, watching the cake as the candle's flame fluttered for a moment, about to go out. When it didn't, she exhaled. "Nothing's wrong. I -- I just don't want to blow it out yet. Not until I get my birthday wish." Craig shook his head and laughed. "Holy shit, the way you grabbed me I thought the cake was about to explode. But I think you've got it backwards, you blow the candle out first and then you get your wish." "That's not the way it works in my family," she said, as she pulled him back toward the couch and handed him his wine. "Drink up." He took a sip and tried not to stare at her perfect little butt as she bent over, still searching for a record to play. "So, what is your birthday wish?" She glanced back and blushed when she caught him staring at her ass. "I can't tell you. That's bad luck." But as her eyes drifted down and grazed across his crotch, Craig thought he had a pretty good idea of what she was hoping for. He took a deeper drink of his wine, watching as she pulled a record out of its sleeve and put it on the turntable. He'd spotted an empty bottle beside the counter when he'd come in and he knew, if she wasn't already drunk, she was at least halfway there. And he knew if this was going where he thought it was he needed to catch up fast. He took another drink, trying to ignore his sister's voice as her whispered warnings crept back inside his thoughts. But then Beth dropped the needle, and the music and wine washed his apprehensions away. The first few notes floated out of the speakers, and then the unmistakable voice of Karen Carpenter filled the room as she sang Yesterday Once More. "Wow," Craig said, smiling, "this sure brings back memories. I haven't heard this in eons." "I'm surprised you even know it," she said. "Aren't the Carpenters a little before your time?" He laughed. "My time? I'm amazed you even know how to turn a record player on. I can just see you sitting with your iPod, buds in your ears, rocking to Iggy Azalea." "Who?" They both laughed and settled back together on the couch, sipping the soft, mellow carménère as they savored the sweet, clear sounds spinning off the turntable. "When I hear her voice it reminds me of Saturday afternoons," Beth said, "because that was the day my mom always cleaned the house from top to bottom and she always played the Carpenters when she cleaned. God, I can still smell that lemon Pledge. She loved Karen Carpenter's voice." "Who wouldn't?" Craig said. "It's timeless." Beth took his glass and set it down next to hers on the coffee table. "Dance with me." "To this?!" he said, as the needle traced out the first few grooves of Touch Me When We're Dancing. "Sure, why not?" "It's just...umm...kind of slow. Are you sure you don't want to put on something a little faster?" "I'm positive," she said, as she pulled him to his feet. "It's my birthday so I get to pick the song. Let's dance." Craig took her hand, placing his other hand on her hip like they were back in high school. "Not like that," she said with a laugh. "Like this." She stepped into him, wrapping her hands around his waist as she pressed her body against his. He slid his arms behind her, holding her near as they swayed back and forth to the beat, as close together as two pieces in a puzzle. Beth rested her head against his shoulder and whispered, "Much better." "Uh huh," Craig answered. He tried not to think about the heavenly feel of her tight, teenage body or the intoxicating aroma of her hair. But it wasn't working and he swore inside as he felt himself start to stiffen. If she noticed the thick length pressed against her, and he didn't see how she couldn't, she made no sign. But he couldn't help noticing how any time he tried to create even an inch of space between them she immediately hugged herself back against him, keeping as close as possible. He let his hands slide lower until they were resting on the small of her back, his fingertips just brushing against the curve of her ass, and she sighed against his chest as they rocked back and forth to the music. And then her own hand drifted down to his hip, lingering for only a moment before she slid it lower, stroking his thigh as she inched closer and closer to the stiff, swollen length trapped between them. Unable to resist the temptation, he slid his hands even lower, cupping her firm ass and squeezing it. Her response was instant as she swiveled her hips, grinding her body against him. Their eyes met, and when he saw the want that filled hers he leaned close. So close that their lips were nearly touching. And then the music stopped: the sudden silence jarring as the needle skipped at the end of the record. Craig took a step back and Beth hurried to flip the record over. But the spell had been broken and as he adjusted himself, trying to hide his obvious erection, he heard his sister's voice: She's only eighteen! Beth dropped the needle and spun around, her eyes flashing with excitement. She blinked in surprise when she saw he'd sat back down. "What are you doing? Let's keep dancing." He shook his head. "That was nice, but I think I need a break...and I definitely need more wine. It's getting pretty hot in here." "Okay," she said, and sat down close beside him. Too close. He shifted to his right, away from her, hoping she wouldn't notice the hard-on he was trying to hide. "Maybe we should have some cake now?" She glanced at the candle, now three quarters burned. "Not yet." She took a sip from her wine glass, put it back down and went to move closer to him. "Beth," he said, holding out his hand to stop her. "What's wrong?" "Nothing, it's just...I'm not sure this is right." "Why? Have you got a girlfriend?" An image of Kelsey smiling in a white bikini flashed through his thoughts. "No, but -- " "Then what's wrong? You're a boy and I'm a girl -- nothing could be more right." She moved a little closer and he leaned away. "Beth, you're making this really hard, and...I think you've had too much wine." "Don't worry about that. I'm a big girl. I know what I'm doing." "But that's not the only thing. You're barely eighteen, and I'm --" "You're what?" "Beth...I'm twenty-nine." She laughed. "You say that like you're ancient." "Compared to you, I am. I mean, the year I was graduating you were literally just getting out of kindergarten." She smiled and shook her head. "Craig, believe me, your age doesn't bother me at all." He swallowed hard. "I know it sounds stupid, but there's this rule that says you shouldn't get involved with anyone younger than half your age plus seven. According to the rule, you're too young for me." "Do I seem too young?" she said, as she moved a little closer. "I think we should both agree to forget the rule, even if it's just for one night. It is my birthday after all." He tried to respond, tried to come up with an argument, but all he could think about was those pale green eyes and those soft full lips. A lock of her auburn hair tumbled loose and he went to tuck it back behind her ear, and that brief touch was the spark that ignited the space between them. Beth fell into him, and as she crushed her lips against his Craig knew he couldn't resist her any longer. He ran one hand through her hair as his other hand slid beneath her top, caressing her soft skin as he pulled her tight against his body. She kissed him hard, their tongues locked together. Her hand slid down to his thigh, seeking the thick length that had pressed against her so insistently when they were slow dancing, and when she found it she squeezed it and moaned into his mouth. Eighteen Candles Craig broke the kiss with a gasp and pulled her long-sleeved top over her head. And that was when he noticed it: an angry, bright-red, crescent-shaped scar on the inside of her forearm. "Ouch! How did you do that?" he said, holding her arm as he examined the tender wound. "It's nothing," she said, and tried to pull her arm away. "Nothing? It looks like -- " "Craig!" She yanked her arm free and hid it behind her back. "You've got a half-naked teenage girl sitting on your lap. Don't you think there are better things to be interested in than my arm?" He blinked in surprise, as if seeing her for the first time. She hadn't been wearing a bra. And as his eyes drifted down to her breasts, he wondered how he could have ever noticed anything else. They were perfection: ripe and round, full and firm. He wrapped his arm around her narrow waist and pulled her close, enveloping her nipple with his mouth. She gasped as he teased her with his tongue, but all of her attention was on his swollen shaft as she rubbed him through his pants. He groaned as she squeezed and kneaded him, her eager hand expertly working his stiff flesh through the fabric. He'd already pushed the back of her pants down and slid his hand inside her panties, groping her bum as he tried to get his own pants off with his other hand. Beth, anxious to help out, started fumbling with his belt. Trying to ignore the painful looking scar on the inside of her arm, he used his free hand to help her shove his pants and boxers down around his ankles. As soon as his stiff cock sprang free she wrapped her hands around it, biting her lower lip as she slowly pumped the thick length up and down. Her eyes were wide as she played with it, gauging its size, feeling how hard it was. And then, without saying a word, she gave him a look that said, want me to suck it? He answered by wrapping his fingers through her hair and pushing her head down until her mouth enveloped his cock. Craig slumped back against the couch, his pants and underwear still around his ankles and Beth beside him on all fours, slowly bobbing up and down, slurping and moaning on his thick pole. He'd pushed her panties down so that her ass was completely exposed and he squeezed it as she sucked him. He wasn't thinking about her age, wasn't thinking about the unwritten rule that said she was too young for him. He was thinking about how firm her eighteen-year-old ass felt, how good her wet, willing mouth felt. And what he was really thinking about was his balls, as she kneaded and fondled them, and how full they were getting. So full they felt like they were about to explode. "Oh, fuck," he groaned, and pulled his throbbing cock out from between her hungry lips. "What's wrong?" she gasped, her mouth wet from sucking on him. Craig groaned again as he squeezed his balls and the head of his shaft, trying to claw his way back from the edge. "Oh my god...I nearly came." And then a realization hit him, maybe she'd wanted him to come. She was only eighteen. Maybe he'd been naive to assume this was going any further than a blowjob. Last time, he'd been lucky to even get a handjob. "Unless that's all you wanted," he said. "I mean, I'm not trying to pressure you or anything. And you don't have to do anything you don't want to. It's just -- fuck, sorry, I guess what I'm trying to say is...are we?" She nodded, smiling at his awkwardness as she leaned back, lifting her legs and sliding her black pants and her tiny pink panties off. And then she settled back against the couch, completely naked, ready for him. Craig kicked off his own pants and underwear and moved toward her, sliding between her legs, wrapping his arm around her waist, pressing his mouth against her lips. And that was when he noticed -- only for a heartbeat -- as she stole a glance behind him. He stared back over his shoulder, wondering what she was looking at. But the only thing behind him was the table and the cake, its candle burning low. "Is everything okay?" he asked. "Yes," she answered. But her eyes betrayed her, and when they flicked back behind him a second time he knew something was wrong. And that was when he saw it. Beth hadn't been staring at the cake; she'd been staring at the clock on the wall behind it. "I'm sorry," she blurted out. "My aunt's going to be home at midnight. We've got less than ten minutes." Craig's eyes nearly bugged out of his head. "What?!" He leapt into action, hurrying off her as he scrambled to grab his clothes from the floor beside them. "No, please, don't go! Not yet," she said, as she grabbed his wrist and tried to pull him back. "Don't go?!" he whispered, struggling to keep his voice low. "You just told me your aunt's going to be home any minute!" She shook her head. "No, we've still got time. I know she won't be home before midnight." Craig's head was spinning. He'd been worried about what would happen if her aunt caught him drinking with her underage niece, he could only imagine what her reaction would be if she caught him fucking her on her couch. "I don't think so." "Please," she said, as she tried to pull him back again. "I know I should have said something earlier, but I was afraid you'd leave." "You're right, I would have. That's why I'm leaving now." "Please, can't you just be fast?" She stole a glance at his still stiff cock. "You said you were already close when I was sucking you." Craig stared at her in disbelief, trying not to think about her mouth and how nice it had felt wrapped around him, or her perfect, mouthwatering tits and the tiny triangle between her legs, waiting and ready for him. She must have seen the look in his eye, seen his willpower crumbling. She quickly got onto all fours and bent over the end of the couch, wiggling her ass toward him. She looked back over her shoulder, and said, "What are you waiting for? We haven't got much time." His cock twitched in agreement. What was he waiting for? Craig shook his head. He knew this was a bad idea, a really bad idea. But seconds later his clothes were back on the floor and he was behind Beth, his hand on her back as he lined his stiff pole up with her tiny hole. She glanced back over her shoulder, her eyes on his thick cock, still swollen from being worked over by her mouth. And as his knob pressed against her opening she gently bit her lower lip and braced herself against the armrest. Craig slowly thrust inside her. She was tight. She wasn't a virgin, but she was really, really tight. She groaned as he split her in two, spreading her tender pussy wide, and her fingers clenched as she clutched at the fabric of the couch. And that was only the head of his cock. "Are you okay?" he asked. She nodded, but he could see the strain on her face as she struggled to get used to his size. And then she put her hand on his hip, pulling him toward her as she glanced again toward the clock. "Hurry...please, hurry!" Craig pushed forward and she groaned again. But this time the groan melted into a moan as she pressed her face into the armrest, biting the couch as she clenched the fabric between her teeth. Normally, he would have gone slow, let her body relax and get used to his size. But he knew she was right, they were running out of time. He held her hips in his hand as he slowly rocked back and forth, feeding her his cock. Long, slow strokes at the start, just using half his length. But as she got wetter and wetter, her muffled moans into the armrest meeting every thrust, he increased his pace. The strokes became longer, faster, and soon nearly every inch of his cock was thumping in and out of her sweet, snug pussy. He glanced at the clock: five minutes to midnight. He worried they were going to run out of time, but he also knew there was no way he could stop. He drilled forward, going as deep as he could go and then he held it there, his hips pressed against her ass, his cock buried to the hilt. Beth gasped and arched her back, not sure she could handle his length. "Oh, fuuuuck," she groaned, "so deep..." But he kept her there, impaled on his cock, his hands on her shoulders. Her pussy clenching and unclenching around his thick length as her fingers clenched and unclenched against the armrest, her long, painted fingernails nearly tearing the fabric. "We've only got a few minutes," Craig said, his heart pounding in his chest. "I'm going to have to go fast. If it's too much, just say so." She looked back at him, the tear rolling down her cheek a stark contrast to the want in her eyes. "Don't stop," she whispered. She braced herself against the end of the couch and he started fucking her again. Faster this time...harder...holding her hips as he used them to bounce her back and forth on his cock, her beautiful ass smacking against him with every thrust. And every smack was echoed by a sharp gasp as she held onto the armrest like it was a life preserver, the only thing keeping her afloat as the pounding wave of an orgasm enveloped her. Beth pressed her face into the couch, trying to muffle the long, loud moan that escaped her, still hanging on for dear life as he hammered her from behind, one hand on her shoulder and one hand on her hip as he drove her tight teen pussy back and forth, on and off his swollen cock. Craig wasn't watching the clock. He only saw Beth: her tousled auburn hair bouncing wildly with every stroke; her right arm sliding from the armrest, too weak to hold on any longer; and her body, limp as a ragdoll as he continued his relentless assault. But he knew it was nearly over, the end was coming and instead of fighting it he welcomed it, surrendering his body to Beth as she'd surrendered hers to him. He felt it coming, just a few more strokes. And she felt it too. "Don't come inside me," she gasped, "just in case." He couldn't speak; he only nodded. And with a groan he pulled out, jacking his cock as he came all over Beth's back. The first shot fired out in a thick arc and she gasped as it hit her right below the shoulder blades. But before it had even landed a second and then a third shot came spurting out, their twin trails hot against her cool flesh. She collapsed on the couch, trying to catch her breath as Craig hunched over her, his face a mask of concentration as he coaxed the final few drops from his cock, groaning as they splattered against the pale white skin of her bum. She twisted her head around, trying to see the mess he'd made. "Holy fuck," she said, still trying to catch her breath, "that's a lot of cum." "Uh huh." He felt dizzy and off-balance after coming so hard, but he leaned over and grabbed a box of tissues from beneath the coffee table to help clean her up. As Beth took a handful, she glanced behind him. "Oh my god, you've got to get out of here!" He'd nearly forgotten. He twisted around and his eyes went wide when he saw the time -- two minutes to midnight. He jumped up, pulling his pants on as he snatched up the rest of his clothes. He carried them in a bundle as he hurried toward the door and at the last second he glanced back toward the table, where the candle had almost burned out. "Do I at least get a piece of cake?" he asked. "I'll save you a piece," Beth said, and shoved him toward the door. He opened it and peeked out to make sure the coast was clear. Beth was naked behind him, and as he glanced back at her he had a sudden premonition, as if this was the last time he'd ever see her. "Beth -- " But she didn't let him talk; she pulled him close and kissed him hard. It couldn't have lasted more than a few seconds, but the memory of it would last a lifetime. "Good night, Craig." And she shut the door, a sad smile on her face as tears welled in her eyes. Caught off guard, he took a step back toward the door. He wanted to knock, wanted to make sure she was okay. But as he glanced down the hallway he knew time was running out. Her aunt could come walking up the stairs at any moment, and he was pretty sure she wouldn't be happy to find her half-naked neighbor standing on her doorstep. He hurried inside his own apartment, shut the door and locked it. And then he walked toward his couch, dropped his clothes beside it and fell face down on the cushions, exhausted. His phone was on the table beside him. He reached for it and checked the time -- midnight. He smiled as he thought of Beth across the hall, running around trying to clean herself up, putting her clothes back on and hiding the empty wine bottles and the two used glasses. He closed his eyes and remembered her pale green eyes, her soft lips. He remembered the feel of her skin against his, the silkiness of her hair, the curves of her body and the taste of her mouth. And as he fell asleep he was happy, happier than he'd been in a long, long time. He never heard the sound of the needle as it fell on the record across the hall, or the sad, sweet sound of Karen Carpenter's haunting voice as it drifted through the walls, singing of Rainy Days and Mondays. * * * Craig opened his eyes, squinting toward the window as March's first sunrise snuck through a part in the curtain. If he'd dreamt he didn't remember it, his thoughts were filled with Beth. The wine from the night before had left a sour taste in his mouth but the memory of her was still sweet. He stood up, walked to the kitchen, poured water into the kettle and turned it on. He needed a coffee before he could even start to think about breakfast, and all he had was instant. He sat at the table, waiting for the water to boil, staring at the closed laptop. He could almost hear his sister's voice whispering from it, warning that Beth was too young for him. And as he ran the math over and over in his head his sister's voice kept whispering the wrong answer...eighteen. But it wasn't his sister that worried him; she was on the other side of the country. Beth's aunt was the real problem. He winced as he imagined what her reaction would've been if she'd come home even a few minutes early and caught him with her teenage niece, bending her over the end of her couch and fucking her from behind as hard as he could. Eighteen. He poured a cup of instant coffee and sat down to drink it. He liked his coffee black. He sipped it, hoping the jolt of caffeine would erase the numbers scrawled all over the blackboard in his head. But the rule refused to go away; it lingered like the wine, reminding him of the night before. He turned on his laptop, hoping to take his mind off her. And as he waited for it to boot he took another sip, gazing over the edge of his coffee cup at his sparsely-furnished apartment; it had never felt as empty as it did now. He pushed the laptop away, and that was when he saw it. He must have missed it the night before when he'd swept the others into the trash. A rose petal. He held it close, and when he inhaled its lingering fragrance the scent reminded him of Beth. Everything reminded him of Beth. Craig brushed his hand back through his hair, trying to clear his thoughts, and wondered if breakfast would help. He opened the cupboard. There were six different boxes of cereal inside. He grabbed one at random and put it on the table beside his empty bowl. And then he opened the fridge and lifted the milk out. He took a sniff and grimaced, and when he was done pouring the lumpy contents down the drain he slammed the empty carton into the sink. He went back to his coffee cup. The rose petal was still beside it. He picked the petal up, careful not to crush it, and held it close again. And by the time he put it back down, he knew what he needed to do. * * * A half hour later he was across the hall, showered, shaved and dressed. He'd made up his mind; he didn't care about the rule. He just prayed Beth's aunt was as open-minded as he was. He wasn't sure what he was going to say if she answered the door and demanded to know why he wanted to take her niece out to breakfast. He took a deep breath and knocked, desperately hoping that her aunt was either still asleep or, hope against hope, hadn't come home at all. And as he heard the soft sound of footsteps coming toward the door, he whispered, Please let it be Beth. The door cracked open a few inches, and when he saw the pale green eye peeking out at him he thought for a heartbeat it was her. But the thick-framed glasses were a dead giveaway, and when he spotted the thin streak of silver that ran the length of her frizzy, reddish-brown hair he knew he was looking at her aunt. "Yes?" she said, peering out at him with bleary eyes. "Hi, umm..." "Liz." "Yeah, hey Liz, I'm your neighbor Craig from across the hall. And I was just wondering if, uh, if I could talk to Beth?" She closed the door just a fraction, so that even less of her face was visible, and answered, "No." Craig blinked in surprise. And then he spotted them, still lying where she'd left them: all of Beth's clothes, including her pink panties. And on the table beside them were the two glasses and the empty bottle of wine. Why hadn't she cleaned them up? If her aunt hadn't known what had happened last night, he was sure she had a pretty good idea now that he was knocking on the door. "Please, I just need to talk to her." "You can't. Please leave." He knew she knew; he heard it in her voice. "I know you don't understand. But if you'll just -- " "You don't understand," she said, cutting him off in mid-sentence. "I can't get her. Beth's gone." He stared at her in disbelief. She had to be lying. Beth's clothes were still right where she'd left them. "When will she be back?" "Never," she said, and went to shut the door. "Wait a second -- please!" he said as he jammed his foot in the way. "I'm sorry, but I have to talk to her." "No," she said, glaring at him as she tried to force the door shut. "Go away! Please...just go away." He wedged himself into the doorway, trying to use his shoulder to keep her from crushing his foot. He knew she had to be in there. "Beth! It's Craig...I just want to talk to you!" "I told you, she's not here!" her aunt cried, pushing against the door from the other side, trying to keep him from opening it any wider. She reached her arm out, trying to shove him back, trying to push him into the hallway. And as the sleeve of her housecoat slid back he saw it -- a pale, crescent-shaped scar on the inside of her forearm. His eyes went wide, but his shock at seeing the scar -- identical to the one Beth had -- was nothing compared to her aunt's reaction. She yanked her arm back, hurrying to pull her sleeve down as she tried to hide the telltale scar. And Craig used that opportunity to push the door wide open. As it slammed against the wall she stumbled backward, pulling her robe tightly closed as she held her hand up, trying to hide her face from him. But he'd already seen it. Craig walked around her in a slow circle, dumbfounded. She was heavier and even seemed shorter. And her hair was different, thinner, the rich auburn now faded to a dull reddish-brown and streaked with silver. She tried to avoid his gaze, but when he ducked down and peered into those pale green eyes... "Beth?!" She spun around, turning her back to him, and pulled her robe higher as she tried to hide her face. "I told you," she whispered, her sad voice muffled by the heavy housecoat. "I'm Liz. Beth's gone. Please, Craig, just go away." He felt off-balance, as if the room had suddenly been turned onto its side. He had to be mistaken. This couldn't be real. But those eyes...that scar. He stepped forward and when he took off her glasses she didn't try to stop him. She just stood there, motionless, with her robe clutched tightly around herself as she stared at the floor. Eighteen Candles He put his hand on her chin, and when he lifted her face up toward him he knew there was no mistake. They ached with sadness, but he would have known those pale green eyes anywhere. Craig knew last night hadn't been a dream. She couldn't have drugged the wine. He didn't believe in hypnosis. But there was no denying that the fiftyish woman in front of him was the same eighteen-year-old girl he'd known the night before. "Beth...how?" She lowered her head, still unwilling to meet his gaze. "Even if I told you the truth, you'd never believe me. Last night was a mistake. Forget it ever happened. Forget about Beth." He shook his head, refusing to believe what he was hearing. And as his frustration turned to anger he said it again, louder this time. "How?!" She hesitated a moment, and then went to shut the front door. When she came back she reached down to the bottom of the bookcase and pulled out the old photo album Beth had hid there the night before. She took it to the table and set it down beside the cake, with one piece missing and a burned out candle beside it. She sighed as she flipped the book open. And when she found the page she was looking for she turned to Craig. "You want Beth? Here she is." He walked toward her, and his eyes went wide with amazement when he saw what she was pointing at. Inside there was an old Polaroid picture, the kind with the thick white bottom. The photo was slightly overexposed but there was no mistaking the young girl in the photo, dressed in a hat and gown and beaming beneath a banner that read Grad Class of '82. Her name echoed through his thoughts. Beth. As Craig stared in disbelief, she tapped it with a painted fingernail. "That's my mom beside me." He stared closer at the photo, wondering if it was some kind of trick, wondering if the photo had been doctored. While he examined it she stood and went back to the bookcase, returning with an old high school annual that she flipped open. She tapped a black and white photo and Craig saw her again, the same bright smile, the same sparkle in her eyes. The name beneath read Beth Ledgerwood. He slumped into a chair, too stunned to stand. For a third time, almost pleading with her, he asked, "How?" She gave him a half-hearted smile. "It was the candle." He lifted the tiny pink wax stub and stared at it in disbelief. She hadn't been watching the clock; she'd been watching the candle. And as he turned it back and forth, checking it out from every angle, she went to a drawer and pulled out a small, blue and white box. She dropped it on the table in front of him. The vintage cardboard box said Fairy Birthday Candles and it was printed with an image of a fairy on the cover, touching her wand to the candles on a birthday cake as if granting a wish. "My mom bought those when I was twelve-years-old," she said. He stared at the empty box and the burned out stub, still not understanding. "I know after what happened last night I owe you an explanation, and to do that I have to start at the beginning," she said. "But before I do I just wanted to say...I'm sorry, for everything. I had too much wine and I...I'm just sorry." She took a deep breath. "Anyway, last night when Beth -- I mean, when I knocked on your door -- it really was my birthday, February twenty-ninth." Craig blinked in surprise. He'd thought the day before had been the twenty-eighth; he'd forgotten it was a leap year. She continued: "I was born forty-eight years ago but last night was only my twelfth birthday, my twelfth real birthday. It's one of the quirks of being a leapling --that's what we're called, people born on a leap day -- you only get to celebrate your real birthday once every four years. "I never knew my dad. He died when I was just a baby so my mom was the only family I ever had. And every year she threw me the best birthday parties. "But when I was nine I realized the day my mom was holding my party on wasn't my actual birthday. She tried to explain but I guess I was too young to understand. I just remember how pissed I was that everyone else got to celebrate on their birthday once a year and I had to wait four years for mine. "My mom knew how I felt, so when I was twelve she decided to do something special. She found these candles in an antique store and told me they were magic. Of course, I knew she was kidding, but she said we'd light one every four years to celebrate my real birthday. And she promised me on that day she'd do whatever it took to make my birthday wish come true. "I just wish I'd known then that the only thing I'd ever want was more time with her." She stared at the faded Polaroid as tears welled in her eyes. "It was just a few months after this photo was taken that they found the cancer. "And when they told us it was inoperable, told her how long she had left, I tried to be strong for her. But I got home, found her wine and I just remember drinking it and thinking life was so fucking unfair. I was mad, frustrated, drunk...I hit the window and did this." She pulled up her sleeve and showed him the crescent-shaped scar. "It was pretty bad. I barely remember them rushing me to the hospital. I just remember feeling terrible that everyone was so worried about me when she was the one that was going to die. Like no one knew the pain she was going through. "I remember going to see her, just before the end. That was when she gave me this." She picked up the empty box and turned it back and forth, lost in memory. "There were only eight candles left by that time, and she made me promise to keep lighting them whenever my real birthday came around, made me promise I'd make a wish. "And I told her I didn't want to, because the only thing I wanted in the whole world was for her to be there with me. She promised she would be. She said I'd find someone else, somebody who'd love me just as much as she did, but she promised that until that day came she'd always be there. "When she died I felt like part of me died with her. I didn't want to be called Beth anymore. I figured that was a girl's name and it was time to grow up, so I started calling myself Liz. "But I didn't grow up. I was a wreck. I was so fucked up. The next two years were a blur. I cut my hair short, dyed it black, and had one of those little tails in the back. But I didn't forget my birthday, my real birthday, and I didn't forget my promise. "I remember I was living in this rented house with four roommates and I went up to my room. They didn't even know it was my birthday, but I still had the candles. There were a lot of things I lost back then but I never let go of those candles. "Anyway, like I said, no one knew it was my birthday, but I had this Twinkie. And I stuck a candle in the stupid Twinkie and as soon as I lit it all I could think about was my mom. I just remember lying there in my room, crying, missing her as I watched that candle burn down. "I was so fucked up, so sad and so lonely. And I remember wishing...just wishing I could feel like I'd felt before, back when I was happy, back when she was still alive. "I blew out the candle, but then it lit up again. And instantly, I knew something was different. "There was this stabbing pain in my arm, and it wasn't until I lifted my sleeve that I realized it was coming from my old scar, which had completely healed by that time. But now it was pink and raw again, just like you saw it last night, just like it had been right after I hurt it. "And then I looked in the mirror and saw my hair wasn't just long again, it was back to its original color. It had been so long since I'd seen it I almost didn't recognize it. And that was when I realized my wish had come true. I was eighteen again. "I remember running out of my room so I could show my roommates. But as soon as I was out in the hallway the pain in my arm disappeared and my hair was short and black again. I went back in my room and realized the candle had gone out. "I was sure I'd imagined the whole thing, I was pretty drunk when it happened, but it still changed me. I cleaned up my act, went back to school. But on the day I turned twenty-four I was back in my room, alone with my candles. And as soon as I lit one I was eighteen again. "The candles were magic, just like my mom had said. Every leap year on my birthday, as long as I lit a candle and stayed in sight of it, I turned eighteen again. And I stayed that way until the candle burned out or my birthday was over -- midnight. "I had a lot of fun on those birthdays, but I never did anything like last night. I guess it was just the wine and...knowing it was my last candle. But from the moment I lit it, I knew there was only one thing I wanted for my last birthday wish." As her gaze drifted toward him, Craig let the burned out candle fall from his hand. He felt numb. Last night now seemed like a dream, and the thought that the girl he'd spent it with was right in front of him, but now thirty years older, seemed impossible to comprehend. He saw her watching him, waiting for him to say something, but all he could say was, "Beth..." "Beth's gone. I'm Liz now, I accept that. And I -- I just wanted to say sorry for last night, sorry if you feel like I deceived you. But after sitting home alone on Valentine's Day, I knew it was my last chance. I knew you were my last chance." She shook her head and gave him a sad smile. "You have no idea how long it took me to work up the nerve to knock on your door. One bottle of wine definitely wasn't enough. Even after you answered I still wasn't sure I could actually go through with it. But when you handed me that box of Valentine's Day candy...it just felt like all the pieces were falling into place. "And the funny thing is, when I knocked on your door I was so afraid that you might recognize me or notice that the names Liz and Beth were both short for Elizabeth. But then I realized you didn't even know my name. I live right across the hall from you, and you didn't even know my name." Craig tried to speak, but she held her hand up and stopped him. "You don't know how many times I've passed you in the hall, hoping you might smile or even say hi. And when you never did, I just accepted it. I've known for a long time men's heads don't turn for me like they used to. "But when you opened the door last night and I saw the look in your eyes when you saw Beth standing there...I'm not going to lie, I loved it. I loved that look that said someone actually wanted me. And I wish I could have made it last forever, but it never does." She picked up the burned out stub of the candle and twisted it back and forth, staring at it. "You have no idea what it feels like, Craig, to know you'll never be young again." "Beth, you're not -- " "You know I am," she said, as she fixed him with a bitter smile. "You told me the rule: half your age plus seven. I'm too old for you." She closed the photo album. "I need to get dressed. You should go now." He staggered toward the door, still stunned by her story, unsure what to believe, unsure what to say. But when he reached the doorway he stopped and turned back toward her. "Beth..." She shook her head. "I already told you, Craig, it's Liz. Beth's gone." And then she closed the door. * * * Craig clicked a card and the red jack slid onto the black queen. And then he clicked another card and watched it slide into place on another. And then another. And then another. Over and over. He was playing solitaire, his finger hovering over the mouse as he pondered his next move. And then an icon in the corner of the screen blinked. His sister was trying to open another video chat but he ignored it as he'd ignored all her other attempts. He knew she'd know something had happened; she always knew. But how could he explain it to her? How could he explain it to anyone? He felt hollow. More than a week had passed since Beth...since Liz. Eight long days, and he was still struggling to believe it had really happened. His dreams were filled with images of that night, dancing with her, together on the couch. Sometimes the images became mixed-up; sometimes she was younger than him and sometimes she was older. But every dream ended the same way, with an eighteen-year-old girl with pale green eyes standing in the doorway, closing the door as she whispered, Beth's gone. He shook his head; even when he was awake her words echoed inside it. He heard her door open and he jumped to his feet, tiptoeing toward the window and peeking out from behind the curtain as she headed out of the apartment building and walked toward her car. Her hair was tied back and the sunlight caught the silver in it, and as she glanced up at his window he ducked out of sight. But as she drove away Craig watched, like he had every morning since he'd learned her story. He went back to the computer and put his hand on his mouse. The game was waiting for his next move. His sister's icon flashed away, begging him to talk to her. And as his finger hovered above the button he realized he was sick of playing the game, sick of rules. Frustrated, he shoved the mouse away and it skidded off the tabletop and fell to the floor. He bent to pick it up and that was when he noticed it. He thought they were all gone but this last one had fallen beneath the table and remained there, hidden from sight. He leaned forward and picked it up gently, not wanting to crush it. One last rose petal. One last reminder. He held it close, inhaling its fragrance; even after all this time it still lingered. The flower was gone but the petal remained and, even though it wasn't as potent as it had once been, still smelled just as sweet. And as her memory filled his senses once again, he gently laid the fragile petal on the table beside his laptop. He opened a browser window and typed in a search. And when he finally found what he was looking for, he couldn't help smiling. * * * Craig had already knocked once. He went to knock a second time, afraid she wouldn't answer, but then he heard a soft click as she unlocked the door. She opened it and peered out at him with those pale green eyes. "Yes?" she said. "Hi...umm...Liz, I was just wondering if we could talk. I promise it won't take long." She crossed her arms. "What do you want to talk about?" He was just about to answer when he noticed the empty shelves and bare walls behind her, the contents neatly packed in cardboard boxes that were strewn across the couch and floor. "You're moving?" She gave him a quick nod. "The movers will be here tomorrow." "But, I...can I just come in for a moment?" "I really don't think -- " "Please," he said, stopping her. "It'll just take a minute." She hesitated a moment before finally letting him in. And as he walked past her she quickly combed her fingers through her hair, trying to fix it. "I really need to keep packing," she said. "The movers are going to be here first thing. What did you need to tell me?" "Nothing, I just wanted to give you these." He'd kept it hidden behind his back but when he held it out to her she instantly recognized the pale white and blue box. It was identical to the one her mother had given her, but this one still contained ten brightly-colored unlit birthday candles. "Fairy candles," she whispered. "Where did you find them?" "Uh...Ebay." She traced the art deco image of the fairy with her finger, lost in memory. And then she shook her head. "They won't work. I know they won't." She held the candles out toward him. "I know you want Beth back and believe me, so do I, but the magic never came from the candles, it came from my mother. I know in my heart that wish was one last gift from her to me. "Every time I lit one I felt her presence, like she was there beside me. And when the last one went out I think that's what made it extra painful. Not just knowing I'd never be eighteen again, but knowing she was gone forever, too." Craig didn't say a word. He simply pulled a box of wooden matches from his pocket and pulled a candle from the box. "It won't work," she said, twisting the hem of her shirt back and forth as she watched him strike the match. "I think it might," he said. "Let's just see." He lit the candle and it burst to life, its bright flame glinting off her glasses. He reached forward, and as he gently took them from her face he smiled. "Beth...it worked." She gasped and touched her hands to her head, touching her lips, her skin, her hair. And then she spun around, desperate to find a mirror. But when she did the face that stared back at her was the same one she'd woken up with, her pale skin creased with age and her auburn hair streaked with silver. Her shoulders collapsed and her heart sunk. "It didn't work. Beth's gone." She turned and he was right behind her, still smiling. He blew out the candle, and said, "Beth, you never left." He crushed his lips against hers, pulling her close as she melted against him, her hand on his heart. But then she broke the kiss, dizzy from its intensity, and caught another glimpse of her face in the mirror. She turned away, shaking her head. "Craig, we can't...it's like you said with your rule. I don't want you feeling sorry for me. I'm forty-eight and you're only twenty-nine, I know I'm too old for you." He tightened his grip on her waist and pulled her back. "Beth, it doesn't matter if there's twenty feet or twenty years between us, I can't stop thinking about you. And I won't let a rule that someone else wrote come between us." She smiled weakly. "It's actually only nineteen years, not twenty." He smiled back. "And on my birthday it will only be eighteen. And when you're fifty-two -- " "Oh god, don't even say that number," she said, hiding her face in her hands. "And when you're fifty-two," he continued, "and I'm thirty-three, we won't even have to worry about the stupid rule. But I can't wait four more years, and you shouldn't have to either." She stared at the box of candles on the table. And then she kissed him, softly at first, unsure. But as he kissed her back she kissed him even harder, sliding her hands around him as he enveloped her with his own. He slid them down to her waist and she squirmed as she pulled them back up. "What's wrong?" he asked. "Nothing," she whispered, blushing. "I just need to lose a few pounds." He smiled, kissing her again as he slid his hands behind her. And he gently squeezed her ass as he pulled her against him. Her eyes went wide when she felt how stiff he was, and as his hands kept kneading her soft flesh, she whispered, "Is it as nice as you remember?" "Even nicer," he said, as he brushed her hair back behind her ear and kept kissing her. She moaned into his mouth, their tongues locked together as she slid her hand between them, feeling how hard he was. "You're sure you don't mind breaking the rule again?" "What rule?" he said, and swept her off her feet. She squealed as he carried her to her bedroom and dropped her on the bed. The curtains were shut and the room was cast in the soft shadows of twilight. He reached for the switch and she said, "Don't turn on the light. There are candles on the night stand." He went to get his matches and when he came back she was already undressed and under the covers. He arched an eyebrow. "You tricked me." "I'm shy," she said, gently biting her lower lip. But as he lit the candles and started to undress her eyes sparkled. Craig slid into bed beside her and when he went to lift the comforter she pulled it back down. "Don't be embarrassed," he said, "because you've got nothing to be embarrassed about." "I'm not. It's just cold in here." "Liar," he said, and she giggled as he lightly tickled her. Eighteen Candles Their hands roamed back and forth beneath the warm blanket as their bodies twined together, exploring each other's flesh as their lips and tongues explored each other's mouths. And as Craig's hand slid behind her, Beth's hand slid between them. "You're so stiff," she whispered. "Want me to suck you again?" "No, it's my turn." He went to move down her body but she stopped him. "Let me suck you," she whispered, as she pulled the comforter back up around her neck. Craig shook his head and reached out, gently making her let go of the cover as he pulled it back. She tensed and put her hands on her belly, smiling weakly at him as he gazed down at her naked body. She wasn't eighteen any more. But as his eyes slowly drank her in he didn't see breasts that weren't as full as they'd once been or curves that weren't quite as firm, he saw the girl he thought he'd lost. And as he leaned close and inhaled her scent, letting her fragrance fill him, he whispered, "beautiful." He kissed her breast, his lips brushing against her skin as his tongue softly flicked at the tender flesh at the center. She shuddered at the contact and as her body responded, her nipples stiffening at his touch, he moved from one breast to the other and kissed and sucked them both. Beth sighed, her breath coming faster as her hand slid down between his legs, stroking him as he kissed her. And as his kisses drifted lower she reluctantly moved her hand from her belly, closing her eyes as his lips traced a path across her soft skin. He moved even lower, forcing her to let go of him. His hands slid between her legs and as she slowly parted them she put her hands on her breasts, caressing them as he trailed kisses along the inside of her thighs. She licked her lips, gently biting the lower one in nervous anticipation. And when his tongue touched her -- just the briefest touch -- she arched her back and moaned. It had been so long; she couldn't remember the last time she'd been kissed like this. His hands were on the inside of her thighs, holding on as she rocked back and forth, squirming against his tongue. He flicked it back and forth at first, teasing her, tasting her. And then he zeroed in on her tiny rosebud, holding on tighter as she gasped and tried to clamp her thighs together. But Craig had waited too long for this, too long to taste the girl who'd sucked him so well more than a week before. He brushed his lips and danced his tongue across her tender flesh, loving the sounds she made as he pushed her toward the edge. And when he felt her hand in his hair, trying to push him away as she twisted back and forth, overwhelmed with pleasure, he didn't relent. Her sharp gasps grew in intensity, her moans bounced off the bedroom walls, and when she came, she came hard. "Fuuuck," she groaned, her entire body stiffening as an orgasm vibrated through her. But Craig hadn't stopped and every touch of his tongue jolted her like an electric shock. She pushed at his head, whimpering for mercy, and this time he relented as he moved back up her body and smiled down at her. Beth's hair was matted to her head and her chest was heaving as she tried to catch her breath, exhausted from the workout he'd just given her. But her eyes went wide when she felt him press against her, his stiff length prodding at her sensitive flesh. And as he spread her wide she squeezed her eyes shut, pleasure overwhelming her again. He thrust forward until he was completely inside her and stayed like that, her tenderness enveloping his thick shaft. There was a tear at the corner of her eye and he kissed it away. And when he kissed her lips, the salty taste of the tear lingered. "Are you okay?" he whispered. She opened her eyes and smiled. "More than okay...I don't think I've ever felt better." "Me either." He kissed her gently on her forehead and then rocked his hips back and forth, filling her with long, slow strokes. She moaned in approval, digging her painted fingernails into his back as she whispered encouragement. And then she lifted her head, lightly running her tongue across her lip as she watched his cock slowly piston in and out between her thighs. It seemed impossible to believe his thick length could even fit inside her tiny opening but the fit was perfect, like two pieces in a puzzle. Their bodies rocked together in perfect synchronicity, but it didn't last long. Craig couldn't help himself, he'd waited too long and she felt too good. His strokes came faster and faster, and Beth had to put her hands behind her head, bracing herself against the headboard as he pumped his cock in and out of her. Her sharp moans echoed every thrust, drowning out the sound of the bedsprings squeaking beneath them. Her eyes rolled back in her head; it felt like he was trying to fuck her right through the mattress. "Want me to turn over?" she gasped, hoping for even a tiny breather. But he just shook his head. And when she saw the look on his face she knew why. "Are you going to come?" "Uh huh," he groaned, his face a mask of concentration as he tried to hold on for just a few more delicious strokes. "Come inside me," she pleaded, her hands on his hips as she encouraged him to go as deep as he could. And he did, filling her with one last, long stroke as he released inside her. "Oh fuuuck," he groaned, shuddering against her as crashing waves of pleasure overwhelmed him. She pulled him close, keeping him inside her as she crushed her lips against his, holding him tight as a second orgasm rocked through her. And when she finally broke the kiss he collapsed on the bed beside her, both of them weak with exhaustion. "Wow," she said, still trying to catch her breath. "Sorry if I got a little carried away," he said. "I hope I wasn't too rough." "Oh god no, I loved every second of it. It reminded me of my birthday when you had me bent me over the couch, giving me my present." He laughed. "You are so dirty." She laughed too, and slid her hand between them and squeezed his hand. And as she turned her head to the side and caught him staring at her she smiled. He didn't need to say a word; the look in his eyes said everything. "I'm so glad you came," she whispered. He arched an eyebrow. "Umm...so am I." "I didn't mean it like that!" she said, playfully slapping his shoulder. "I mean I'm glad you came to see me, to give me the candles. If you'd waited another day it might have been too late." Craig brushed his fingers against her cheek. "I should have come sooner." "I don't blame you. I know how hard it must have been, after the night we spent together, and then finding out the truth the next morning. It was hard for me, too. "When I knocked on your door, I honestly thought you were the type of guy who was just...you know, only looking for a booty call." He laughed. "Me? Why would you think that?" "I don't know, it just seemed that whenever I saw you coming home late -- " "Wait a second -- saw me? What were you doing, watching through the peephole?" She bit her lip and turned red with embarrassment. "Umm...anyway, like I was saying, that night I knocked on your door I thought it was just going to be a one-night thing...I never meant to fall in love with you. "That's why I wanted to move. Knowing that you were so close, but so far away...I couldn't stand it. Every time I went out I'd look up at your window, hoping to see you." He smiled. "I saw you. I was hiding behind the curtains." "So you were spying on me, too?" she said, and teasingly pinched him. "I couldn't help myself, Beth, that night wasn't magical just for you. I followed an eighteen-year-old girl back to your apartment, but the girl I slow-danced with, the girl I wanted to have breakfast with, the girl I couldn't stop thinking about...that was you." She swallowed hard, searching his eyes as tears welled in her own. "You have no idea how sad I was when you left, how sad I was when that last candle finally went out. I thought it was all over." "Are you kidding me?" he said, as he pulled her close and brushed a tear away. "It's just like the song says, we've only just begun." * * * * Thanks for taking the time to read my story, I hope you enjoyed it. I had a tough time deciding whether to put it in Mature or Romance, but decided in the end that -- just like in this story -- their love for each other trumped the years between them. And finally, this is an entry to the Valentine's Day Contest so, if you enjoyed it, please don't forget to vote ~ Seanathon.