DANIEL'S POV

I leaned back in the restaurant booth, papers spread across the table, my pen tapping a rhythm. A week since that night, and her face still haunted me-those dark eyes, that curvy body grinding against me, the way she moaned when I ate her pussy.

Most girls my age would've stayed, begged for my number, my money or my name. But she bolted, leaving nothing but a smile and a maybe. Her age, her confidence, the way she owned herself made her different from the shallow girls I knew. She was real, mature, and she had set a fire in me that I'd called every club contact, scoured socials, even checked uber records. Nothing. She was a ghost, and it pissed me off as much as it turned me on.

"Dude, you're obsessed," Jake announced, shoving fries in his mouth across from me. His messy brown hair fell in his eyes, his grin cocky. "One chick runs out, and you're acting like she stole your dick."

I snorted, flipping a document. "She didn't run, she fucking sprinted." My voice was light, but my chest tightened, remembering her sad smile, like she was scared of what we'd done.

"Sounds like a pro move to keep you pussy whipped. Bet she's laughing about it." He leaned forward, smirking. "You're just mad she didn't fall for the billionaire bullshit."

"Fuck off." I tossed a napkin at him, but he wasn't wrong. Girls usually melted for my cash, my name, my charm. But her? She didn't give a shit, and that maturity, that realness had me hooked. Her curves, her moans, the way she wasn't chasing my world.

"She wasn't like that." I replied.

Jake raised a brow, chewing loud. "Sure, keep dreaming. You gonna sign those contracts or jerk off to your mystery cougar all day?"

I opened my mouth to argue, but a laugh cut through the restaurant-warm, familiar, hitting me like a shot. Her voice. I turned, scanning the crowded tables, and there she was, near the bar. She was talking to that blonde friend from the club. Her black hair fell straight, her jeans hugging her ass, her smile lighting up the room. My dick twitched, memories of her taste flooding back.

"Be right back," I muttered, standing, papers forgotten.

Jake chuckled. "Good luck, Romeo."

I made way through the tables, heart pounding, her voice pulling me like a magnet. She was mid-sentence, gesturing at her friend, when I stopped beside her.

"Hey, stranger"

She froze, eyes snapping to mine, wide and dark. Her friend grinned, sipping a drink, but I only saw her-lips parted, cheeks flushing, like she was reliving our night.

"Daniel!" She said, voice tigh

"Guess I'm lucky." I leaned against the bar, keeping it casual, though my blood ran hot. "Been looking for you."

Her friend choked on her drink, smirking. "Oh, this is good."

She shot her friend a glare, then faced me, arms crossed. "Why? Thought we were done?" Her tone was sharp, but her eyes flicked to my lips, betraying her.

I grinned, stepping closer. "You ran out before I could ask you to dinner." My voice dropped, teasing. "Figured I owed you a meal after...you know."

Her cheeks went red, and she looked away, fingers twisting her necklace. "That was a one-night thing, not supposed to mean anything." Her words were firm, but her voice shook, like she was fighting herself.

Her friend piped up, leaning forward. "Bullshit, Si. He's hot and he's here, this is fate I must say. Give him a shot."

"Lila, shut up," she snapped, but her lips twitched, a smile slipping through.

I caught her gaze, holding it. "Just a friendly date, no pressure. I wanna know you, not just fuck you." My words were blunt, but my tone softened, letting her see I meant it. I wanted her mind, her stories, that grown woman vibe that set her aside from other ladies.

She bit her lip, eyes searching mine, torn. I could almost hear her thoughts.

"Friendly, huh?" she said, voice skeptical, but the shoulders relaxed.

"Promised." I raised my hands, grinning. "Unless you beg for more.""Oh, you're good," Lila laughed.

She rolled her eyes, a spark in them. "Fine, One date. But don't get cocky." Her voice was tough, but her flush said she remembered how I worked her body.

"Deal." I pulled out my phone, handing it over. "Your number. And your name, since you owe me that."

She hesitated, then typed, her fingers quick. "Sienna." She handed it back, eyes daring me to push her.

"Sienna." I tested it, liking how it felt. "Tonight, seven. This restaurant. Let me earn it."

"Maybe." She replied. She turned to Lila, who was grinning like a child, and I walked back to Jake, my pulse still racing.

He clapped, slow, mocking. "Smooth, man. She's gonna eat you alive."

"Hope so," I muttered, smirking, but my mind was on her-her walls, her heat, the way she fought herself. I wanted to break through, not just her body, but to her.

That evening, I sat at the restaurant, a quiet corner table, my watch hitting seven-fifteen. The place was calm, candles flickering, jazz humming low. I'd picked it for her-classy, not too flashy, a spot to talk, to get that real side of her i craved. My fingers tapped the table, my phone blank beside me. No text, no call. I checked again, nothing. My gut twisted; she wasn't coming.

A message buzzed in, her name lighting the screen. My heart kicked up, but the words hit like a punch: HEY, SORRY, I CAN'T DO THIS. THE OTHER NIGHT WAS FUN, BUT IT'S DONE. TAKE CARE.

I stared at it, jaw tight, a mix of pissed and turned on. She was shutting me out, clean and cold, like she thought one text could erase what we'd done. Her maturity, her difference was what I wanted, not some young fling. She was worth the chase.

I leaned back, smirking to myself. "Game on, Sienna.," I muttered, pocketing my phone. She thought she could close the door but I'd work for it; earn her trust, her body, her heart. She'd see me again, and I'll make sure she doesn't run the next time.

SIENNA'S POV

I stood in my condo's living room, paint on my hands, brushing color onto a canvas. The picture was supposed to be bright reds and blues for a client, but my brush made hard sharp lines like Daniel's face, his strong arms, his fancy buildings. My body warmed, memories of that night hitting me-his tongue on my skin, his hands deep inside, making me feel like I wasn't Evan's trash.

I shook my head, trying to push it away. I was 42, too old to want a 26-year-old rich guy who touched me like he meant it. Evan's voice laughed in my head, saying I was done, and I held the brush tight, painting fast to shut it up.

The canvas got blurry, and I saw his brown eyes, hot and staring, as he kissed my chest till I moaned loud. My legs squeezed, paint spilling on my jeans. Why couldn't I forget him? That night was a dumb move, a quick try to feel good, but it left me wanting more, not fixed. I was a mom, divorced, not some hot girl chasing a young guy. But my body begged for his hands, his lips, and it made me mad. I grabbed more paint, slapping it on, trying to cover the heat in my skin.

My phone rang on the table, Lila's name on the screen. I groaned, wiping my hands on a rag and picking it up. "Hey, what's up?"

"Still thinking of that hot guy, you ran from?" Her voice teased, like she knew my face was red.

I rolled my eyes, tossing the rag down. "I'm painting, not thinking about anybody."

"No way." She laughed, loud and sharp. "You're day dreaming of him, and that text you sent was a total scaredy cat move."

My stomach hurt, remembering the text from that day. I was left with no choice than to stand him up and not lead him on.

"I'm too old for him, Lila. He's 26, so to not get his hope up, I had to let him go hard."

She made a noise, like she was sipping a drink. "Do you think he doesn't know you're old for him? Still, you don't see him complaining. Besides, age don't matter when he's touching you like that." Her voice got soft. "You felt good, right? When's the last time you felt that?"

My heart beat fast, and I held the phone tight, paint still on my fingers. She was right, but saying it felt like giving up the mom I'd always been.

"It's not about feeling good. It's about not looking like I'm after his money."

"Forget that junk." She drank again, voice tough. "Evan made you feel less of yourself and you became a different person, but that guy? He wanted you, for you. Stop hiding."

My throat felt stuck, and I looked at the canvas, the sharp lines looking like scratches now. My body wanted to find him, let him touch me again, but my head was caught on Evan's mean words, people staring, my own fears.

"I don't know how, okay? I am never gonna see him again, so I cannot keep thinking about him. I am not a hopeless romantic like you."

"Good thing." Her voice grinned. "You're hotter than I am. Find him, let him kiss you again, and stop thinking."

I laughed, but my chest still hurt. "I'm trying to work. Got a deadline, and I am not chasing guys."

She hummed, not believing me. "Yeah, right. But when you see him, don't run. You need someone like him to make you feel alive."

My gut twisted, and I rubbed my leg, paint coming off. "I won't see him, it's over." The lie felt heavy, and my body tingled, proving me wrong.

"Whatever." She laughed, something clinking in her glass. "Call me when you're moaning his name again."

I hung up, dropping the phone on the couch. My painting stared back, all hard lines and red, like his world sneaking into mine. I picked up the brush, trying to fix it, but my hand shook thinking of his lips on my neck, his hands finding every spot, making me gasp. Evan hadn't touched me like that in years, but Daniel saw me, wanted me, and I stood him up like a kid. My chest felt tight, stuck between wanting that feeling again and being afraid I'd look dumb.

My body ached, the heat too much, thinking about him. I dropped my brush, my jeans tight, and fell onto the couch, my hand sliding inside my pants. I closed my eyes, picturing his mouth on my tits, his fingers fucking my pussy, making me scream. My fingers rubbed my clit, fast, my breath short as I thought of his hard cock, his deep voice, the way he had made me come so hard I forgot my name. my hips moved, my pussy wet, but I had never felt this way before, so hot.

A knock hit the door, loud, making me jump. My hand stopped, my pulse wild, my body still aching. I stood, paint on my hands, my jeans, trying to breathe. Who was that? Lila didn't just show up, and the twins were at college. I wiped my hands, paint still there, and walked to the door, my heart loud in my ears.

I pulled it open, and there he was.

Daniel stood there, his blond curls messy, eyes stuck on mine, his tight shirt showing his muscles. My breath stopped, my body hot like it knew him. He leaned on the doorframe, grinning, like he could tell I was thinking of him.

"Hey, Sienna," he said, voice low, warm, like he was already pulling me close.

I gasped, my hand tight on the door, my head fighting my body, wanting to shut it but dying to pull him in and let him touch me again.

DANIEL'S POV

I sat in my office, city lights shining through the windows, my phone felt heavy in my hand. Sienna's text from that night kept bugging me. Fun? That's what she called her moans, her pussy wet for my tongue? My dick got hard, thinking of her curves, her laugh, the way she ran like she was ashamed or scared. I wasn't letting her go.

She had given me her name, Sienna Peterson, and her phone number at the restaurant. That was all I needed to find her. I gave my PI all her information to find her, and he had to be fast about it.

The PI was fast, he had checked the number in public records, looked at her social media, and found her freelance design jobs. By noon, he sent me a condo address in Coconut Grove, a small place, not like my fancy house. I stared at it; my chest tight. Why did she ditch me? Was it her age, my money, or something else? She was different, and I was stuck on her, even if I didn't know why she kept running.

I drove to her place that night, Miami's warm air sticking to my skin as I parked outside her building. The condo was little, with palm trees, out front, lights soft. I stood at her door, my fist ready, heart beating fast. What if she shut me out? What if she wasn't alone? My stomach flipped, picturing her with another guy, but I pushed it away. Screw it. I knocked, loud, the sound sharp in the quiet hall.

The door opened, and there she was. Her dark eyes got big, her lips open, paint stain on her cheek like she was working. Her tank top hugged her tits, her jeans tight on her hips, and my body burned, remembering her taste. Shock hit her face, her hand grabbing the door like she might slam it on my face.

"Let me in," I said, voice low, stepping closer.

She blinked, her jaw hard. "You stalking me now?" Her voice was sharp, but her eyes looked at my chest giving her away.

I grinned; eyes still locked on hers. "If finding you after you ditched me is stalking, I'll do it again."

Her cheeks turned red, and she crossed her arms. "Why are you here? I said we're done."

"Why'd you skip our date?" I walked in, slosing the door. Her condo smelled like a paint and coffee, small but cozy, not like my cold house. "You didn't show up at the restaurant, what's going on?"

"That text said why," she shot back.

I smirked. "Seems you aren't good at keeping promises".

She stepped back; her eyes tough. "I'm not your kind, Daniel. I am 42, and a divorcee who's got kids in college, so not your regular chick who is young, poised and good for your kind. Forget me, find someone else."

I laughed, soft, shaking my head. "You still don't get it, Sienna. I want to know you, all of you. All I ask is for you to give me a chance to worship you like you deserve to be worshipped." I touched her arm, my fingers were light, and her breath stopped, a spark hitting us. "Tell me you haven't thought about me. Tell me you forgot about that night, and I'll go."

Her lips shook, her eyes wet, like she was fighting inside. "I haven't thought about it because it was all a mistake and you need to move on."

"You're lying." I cupped her face, my thumb on her cheek, and kissed her, deep. Her lips opened, warm, her tongue meeting mine, needy. "Stop making me go crazy," I growled, my dick hard, pressing into her hip.

She moaned, her hands grabbing my shirt, but her eyes showed fear, like she wanted me but thought she shouldn't. "This is wrong," she whispered, her fingers tight on my back.

"It's not." I kissed her neck, sucking slow, my hands under her tank top, finding her tits, her nipples hard.

She gasped, her head back, her body saying yes while her mind said no. I pulled her top off, her bra next, my mouth found one of the boobs, licking the nipples, sucking till she whimpered. Her hands tore my shirt, buttons popping, and I grinned, loving her want.I pushed her to the couch, her jeans off fast, her pants wet when I touched her.

"Damn, you're ready," I muttered, sliding them off, my fingers rubbing her clit, slow.

She moaned loud, her legs opening, her hands in my hair. I kissed her thighs, my tongue tasting her, circling her clit till she shook.

"Come for me," I said, sucking hard, and she did, her body jerking, her moan loud.

She pulled me up, her hands on my belt, ripping it open.

"Now," she begged, her voice rough, her eyes still torn, like she knew it was a mistake but couldn't stop.

I pushed my pants down, no condom, my dick free. "You sure?" I asked, voice tight, wanting her bad.

"Yes," she gasped, pulling me close. I spread her legs, pushing inside, slow, her wetness tight around my dick, making me groan.

"You feel so good," I said, moving deeper, my hands on her hips. Her nails dug into my back, her legs around me, pulling me in.

"Harder," she moaned, her voice desperate, like she needed to feel something real. I pushed faster, deeper, my mouth on her boobs, sucking her nipples as she called my name. Her body shook, her orgasm hitting, her walls squeezing me. I came hard, groaning into her neck, my breath fast.

We laid there, breathing heavy, her body soft under mine. Her eyes were wet, her hand on my chest, like she was pushing me away and holding on.

"This can't keep happening," she whispered, her voice shaky, her fear clear.

I kissed her forehead, my arm around her. "It will, Sienna. I'm not leaving." My voice was strong, but my chest hurt, knowing she was fighting. I wanted her, everything about her, and I'd keep trying till she saw it.

For now, I held her, her warmth enough, but the question stayed: could I make her believe she was enough, or would she run again?