Too Much, Not Enough, page 1
Too Much, Not Enough
LINDSEY POWELL
Content copyright © Lindsey Powell 2022
Cover design by Wicked Dreams Publishing
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or utilised in any form, or by any electronic or mechanical means, without the prior written permission of the author.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional. Any similarities to other fictional workings, or real persons (living or dead), names, places, and companies is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The right of Lindsey Powell to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents act 1988.
A CIP record of this book is available from the British Library.
Except for the original material written by the author, all mention of films, television shows and songs, song titles, and lyrics mentioned in the novel, Too Much, Not Enough, are the property of the songwriters and copyright holders.
Contents
Note from the author
Books by Lindsey Powell
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
About the Author
Note from the author
Boyfriend’s dad. Forbidden AF.
If what you’re looking for is a cheating element, this isn’t it. But what I can tell you is there will be a whole lot of fucking with some angst thrown in.
And maybe, by the end, you’ll be shedding a tear or two.
So, if smutty dad romance is your thing, hop on in, and welcome to the rollercoaster that is Caleb and Cameron.
And god bless the cereal aisle.
Books by Lindsey Powell
The Perfect Series
Perfect Stranger
Perfect Memories
Perfect Disaster
Perfect Beginnings
The Complete Perfect Series
Part of Me Series
Part of Me
Part of You
Part of Us
Part of Me: Complete Series
Control Duet
Losing Control
Taking Control
Games We Play Series
Checkmate
Poker Face
Dark Roulette
A Valentine Christmas
End Game: A Valentine Wedding
Games We Play Complete Series
Wreck My Heart Series
Wrecking Ball
The Untouchable Brother
Stand-alone
Take Me
Fixation
Don’t Look Back
Too Much, Not Enough
Chapter One
Cameron
We met in the cereal aisle…
I hate food shopping. So boring. And even worse, it’s the day before Easter weekend, meaning everyone needs to buy all the fucking food because shops being closed for just one day seems to be traumatising for them. I’ve heard multiple times disgruntled shoppers saying how outrageous it is that they’ll be shut, and I’ve rolled my eyes at every single one, because, come on, get a goddamn life. But as I make my way around the store, ticking things off my list, I only have one more aisle to go down, and I’ve had to turn the trolley around to go there because even with a bloody list I’ve managed to miss it. Happens every single time. I should really just switch to ordering all of this stuff online.
I huff as I make my way to the cereal aisle to pick up the box of bran my grandmother wants. I adore my grandmother, and if she wants bran, she gets bran, but so God help me as I wade my way through all of the pensioners that seem to want the same thing. There are literally four of them huddled by the box that I need to grab, and they’re all looking at the back of the box as if they’re not in the way and I have all day, like they seem to.
I wait a few minutes, tapping my foot gently and cursing them silently in my head.
“No, Audrey, this isn’t the one,” one of them says as they put the cereal back and pick up another box to study for the next half an hour. Fuck’s sake, I’m going to be late for my meeting.
“Excuse me, please,” I say sweetly, pushing down my annoyance.
Four sets of eyes turn to look at me, and for some reason, it makes me gulp as if I’ve done something wrong.
“Uh, can I just grab that box there,” I say as I point to the motherfucking bran I need.
“Move down, Harry,” one of the women say as they all follow suit and scooch down a tad before their attention goes back to the goddamn box.
My God, if I end up that obsessed over cereal, then just kill me, because clearly I’ve had a cracking life and can accomplish no more if cereal is what it is all about.
I manoeuvre my trolley so it’s not in anyone’s way and reach my arm up for the box of bran, which is on the top shelf. But as I reach for it, so does someone else, and when their hand accidentally covers mine, I feel a jolt shoot through me like nothing I have felt before.
I quickly pull my hand back and turn to see the most delicious looking guy I have ever laid eyes on, and by delicious, I mean fucking scrumptious.
“Sorry,” he says, and oh dear lord, his voice is deep and husky, making my pussy suddenly wake up and tingle. “I didn’t mean to, uh…” His voice trails off as he points to the cereal to explain.
“It’s no problem,” I say, all breathy and shit. My God, I’ve lost the ability to function as his piercing turquoise-coloured eyes look into mine. They’re like the colour of the ocean when it’s clear and beautiful.
“I just didn’t want to upset the crew over there by asking them to move along some more,” he says with a smirk, and I feel my lips pull into a smile. “They take this shit seriously, especially on a Saturday morning,” he continues, and I start to laugh. Hot as fuck and funny… he’s really not making this very fair to other guys.
“Picking cereal is very important,” I say to him quietly, so they don’t overhear me.
“So it seems. I look forward to the day when that is my biggest problem,” he says with that sinfully sexy smirk still gracing his lips. I should just be grabbing what I need and going now, but I can’t pull my eyes from him.
“Listen, I hope you don’t think this is too forward, but… would you like to grab a cup of coffee? Lord knows I need it after the trauma I’ve suffered in here this morning,” he says, and my heart starts to beat a little faster. Coffee? With a stranger?
“I’d love to.” And just like that, shopping in the cereal aisle became my new favourite thing to do on a Saturday morning.
We bonded over coffee…
“You are not thirty-nine,” I say, astounded, because this guy doesn’t look anywhere near to nearly being forty years old.
“Guilty,” he says as he holds his hands up in surrender.
“Wow. I sure don’t remember a time I saw a nearly forty-year-old look as good as… well, you,” I say without thinking. I suddenly hear my words repeating in my head, and I want the ground to swallow me up. Face palm moment.
He laughs, and a few crinkles at the edges of his eyes appear, but they just add to his appeal. Never thought I’d be crushing on a guy who is twenty years my senior, but okay, he’s clearly the exception.
“And at the risk of totally ruining this moment… you gonna tell me your age?” he asks, and I feel mischievous all of a sudden.
“Nope,” I say, popping the ‘p’.
“No?” he asks, to which I simply sip my coffee, hiding my smile behind the rim of the cup. “Hmm, well, I guess in that case, how about dinner tonight? So I can guess your age, of course.”
I don’t even need to think about it.
Whatever is going on here, I want more, and I find myself saying, “Yes.”
And that is how my obsession with Caleb Carter began.
We flirted over dessert…
“Mmm,” I moan as I put a spoonful of the dessert I ordered in my mouth. Crème Brûlée has always been a favourite of mine.
I close my eyes briefly, and when I open them, I see that Caleb looks a little… uncomfortable? He’s shifting in his chair slightly and picking up his beer and taking a long glug.
“You okay over there?” I ask, putting my spoon down and feeling awkward. We’ve been having such a great time until this point, and I can’t understand what changed in the last few seconds.
He grunts before answering and putting his beer
“Doesn’t sound very convincing,” I tell him, as I put another spoonful in my mouth and moan quietly again.
“You need to stop doing that,” he says, his eyes blazing with… something that I dare not think about, because if he’s feeling the way I am then there is a very real possibility that I’m going to jump over this table, straddle him on that chair and fuck his brains out. And then I realise that my moaning is making him hot. The realisation has me doing it again, and this time, as I eat, I keep my eyes trained on his.
“Fuck,” he says on a breath, and I feel butterflies erupt in my stomach.
“If you’ll excuse me,” I say as I pat my mouth with a napkin and stand. “I’m just going to the bathroom.” I don’t wait for a response as I turn and walk away, needing a moment to compose myself and calm my overactive pussy down as it tingles with every step. I can feel his eyes on me until I disappear, and when I get into the ladies’, I take a look at myself in the mirror. My cheeks are flushed and my green eyes sparkle.
I’ve never reacted this way before.
Is this what lust feels like? Because if it is, I want more.
I take a moment to breathe in and out slowly. I take another moment to give myself a pep talk about getting myself together. And I take a final moment to check over my appearance. Cheeks still flushed, eyes still sparkling, and my black dress is hugging my curves in all the right places, falling to mid-thigh and making my breasts look stupendous. I don’t have much cleavage on show, because my legs are my best feature, but the tiny teasing glance from the neckline of the dress doesn’t hurt in the slightest. And the fact that he was getting out of sorts over me eating dessert makes me think that I made the right choice of attire for the evening.
“You’ve got this,” I tell myself in the mirror, and then I move to the door, ready to go back into the restaurant and enjoy the remainder of the evening. I have no idea if tonight will lead to anything more, but I don’t want to think about that for the time being. Live in the moment, Cam, don’t overthink it.
But as I open the door, Caleb’s eyes lock with mine, and then before I can process anything, he’s grabbing me and pushing me against the wall, his face inches from mine as he asks, “How old are you, Cam?”
“Nineteen,” I whisper, giving up the answer that he’s been asking me all night long as his stare penetrates mine. Fuck. My pussy is going crazy, my mind a fog as I get lost in his gaze, and my heart is trying to flee my chest from how hard it’s pounding.
“Do you believe in fate, Cameron?”
“No.”
“Good. Neither do I.” And I have no idea what that has to do with anything, and I don’t even care either, as his lips brush over mine, sending shivers down my spine.
“Is age just a number?” he asks.
“Yes.”
He freezes for a moment, with his lips hovering in front of me. Fucking hell, I need to kiss him, touch him before I spontaneously combust.
“You wanna get out of here?” he asks, and it’s like music to my ears. Best question ever.
“Like you wouldn’t believe,” I tell him, taking the lead and pushing my lips to his ever so gently. I hear the low growl as he grabs my hand and leads me from the restaurant.
We fucked like our lives depended on it…
“Oh my God,” I scream, when his thumb finds my clit and sends explosions through my body as I jump up and down on his dick.
We didn’t make it to the bedroom, and instead, we stripped each other’s clothes off in his hallway, he spread me wide on his dining table and ate my pussy like he was a starved man, and now I’m riding him hard on a dining table chair.
And this is only round one.
I’m hoping for a round two, possibly a round three and four, because this man knows just what to do. There has been no fumbling, no pretending, no fake-arse moaning. Each and every moan has been real and unforced, and I’m hoping that by the time I leave here that I can barely walk.
His other hand is gripping my hip as I slam down on him again and again.
“Fuck, Cameron,” he moans, and even the way he says my name turns me on. His mouth finds my nipple and his teeth bite before his tongue soothes away the sting.
And all of the sensations have me barrelling over the edge, my pussy squeezing his cock harder as I come.
“Caleb,” I groan as he roars his release, both of his hands now on my hips, moving me faster. I don’t know how much more I can take—everything feels like too much and not enough all at once. But then he starts to slow and captures my mouth with his in a gentle kiss, which is a complete contrast to how we just fucked.
He stands and I wrap my legs around his waist, his cock still in me, my hands linking around his neck as he starts to move. I don’t care where we’re going, and I’m too preoccupied with his mouth to even break the kiss and take a look.
But then I’m being laid on my back on a soft surface, with Caleb’s body on top of mine. His bed. At least, I presume it’s his bed.
And there, we engage in round two, and three.
And that was the start of our four-week fling. A fling that would stay with me for a long time and ended up being so much more.
We both knew that it was the beginning of the end…
“Caleb, what are you doing?” I ask in horror.
“It has to be this way,” he says, and I jump up from my seat and move over to him, placing both of my hands on his cheeks.
“No, it doesn’t,” I say firmly, my heart on the verge of actually breaking.
“Yes, Cameron, it does. We can’t do this anymore,” he says as he shrugs my hands off of him and walks around me, putting distance between us physically.
“Why the hell not? Because you’ve suddenly had an epiphany about my age?” I say, my voice raised and my anger rising to the surface.
“You’re the same age as my son, Cam,” he says, but I am ready with my response.
“And you knew that I was younger than you when you fucked me the first time and when you asked me for coffee,” I fire back, because what the hell has changed since then?
I glare at him, and I can see that he’s struggling with doing this. He doesn’t want this to stop, and neither do I.
“Come on, Caleb, we’re good together, you know we are,” I tell him, feeling despair wash through me.
He stares at me, minutes tick by, and then I see the shutters coming down, closing me out. His eyes have always been so expressive with me, and now they’re shutting me out.
I shake my head and drop my eyes to the floor, closing them for a second.
I’ve already fallen for him. This can’t be it. It just can’t be…
But it was.
The whirlwind four weeks we had together was over.
And considering we hadn’t known each other for long, it fucking hurt.
I’ve felt pain in my life—the passing of my parents being the worst. But losing Caleb showed me a new pain. I didn’t lose him because he was taken from me. I didn’t lose him because of an act of God where I couldn’t do anything to save him. No. I lost him because he made a choice.
He chose to leave me.
He gave up what was between us to save face—at least, that’s how I see it.
His pathetic excuse of age did nothing to quell the anger that festered inside of me for weeks. It did nothing to stop me from crying into my pillow night after night as I tried to get over him. The nights when my grandmother would hear me and come into my room and embrace me until I had cried myself to sleep. I told her about him, she didn’t judge, and she just did as much as she could to help me get past this life experience.
