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“Spread your legs a little wider,” I say, my eyes wandering down her back, admiring the adorable heart-shaped ass in front of me.
She moves her knees apart. “Like this?”
With one hand on her hip, I guide my cock with the other. “Yes,” I breathe, her sweet lips hugging my tip. I glide it between them, enjoying the pleasant shiver that dances along her spine before I enter her again.
Dana flinches, her grip tightening on the headboard. I place both hands on her sides, holding her steady as I fuck her. She takes it, her pussy so slick and deep and… tight.
“Goddamn, Dana.”
“What?” she asks, twisting to look at me over her shoulder.
“I didn’t think you could get any tighter.”
She giggles with pleasure. “Connor?”
“Hm?” I ask, barely able to speak at all.
“What lesson is anal?”
My cock leaps inside of her. “What?”
A car door slams outside. It’s loud enough to trigger my attention. It’s loud enough that it could come from nowhere but from the driveway directly beneath my window.
I look outside, my heart already leaping into my throat. “Oh, shit,” I say when I see it.
Dana freezes beneath me. “What?"
I pull out so I can move and get a better view of the driveway. That’s my father’s car, all right. And that’s him getting out of it. “My parents are home.”
“What?”
The passenger side door opens, too. My mother steps out and closes it behind her. I focus on her face, on her downturn eyes, and I know there’s something wrong.
Dana has twisted free of the sheets and joins me by the window with one hand holding said sheet against her breasts. “Oh, shit,” she repeats. “I thought they were gone until Saturday.”
“They were supposed to be.”
Another car arrives in the driveway, and we duck our heads a bit to stay out of sight.
Dana gasps. “That’s my dad’s truck.”
Panic squeezes in my gut. Getting caught by my parents is one thing, but if John freakin’ Kirby comes in here and finds me with his daughter…
I’m already off the bed in search of my phone. It rests on the floor, sticking halfway out of the back pocket of my jeans. Silent mode.
“Seven missed calls,” I read. “Three from Dad. Four from Mom.”
“Connor.”
“What?”
“Connor.”
Something in her voice draws me back. I return to the window, following the concern in her eyes to the scene in the driveway.
Her mother wraps her arms around mine, a warm and comforting embrace between friends. Our fathers talk with shadowed expressions, their voices too low for us to hear. Alex and Ben stand near them, their jawlines held firm.
“What happened?” Dana whispers.
