“I’m looking forward to using some of them on you.” He put down his mug and guided her hands to do the same before tugging her hand and bringing her around the table to him. He eased her onto his lap, straddling him, her bare legs dangling on either side of his as his hardening dick nestled at the apex of her thighs.
Strands from her messy top knot fell loosely around her face as she dipped her head to kiss him. Looping her arms around his neck, she shifted her weight, pressing her hips against his as she leaned into the kiss.
His fingertips skimmed along the length of her legs, before he cupped her hips and pulled her against him. She moved her pelvis, grinding against his erection, eliciting a moan from him between kisses, and he slid his hands to her ass, squeezing her cheeks as she moved.
“Clare…what…about…Lola…?”
She didn’t stop. In fact she rode harder. The damp heat through her panties against his crotch drove him wild. He needed to be inside her. Bracing her against him, he stood, and she shrieked, gripping him tighter.
He placed her on the kitchen counter, tugging her by her ankles until her ass met the ledge. It wasn’t the perfect height for him to fuck her, but they could make it work. He reached into his boxers and freed his cock, pumping it twice without taking his eyes off hers.
“Look at what you do to me, Ceecee.”
When her eyes didn’t stray from his face, he repeated himself. “Look, Clare.” A droplet of precum squeezed out his slit as he pumped his dick again.
Lust clouded her eyes as she nibbled on her bottom lip.
“Are you wet for me?”
“You know I am.” Her breathless answer, her heaving chest, her pinking skin, her spread legs and her wandering fingers towards her pink panties… He couldn’t wait another second to be inside her.
Lola be damned. He didn’t care if she got a bird’s eye view of his bare ass as he fucked Clare on the kitchen counter.
The front door slammed. “Mom, we’re home!”
Thathe cared about.
“Shit!” Clare slid off the counter, bonking her head against his as she dismounted, narrowly missing his stiff-as-a-rod hard on. That wouldn’t have been fun for him.
Face pale, eyes wide, she shrugged.
“I’ll go get dressed,” he told her. “Be right back. Try not to panic.”
She nodded.
“Want me to climb out your bedroom window and shimmy down the drainpipe?”
“Mom? Is that Elliott’s car outside?” Cat’s singsong voice echoed around the kitchen.
Too late, he was busted. Climbing out the window wouldn’t make a damn bit of difference at this point.
“I’m going to put pants on.” He pecked her forehead and bolted for the stairs taking them two at a time. He pulled a pair of jeans from his overnight bag before collecting the scattered remnants of his tux and cramming them in his bag.
His hair stood up at all angles, but at least he was clothed and his protesting dick was behind denim bars.
Was this what it was like to have kids? Cock blocking little shits. Next time he’d make sure to carry Clare to a room that had a lock on the door so their arrival back home wouldn’t matter.
He was pretty sure he could get them both off quickly enough if the need arose. He just needed to be more aware of the possibility for disruption. He felt bad for getting Clare worked up and leaving her hanging.
Maybe he’d call her later tonight and they’d get off on the phone again. Or maybe he’d sneak over after dark and fuck her against the side of her house. Or maybe—
“Eli, you want pancakes?” Clare’s voice carried up the stairs.
Did bears shit in the woods? Pancakes were his love language. “Please!”
As he stepped out into the hallway, he tugged the bedroom door closed behind him. Mason stood at the top of the stairs, arms folded, grin firmly on his face. “You’re dating my mom.” His whisper carried hope and excitement. For some reason Elliott had expected anger and resentment.
Had she told him they were dating? If he confirmed it, would she fillet his kidneys and feed them to the neighbourhood cats? Fuck. Why hadn’t he paused for just a fucking minute to check their story before bolting upstairs to cover his goddamn junk?
