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Rhys
It’s just before six when my dad drops me off at Simon’s mansion. I skip up the path, ready for some dick eating when I come face to face with his mum.
“Rhys. Nice to see you again.” Her smile is as fake as fuck as she eases the oversized white door open, gesturing for me to enter their foyer.
I’m normally good with parents. I can befriend them easily and divert their attention so my friends can knick booze from behind their back. Unfortunately, that’s way different from meeting the parents of the boys I’m riding. Especially since this particular parent has seen me pressed up against her son’s body, both of us naked and covered in cherry pie, while sitting on her kitchen counter.
I offer a matching fake smile to Simon’s mum, stepping over the threshold into the stale, air-conditioned house. Simon rarely has it running, so I guess things have changed now that his mum is back in town.
“Hi, Mrs Hastings. It’s nice to see you again.”
“Please call me Sandra. I no longer use Hastings.” Her words are kind yet firm. Like if I dare to call her Mrs Hastings again, she might slap me.
“Really, mum? You couldn’t just stop at Sandra?” Simon’s disappointed tone gains my attention as Sandra closes the door, and a glare I’m not used to seeing him wear is directed at his mum.
“There’s no point in beating around the bush, Simon. Your father and I are getting divorced. It's best you get used to that idea now and save yourself the denial.”
Ouch. She's a harsh bitch. Maybe I'll slap her instead.
Simon doesn’t respond to his mum, not verbally, anyway. His glare is screaming a thousand words I’m sure she doesn’t want to hear come from her child’s mouth, so I try to run interference. I’m good at that.
“Something smells delicious.”
The cold hazel gaze of Simon’s mum moves to me, and this time, she can’t help but look me up and down. Granted, I came dressed for easy access. I wasn’t expecting Simon’s Mumma bear to be here again. Why? Because the cow is never around. I guess things have changed since his olds decided to part ways.
I decided to stir things up tonight when I chose my outfit, and I went with a classic leopard print dress. It’s not my usual jam, but I look fucking hot in the tight little mini number from Charlotte’s wardrobe, barely covering my arse and wrapping over my curves like a glove.
Whoops. Wrong outfit for a family dinner. That’s what I think until Simon’s eyes turn to me, softening and relaxing his shoulders instantly.
“That would be the cherry pie we are having for dessert.” Simon approaches me, placing his hands on my hips and leaning in to kiss my cheek.
My heart does a little flip, and I glance at Sandra over Simon’s shoulder, who rolls her eyes behind his back.
“I thought you two would have had your fill of cherry pielast time.” Sandra throws the little dig at us as she passes by and leaves the foyer, but not before I show her my shit-eating grin.
Fuck it. She’s being a bitch to my man. She deserves it.
“You look good enough to eat, Cherry.” Running his hands over the curve of my hip, Simon steps back to take me in. “Fucking delectable.”
“You look pretty appetising yourself, Sy.” Running my hands over the front of his crisp black collared shirt, I feel his pecs tighten and his nipples harden. “And you smell divine.” I lean in, pressing my nose close to the exposed skin of his chest, where he has deliberately left a couple of buttons undone.
Tease.
“Shit, Cherry. Now I’m hard.”
I pull back, grinning up into Simon’s wild hazel gaze as I slide my hand down between our bodies until I come into contact with the hard, straining length of his cock under his jeans.
“This is all I want for dinner.” My voice is breathy as I stand on my tiptoes, reaching my lips to his. Meeting me halfway, we both moan as our mouths connect, hot lips and tongues nipping at each other before diving deeper for more.
“I want you.” He pants into my mouth, digging his fingers into my hips and pulling me closer. “Is a quickie out of the question?”
“Where?” I pant, hitching my leg and grinding Kitty against his hard bulge.
“Simon, dinner will be ready in ten minutes,” Sandra calls down the hall, and Simon breaks our connection, pulling back, panting, lips swollen, eyes molten as he takes me in.
“Upstairs.” He slaps my butt. “Quick!”
I have no time to respond before he’s tugging my hand and pulling me along behind him, up the curving staircase and onto the second story. I haven’t been in Simon’s room before, so I have no idea if that’s even where we are going. We pass door after door in the wide passage until we reach the end. Shoving a door open, Simon drags me inside and slams it behind me. Before I can figure out where we are, Simon pushes me against the wall and slams his lips to mine.
