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By the time she’s worked me all the way in, she’s trembling against me again. I grab her hips and pull her close, delighted by the feel of her on me. She works in little circles, not too fast to start. Her breathy moans catch my soul. “James?”
“Yes?”
“Are you okay?”
That question stops me from moving with her. “Yes. Are you?”
“Yeah, it’s just…you’re being so gentle.”
“I didn’t want to hurt you.”
She smiles deviously. “I can take it.”
“You’re sure about that?”
“Give it to me.”
Oh. It’s on.
I flip her onto her back, staying inside of her, and I move faster with longer strokes than before. She clutches onto me with her arms and legs and whines, “Yes, that’s it!” It only makes me work her harder, and soon, our bodies smack together on each thrust. Something about this woman unhinges me. I hook my hands over the top of her shoulders from underneath, pinning her to me. Her cries are sharp until she snaps, “Oh my god, don’t stop!”
“Never!” I vow.
When she comes, she loses control. Her body jerks against me like she’s rattling, and I have to hang on to keep her on me. I can’t hold back anymore, and I keep at her, kissing and eating her orgasmic moans. Feeling all of that drives me over the edge, and I join her there.
The last thought of the night puts me to sleep. At least I know I set my alarm, and I won’t miss my flight, because this girl knocked me out.
-
Present Day
5
Aria
“Cereal today?” I ask, hoping.
“Maw-awm-my!” he whines my title into three syllables.
I know that tone and pop the freezer door open. “Chicken nuggets are not a normal breakfast.” But at least they’re fast. Owen doesn’t even like them baked. Two minutes in the microwave, and breakfast is served.
“I don’t care if it’s normal. It tastes good.”
I snatch one from his plate and nibble it with my coffee. Not a delicious combination, but I’ve had worse. To supplement the nugget, I pop down some toast for myself. It’s not as though I’m killing it on the nutrition angle, but I force a salad down once a day to help. As far as my son is concerned, I take solace knowing his lunch has vegetables he will eat. Dinner is likely to be a snack plate again—olives, almonds, cheese, and grapes. He’s on a streak lately. Could be worse. Last year, it was nuggets at every meal.
Once breakfast is gobbled down, we rush through the little two-bedroom condo we’ve called home since Owen was one. It’s close enough to Billingsley Academy that I don’t have to drive unless the weather is bad, and that saves on wear and tear on my old sedan. Plus, it’s nice to get a little exercise.
Why do I smell burning?
“Mommy! Smoke!”
Racing back to the kitchen, I find the toast I’d set down for myself is now charcoal. It had gotten stuck when it tried to pop up, and there goes the rest of my breakfast. After trying and failing to pry the blackened bread out of the machine, I give up and unplug the thing. No time for all that at the moment. It goes in the sink for now. “Good catch.”
“Please don’t set us on fire.”
I laugh and shake my head. “I know you’ve been paranoid since the firefighters came to school, but sweetie, it’s not that easy to set the house on fire with a toaster.” Hopefully.
“They said it’s easier than you think. That anything that plugs into the wall can make a fire.”
