Air went sharply in through his clenched teeth, like a reversed hiss. His shoulders shuddered with pleasure when I awkwardly pumped my hand on him, making him throb. It was a tight fit inside his shorts, and I wanted them gone. I needed to touch every inch of him and revel at what we’d both been denied for so long.
“Get these off,” I demanded.
“Yes, ma’am.” His grin made him look impossibly young and even more attractive.
I’d never seen a guy get naked so quickly, and the second he was, I couldn’t control myself. I clasped both hands around his dick.
“Shit,” he groaned while my fists slid back and forth in steady strokes.
I squeezed even harder. “Is this for me?”
In response, he nudged his hips forward, essentially fucking my hands, and brought his mouth right beside my ear. “Every . . . last . . . inch.”
His words were like a drummer slapping his drumsticks together to set the tempo for the opening song. There was no going back now, and we let the rush of performing carry us away.
I scrambled to unhook the clasp at the back of the bodysuit and pull down the straps. I wanted to be as naked as he was, but it was awkward trying to get the lingerie off while I hopped down.
“What are you—” he started, but I grabbed his shoulders and spun him around, pushing him back against the counter. He threw out his hands to brace himself, and it sent the silver dish full of decorative lemons flying. The fake food bounced and rolled, while the dish clattered loudly to the floor.
But Troy didn’t pay any attention to it.
His focus was fixated on me as I dropped my knees to the expensive tile floor I’d let his mother talk me into.
Oh, God. His mother.
I forced her from my mind and focused on what I was desperate for. I was out of my mind and selfish with lust.
“I want you in my mouth,” I said.
He’d given me so much pleasure, I was eager to return the favor. I curled my fingers around his hard cock, parted my lips, and took him inside my mouth. I’d only slid down a few inches on him before he began to thrust, and he wasn’t gentle either.
He was . . . urgent.
Like he’d waited his whole damn life and wasn’t going to waste another second.
The deep stroke of him between my lips was sexy and it caused fireworks to spark between my thighs. The steady thump of his hips crashing against the cabinets as he fucked my mouth, punctuated the quiet of the kitchen, rising over his gasps for air.
We would look insane if anyone were to walk in on us like this. For a single breath, I considered Clark showing up unannounced and witnessing Troy pinned against the kitchen counter, me on my knees and his dick in my mouth. It was scandalous. Shockingly out of character for me, and—shit—it was freeing.
But the thought vanished as quickly as it had arrived, evaporating as Troy moaned.
Was it really wrong, the two of us together? We were consenting adults who clearly enjoyed what they were doing. And I’d spent my whole life always doing the right thing, and what had it gotten me? A broken, sexless marriage, followed by an expensive and messy divorce.
No more.
I was reinventing myself, and what I was doing now with Troy helped to build the new version of Erika Graham. She was a woman who’d blow a guy half her age in her kitchen in the middle of the day. She was wild and unleashed. And she had no qualms about asking for what she wanted sexually.
This blowjob was murder on my knees, but so fucking worth it.
“Fuck,” he said through tight teeth, “that feels so good.”
I stared up at him as I bobbed my head, letting my tongue roll and cartwheel over his sensitive tip. His eyes were heavy, and his chest rose and fell rapidly with his hurried breath. God, he was so hot, it wasn’t even fair.
His thrusts stopped, but I kept up the tempo. He buried a hand in my hair at the back of my neck, probably wanting to ease me back and slow me down. But he’d unlocked a secret part of me and set it free, and the feral creature I became was desperate to give him satisfaction.
I rocked on my knees, sliding my fist along the length of him in time with my mouth.
There was panic in his voice. “Erika, I’m close.”
I set my free hand on his hip, telling him I wanted this. I tightened my grip on his cock, twisting on each stroke, and gave a hum of approval.
He’d been fighting the urge, trying to hold off, but I made it impossible, and he gave in seconds later. His thrusts resumed, and he pushed deep into my mouth.
“I’m gonna . . .” he gasped. “Fuck. Fuck.”
I froze in place as his movements became shallow and erratic, and the grip in my hair tightened to the point it was uncomfortable, but that only turned me on more.
“Fuck,” he moaned again.
Every rhythmic flex of him filled my mouth as the orgasm surged through, one pulse after another. I swallowed immediately, and that action made him shudder. When he finally stopped throbbing, I retreated.
He was leaning back on his arms, slumped against the counter as he continued to catch his breath, and he gaped at me like he wasn’t sure if I was real. Or if what we’d done had really happened.
Emotion suddenly reared inside me, filling me with alarm. It was so overwhelming, I couldn’t tell if I was about to laugh or cry. So, I did neither. I knelt at his feet and stared at him with wonder.
Dear lord, he stole my breath. His face was glossy with sweat, and his heartbeat seemed to be pulsing in the side of his neck. He gazed at me with satisfaction, but also with a touch of embarrassment, like a student about to admit he hadn’t done his assignment.
I was buzzing, and my warm voice reflected my dreamy state. “What is it?”
His gaze shifted away. “That was over a lot sooner than I wanted it to be.”
If anyone should have been embarrassed, it was me. I’d ruined our chances for anything else. “I know,” I said. “I’m sorry. I was enjoying myself and got carried away.”
He laughed like what I’d said was amazing. He bent and grasped my arms, helped me to my feet, and then pulled me close. “I need fifteen minutes,” he said softly, “and I’ll be ready again.”
“What?”
The corner of his mouth lifted into a sultry smile, and his confidence returned faster than the snap of his fingers. “If you want to go down on me again,” he drawled, “I bet I could be ready in ten.”
Erika
I stared at the red bodysuit in a heap on the floor as the air conditioner kicked on. I was right under a vent, and when I shivered, Troy walked to my robe, picked it up, and held it out for me to put on.
And when that was done, he gently grasped my face and kissed me, dropping a quick series of playful pecks before growing more serious. His tenderness was disorienting. He was young and supposed to be inexperienced, yet he knew exactly what I needed.
His hand slid down my neck and inside the robe, cupping a breast, and heat began to pool inside my center. He thought he’d need ten minutes, but my body was ready whenever he was. I was dressed in my robe, but he made no effort to put on his clothes.
“You’re still naked,” I whispered.
He grinned lazily. “You noticed that, huh?”
It should have felt uncomfortable and awkward . . . but it didn’t. It had to be him. He had no problem being alone with me in my house—which he’d never stepped foot inside before—and being here sans clothes, he acted like it was perfectly natural.