With my eyes closed, I can still smell him, all around me. His scent has taken over my bed, but now it’s more than just his masculine vanilla sweetness making my mouth water. It’s the smell of us, together. Sex swims around me, invading my senses. Not just any sex, either…
Gay sex. What on earth is this, and how have I never known how mesmerizing it could be until now?
I know Jesse’s not in the bed. He spent all last night nestled up against me, all soft skin and silky hair, curves of taut muscle, and warm breaths brushing my chest.
We both fell asleep shortly after we came, making no attempt to clean up our mess or clothe ourselves. No breaking the spell by slipping back into reality.
This dreamland is much more satisfying.
I woke up a few times in the night to make sure he was still here. And I couldn’t help myself… My hands traveling all over him, petting him sensually, treasuring him.
I still know it’s wrong. I’m not a total psycho. I’m fully aware that we crossed a detrimental line, and there’s no hopping back over it. But I can’t deny that I’m settled now…
The inner itch is gone. And it’s as wonderful as it is baffling.
Was this what I needed all along?
To sleep with my adoptive son??
Pulling my pillow over my head, I groan beneath it. The things I said to him last night… Lost in the heat of the moment. I called myself Daddy…
Jesus Christ, I really am sick.
I’m balancing on a tight rope, between my self-loathing over my actions, and an odd acceptance of them. Part of me just wants to give in to it.
The other part knows this won’t end well.
Maybe if I knew where Jesse stood, it would help me determine my next move. Last night, he told me he doesn’t want anyone else…
Was he just saying that because he was turned on and wanted to fuck? Or God forbid… because I’d made him feel like that was what I wanted?
As fucked up as this all is, I couldn’t live with myself knowing I’d coerced him into something so twisted. If I groomed him in any type of way, I’ll chop my own balls off and let myself bleed out.
Rolling out of bed, I pull my sweatpants on and head downstairs. Fuck showering for right now.
I need to see him. I need to get a read on him, and make sure he’s okay.
I half expect to find him cowering in a corner somewhere, hugging his knees to his chest and rocking like the victim of an assault.
But that’s not what’s happening.
When I turn the corner to the kitchen, I’m hit with multiple surprising sensations. Christmas music playing on a speaker across the room. The smell of even more baked goods, which isn’t out of the ordinary in this house. But still, I hadn’t expected it at six in the morning.
And then there’s him.
My kid, whom I’m now appraising as gorgeous and sexy, standing by the counter, mixing something in a bowl. He’s wearing the apron I got him, and some fitted yellow boxer briefs with bananas on them.
That’s it.
Biting my lip, I can’t even comprehend the sight of how those ridiculous things hug the curve of his perfect ass. Or why I’m suddenly lusting after the ass of a man… A much younger one. One who also happens to be my son.
Wanna kill an erection quick? Remember changing the diapers of the person you’re ogling when he was a baby.
Yea, that’ll do it.
But even so, when he turns to face me, wearing a beaming smile and a stupid apron I bought him with the cartoon illustration of a muscular torso, honey-colored eyes shimmering and light hair all tousled about, it brings the throb back to my balls post-haste. And my chest.
I guess I’m more fixated on who he is now than what I remember of him as a child, which is a very fucking good thing for my sanity.
“Hey,” he chirps, chomping down on his lower lip to stifle his eager grin, though I can read the excitement on his face.
He’s not depressed or tortured over what we did.
He’s happy.
“Hey,” I mumble, shifting my weight back and forth.
I’m so out of my element right now. All I want is to go to him, touch him some more, kiss those plush lips and hold his firm body against mine until he melts right into me.
I’m awestruck at this craving I have for him now. Where did it come from? Did it just pop up out of nowhere, or was it always there, and it only just made itself known?
Glancing at his newest creation, I note a couple familiar ingredients. “Pumpkin pie?”
“Yes, honey bunch?” He smirks, then cackles out loud at the look on my face. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist. No, it’s your favorite.”
“Ah,” I sigh, waltzing closer to observe. “Blueberry.”
“Mhm.” He spins back to his task. “With the brown-sugar toasted pecans.”
“Yummy,” I murmur, moving up behind him.
He peeks over his shoulder and lifts a brow. “Very.”
I stop myself before I can attack, fingers twitching at my sides with the need to grip that luscious booty. I can’t stop remembering how fucking mind-blowing it felt to pump into him last night… His tight body squeezing the life out of my cock. The sight of it alone is burned into my brain forever… Watching myself disappear inside him.
Jesus… I’ll never need to watch porn again as long as I’m alive.
And I’m momentarily stunned at how stiff my dick is becoming at the pictures in my head. Stroking his long cock, touching his balls. Pushing deep into his warm, snug little ass.
Am I straight? Because seriously, I couldn’t pick boobs out of a lineup right now.
“Are you going to touch me?” His voice startles me out of my head. I blink at him as he pushes his butt out. “The waiting is driving me a little nuts.”
Letting out a ragged breath, I reach forward and grab his hips, yanking him into me until his perfect ass is on my crotch. My erection is already standing tall, fighting against the material of my sweats. Jesse leans back, melding his back with my chest and resting his head on my shoulder, showing me the slope of his throat.
His Adam’s apple dips, and my teeth set with the desire to suck and bite him there. His pale flesh would look so good decorated in some purple marks.
How am I suddenly a teenager again??
Dropping my mouth forward, I tease his neck with my lips until he’s shivering, gripping the countertop in front of him while he grinds his butt on my erection.
“Are you okay?” I breathe my question on his sweet skin, tongue sneaking out to taste him. “I mean… with everything that happened?”
“Oh, I’m more than okay,” he rumbles, reaching for one of my hands and bringing it around front… to his cock. “I’m living the dream.”
I can’t help but chuckle. “Jess, I’m being serious. I need to know that I didn’t like… force you into anything last night.”
He pauses his movements, peeking up at me. Then he spins to face me, resting his butt against the counter and folding his arms over his chest. “Did it seem like you forced me into it?”
I gape at him for a moment before shaking my head. “No… not really.”
“Not at all,” he argues, head cocked to the side. “James, this might come as a bit of a shock to you, but what happened last night… I’ve been wanting it for a while.”