Page 58 of Center Ice
“Drew,” she pants, “fucking get inside me now.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I hold her hips and line myself up with her entrance. And as I slide into her, stretching her fully, I lean forward and our mouths crash together. This is no gentle kiss, it’s the longing we’ve both felt for days coming to fruition. The sliding of her tongue against mine, the growl that rattles around in my throat, the way her breasts press against my chest as her pussy swallows me until I’m seated fully inside her, it feels like I’m being given a surprise gift.
And then I’m lost to the feeling, the emotions, as our bodies meet over and over. The way her ass flexes in my hands, the feel of her nails digging into my shoulders, the way her breasts bounce every time I enter her fully, the way her eyes roll backand her lips part when I hit deep inside her, the way her teeth sink into her lower lip.
I wrap one arm under her hips and push her back into the wall for leverage so I can use my other hand to pull the sheer lace of her bra down on both sides. The way the fabric cups her breasts from beneath, pushing them together, has my balls tightening. I lean down and capture one of her nipples in my mouth, sucking on it hard enough that she gasps, and then using my tongue to roll over her nipple gently, soothing it. But the contact also seems to stoke something inside her, because she slams her hips into me faster and harder than before.
“You like this?”
“Fuck yes,” she says, and I love seeing this uninhibited side of her. She’s all-business at work, and in total mom mode whenever Graham is around, so I feel like I’m seeing a whole other aspect of her personality that few other people have ever seen. I love how in touch she is with what she wants and needs.
I latch my mouth onto her other breast, and her hips thrust erratically. Moving my other hand back down, I hold her on both sides where her thighs meet her ass, and I slam into her until she’s chanting “Yes!” repeatedly.
She clenches around me tightly, and the tingling starts at the base of my spine. I need her to come now, so that I don’t finish before she does. I lift my head and look at her, at the way her cheeks are rosy and her lips are swollen and her eyes are glassy.
I lean back a bit so my upper body doesn’t block her view. “Look at how beautiful you look, taking my cock so well,” I say, my voice insistent as she looks down to where I’m entering her. “Now I want to feel you come like a good girl.”
The groan that leaves her mouth is part pain, part pleasure. “I can’t just come on demand?—”
I swallow her protests with a kiss as my entire body presses hers against the wall, our chests scraping against each other andmy body rubbing against her clit as I hold her hips in place and rail her into the wall. And in less time than it takes me to realize this is by far the best sex I’ve ever had with anyone, she’s coming on my cock, her muscles squeezing me rhythmically so that there’s no way I could hold back even if I wanted to. And as I pour everything I have into her, into this moment, I’m left absolutely dumbfounded. Because Audrey is everything I didn’t know I wanted, and I’m not sure I can live without her now she’s back in my life.
Chapter Twenty-Six
AUDREY
Ifollow Drew into his childhood home, trying not to think too hard about whatthisall means—the mind-bending sex we had earlier today, the way he came to school pickup with me and Graham’s elated reaction to finding Drew in the passenger seat, the fact that Drew took Graham to the park and to get hot chocolate afterward so I could do the work I’d neglected while he gave me multiple orgasms, and the way he drove my SUV out here with me in the passenger seat and Graham in the back seat.
It all feels too…relationship-like. And Drew already made it clear that he can’t be in a relationship right now. But then he told me that this physical aspect of our relationship means everything, and that there’s no way he could ever grow tired of me. So now I’m just feeling confused—is this just a physical relationship, or is it more?
We clearly need to talk, and I’m hoping maybe we can do that tonight, after Graham goes to bed.
“Hey, Mom!” Drew calls out as he walks through the back door with me and Graham on his heels.
“Drew!” She sounds surprised that he’s here.
We follow him through the kitchen and into the living room, where she’s sitting on the couch watching a show. She’s smallerthan I’d have imagined, given Drew’s imposing size, and her light brown hair that was probably the same shade as Drew’s and Graham’s is now streaked with grey. The fine lines around her eyes and mouth make me think she spent a lot of her life smiling, but her lips turn down at the corners now. When she notices us with Drew, her eyebrows shoot up, then she puts one frail hand on the couch next to her and one on the arm of it, and stands slowly.
“Mom, this is Audrey,” he says, putting his hand on my lower back and guiding me in front of him. Her eyes fly to my hip, where he’s rested his hand. “She’s the architect that I told you I was bringing by to take some measurements so we can make some adjustments to help you get around better.”
She looks at me with interest, which I’m guessing has more to do with the way her son’s fingers are curled around my hip, rather than my profession. I’m tempted to swat his hand away, but I think that would make things more obvious.
“It’s nice to meet you, Audrey,” she says, and then looks down at Graham. “And who do we have here?”
“This is my son, Graham,” I tell her.
“I’m five, and I’m in kindergarten,” he says. It’s impossible to forget how he said those exact words to Drew a few weeks ago. “How old are you?”
Drew’s mom bursts out laughing, and it’s a welcome sight. Next to me, I feel Drew relax, even though he grips my hip even more possessively than before.
“I’m a lot older than five. But I love hanging out with five-year-olds. I used to be a kindergarten teacher.”
“You did?” Graham asks, his voice full of the awe that kids reserve for situations when they see a teacher in the wild. I glance at Drew because I had no idea his mom had been a teacher. I know almost nothing about his family, and eventhough I’ve been curious at times, I never wanted to pry. But she seems open and friendly, so maybe it wouldn’t be prying?
“I did. Do you like reading stories?” she asks.
“Yes, but I don’t know how to read them myself yet. Except board books, I read those to my little cousins, Iris and Ivy.”
I don’t correct him, because even though he knows that reading is different than telling a story you’ve memorized, I love that he wants to read to Lauren’s twins.
