Blondie begins that scream again, but this time I reach up and shove two fingers into her mouth, holding them there for her to suck—and to shut her the fuck up. My ears fill with moans, slaps, licks, and wet kisses, and it’s a heady combo. So much better.
Mr. Trent approves.
The door clicks open, a stream of daylight pouring into an otherwise darkened room. A throat clears behind us but I’m not stopping now. With Thing One and Thing Two so close to falling over the edge of orgasmic bliss and myself not far behind, I can’t chance a glare over the shoulder to tell our cleaning crew to come back later to vacuum. At least, I think it’s cleaning day. God, who cares. The only sucking going down in this room is my mouth on pussy.
Speaking of life’s delicacies. I suck, groan, and flick my tongue over her clit, and am rewarded with a flood of juices. Her screams aren’t faked or forced this time, they’re every bit full of the orgasm that shakes her entire body.
“Trenton William Donavan. You put your pants on right this minute.”
Shit.
Nothing kills a boner like Mom walking in—fucking shit—and I was so close, too. Blondie turns, meets my mom’s glare, and rushes to wrap her hands modestly over her tits and crotch.Ouch.In her haste she misses and slaps my face.
The one on my dick is still chasing her release and doesn’t seem to care we have a visitor. Not that I should be surprised. She was the one who gave me her digits with the promise of a threesome.
“Come on, ladies. Off you go.”
I slap the ass of the one still hovering over my face and she scrambles off the couch.
“Trenton, I expected so much more from you.” Momtsks and shakes her head.
I reach for my pants to pull up over my hips. “I don’t know why,” I tease over my shoulder. “I’m assuming you interrupted my fun for more than just a scolding.” I shove my semi erect junk inside and zip up my jeans before turning to meet her stare.
“Bedo’s on his way. Band meeting downstairs in fifteen.” She blows out a breath and shakes her head, taking in the two women who are slowly righting themselves into a state of dress. When she meets my gaze again her eyes are hard, disappointed. But what’s new?
“Fifteen minutes. That’s enough time ... Can you come back?” I bat my eyes and hold my hands together in mock prayer. She rolls her eyes because she knows I’m only joking—mostly.
“Trent, baby,” Blondie sidles up to my right and strokes her nails from my bare chest to the front of my jeans. She wouldn’t know I am joking and thinks she has a shot at getting back at it. My dick kicks painfully against the tight fabric of my pants with the tease.
“Trenton, so help me God, I will not wait outside while you get a blow job!” My mom scolds, and I almost feel a sliver of guilt. Sometimes I wonder how she puts up with my shenanigans. How she always has. She’s cool, a great mom, and I get my sense of humor from her. Maybe that’s how she survives in a houseful of idiot musicians.
“Come on, you’re no fun.” I wink and my mother’s hard glare softens as if she’s considering a smile. “What kind of mother dooms her son to a severe case of blue balls?”
This time she lets loose her patronizing grin with a bark of laughter. “This mother does. Now say good-bye to your friends and get downstairs.” With that she turns and walks out of the room, leaving the door open and calling over her shoulder, “If I have to come back here I’m kicking you out!”
“Mom?” The blonde one scoffs, shoving her arms through the sleeves of her dress.
The friend places her hands on her hips, confusion knit across her brow. “Wait, you live with your mom? I thought you were rich. Aren’t you like almost thirty?”
Twenty-eight, and I don’t lookthatold.Bitch.It takes all my self-restraint to not roll my eyes this time.
“All right, you heard Mommy. Playtime is over.” I kiss the lips of each woman, a sweet, sensuous good-bye to ease the push out the door. Plus, I’ve learned it does wonders at keeping future cat fights or blowups from occurring when I run into them later on with a different woman on my arm. Which I most certainly will. It’s just how they work, all of them. These women think they’re different, special, or owners of magical pussy, when in fact they’re all the same. Hungry for money, fame, the lifestyle, and willing to do anything to get there.
For a second, a shred of sadness seeps into my being, wishing things were different. Wishing there wasmore. Stupid.
Probably just my blue balls disappointed at the lack of release.
