He invites himself in, calling for the little minions. “I mean it. You’ve had them a few hours and I get the easy part. I’m just putting them to bed when we get back to Dad’s and I’ll stay the night. He can handle a little time with them in the morning before he goes to work. Sandy will be there.”
I guess that sounds reasonable.
There’s a stampede of feet. A brief introduction of Jack to Bryce who didn’t get to meet him in Kelowna. In a whirlwind, they’re gone.
“What just happened?” I say when I’m closing the door behind them.
“We have this whole place to ourselves now. We can do all my plans,” he says, flashing his brows.
Know what? The kids are safe with Bryce and I’m fucking horny. I place a hand precisely on each of his biceps and pin him to the wall. I press my lips to his and take a moment to appreciate their softness before I slip my tongue inside.
I’ve got his number. Jack loves being taken. He loves force. He loves intense physicality like when he’s out on the ice. I give it to him, ramming my hips against his, fucking our cocks together over jeans. Why are we still wearing jeans?
“You taste like syrup,” he murmurs.
“How’s that possible?” We ate pancakes hours ago.
“Dunno.” He leans forward trying to connect with my lips again.
“Nuh-uh. Stay.”
“Merc, what’re you…?”
I drop to my knees and undo his jeans in one motion. He’s already breathing hard by the time I’ve got his clothes pulled down just enough to get his solid cock in my mouth. It doesn’t taste like syrup. It’s salty and creamy at the head where he’s leaking. My senses are hit with his man scent. His trimmed pubic hair scratches my nose.
Moving my mouth over his smooth shaft, I kiss and suck and tease wanting to hear desperation from him before I give him what he wants. He should always be desperate for me. Needy. Crazy.
I spare a glance upward. His neck’s arched, face skyward. Okay, yeah, he’s getting there.
I make him beg.Begfor it. I don’t bury his cock in my mouth until his voice is a hoarse rasp against his windpipes. Even with my lips around his thick appendage, I give the impression I could stop anytime, which has him on edge. His belly tightens and his chest heaves with half-breaths.
“Where the fuck didja learn to do that, M-Merc?”
If he can talk, I’m not doing well enough. I double down, making it my mission to suck the life out of him through his cock. He can’t talk anymore. Just scrabble at my head like he doesn’t know where to put his hands.
Mewl-like moans echo off the kitchen walls. His grip finally settles on tugging the roots of my hair nearly from my scalp as he unloads straight to the back of my throat. All it takes is one efficient swallow, but my gums still end up squeaky like rubber when I run my tongue over them.
Standing, I plunder his mouth again. “What do I taste like now?”
He glows and smirks at the same time. “Like cum-flavored syrup.”
I rest my forehead against his. I wanted to drive him wild, but I’m the one needing the breather. I’m either getting old or I need a reality check.
After my little chat with Rhett, I had a long talk with myself. Stopping this isn’t an option. The point we’re at now, I’ll have to do whatever it is people do to get over people anyway. I might as well enjoy him while he’s mine. People don’t stay mine forever. I may never get this again and it doesn’t matter, does it? All good things come to an end at some point. If there’s something a Meyer knows it’s that.
At least I have an end date.
“Watcha thinking about, Merc?”
“Rhett,” I admit. I’ve been trying to find a way to bring him up, but there hasn’t been a good time. It never seems like a good time. We’re alone—alone-alone—and he might as well know that I know. Maybe it’ll make him feel safer.
“Fucksakes, Merc. If we’re gonna talk about him, can I at least pull my pants up?”
“No.” I want him naked in my bed so he can be sure nothing changes. “Come with me.”
* * *
“Am I staying the night or something?” he asks when I’ve got us wrapped around each other, skin to skin.
