“I won’t let anyone treat me wrong.”
His hand covers the top of my thigh. Dang it, another traitorous body part reveals itself to me as my other thigh shifts outward.
“You see, I’m worried. You let your boss into your personal life. I want to be sure you’re aware of what your body can do. If you don’t know, there’s no shame in asking for one small lesson.”
Oh. My. God. I’m going for it. “One lesson.”
I duck my head and curl my lips in.
I hope I’m right, that it’s a good thing that I’m wet. I think he’ll like that. The slow slide of his hand between my thighs is followed by the backs of his fingers pushing against my opposite thigh, requesting more space.
My skirt will allow it. Will my conscience? Is it possible that my boss will walk back into the room at the exact same second the lights come on? Will he see me spread for his brother, not in the privacy of a bedroom, but brazenly on the sofa?
Will I regret this? Time will tell because I shift to open my legs.
A strained sound comes from Jefferson’s chest. My legs may be open, but my eyes are not, allowing me the fantasy, the denial, and the crazy, unbelievable moment.
He barely slides his hand forward but extends a fingertip to brush over my panties. My wetness is more than I thought. My panties seem soaked. That’s never happened.
“Oh, Baby Doll, this is how you can tell.” I catch my use of the nickname, pause for a split second, and when she doesn’t object, I continue. “When you’re ready for sex, these sweet juices will help you take your lover’s cock.” He takes a deliberate inhale. “He’ll be addicted to your scent from the first breath.”
He withdraws his hand and leans his face back from my ear.
No. My body slumps. My eyes flutter open. I need him.
Inches from my disbelieving eyes, his finger is on his lips. The tip of his tongue drags over the pad. Breaths become huge, punctuated efforts. Then he presses his finger to my parted lips.
My scent is more intriguing than ever. A reaction to him? I want more. Leaning ever so slightly, I take his fingertip in my lips and suck.
Seven
Jefferson
Iflopmyarmover my head, blocking the flashes of lightning coming into the living room where I’m dutifully sleeping on the couch.
Faster than a Bugatti can do zero to sixty, Natalie went from sucking on my finger to standing at the far end of the couch with her hands clasped over her mouth.
She did tell me that she didn’t want lessons and I’d pushed it, but damn, I thought I hooked her.
The secondary problem to the lightning is my erection. Aside from the reality that I would have prodded her all night if we were in the same bed, she had true concern for not upsetting Lincoln.
But even in the dim light, I’d seen in her eyes how much she wanted the lessons. It’s not completely incredulous to me that a twenty-one-year-old hasn’t had sex, it’s the rest of her innocence that gets me. She hasn’t done anything aside from lip kissing and over-the-clothes petting.
Telling myself that our fourteen-year age gap is too much hasn’t helped my erection any. Telling myself not to let the lure of being her first, at so many things, cloud my judgment doesn’t help either. And telling myself that my erection is somehow going to magically go away on its own is flat-out ridiculous.
Waiting a while to make sure everyone is down for the night, I head to the kitchen, grab a paper towel, and shuck my boxer brief to the tops of my thighs. I lean back against the granite countertop, rub the plentiful pre-cum over my cock, and stroke.
I try squeezing a little more than normal, but it’s no substitute for her pussy. My mind runs wild with the lessons I almost got to give her. Who knows if they would have ended in actual sex, she wasn’t sure about that, but she was sure about everything up to it.
The thing I’m having a harder time reconciling is why I felt so attracted to her, like we’re meant to be together. When people say that they knew at their first meeting they were going to get married, I didn’t believe it was possible. Now I can say, it’s one of those things you don’t understand until you experience it.
My balls tighten at the thought of marrying her. They’re even tighter at the vision of her belly swollen with our baby.
Is fate cruel? Will I get hit with karmic interference for not being there for my son? Does it help that I have a plan to win back a place in his life?
Anger fuels my urgency. I stroke faster.
“Oh my!” a feminine voice cries out from the end of the hallway at the end of the kitchen. It’s Natalie’s. It’s too much.