I exhale slowly, giving myself a moment before swinging my leg over, adjusting my cock, which is strained against my jeans, and standing beside her. She removes the helmet, and her hairtumbles free, slightly mussed from the ride. The sight does nothing to calm the heat rushing south.
"That was..." She pauses, her cheeks flushed, eyes bright. "Exhilarating."
I clear my throat. "Yeah, it can be."
She hands me the helmet, and our fingers brush. I nearly drop it.
"You okay?" she asks, looking up at me with concern.
"Fine," I lie. "Just... thinking about dinner."
"Nervous?" A teasing smile plays at her lips. "The big bad Beast, scared of a little family dinner?"
"Terrified," I admit, surprising both of us with my honesty. "My mom has a way of seeing through bullshit."
Jenny's smile softens. "Don't worry. I'm a good actress. By the end of the night, she'll be convinced we're madly in love."
"Ready?" I ask, ignoring what she just said, and secure the helmets, then offer my arm again.
Jenny takes it, her grip firmer this time. "Ready."
We walk up the path to my mother's front door, the smell of pot roast wafting through the evening air. I can see the curtains twitch in the front window. Mom's been watching for us.
Before I can even knock, the door swings open, and my mother stands there beaming, her eyes immediately fixing on Jenny.
"You must be Jenny," she says warmly. "I'm Elaine. Come in, come in! Dinner's almost ready."
As we step across the threshold, my mother catches my eye over Jenny's shoulder and mouths silently, "She's beautiful!"
I can only nod in agreement, because that, at least, isn't a lie.
Chapter 4 - Jenny
Beast's mother is nothing like I expected.
I don't know why I assumed Elaine Murphy would be a hardened, severe woman, maybe because she raised a man like Beast on her own, but she's the exact opposite.
Short and plump with Beast's dark eyes and a warm smile that transforms her whole face, she radiates the kind of motherly energy I never experienced growing up.
"Jenny, dear, let me look at you," she says, holding my shoulders at arm's length after I step inside. Her eyes scan my face with obvious approval. "My goodness, you're lovely! Derek, you didn't tell me she was this pretty."
Derek? It takes me a moment to realize she's talking to Beast. I've never heard anyone call him by his given name before.
Beast—Derek—shifts uncomfortably behind me. "Told you she was, Ma."
"Well, you undersold her," Elaine says with a wink in my direction before releasing me. "Come in, come in. Dinner's almost ready. Just need to finish the gravy."
She bustles back toward what I assume is the kitchen, leaving us in a cozy living room. The house is immaculate but warm. Family photos on the walls, comfortable-looking furniture, and fresh flowers in a vase by the window. It smells like home should smell, like cooking and clean laundry and a hint of something floral.
"Your mom seems nice," I whisper to Beast as he helps me out of my jacket.
"She's in a good mood because of you," he whispers back, hanging my jacket on a wooden coat rack by the door. "Wait till she starts the interrogation."
His fingers brush the bare skin of my shoulders as he steps away, and I suppress a shiver. The bike ride here was thirty different kinds of torture: being pressed against his broad back, feeling every muscle shift as he handled the motorcycle, the vibration between my thighs. By the time we'd arrived, my panties were embarrassingly wet, my pussy throbbing with each bump in the road. I'd never been on a bike before, and now I understand why some people call them "crotch rockets."
"Make yourselves comfortable!" Elaine calls from the kitchen. "Derek, show her the photos on the mantle. I'll just be a few minutes."
Beast groans softly. "She's breaking out the embarrassing childhood photos already."
