“What?”
“I…”
She saw the erection lifting the duvet. Oh, God. She’d wanted to touch him before, now she couldn’t stop herself. She reached for him under the bed clothes and he rolled toward her, eyes closed, mouth a grim line of near-pain. She stroked his hard cock, measured the length of it, tested the weight of his testicles, drawn up tight against the base of his shaft. She loved his balls, the firmness and fullness of them. She gave a gentle squeeze and he let out a long groan.
She ran her hand over the head of his penis, down again, wishing for lube.
“We can’t…”
“It’s okay.” She moved closer, adjusted her position, pushed back the duvet so she could see him. His smooth bronze chest gleamed in the faint early morning light. Dark stubble shadowed his lean cheeks. He pressed his lips together. She bent over him, kissed between his nipples, tasted him, inhaled the warm male scent of him, the body wash he used, his natural scent filling her nostrils. She wanted to eat him up.
“Krissa…”
She kissed his stomach, felt the muscles quiver. Her tongue lapped at him, dipped into his navel and he sucked in a sharp breath.
“It’s okay. Derek knows.”
“Fuck. Knows what?”
“He knows…” her voice drifted off as her mouth feathered over the wiry curls between his thighs. She lifted her head. “He asked if we had sex when he’s not here. I told him no.” She stroked his cock again, ran her thumb over the wet tip. “He said we could do anything except actually fuck when he’s not here. So this…” She dipped her head and laid a kiss on the head of his cock. “Is okay. And this…” She opened her mouth and took him in. His hands went to her hair, tangled and tugged, just how she loved, and she melted and sank down onto him, swallowed him deep, sucked and licked. He tasted good, salty and tangy. He felt good—thick and hard, veins pulsing. He was huge and powerful and…potent. Intensely masculine and virile.
She moaned as she sucked on him.
“Christ, Krissa. That feels so damn good.”
She hummed her agreement and he groaned, dug his fingers deeper against her scalp. Pleasure edged on pain. She curled her fingers around his balls, traced a finger back behind them, making him jerk beneath her.
“Your mouth is hot.” His turned on the bed. She drew her tongue up, swirled around the crown, lifted her head to study him. Beautiful. His cock was beautiful. Throbbing crimson and gleaming wet. But not wet enough. She opened her mouth and let saliva drop out, falling in a slow, lush trail to trickle down over him. “Fuck.” He yanked so hard on her hair she whimpered. “Sorry, sorry.”
“I like it.” She lifted her head to meet his eyes. A connection zinged between them. He tugged again and her eyelids drifted shut. She lowered her head, again dribbled saliva onto his cock, then spread it around with her hands in firm, long pulls.
“God, that’s good.”
She took him in her mouth again, hot and delicious and silky against her tongue. When her teeth grazed the rim, he twitched and moaned. “Oh, yeah.” She realized then that he liked that. Some guys were afraid of teeth…others liked that harder touch. Experimentally, she let her teeth scrape his flesh again. “Yesss.” His hands held her head, pulled her toward him and she slid up and down, then stopped, closed her teeth around his shaft and gently…ever so gently…bit.
His body tightened, almost lifted off the bed. “Jesus, Krissa…I’m coming. Lift up…” He yanked on her hair, almost savagely, trying to pull her off his cock, but she wasn’t going to let go of him. She loved the feel of a man coming in her mouth, the intimacy of it, the connection. He spurted down her throat, so far down she couldn’t taste him, and she pulled back, opened her mouth and held his cock so he came onto her tongue. She sucked on him, then licked him tenderly when he’d finished jerking into her mouth, holding his balls.
She crawled up his body then, lay down on top of him, tucked her head into the curve where his neck met his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her tightly, stroked her back and her butt while his heavy breathing slowed.
The door bell woke them.
Vaguely, Nate was aware it had already rung a couple of times but he’d tried to block it out. As he gradually rose toward consciousness, he realized where and when and who…Krissa and him, in bed, at ten o’clock in the morning. Jesus Christ.
Who was at the door?
“Krissa.” He gave her a little shake, her body wrapped around him, and mumbled. “Someone’s at the door.”
“Mmmm?” She stirred against him and the soft fullness of her breasts against his chest made him harden again. Then her eyes flew open. “The door? Who…”
“I don’t know.”
She rolled off him and out of bed, grabbing a robe as she staggered across the bedroom to the door. She shoved her arms into it and wrapped it around her. The thin silk of the robe did little to hide her body, and Nate followed behind, not wanting her to open the door to a stranger while clad so scantily. He scooped up his boxers as he went, hopping into them one leg at a time as he tried to keep up.
But Krissa was already at the door, had peeked through the sidelight. “Mom.” She flipped the deadbolt, andyanked open the door.
“Krissa. You’re not even dressed.”
“Oh, God, Mom, I forgot we were supposed to go out this morning.”
