Marie
The morning light was still grey as I pulled into the driveway. Robbie’s car was nowhere in sight and I breathed a sigh of relief. Thank god, I had some time to get ready. I let myself into the house and scampered up the stairs, headed straight for the bathroom, stepping under the hot spray. Perfect. The water pounded on my back and shoulders as I lathered my hair, letting out another sensuous sigh of enjoyment. Because I could still feel Trent in me, deep in my private places, but yeah, I could hardly face my son with another man’s smell all over me, wafting from my skin.
So I lathered quickly, rinsing off, and got dressed, toweling my hair dry before pulling on jeans and a sweater. But the new Marie was here. Instead of a baggy cardigan, I went with a tight sweater, one that curved over the sensuous shape of my breasts, highlighting my generous shape, and I picked out a pair of jeans that I hadn’t worn in years, the denim snug, hugging my hips, molding my behind, exaggerating my hourglass figure.
But I loved it, feeling sassy and combed my hair back, leaving the wet curls to dangle instead of clipping them like I usually did. And with a sparkle to my eye, a slight prance to my step, I headed downstairs to make breakfast for my son. Robbie would be here soon and the best way to get him to open up was through food, the way to my son’s heart was through his stomach.
But when I stepped into the living room, the aroma of hot coffee wafted towards me, and I cocked my head, puzzled. Who could it be? Was Robbie here already? I made my way across the living room, and the sound of male voices sounded, low and masculine. Suddenly realization poured over me. Oh right, Robbie had a friend coming for the week, I’d forgotten that he’d mentioned a buddy was visiting, someone from college. No worries, I’d stocked up on groceries ahead of time, there was enough to feed a small army.
But when I stepped into the kitchen, my eyes grew wide, mouth dropping open in surprise. Because my son was at the stovetop sure, whipping up pancakes like a master chef, and I hadn’t realized he could cook. But even more shocking was the man standing on the other side of the small kitchen, downing a huge glass of orange juice. Huge, dark, towering, with the bluest of blue eyes, my lover looked back at me, confused, before his expression smoothed, neutral, giving away nothing.
“Hey Mom,” grunted Robbie from over by the stove. “This is Trent, my buddy from school. I told you, right? I told you I had a friend staying over for spring break, we’re hanging out this week.”
Flustered, I tried to gather my thoughts, head spinning. My dark, dangerous lover, the one who’d spilled his seed into me multiple times last night, was my son’s friend? Oh god, oh god, he was probably only twenty, the same as Robbie, I was old enough to be his mother. Literally, old enough to be his mother. Why hadn’t I noticed last night? I stole surreptitious looks at him now, in the bright light of day, and yes, he was younger looking than I’d first realized, there was no gray in his hair, body bursting with the power and vitality, all man, a full six four, towering, massive in my kitchen. My cheeks grew hot, insides melting as I tried to digest it all.
But Trent put his glass down casually, shooting me a confident, lazy grin.
“Hey Mrs. Sands,” he drawled, blue eyes all over me as my son cooked away. “It’s so nice to meet you.”
I started, eyes flying open, but then recovered quickly.
“I’m Ms. Sands,” I said, emphasizing the “Ms.” “And it’s nice to meet you too,” I said with only a small tremor in my voice, trying to sound normal. The big man shot me a knowing look, shivers rippling through my frame. What the fuck? What the fuck? I needed to take control, but at that very moment, a slight drip of his semen edged from my ass, a slow trickle slipping down my crack, uncomfortably wet and yet so fucking arousing. Oh god, oh god, how could this be happening? Why now, of all times? But I knew why. Trent had come in me so many times last night that I’d be feeling trickles of him dripping out from me for the rest of the day, small oozes here and there at the most unexpected times.
And like he could read my mind, the big man smiled at me again, blue eyes gleaming, big body relaxed but with an air of dominance and possession. Could my son feel it? Did Robbie sense that something was going on between his mother and friend, the sizzle in the air? Oh god, oh god. This was going to be the craziest week because the alpha male was here, in my kitchen, and we had a week together within the small confines of my house.
But my son continued, completely oblivious just like a teen, snorting at my insistence at being called “Ms.”
“My dad’s a giant fuck-up he left a long time ago,” he grunted, shoveling pancakes into a giant stack. “So yeah, my mom’s been single for years, you got any hook-ups for her?”
I turned beet red then, the top of my head almost blowing off. Because the man I’d had incredible sex with last night was standing right here, looking like a lazy lion, still shooting that grin my way, one side of his mouth quirked up at the corner, while my son tried to find me a date.
I jumped in fast.
“That’s not what Robbie means,” I said quickly. “What he means is that I’ve taken a break from dating since the divorce and am ready to get my feet wet once more,” I added hurriedly. “Slowly but surely, I’ll get out there.”
Robbie snorted again.
“Please Ma,” he said, “Dad was a fuck-up, he didn’t deserve you. I’m an adult now, and know what hapepend,” he continued. “You were way too nice for him for way too long, it was good that he left.”
I blushed furiously. It was so inappropriate to be having this conversation in front of a total stranger and yet, Trent wasn’t exactly a stranger either. He was my one-night lover, the man I’d woken to dozen of times during the night, welcoming his dick in me, craving it even, letting him take me wherever, whenever. My body grew hot again just thinking about it and shit, but my pussy moistened again, the slit still sore from his shaft. He’d been so hard, so huge, so dominating, making me come over and over again last night, and yet here I was, in my kitchen, being embarrassed by my own son. Go figure, having kids really is incredible, I would have sold Robbie for five dollars at the moment.
But Trent smiled lazily at me again, that big form relaxed, leaning against the counter.
“How’s it going?” he asked. “The dating I mean.”
I went from slightly pink to beet red then.
“Good, good,” I said quickly, trying to hide my embarrassment. “Now Robbie, what are your plans for the week? Did you guys have plans, or were you going to relax and hang out?” I said quickly, trying to change the subject.
My son turned to me, sliding the heaping stack of pancakes on the kitchen counter before turning to grab some maple syrup.
“Probably just relax,” he said casually. “Trent here’s got some time off from spring training, so we’re going to lie low for a while, catch up around town.”
And I swung to his friend, eyes suddenly inquisitive. Spring training? For what? Reading my mind, Trent nodded in confirmation.
“I’m taking some time off from school,” he rumbled lazily. “Working the minor leagues, hoping to be called up to the majors soon.”
And my eyebrows shot up. No wonder he had such an amazing body, toned, athletic, perfectly symmetrical with strong arms and thick thighs. Because he was a pro athlete. Oh my god, I’d run my hands so many times over that perfect physique last night, savoring the hard muscle, licking that broad chest a few times, nestling into the crook of his arm, gluing myself against the massive bulk. And it was because working out was part of his job, he had the best trainers, the best nutritionists on call, hours of practice each day. No wonder Trent was Adonis come to life, a god of a man. And I watched amazed as he dug into a stack of pancakes covered with syrup, a huge fluffy ball of butter melting on top. Wasn’t that bad? This stuff was unhealthy as all get-out, right, filled with evil sugar and fat. But he read my mind.
“They work us so hard that I need the calories,” he said, digging in with relish, pushing a huge forkful into his mouth. That one forkful would have been three or four bites for me. “So yeah, even if it’s not super healthy per se, I still need calories and pancakes are a way to get them.”
But then he paused, looking at me, eyes dancing over my frame.
“Why don’t you have some too?” he asked. “Here, where are the plates? Let me get you some Ms. Sands,” he said, big body in motion suddenly.
I was just about to demur when my son spoke up again.
“Naw my mom doesn’t eat stuff like this, she’s a health nut, always trying to get skinnier. Are you still doing that crazy diet Mom? The one where you drink a ton of lemon juice?”
I colored once more. I hadn’t been on the South Beach diet in years, but yeah, it’d been painful, drinking liters of lemon water with cayenne pepper in it, not a morsel of food passing my lips. So I shook my head.
“No, I’ve been off that for years now, and besides South Beach didn’t work for me,” I said with a wry smile. “I put all the weight back on and then some.”
But Trent was looking at me hard, now, a plate in his big hands, blue eyes glued to my curves.
“Naw, Ms. Sands,” he said softly, the casualness of his voice belying the intensity of his gaze. “You look great the way you are, no need for diets. In fact,” he said, heaping the plate with pancakes, “take this, eat up.”
And I blushed because I was curvy all around, in fact, he’d seen up close and personal last night just how round I was, my ass busting out to here, my breasts to there. And if I remembered correctly, he’d loved it all, burying his face between my tits, savoring the fleshiness, popping my nips into his mouth, his hands stroking my ass, between my legs the entire time, making me mewl and scream.
So I grew hot once more, face flushing, about to refuse the pancakes, but Trent was insistent.
“Like I said,” he said shortly, eyes hot on me. “Eat up, no one likes to see a woman starve herself.”
And this conversation was already so crazy, my lover lecturing me in the kitchen the morning after, my son listening in with no idea what was passing between us. Oh god, I prayed Robbie had no idea because my body was on high, electricity arcing between Trent and I, a crackling live wire, bright enough to light up the room, shock anyone who stepped into its path.
But kids are kids, and my son probably couldn’t even fathom the idea of his mom being with his buddy, someone twenty years younger. He probably thought I dated old fuddy-duddies, dudes with canes and dentures, spotted and aged, deep into their twilight years. So I shrugged a little and let out a small smile.
“Sure, I’ll have some pancakes,” I said, scooting my big butt onto a seat the counter before digging in. And Trent, blue eyes gleaming, watching approvingly as I took a heaping bite of pancake topped with a healthy dollop of syrup, a smear of butter on the side. He turned back to his own meal, forking a mouthful of crackling bacon into his mouth before swiveling around to face me once more.
“So Miz Sands,” he rumbled casually. “You been living in Sunnyside long?”
I smiled cheekily. This was more like it, normal conversation that didn’t light up the air with tension and awareness, even if it was mostly in my brain.
“Yeah, we bought this house right before Robbie was born,” I said, nodding at my son. “Robbie grew up here, it’s the only home he knows.”
My boy nodded.
“Yeah, Sunnyside’s a nice place to grow up,” he said. “Safe, good schools, I had a great time here, riding my bike to school, hanging out at the basketball court, it’s totally safe.”
And I nodded. I’d tried to do my best by him, enrolling him in Cub Scouts, taking him to music lessons, the works. But somewhere along the way, it hadn’t been enough. Doing right by my little family hadn’t been enough to make my husband stay, Rob had gotten bored of little Sunnyside and taken up with that blonde from one town over. Shit, they’d met at the bowling alley for crying out loud, we really were a tiny hamlet, there were no bars, no clubs, no nothing. Hooking up at the bowling alley, right in front of our friends and neighbors
But Trent just grinned again.
“Sounds great,” he rumbled casually. “I find quiet little towns always have a lot of history, they’re full of surprises once you look beneath the surface.”
And my breath hitched unexpectedly, brown eyes going wide. Was he talking about me, or Sunnyside? Did he think that I, an average-looking middle-aged woman, had a lot to offer behind my plain exterior, that I was exciting and full of surprises underneath? My heart started thumping like a hammer, breath coming fast although I tried to remain calm, look normal.
But the big man just grinned again, wiping his mouth with a napkin.
“This has been amazing man,” he rumbled to Robbie. “You got enough to eat? I say we head to the gym.”
And my son nodded, polishing off the rest of his orange juice.
“Yeah, home cooking, especially my cooking, always hits the spot,” he grunted. “None of that frozen or freeze-dried shit. Now it’s to the gym to wipe out these calories, I want to see what they do to you in the pros man, tips and tricks for pro athletes.”
Trent nodded.
“Sure, but you’ll be crawling after a work-out, it’s not meant for lesser men,” he rumbled smoothly.
Robbie grew a little pale then, but he straightened his shoulders.
“I’m up for it,” he drawled, trying to look unperturbed. “I can do it.”
And with that, the two men grabbed their things and headed out the door.
“Bye Mom,” said my son, stepping out without a glance over his shoulder.
But Trent lingered a little. He turned to look at me, one foot out the door, eyes hot, promising, sweeping over my curvy form as I sat rock still at the counter. My skin tingled, body flushing hot because he was telling me something even though there were no words.
“Bye Miz Sands,” he drawled with a wink, shutting the door quietly behind him.
And with that, the energy left the room and I slumped, breathing a sigh of relief. How in the world had this happened? How in the world had I just survived a breakfast with my lover in the room, our sensual night very much at the front of my mind, the memories of that huge body, his demanding, possessive touch? And now, Trent was a guest in my home for the next week. Oh god, he’d be sleeping under my roof, mere feet away, that big body relaxed, so near and yet so far. Because he was my son’s friend, almost two decades younger, and it was completely wrong, totally taboo. Or was it? Because we’d already breached that barrier unknowingly, fucking hard, deep and good, and it’d been amazing … so amazing that I knew it was going to happen again even if Hell froze over.