“FUCK ME, I HAVEN’T DRY fucked a girl in thirty years,” I clip, worked up, irritated, while thrusting my hips into Katie’s.
“Good to know you’ve still got this,” she goads in return, running her hands over my chest beneath my shirt.
Katie’s thighs are spread, my waist secured in between. I’ve got one hand up her shirt over her bra, the other clenched tightly between her legs, which are covered in jeans. This all while I’ve been left to contemplate the degree of embarrassment if I were to come undone still dressed.
If Katie and I were teenagers, making out on her father’s couch, I’d be elated to have gotten to second base.
But we are fucking not teenagers. And I am not fucking elated.
Katie stops kissing my jaw to observe, “You’re forty years old, Mason.”
“Yeah?”
“Are you saying you were feeling up ten-year-old girls when you were ten?”
“Babe,” I address as answer. “All my girlfriends were older. Eleven, twelve at least.”
Her nose scrunches as if in pain.
Adding to my point, I include, “Dry fuckin’ is a rite of passage.”
“Making out is a rite of passage…for teenagers, Mason.”
“No difference,” I reply, and she scowls.
“Still. You were ten?”
In my defense, I inform, “I didn’t lose my virginity until I was twelve.”
Her mouth falls open and she pushes against my chest. “I didn’t need to know that.”
“Mary Ellis Meyer doesn’t hold a candle to you,” I return, managing a straight face. “She’s good, really good actually, but still, she doesn’t come close.”
“I really didn’t need to know that!” Katie shrieks, twisting in place in attempt to escape.
She goes about this all wrong, considering she’s pinned beneath me. I’ve got my hands on her pussy and when I remind her of this, she gasps. I keep adding pressure until she stills.
I’d stopped over this afternoon because she told me the girls would be at school. Four days have passed since I saw Katie’s face. I’ve tried to give them room, tried not to interfere as they went through the process of the man in their lives moving out.
But this morning, I woke to my cock at full attention, until finally he and I deemed we had had enough.
“I’ll be quick,” I propose, kissing her cheek and jaw before making my way to her neck.
Katie squirms, tilting her hips and running her hands through my hair, while uttering, “The girls will be home soon.”
“Soon,” I repeat, twisting her nipple through the lace of her bra. “Ten minutes is enough time.”
“Mason, you can’t be here when they get home from school. And you certainly can’t be naked.”
“I don’t have to be naked to fuck you,” I point out.
“Anticipation is motivation,” she absurdly suggests.
Sitting up, bracing my arm at the side of her head, I look down to find she’s serious.
Too fucking serious.
“Woman, I’ve waited four years for this. To be in your house, not hiding out in hotel rooms, or stealing glances across restaurants or bars. Waited twenty years if you count all our shit in between.”
“You make us sound so old and tragic,” she comments back.
“Tragic is the amount of time I spent fist fuckin’ my cock thinkin’ of you.”
Katie giggles.
“I’m not a man who comes all over his stomach. But I wiped that bitch clean more times than I can count.”
“So you missed me?”
“I’m not answering that question.”
“Why not?”
“Because what you ask is stupid.”
She knows I missed her. For-fucking-years I missed everything about her. Not just the sex: moving inside her and forcing her to cry out. But all of this. All we used to have and will have again since she stepped foot in my cabin.
The passing glances.
The playful banter.
The heated exchange.
The tastes, touches, licks.
Everything we gave up for each other—to keep each other happy.
Running her finger along my jaw, our faces inches apart, Katie whispers, “The girls don’t know we’re together.”
“They’re smart,” I reply. “If they didn’t know before, trust me they’ve figured it out by now.”
“They’re still adjusting,” she mildly insists.
“They aren’t adjusting, Katie. They’ve adjusted.”
Averie especially. The kid doesn’t leave my side anytime I’m around. This started the day I met her on the playground. Averie Dyer is not adjusting. She’s welcomed me with open arms.
Amelia’s nowhere close to as comfortable as Averie, but she’ll come around. Eventually, after the pain and loss of her parents’ infidelity and divorce passes. She’ll appreciate her dad being in a better place, wherever the fuck that may be. Just the same, she’ll come to recognize her mom’s happier than she ever remembers her being.
“Those girls were never clueless to your marriage,” I refer.
“They were,” she denies. “Thomas and I made them believe we were—”
Cutting her off before she lies to herself, I ask, “Amelia still pissed at Thomas for fuckin’ Grace?”
Shaking her head, she concedes. “No. Not really.”
“Averie ever once cry out for her dad to come home?”
“You know she didn’t,” Katie gives.
A flash of dawning realization comes. For now, I’ll let this go.
Katie lifts her head, bringing her lips to my neck. She maneuvers her hand between us, sliding it into my jeans until she has a firm grasp of my throbbing cock.
“I’ll do you quick,” she promises, changing subject.
Slamming my eyes shut, I thrust my hips into her palm as her fingers explore the length. My back and chest strain, my hands burn as I grasp the couch over our heads in attempt to keep somewhat still.
“Fuck, you feel good,” I hiss, burying my face in her neck.
“I bet I do,” she replies then goads, “So good, I’ll do myself later.”
At that, I take her mouth. As punishment, my tongue pushes inside as my hand grasps her hair to hold her in place. Drive after drive, Katie keeps her hand steady—up and down, meeting the tip with her thumb.
Christ. Torture.
My balls tighten, my back burns. My gut aches.
So fucking close.
Tearing my mouth from hers, I narrow my eyes to find she’s smiling.
“You’re fuckin’ fixin’ this,” I promise, sitting up and lifting her beneath the arms.
Once she’s settled at her feet, I lie with my back on the couch and quickly unbutton my jeans. Katie watches with studious fascination as I draw them down to free myself.
Gripping my cock tightly in my fist, I work myself using her words, “You’ll do me quick.”
Katie stills, eyes wide and mouth open. Her lips are swollen from my aggression. She hesitates but not for long.
After scanning to look outside the living room window, she turns toward where I lie and she drops to her knees.
Her hands position where she wants me before her mouth takes every inch in.
Fuck adjusting. Fuck anticipation.
I have no time or patience for either.