Page 43 of Misadventures Of A Single Mom

I could feel every inch of Ty’s body pressed into mine. A knee nudged my legs apart and he was even closer. I could feel the muscled slab of chest against my breasts, his hips against my stomach. Hello! I could feel something else against my stomach and it wasn’t made out of rubber, nor did it have suction cups, but it felt like a solid eight inches.

His tongue plunged into my mouth, his hands moved to my hair.

I was pinned. There was nowhere for me to go. Not that I was complaining. Why would I want to go anywhere except to my bed?With Ty.

“This,” he shifted his hips, pressing his man part, his cock, his dick, up against all the right places, “is just the beginning of what I want to do to you.”

Ty started kissing my neck, nibbling at my ear.

“Beginning?” I whispered, angling my head.

“Mmm hmm.” He started telling me all the dirty things he was going to do to me, with me. Thank God he held me up or I would have melted into a puddle on the concrete floor. I felt the ache, the need for him…everywhere. Who knew he could be so creative?

“You can do that with a chair?” I asked. Wow.

“Uh huh.” He whispered more.

“On my knees?” I gasped.

And more.

“With your tongue?”

“Fuck, yes.” I could feel him smile into my neck. “And sweetheart, toys sure are fun, but I don’t need them to get you off.”

“Okay,” I replied breathlessly, before I pulled his mouth back to mine. Yes! I was ready. My body was more than ready. No toys. I was fine with that. I could hear an orgasm calling myname. Maybe more than one! A chorus of orgasms singing in my ears.

The timed light on the garage door opener clicked off. Darkness.

We progressed from there, right against my Jeep. Ty’s hands were on the buttons of my shirt, his fingers fumbling slowly with one button at a time. My hands slipped around his waist and down to his butt while we kissed.

Briiingg.

No! Not Ty’s cell! We ignored it, his mouth too busy locked to mine to answer it.

Briiingg.

“Shit,” Ty said, our foreheads touching, breaths mingling, his hands on the second button down on my shirt, or was that the third?

He pulled his cell from his pocket, leaned back. “Hi, Dad.”

I gently pushed him off and gave him some room. I didn’t need his hands on me while he talked to his father. Being interrupted by a parent was close to the best libido killer ever. Even in your thirties with two kids.

“What?” he yelled. I couldn’t see his face, but from the tone, it didn’t sound good. “Where?” He listened. “When?” More listening. “Shit.”

He ended the call. “You’re not going to believe this. Morty’s turned up.”

I had a really bad feeling about this. “Let me guess, he’s dead?”

“Yeah. Someone dumped him on my parents’ ranch.”

“What do you mean dumped him?”

“You really want to know?”

I nodded, then realized he probably couldn’t see it. “Yes.”

“Someone put a bullet in his brain, chopped him up and fed him to my parents’ pigs.”

---