Page 28 of Ewan

Frankly, it’s not only her perky round-shaped rear that’s gotten me in trouble.

It’s her entire attitude, those enlivened eyes watching me ferociously from behind atinycurtain oflonglashes. The lips tilted on command, sometimes disapprovingly and other times with a softness that gets me hot.

Her damn blouse molding to her tits and sliding down inside her waistband, highlighting her shape, and making the transition easy to her pencil skirt.

A short zipper runs up her ass, and her hemline hits below the knee, not allowing for big steps.

Only small little strides, her thighs rubbing against each other when she walks, her pussy warm and perfect for the taking.

Whatever she does, I can’t push back the images in my head. My hand running up her zipper before taking a good grab of her ass. And then my fingers slinking under her hemline and pushing her skirt up and up.

My touch pushing up between her thighs before stroking her with my knuckles. Getting a feel of her heat before moving her little panties to the side and sliding my fingers along her seam, touching her wet clit and sliding them into her hole.

I can see her jerk against me, watching me with mesmerized eyes, hypnotized. Unable to say no to me.

I’d eat her out until her eyes rolled back in her head, she arched her back like she needed urgent exorcism, and she cried out unintelligible spooky words.

I don’t know what it is about this woman.

I wasn’t in the mood to fuck someone tonight. And I was even less interested in fucking someone after leaving the hospital.

Pissed couldn’t even describe how I felt.

It wasn’t that I couldn’t do what Ezra had asked of me.

It was that I didn’t want to put myself in a situation where I’d feel like an imposter.

Years ago, I was one of these parents, and Ezra was one of those kids. I had a family back then. A wife I cherished. A son who’s now almost a grown-up.

I was a completely different man. And regardless of the life of crime I’d been involved with, I was still a nice man at home.

Our father taught us not to let the bad spoil the good in our lives.

And I loved my little piece of heaven.

Margot has been gone for years, and Ezra is a young man who strives to make his own decisions and learn from his mistakes.

Can I blame him?

No.

And I––as it turns out––am a horny dude dealing with a beautiful distraction.

I had no idea what I was about to walk into when I pulled into the parking lot, cut the engine off, and dug deep into my bag.

I figured the Santa suit might be a struggle.

Ezra is tall, but I’m bulkier than him.

He’s at that age when long, lean muscles are the norm.

I’m built like a machine.

I could put my shoulder through a door and break a table with my fist.

He’ll get there one day, if he builds more muscle.

So the pants kind of worked, and the belt held everything together, but the jacket gave me hives.

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