Page 44 of Sweet Thing

No longer a child, though, but a gorgeous, curvaceous woman.

The cami strap slipping off her shoulder, the swell of her tits straining against the stretchy fabric. Those full, red lips, a little puffy from—from what? From wrapping around my rampant cock, that’s what. At this rate I wouldn’t need to touch myself because I was getting there on filthy thoughts alone.

I rinsed my hair, then picked up the body wash. Not mine. Hers. I didn’t recall the scent which was good as it didn’t send me into a raging need to stroke myself dry. I applied the wash to my body, careful to avoid my groin, at least until I came back down to earth. Until I had descended from the clouds of fantasy where Adeline was on her knees, her ponytail at hand level.

In my dream, I refused to grab it. Ignored it like I ignored my hard-on.

I rested my forehead on the tile, looking to cool down. Anything to bank the need. But it was no use. Images of a sexy, sleep-pliant woman swirled in the suds, heading to the drain. Adeline’s moss-green eyes, with that movie goddess tilt, half-lidded as she hauled herself to wakefulness.

I couldn’t, but … why? Fantasies were rocket-fueled by the forbidden. This one would be harmless because I would never act on it in real life. No one would ever know.

Having given myself permission, I encouraged her lips to nudge my cock, just a kiss, but it wasn’t enough. I needed more, the sweet, velvet suction of her mouth. I needed control. I grabbed hold of that ponytail—in reality, my dick. One touch was enough to set my balls alight with pleasure. Lust bolted through me. The scent of orange blossom permeated the steam as my hand gripped hard and stroked roughly from base to tip.

Make it quick.Get it over with, send the guilt down the drain. The wrong girl—no, woman—with her lips moving up and down my cock. I squeezed the tip, held tight to the base. Holding onto the perfect picture of Adeline sucking me off, her lips swollen, her cheeks hollowed out as she blew me and my mind.

My balls sizzled, heavy with spunk, and with one last tug, I came in thick spurts against the wall and with Adeline’s name on my lips.

ChapterTwelve

Adeline

What wasthat saying about intentions and the road to a particularly hot place?

I’d had such good ones when I slipped under Lars’s covers last night. Keep the baby at eye level without smothering her or having her fall off the side of the bed. I wasn’t lying when I said she was fussy in the crib. Oddly, I also felt safer in his bed, like knowing it belonged to him was a tangible thing I could hold onto.

But then I realized I should probably have changed the sheets first because they smelled like hot, studly hockey player. Thankfully, I had a baby on hand to keep me honest because if Mabel hadn’t been playing chaperone, I might have let that tantalizing man scent tantalize me all the way to an orgasm.

I had set an alarm for 4:30 so I could feed Mabel and take myself back to the guest room. He wasn’t supposed to know I’d even been here.

Instead he arrived home early and I was on hand to contribute to the narrative of Adeline’s embarrassing crush on Lars Nyquist. My dad’s teammate no less! I’d certainly walked—or slept—into that one. I’d also acted like a frightened little rabbit when I saw him silhouetted in the doorframe. Large, hulking, reminiscent of my Greek ogre.

Annoyed with myself, I stretched, and my fingers brushed Bear. He must have fallen out of Mabel’s bassinet. I would return him and go back to the guest room where I belonged.

On my way downstairs, I passed the guest room with its open door. Mabel was in the crib, already asleep, which meant Lars had worked fast, feeding her and putting her down. Clearly becoming a pro at this parenting lark.

Guilt panged me at hearing the pitter-patter of the shower. What a great guest I was, evicting the poor guy from his ensuite. I dropped Bear in beside Mabel, set him near her hand so she would feel him when she awoke, and that’s when I heard it.

A moan.

The door to the bathroom was ajar, and that sound could mean only one thing: Lars was having a private moment.

Another moan went up, more of a groan this time. That was how lust sounded, and it immediately found a corresponding throb between my legs.

I had to leave. I couldn’t stay here while Lars didthat.

Yet, I remained frozen, like that night on a Greek isle a couple of months ago. Only this time, it wasn’t fear that molded my feet of clay.

It was desire.

Something about knowing the difference made me braver than I’d felt in a long time. Oh, it was all wrong, but it was also feeding something within me, something a little crazy. I was never the one who took chances or made moves. Rosie said I’d never met a line I wanted to cross.

This felt different. This felt like a situation I could handle.

What I truly wanted to handle was whatever Lars Nyquist was stroking in there. I wanted to touch him, taste him, feel him, and because I would never have a chance to, this might be the closest I would get. A little eavesdropping to fuel the lonely nights ahead. Harmless, because he would never know. As soon as he finished, I would exit stage left.

The moans were increasing in volume, which meant he must be close. I gripped the dresser, pushed my thighs together, and tried not to think too hard about the sheer wrongness of what I was doing.

“Oh, oh fuck,ohhh.” Then one groan thathadto be Lars’s climax coupled with a very loud “Adeliiiiine!”

---