Page 32 of Single Mom's Mountain Men
I almost ask him to continue. He’s still hard between my thigh, desire in the gentle press of his hands. And when I pull back it’s to find his eyes are closed and his head is back against the seat as he breathes heavily into the air.
"Eighty-nine, eight-eight, eighty-seven..."
"What are you doing?" I whisper.
He peeks one eye open and explains in a gravelly tone, “I’m working real hard here not to blow my load.”
He says it with such misery that I giggle. I’m about to offer to get him off with my mouth when a sudden knock at the driver’s window shatters the atmosphere.
I jerk upright and stare across to I find an elderly security guard frowning at us through the window.
“Oh my God,” I exclaim about to dive back in my seat, but Wes holds me in place, smiling wanly at the guard. He winds down the window.
“Fine afternoon, Officer Boone,” he says.
“Wes Norris. I should have known it would be you. Your brothers have better sense than this.”
“Well, I usually do too, but somehow all my good sense left me on this remarkably fine afternoon.”
Wes' tone is conversational even though he's still hard. I don't know how he manages it, but I can barely function. I hide my face against his shoulder.Oh God, this is humiliating.
“This is a god-damn grocery store, not a brothel," the officer continues. "You want somewhere to take your floozies to, you can try Cockrey's or Motel 911 if you're brave enough. Or here’s an idea for you, you can do it in your own damn house. Not out here, disturbing the peace."
“Understood officer, thank you.”
The officer harrumphs and his footsteps indicate that he's walking away.
"A floozy?" I hiss as I shift out of Wes's lap and back into my seat. “Did he just call me a floozy?”
“Yup. You’ll have to forgive him. Officer Ray Boone is a little old-fashioned. He doesn’t know that no one says floozy anymore."
“That’s not what I'm mad about. I wouldn't have felt better if he called me a whore.”
Wes winces. “Yeah, I know. I'm sorry. I would have defended you, but I got the sense that you wanted to get rid of him as fast as possible, and explaining to him that you weren't a whore would have just extended our conversation, and probably ended with a citation for the both of us."
Wes was right of course. He did the best thing considering the circumstances. Still, I'm a little miffed about the floozy comment.
But when Wes adjusts his jeans, I'm distracted from my annoyance by the bulge pressing on his zipper. I stare at it fora few seconds, and when I manage to drag my eyes back up, Wes smirks at me.
I look away instantly.
“So, you do this a lot huh,” I say as we pull out of the parking lot.
“Not really. Funny enough, this is the first time I’ve ever gotten a woman off outside the grocery store.”
“I mean in your truck. Officer Boone implied that this isn't your first offense."
“It's not. But I try not to make a habit of it. Not in Charlie’s F350 anyway, Charlie would kill me."
I don't know ifIwant to kill him or laugh in relief at his flippant nature. I decide to settle on the latter. I'm glad he's not being weird about what just happened, because by and large, it was a mistake. Neither of us ever should have let it get that far, but we were driven by our hormones.
That orgasm was amazing, but hooking up with Wes is undoubtedly a bad idea. It's best we just pretend that it didn't happen.
We pick up the girls and head home in relative silence. Relative because while Wes and I don't talk much, Maddie and Katie excitedly narrate their afternoon, with Katie detailing how much bigger Delicate Roses' library is than the one at her previous daycare.
I try to pay attention and respond appropriately to my daughters, but I'm still distracted by Wes and his uncharacteristic silence.
After we get home, and the girls rush ahead to wash off, he takes my elbow, holding me back.
