Page 83 of Mother Pucker

Over the past month, we’ve continued seeing each other whenever he’s home, and though I wish I could spend the entire night with him while I’m here, I always go back home to spend the evening with Kai.

This past weekend, Rowan came over to the house to celebrate Thanksgiving with us, and after seeing the way he and Kai interacted–completely enamored with each other–I decided it was time to tell my son about us. He deserved to know.

Unsurprisingly, he was thrilled. In fact, he pulled us both into a hug and told me–and I quote–that I was “the coolest mom ever now that I was dating the most incredible athlete to have ever existed.”

Also unsurprisingly, my boyfriend’s ego inflated tenfold with those words. I literally thought my eyes were going to get stuck at the back of my head with how he preened and pecked like a damn peacock.

But despite the fact that Kai seemed happy, I made sure to dig deeper that night when I snuggled him before he went to bed. I reminded him that Rowan would never replace his dad, and that for me, Kai’s happiness would always come first.

And because my son had proven time and again to be wiser than I give him credit for, he hugged me tighter and said, “I know how much you love me, Mom.”

The steam from the shower has me coming back to the present.

I’m just about to drop my panties when I decide to place my toy–aptly named Wayne, after one of the greatest hockey players of all time, and because it pisses Rowan off to no end–under the seam with my finger on the button.

I click a quick picture and send it with a response to his last message.

Me

I was just going to let Wayne warm me up a little before you got here.

Giggling to myself, I drop my underwear and strut over to where he keeps his luxury bath products. I swear, the man has more bath products than a spa. I place my nose over a pink-and-yellow shower bomb, inhaling its light perfume. Peonies and vanilla.

Dropping it into the shower, I go back and check my phone when it vibrates.

Rowan

You trying to get me in a wreck, woman? Because that’s what almost happened. I swear to God, Shay, I will crush fucking Wayne or Jensen or whoever, if you let that thing touch you without me there.

Another message comes through as I’m giggling.

Rowan

And what the fuck is up with the food emojis? Please tell me you’re not thinking about one of your weird ass smoothies right now.

I’ve just gotten into the shower, immersing myself in the cascade of warm water and filling my senses with the flowery scent lifting with the steam when the bathroom door opens, and Rowan’s form fills up the doorway.

A shiver runs through me, despite the warm vapor I’m surrounded by, as his stormy eyes bore into me before dropping to the golden object in my hand.

He’s pissed.

And God, how a pissed-off, turned-on Rowan Parker is God’s gift to my needy vagina.

Looking nothing less than the embodiment of sex and masculinity in his impeccably tailored suit, he stalks closer while slowly taking off his watch and unbuttoning his cuffs. With each stride, his eyes stay fixed on me while my mouth waters.

Silky streams of water slide over my curves, tracing every contour of my body the way his heated expression promises to do with his tongue.

His voice punctures the rhythmic hum of the shower as he unbuckles his belt. “Drop to your knees, Shayla. And get rid of what’s in your hand.”

My pussy throbs with anticipation as my breath skitters on an exhale, but I do what he asks, looking at him through the spray gliding down my face.

After making a show of taking off his suit and underwear, Rowan steps into the shower, his massive, bare form vibrating with need. His equally massive cock, with its beautiful mushroom head, taps my wet lips.

Rowan strokes his shaft once, twice, and my mouth falls open, impatient and longing.

He chuckles. “So needy. So ready for my cock.”

I press my thighs together to relieve some of the want between them as my hand reaches for my clit.

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