Page 100 of Moms of Mayhem
By the time Mom was finished and cleared to leave, I was hanging on by a quickly unraveling thread.
I walked her out to the little SUV Mason had given her. She was steadier than last week, moving with more confidence, but I still hovered just in case.
“Thanks, hon,” she said once she was settled in the passenger seat. “That was a good session. I can feel it in my core already.”
“Means you’re doing it right.” I smiled and closed herdoor, then looked back at the studio. I hadn’t said goodbye to Emmy, and I wasn’t ready to leave.
I opened the car door again and said, “Forgot my phone. ”
She waved me off. “Go.”
With hurried steps, I slipped back inside the studio, pulse ticking faster with every step. The lobby was empty, Emmy’s staff gone for their lunch break. I moved between the reformers and found her still in the PT room, wiping down the table, her ponytail swaying with each motion.
She looked up, surprised. “Lose something?”
“Yeah.” I shut the door behind me and locked it with a quiet click. “My mind, every time I’m around you.”
Her lips parted just as I closed the distance—and then I kissed her.
No warning. No slow burn. Just pent-up tension crashing down as I grabbed her hips and backed her into the wall. Her body hit with a soft thud, breath catching as I pressed my hard length against her.
She gasped against my mouth, one hand fisting in the collar of my T-shirt, the other sliding under the hem to skim across my ribs. My hands were everywhere—her waist, her back, her thighs—and it still wasn’t enough.
I kissed her like I’d been starved for it.
“Jesus,” I muttered between breaths, forehead resting on hers. “I want you so bad it physically hurts. Stupid of me to only makeout on Friday night.”
She tugged me back in, lips swollen, eyes wild.
“I wish I had time to fuck you right here,” I whispered, voice rough. “Right up against this wall, hands in your hair, mouth on your neck, your legs around my waist, my cock buried deep in your pussy until you come all over me.”
She let out a shaky laugh. “Yes. That.”
“Between your teenager and my mother, we’ve got the privacy of a shared bathroom in a locker room.”
That earned a snort and a grin that nearly did me in.
“But my mom is in the car,” I added with a groan, fingers still curled tight around her waist.
“Terrible timing.”
“The worst.”
I kissed her again, slower this time—memorizing the taste of her, the feel of her hands on me—and forced myself to step back before I did something reckless.
“Rain check?” I asked, still catching my breath.
“God, yes.”
I gave her one last look, every inch of me still humming, then turned and slipped out before I changed my mind and locked the door again.
Back at the car, I opened the door to find my mom sitting patiently, holding up my phone between two fingers like it was Exhibit A.
“You mean this phone?” she asked, one brow arched.
I stared at it, then took it with what little dignity I had left. “Yep. That’s the one.”
She smiled like she knew exactly what had just gone down. “Tell Emmy thank you for today. I felt strong.”
