I padded back from the bedroom, barefoot and clad in nothing but a tiny black tank and a pair of booty shorts. The sink of the cushions shifted as I settled down beside him, leaving just enough space to be polite but close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his arm. It felt daring to sit here like this while Nick slept just upstairs, a secret thrill prickling along my skin. The silence between us wasn’t empty; it was filled with the clink of ice in the glass he held out and the subtle scent of his cologne, something woodsy and mature that made my pulse quicken just a little.
“Your son’s already passed out,” I teased, accepting the tumbler with a grateful smile. The cool condensation wetted my palm as I took a sip, the amber liquid burning a comforting path down my throat. I tilted my head back against the sofa, letting out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, and let my eyes linger on him for a heartbeat longer than necessary. The low lamp light cast shadows across his face, highlighting the crinkles at the corners of his eyes and the earnestness in his expression.
“Thanks for joining me for one more,” Michael said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate right through the cushion between us. He clinked his glass gently against mine, the sound sharp and intimate in the quiet room. “And for having me stay with you guys this weekend. It’s nice catching up with you both.” He took a slow drink, his gaze remaining steady on mine, grounding the moment in a way that felt both surprisingly heavy and delightfully electric.
His hand found my knee, warm and possessive, and the slow, deliberate drag of his fingers up my inner thigh sent a jolt of heat straight to my centre, all thoughts of my boyfriend sleeping upstairs evaporating into the humid air.
I drained my glass in one go, liquid courage spurring me on as I discarded the tumbler and crawled directly into Michael’s lap. The friction of his jeans against the thin material of my shorts was maddening, a rough tease that had me grinding down instinctively. Between bruising kisses, I threaded my fingers into his hair and breathlessly murmured that we were crossing a line, that this was wrong. He just chuckled low in his throat, his grip tightening on my ass to pull me harder against the growing bulge beneath his zipper, challenging my weak protests with every squeeze of his hands. My own fingers betrayed me, deftly undoing his button and zipper to free him, my need to feel his skin overriding the nagging voice in the back of my head.
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” I breathed against his mouth, the words lacking any real conviction as my fingertips grazed the skin just above his waistband.
He didn’t miss a beat, his voice a husky rasp as he shot back, “Are you saying you don’t want to?” His hands answered for him, digging hard into my ass and pulling me flush against his heat to emphasize exactly what he thought I wanted.
“Of course not, it’s just I’m your son’s girlfriend, and he’s upstairs,” I stammered out, though my hands betrayed my panic by diving below the waistband of his boxers, cupping his manhood. “We shouldn’t,” I whispered again, softer this time, like a secret between us, while pushing his pants down over his hips. The fabric pooled around his knees, leaving only the thin barrier of my shorts between us.
I fished his cock out, now hard and pulsing in my grip, and stroked him with a reckless rhythm that matched the thundering of my heart. His fingers weren’t idle; they traced the slick heat of my inner thighs before pushing the fabric of my shorts to the side. The intrusion was slow, deliberate, his digits sinking into my wetness and curling just right to make my knees buckle. He began to finger me, his thumb grinding against my clit, and I buried my face in his chest to stifle the cry rising in my throat as the tension coiled tight and snapped, leaving me shuddering against him.
The aftermath of the climax left me hypersensitive, the air feeling charged and dangerous as I felt the heavy weight of his cock against my pussy. The reality of where we were and who he was slammed back into me, terrifying and electric. “This is wrong,” I whispered, the protest sounding weak even to my own ears as my hips betrayed me, twitching instinctively toward his.
Michael held my gaze, his eyes dark and knowing, cutting through my hesitation like a knife. “Should we stop?” he asked, his voice dropping an octave. It wasn’t a retreat; it was a challenge, one that hung heavy between us. He knew damn well I couldn’t, wouldn’t. I bit my lip, tasting the metallic tang of my own arousal, and nodded a breathless yes, as I dropped my shorts and slowly lowered myself onto him, the stretch of him filling me inch by inch, rendering everything else obsolete.
The sensation was overwhelming, a fullness that pushed every rational thought out of my head until nothing existed but the friction where our bodies joined. Every downward snap of my hips sent a jolt of pleasure up my spine, his length hitting a spot inside me that had never been touched before. The wet, obscene sounds of our coupling filled the quiet room, louder than the blood rushing in my ears, and the thrill of getting caught only sharpened the edge of my need.
His grip on my hair tightened, tipping my head back and exposing my throat as he started to thrust upward to meet my movements. The rhythm became frantic, a desperate race toward release that ignored the consequences waiting upstairs. I could feel the tension in his thighs, the way his breathing turned ragged and shallow against my neck, signaling that he was just as lost in this chaos as I was.
“You feel so good,” he groaned, the vibration of his chest rumbling against mine. “So fucking good.” The praise was like gasoline on a fire, making me ride him harder, taking him deeper until the pressure built to an unbearable peak. I didn’t care about anything else in that moment, only the way he filled me and the crash that was inevitable.
The pressure between my thighs coiled tighter, a knot of sheer ecstasy ready to snap. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he warned, his hips bucking upward erratically. The feeling of his swelling length inside me was too much, the promise of his release pushing me right to the edge.
“Don’t stop,” I moaned, clutching at his shoulders as the rhythm turned chaotic and unforgiving. We spiraled upward together, breath hitching and muscles locking, the taboo nature of the act feeding the intensity until my vision whited out.
“Cum in me,” I begged, shameless and desperate for the hot rush of him. “I want it all.” He let out a guttural growl, his body seizing as he obeyed. I felt the heavy throb of his release, flooding my unprotected pussy with warmth while my own climax crashed over me in waves. Our tongues tangled in a sloppy, consuming kiss, swallowing each other’s cries of pleasure. Just a floor above, his son slept in peaceful ignorance, completely unaware that I was unraveling on his father’s beautiful cock.
