by A. Valentine
At the end of the week, Erin decided to go home. For one thing, she had only packed a small tote bag for her stay at Corrine’s. You can’t stay away forever, she chided herself. Just go back. Act casual.
Wonderful scents assailed her as she entered the house. She passed the dining room and saw the table set for a romantic candlelight dinner, two places. In the kitchen, she could hear the sound of water running, the oven opening and closing. And Michael. She could hear him talking, holding a one-sided conversation.
“Working late? How late? Seriously?” He snorted. “Well, it was going to be a surprise but I made dinner.” Pause. “Bistecchine di maiale. You said it was your favorite.” Another pause; Erin could hear his agitation mounting. “Well, what if I brought it up to the hospital? Could you take a break long enough to eat?” He paused again, and she heard him disconnect emotionally, every word clipped. “Okay. You know what? That’s fine. Yep. No problem. I’ll just leave it on the table and you can eat it when you get home after midnight.”
Erin jumped when she heard the oven door slam, followed by another violent crash. She peered into the kitchen. Michael whipped off the apron and flung it across the room. Grabbing a pair of silicone pot holders, he swept a steaming pan off the stove and headed for the dining room. He stormed past Erin without seeing her. She heard him drop the pan on the table, causing the place settings to rattle. Cautiously, Erin moved to follow. She found Michael leaning over the table with his back to her, an apron tied around his neck and waist over a dark t-shirt and jeans. She could see the tendons standing out on his arms as he gripped the edge of the table, and for an instant she thought he might flip it. A floorboard creaked under her step. Michael whirled around, eyes wide, nostrils flaring. Startled. He relaxed when he saw Erin. “Your…mother…is working late.” He motioned to the food. “I made Florentine pork chops, roasted vegetables with a sage and butter sauce…” He sighed, and she could see the emotional exhaustion in every line of his chiseled face. “Are you hungry?”
Erin moved around him. Reaching into the pan, she selected a cherry tomato and bit into it. Flavor exploded across her tongue. “It’s good,” she said softly. She looked up as Michael pivoted to face her. The air felt heavy around them. She could feel her heart pounding.
They came together suddenly, moving simultaneously, both of them desperate. Michael grabbed Erin’s ass, kneading it, pulling her up on her toes. She wrapped her arms around his neck and drew him down to her. Their tongues spiraled into each other’s mouth, pushing, fighting for dominance and retreating. He lifted her up and then she found herself on her back across the table, Michael shoving the plates aside to give them room. Erin pushed herself up right, sitting on the edge of the table. She grabbed at Michael’s t-shirt, rucking it up to expose his hard abs. Michael assisted by stripping the shirt off over his head and tossing it aside. Swooping in, he caught her lips in another kiss. She raked her short fingernails over his chest. Again, they parted, and she lifted her arms so he could remove her tank top. She took the initiative and unhooked her bra, quickly flinging it away. Michael grinned when he saw her now bare breasts. He cupped his hands up under them, lifting them to his mouth as he bent his head to suckle at her nipples. Erin gasped at the rough drag of his beard stubble across one sensitive peak.
Pushing her to lie back, Michael hooked his fingers in the waistband of her capris and tugged both them and her panties down together. Once he had her naked, he took a moment to look her over, the blue of his irises almost nonexistent due to his widened pupils. Reaching over to the casserole dish, he dipped his fingers into the butter sauce and drew circles around her nipples and down her belly. He leaned over her and retraced that path with his tongue. He slid his hands under her knees and lifted her legs up and spread them apart. Erin watched him, quivering, as he kissed down the inside of one thigh. Her head dropped back on the table when his mouth reached her mons. Just as she imagined it, his tongue swirled up between her labia, seeking out her clit. She arched her hips up her fingers trying to find purchase on the linen tablecloth beneath her. “Oh god,” she breathed, pelvis jerking in time with every flick of his tongue. “Yes…please…yes…”
Michael rose to his full height again. Gazing down at Erin, licking her taste from his lips, he began to unbuckle his belt and unfasten his jeans. Erin watched, panting, eager to see what she had only ever imagined up to this point. Michael shoved his jeans down. His cock tumbled free, thick and heavy, veins standing out prominently along the engorged length and the fat head of it a deep red. Not just as Erin had pictured it – better. She spread her legs voluntarily and he gave her that shark grin.
Shouldering up under her knees, Michael pulled Erin’s ass to the very edge of the table. The cloth slid with her. Glassed tumbled over and silverware hit the floor. Erin laughed, anxious and excited at once. She watched him grasp his cock, stroke it a few times root to tip. He rubbed it against her mons, clear fluid leaking into her red curls and making them glisten. Moving the head lower, she felt it stroke down over her clit, and then slowly, Michael began to press inside. Erin inhaled sharply it had been months since she had a man inside her, and Zach – which satisfying – could not hold a candle to Michael when it came to size. Michael pulled his hand away and slid his palms under Erin’s ass, lifting her hips higher to give him just the right angle. He dug his fingers into her fleshy buttocks as he started to rock in and out, pushing deeper with every stroke. His lips pressed together and he grunted, air escaping his nostrils. He kept his gaze locked with hers, even as her body shifted with every thrust and her breasts rolled back and forth. Erin grabbed at them to make them stop moving. She saw Michael’s eyes flash and she gave him a sly grin. “You want me to play with them for you, baby?” she asked, breathy. She began to pluck at her nipples, tease and pinch them into hard little knots. “You like that?”
He answered with a growl and his hips began to pump faster. Erin moaned and arched her back. She dug her heels into his shoulders and pushed her pelvis up into his thrusts. “Harder!” she ground out. “Give it to me! Oh, god, don’t stop – don’t stop – don’t stop!”
“Take that cock,” Michael snarled at her, lips curled back from those white teeth. “Yeah – that’s it – oh, girl, you are so good…getting so wet…yeah…”
And Erin could hear it, the slick, sticky sound of his cock sliding in and out of her. She could feel her orgasm building, preparing to break through, the drag of his cock along her clit and the deep throbbing of it plunging into her. She jerked sharply. Her toes spread and she drew her knees in toward her chest. “Yeah,” she whined, twisting under Michael. “Oh, yeah. Oh, yeah. Yeah – oh – god, yes, baby, oh!”
Michael did not stop. He captured one of her legs when threatened to writhe away, jerked her back toward him, and kept thrusting into her wildly until he let out a string of expletives. Erin felt the rush of heat, and felt it pushing out of her, trickling down over her buttocks, until Michael finally slowed down and withdrew completely. She moaned as soon as she felt him leave her, instantly missing the stretch and fullness. Dazed, she lay there, head rolling against the table. Her arm flopped over to one side, and her hand landed right into the casserole dish of still-warm food.
Just when she thought she could not handle any more stimulation, Michael decided to put her to the test. She felt his face between her legs again, his tongue moving in lazy swirls around her clit and labia. “Oh, god, no more!” she begged, trying to clamp her thighs shut around his head. She felt the huff of his breath against her mons as he chuckled. A moment later, he began pulling at her, dragging her to sit up. Erin sagged against him, smiling. “You,” she said, poking him in the chest, “are a nasty, nasty man.”
He cupped her chin and tilted her face up. “But you like it,” he replied, voice low and thick. Bending down, he kissed her, and she could taste them both on his lips, the tang of their combined fluids. She had no problem kissing after a guy went down on her, and she liked that Michael could do that
even after spilling inside her. “Mm,” she said, licking it up.
He helped her down from the table and she clung to him, her legs still a bit unsteady. They looked down at the mess they had made of the dining room, and then at each other. And then started to laugh.
“We need to clean up,” Erin said. “This mess.” She motioned to the table, and then trailed her fingers over his torso. “And this one.”
“I think I’d like to start with this one,” Michael said, capturing her hand and drawing it up to his lips.
They found themselves upstairs in Erin’s bathroom. Desire saw a swift revival as their soapy bodies pressed together, Michael enfolding Erin in his arms, kisses deep and slow. Pulling back, he turned her around. Erin did not need verbal instruction. She placed her hands against the wall and leaned forward, feet apart. Michael entered her from behind. Leaning over her, he reached under and cupped her breasts and kissed her shoulders while the water streamed down over their skin. He moved languidly, pushing into her, holding there a moment before drawing out again. He teased her clit and then her asshole, until he had her sobbing, legs shaking as she came again and again.
Michael left Erin in her bed before going back downstairs. She could hear him moving around, the clatter of dishes, and knew he had to be cleaning up the dining room. She looked over at the clock on her nightstand. Mom wouldn’t be home for another two hours or more. Erin felt sleepy, her body heavy and sated from all the great sex. Guilt had not set in…yet.
But it would.
Chapter Eight
Erin woke up the next morning to find herself alone – not just in bed, but in the house. She had fallen asleep before Mom came home. If she and Michael had fought, Erin would not have noticed. She got up and dressed. She felt tender from taking Michael’s big cock not once but twice. Unfortunately, that sensitivity just served as a physical reminder of what she had done. This was a mistake, she thought.
The dining room looked like it always did when not in use. No one would ever know that Erin had been nailed across that table last night by a man almost twice her age and married to her mother. God, Mom is going to find out. I just know it. She’ll kill me. Or Michael. Or both of us. Damn!
She knocked on the door to the master bedroom and then poked her head inside. The bed had been made, everything looked in order. Out of curiosity, she went to Michael’s dresser and opened the drawers to find his clothes still inside. Okay, so he hadn’t left. She lingered over one of his t-shirts, tempted to take it. You’re in this deep enough; stop it! She slammed the drawer shut and left the room.
Going back upstairs, she sat down on her bed. And she made a big decision. “I can’t stay here anymore. I can’t be near him. We can’t control ourselves, and I don’t want to hurt Mom any more than I already have.” Not that she even had proof that her mother knew. She figured if she left, it would allow Michael to focus on Mom, to find his way back to the feelings that brought them together a year ago.
She returned to Corrine’s apartment. Corrine had given her a key so she could come and go as she pleased. She had told Erin yesterday of plans to go up to Milwaukee with her mom to visit one of her aunts for the weekend. Erin would have the apartment to herself, which would give her time to think.
Her phone chimed. Picking it up, Erin felt her heart miss a beat when she saw a text message from Michael.
She did not reply. Five minutes later, another text came in.
Erin sighed. Finally, she sent an answer, giving him the address.
Michael showed up almost an hour later. He looked haggard, like he had not slept, dark circles under his eyes and his hair sticking up in places.
“Okay,” Erin said, once she had closed the door. She turned to face him. “Let’s talk. Let’s talk about how we need to stop this. I don’t want to hurt my mother. If she finds out her husband is screwing her daughter…” She shook her head. “I don’t know what she’ll do. I just feel like it wouldn’t be good.”
“You’re right,” Michael said, his voice sounding raspier and tired. “Right after I finished cleaning up last night, I left the house. I drove around, stopped at a bar, had a few drinks. And I thought. I thought about what we did. About your mother. About how I would feel if I had a son and found out she was had sex with him.” He paused. “I also thought about you, and how you would be hurt by all this.”
“Me?” Erin blinked, surprised.
“Yes. You may not realize it, but I found myself drawn to you the first time I saw you at the Pancake House. Physically, I’ve always been attracted to redheads. But I had no intention of ever acting on that attraction. As we talked over breakfast, I found myself feeling something more. A…kinship, I guess you could say. You’re smart and funny and vibrant. I really didn’t hold out any hope of ever seeing you again, and I figured I would be safe…but then I saw you later that night, and found out you’re my wife’s daughter…I mean, neither of us knew, up until that moment…but those feelings in me, the feelings that formed in that first meeting, weren’t showing any signs of changing. And the more your mom pushed us to hang out together and get to know each other better, the deeper I felt myself descending. I hated it. Right now, I hate myself, more than anything. I don’t know why this happened. I have never been inclined to be unfaithful. But lately, I’ve started to realize that I might have made a mistake. I didn’t know your mother was a workaholic, I haven’t been with her long enough, but when she wouldn’t make time for her own daughter? Well, that put things into perspective.” He took a step toward Erin, closing the space between them, and reached up to brush her cheek with his knuckles. “And then I kissed you, and I couldn’t make sense of anything anymore.” Michael stared deep into Erin’s eyes. “You want me as much as I want you, but we’re both trapped by our loyalty to your mother. You’ve been trying to avoid me so much, you won’t even come home. The home where you grew up. You have more right than I do to be there.”
“But you can’t leave, either,” Erin said, trying to ignore the tremors moving through her at the simplest touch of his hand. “You must love my mother, that’s why you married her, right?”
“I thought I did,” Michael admitted. “But aside from the occasional sex, we’re actually strangers to each other. She’s hardly ever home. You said she’s always been like that and you’ve had years to adapt to that behavior, but I thought it was just temporary. I thought it happened once in a while. I work, too, but I also like to have a life away from work – like spending time with the person I chose to spend my life with. Going to baseball games…making out in parked cars…” As he spoke, he drew closer. His voice dropped lower, until it became a whisper. “Having sex on the dinner table…”
Erin’s breath started coming in shorter huffs, her pulse quickening. She tilted her chin up as Michael leaned down, his hand curling around the back of her neck as he kissed her. She inhaled against his mouth, a shaky gasp, but instead of pushing him away she found herself pressing up against him. Just as Michael said, they were caught in a trap – not one of loyalty to her mother, but an uncontrollable need for each other. They fit together in every way.
Michael swept her up and carried her over to the sofa. Clothes started coming off. That voice that kept telling her not to let this go on had fallen silent. All Erin could hear now was the sound of her pounding heart, of their ragged breaths, and her longing for this man who might not be perfect but seemed perfectly matched to her. She wrapped her legs around his hips and her arms around his neck as his cock filled her. Her teeth grazed his shoulder and she whimpered in delight at every thrust.
Slipping a hand under her ass, Michael lifted her up and turned until he sat with her astride him. Erin held his face as she rolled her hips and rode up and down on his thick rod. He brought one of her breasts to his mouth and she watched as he licked and blew on her nipple. Holding onto her again, he moved them to the floor, Erin on her back on the thick
shag rug. She reached down and dug her nails into his ass as he sped them toward the finish line. Afterwards, he held her close and pressed kisses all over her face and neck.
“This can’t happen again,” Erin whispered, as she drew random patterns on his chest with her fingertip. Tossing her bangs out of her eyes, she looked up at him, her expression solemn. “No more, after this.”
As much as it pained them both, Michael grimaced and nodded. “Okay.”
Chapter Nine
By the end of June, Erin received a call from the aquarium in response to the resume she had submitted upon her return to Chicago. One interview later, and Erin found herself employed as a research assistant and marine animal care specialist. She had talked Corrine in letting her sublet the second bedroom of her apartment temporarily until she could get a place of her own.
She had not seen or spoken to Michael since the afternoon he came by Corrine’s place. He had honored the pact that they made not to let this…thing…go any further. Oh, she ached for him. Those first few nights, she had even cried herself to sleep. This is why I don’t believe in God, she thought. Why would he put the perfect man for me on this planet but give him to a woman who doesn’t appreciate him? And why did that woman have to be my mother?
Bit by bit, she began removing her belongings from the house in Evanston. She would wait until Michael had gone to work and go for another load. She stopped by the hospital to tell her mother about her new job and moving in with Corrine. Mom had been happy for her, and very supportive. “And now you and Michael will have me out of your hair,” she had said, trying to make light of it. “You’ll be able to get back to enjoying married life with no kids around.”
