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They both groaned, then in one thrust, Mike slid in all the way, causing Joe to gasp.
“You okay?” he asked in a voice so rough, she wondered that he’d been able to get the words out.
“More than okay,” she assured him, equally gruff. “You feel so darned good.” In her heightened state, she was unable to produce a word as colorful as her norm. She thrust her hips up again. “More.”
Clearly, she didn’t need to ask twice. Mike began working her like a champ, gliding in and out, changing up speeds, fingering her swollen clit while dragging his penis across her g-spot. He knew all the moves, and used every single one of them.
The man was blowing her mind, and she was enjoying every minute of it. So much so that, perversely, she denied the orgasm that tempted several times, in order to keep the exquisite feelings coming.
“I’m close,” Mike warned her, clearly letting her know if she wanted to join him, it had to be soon.
She really didn’t want it to end, but Mike must have known she was holding off, because he decided not to leave her climax to chance. He lowered his head to her nipple and sucked it into his mouth, hard, while at the same time pinching her nether-nub.
“Yes!” she screamed. “Mike!” Waves of ecstasy began engulfing her body, rocketing her quickly toward another realm; one where only she, Mike, his hands, his mouth, and his glorious shaft existed.
Countdown…three, two, one…
There was ignition.
Joe braced herself for liftoff, and…
Explosions shook both of them.
Together.
“Goddamned, mother-fucking hell!!!” Joe spouted in a wail, not giving two craps she’d just broken a near-decade of curse-less existence.
Because shit, damn, and halleluiah, it was the best orgasm of her goddamned life.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Mike cracked eggs into a bowl, whisking them up like an expert before pouring them into a pan. He put the burner under them on low while, in the meantime, he draped bacon strips over the plastic arms of a doohickey that was designed for microwave cooking. He was fully capable of browning the strips in a pan, but he found that zapping them was quicker and a helluva-lot easier to clean up.
He checked the clock. Six-twenty.
The kids would be down any second to grab breakfast before they left. Since their mother had walked out, Mike never missed making them their first meal of the day. Even when they complained that he was delaying their plans, or that what he cooked wasn’t exactly what they wanted, Mike continued with his efforts, and he knew, one-hundred percent, they appreciated it.
Dilly was first on the scene, tromping down the stairs to confront him with a sly look in her eyes. “Well look who’s awake. I thought maybe you’d sleep late and call in sick to work today.”
Huh. That was one very “smirky” face his daughter was giving him.
“Why would you think that?” Mike asked, as innocently as possible.
“Uh, duh,” Tim came barreling down the stairs into the middle of the conversation, walked right over to the counter, and snagged a piece of buttered toast from the plate Mike had loaded up. “Maybe because you didn’t get home until a million o-clock,” he instigated.
Busted. Mike thought he’d been able to sneak in without either of them knowing. “It wasn’t that late,” he decried.
“Two AM,” Dilly countered smartly, and it didn’t take long for Mike to hear the reason she was calling him out. “Considering you don’t think that hour is outrageous at all, I believe our curfew should be changed.” She regarded her brother. “What do you think, Tim? Should Dad move our pumpkin time from eleven-thirty to one?”
Mike needed to nip this one in the bud, stat, before Tim could get on board with Dilly. “Don’t even go there,” he warned. “I’m forty-two, and you guys aren’t even legal yet. So there’s no discussion. We’ll renegotiate when you’re a senior next year, Dilly.” He pointed at his son with the spatula. “And it’ll be two years for you.”
“Spoilsport,” Dilly grunted, but he could tell she hadn’t expected much from her fishing expedition. “Sooo, what did you do so late, since everything around this town that’s interesting closes down at midnight?” Dilly continued to prod.
Mike tried to play it cool, but he could feel the color moving up his neck at the memory of exactly what he and Joe had been up to.
Dilly looked both shocked and pleased as she took in his countenance and came to a conclusion. “What? You’ve got to be kidding me,” she squealed heartily. “My Dad was out…making out?”
Tim, who clearly hadn’t given it too much thought, stopped, mid-bite, his mouth hanging open.