Oh fuck.
I use the swivel in my hips to thrust up, her hands planted behind her head, deliberate…mind-blowing…rolls of her narrow hips…
“God, Rhett, yes…right there, yeah yeah,” comes her plea, her chant. “Keep doing that with your hips, don’t stop, don’t stop.”
Her tits bounce as we fuck, hair falling in a shocking red wave, the entire visual more than I can even fucking handle. I can’t take my eyes off her—couldn’t if I tried.
Laurel’s hands skim my pelvis, nails dragging along the skin there. Head tipped back, she moans as we move together, bodies in synch, her tight—
“You should see yourself,” she whispers on a whimper. “You’re gorgeous.”
And in this moment, I believe her.
I have to.
Because there’s something in her eyes when she looks down at me, an expression I can’t place. Words waiting on her lips, words she wants to say. Adoration in the bend of her brow and the depths of her pretty blue eyes.
Yearning? Maybe.
Desire? Yes.
Affection. Devotion.
Shit, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think she was in love with me.
I know sex can make you say and do some pretty fucked-up shit, but I don’t think I’m wrong here. Feel a shift when she breaks the contact, leaning forward, palms grabbing the wooden headboard behind me. Rocks her hips—
“Harder. Grab my ass,” she demands. “Feels so…mmm.”
Bends her head, hair falling in a cascade, so long it hits my chest. When she leans down to kiss me, I push it out of her face, cradling her jawline as she screws me on top.
Christ, shit, fuck…
“Rhett.” My name, said like that, on her lips, silently spilling into my mouth. “God, baby, oh Goddd.”
“Laurel,” I chant back, lost in the feel of her tight pussy. Her tongue.
The look in her eyes.
“Baby.”
When we come, it’s together—mouths falling open, two sets of wide eyes bonded, intense—something I assumed was only reserved for movies. For cheesy romance novel bullshit. For my dipshit friends and their relationships.
Not for me.
Laurel takes her hands off the headboard, placing them on the pillow beneath my head. Rests her cheek on my sternum, listens to the erratically beating heart within my chest.
I stroke her hair. Back.
She kisses my shoulder.
“Rhett?”
“Hmm?”
There’s a long stretch of calm, her fingertip tracing along the veins in my forearm.
“I…”
“You what?”
“Nothing.”
“Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?”
Laurel sits up, yanking a sheet over her pale breasts. “Doesn’t it sound like there are a bunch of voices in the living room?”
Insatiable, I drag her back down to the mattress, throwing back the sheet, mouth latching on to her nipple. Suckling. “No.”
“Rhett, stop!” She makes no move to smack me away, letting me taste her skin. “I’m serious,” she all but moans. “Listen for a second.”
I pause. Listen.
She’s right—there are voices coming from the front of the house. Voices I don’t recognize.
“You don’t think your roommates are having a party, do you?”
When I shrug, hand creeping below the covers, back between her legs, she spreads them for me. “Who knows. I don’t trust those two.”
“But you trust me,” she boasts, hands cupping her bare breasts. “You want more of these?”
My dick twitches. Hardens. “Fuck yes.”
“You want my cookie?”
“Fuck ye—”
Footfalls in the hallway give me pause. A loud banging at my door.
“New guy!”
“WHAT!” I shout, horny and immediately irritated. Laurel kisses my back when I twist my torso toward the door, eyes searching the room for my boxers.
“Dude.” Gunderson laughs through the door. “I hate to break up the party, but you have company.”
A warm mouth drags down the back of my neck. “Tell them to piss off.”
“No can do.”
Petite hands snake around my middle, wrapping around my—
“Godfuckingdammit Gunderson, I said piss off!”
“Afraid that’s going to be impossible amigo.” His annoying laugh drifts through the door.
Laurel’s soft hands slowly pump up and down my cock. “Why the fuck not?”
Jesus Christ, did I just grunt that entire sentence out?
“What’cha doin’ in there, buddy?” More laughter. “Better finish up and come out here—I know how much you love surprises.”
“Jesus Christ, Gunderson.”
“Just put some pants on and throw a shirt on your ginger—you’ll thank me later.”
The doorknob jiggles. Another knock, this one different—seven short raps in a pattern.
Delicate.
Familiar…
Fed up, I throw back the covers, slip a pair of boxers over my raging boner, perturbed.
Unlock and yank open my bedroom door. “What the hell did I tell you assholes about—”
Holy shit.
“Mom?”
“Surprise!” My mother reaches forward, pulling me in for a hug. Squeezes me tight. Backs away, looking me up and down. “Sweetie, where are your clothes?”
Behind me, in a heap on the floor—because I kicked them off before climbing into bed to fuck Laurel for the last two hours.
The corner of my eye catches the distinct shape of three gold discarded condom wrappers, and I kick the remaining ones away with my toe, out of sight. They skid across the floor, sliding under my dresser.
“My clothes? Uh…”
“Do you need me to do your laundry?” She pushes forward, jamming the door with her hip. I push back, stopping it with mine. Her brow furrows. “Why are you blocking the door? Let me in—I’ll grab your dirties.”
Dirties? Shoot me now.
“Mom, it’s fine.”
“We’re just so excited! We wanted to come see you for your birthday.” Her hands grasp my face. “You look so good, sweetie!” She wraps her arms around me again. “Your father and I—”
I know the moment her eyes catch sight of Laurel over my shoulder, through the crack in the door, will never forget her stunned silence as long as I live. It’s palpable, followed by a dramatic gasp. “Who—I mean, oh my! I…goodness!”
I’ve never seen my mother at a loss for words, and right now? She has no fucking clue what to say. Averts her wide eyes, face flushed.
I crane my neck, catch Laurel’s grimace, sheets pulled up to her neck, brilliant red hair in a tangle, cascading over one bare shoulder. It’s obvious she’s naked, embarrassed, and thoroughly fucked.
Her words are strangled. “Oh my God Mrs. Rabideaux, hi. I…we…oh my God.” She disappears beneath the sheets.
“I am so sorry! The boys didn’t tell us you had company.” My mother peeks over my broad shoulder one more time; she’s curious, interested now that the shock seems to have worn off. “I am so sorry!”
Laurel emits another groan.
“Mom, can you give us five minutes, to uh, you know…change.”
“Of course! Yes. Goodness.” In two seconds, she’s going to start spinning in circles. “I’ll just…y’all get changed. I’ll go wait in the living room with your father.”
“Jesus. Anyone else come with you?”
“Your brothers. My baby turned twenty-one, of course we drove up!” She does a small squeal then chokes down another one. “Y’all have a big meet this weekend and your dad thought it was time to check up on you after all the…” She lowers her voice to a whisper. “All the trouble with the team.”
I lean against the doorjamb, continue blocking her view into the bedroom. “She knows about the drama, Ma. You don’t have to whisper.”
“She’s so pretty!” my mother gushes in a staged whisper. “What’s her name? Is that your girlfriend? Are you a couple?”