The Pool Boy (Nashville Neighborhood 2)

The first orgasm I hadn’t achieved by myself in years.

He stood there and smiled like I’d given him pleasure and it wasn’t the other way around.

I pushed up onto an elbow, hooked a hand behind his neck, and jerked him down to my lips. He had to slap a palm down on the counter beside me to keep from falling into me. My action hadn’t been graceful. I’d put too much force into it, but it got the job done, and our fumbling kiss strengthened as I plunged my tongue into his mouth.

While my body was cooling post-orgasm, his was heating up.

The heavy sigh of satisfaction Troy gave . . . it echoed in my center. I’d trailed a hand down his chest and cupped him through his shorts, stroking the bulge pressing at the center seam.

Shit, he was so huge.

And hard.

I slowly traced the outline of him, which maybe was teasing, but I was enjoyed it way too much to go any faster. As I explored, he hooked the fingers of his free hand into the neckline of my bodysuit and jerked it down. My breast was only bare from the lace for a second before his mouth latched on.

The orgasm he’d delivered had only temporarily taken the edge off of my desire, and a new ache swelled in me. It had me forcing a hand inside his board shorts and curling my fingers around the thick girth of him. His skin was hot and velvety soft.

Air went sharply in through his clenched teeth, like a reversed hiss. His shoulders shuddered with pleasure when I awkwardly pumped my hand on him, making him throb. It was a tight fit inside his shorts, and I wanted them gone. I needed to touch every inch of him and revel at what we’d both been denied for so long.

“Get these off,” I demanded.

“Yes, ma’am.” His grin made him look impossibly young and even more attractive.

I’d never seen a guy get naked so quickly, and the second he was, I couldn’t control myself. I clasped both hands around his dick.

“Shit,” he groaned while my fists slid back and forth in steady strokes.

I squeezed even harder. “Is this for me?”

In response, he nudged his hips forward, essentially fucking my hands, and brought his mouth right beside my ear. “Every . . . last . . . inch.”

His words were like a drummer slapping his drumsticks together to set the tempo for the opening song. There was no going back now, and we let the rush of performing carry us away.

I scrambled to unhook the clasp at the back of the bodysuit and pull down the straps. I wanted to be as naked as he was, but it was awkward trying to get the lingerie off while I hopped down.

“What are you—” he started, but I grabbed his shoulders and spun him around, pushing him back against the counter. He threw out his hands to brace himself, and it sent the silver dish full of decorative lemons flying. The fake food bounced and rolled, while the dish clattered loudly to the floor.

But Troy didn’t pay any attention to it.

His focus was fixated on me as I dropped my knees to the expensive tile floor I’d let his mother talk me into.

Oh, God. His mother.

I forced her from my mind and focused on what I was desperate for. I was out of my mind and selfish with lust.

“I want you in my mouth,” I said.

He’d given me so much pleasure, I was eager to return the favor. I curled my fingers around his hard cock, parted my lips, and took him inside my mouth. I’d only slid down a few inches on him before he began to thrust, and he wasn’t gentle either.

He was . . . urgent.

Like he’d waited his whole damn life and wasn’t going to waste another second.

The deep stroke of him between my lips was sexy and it caused fireworks to spark between my thighs. The steady thump of his hips crashing against the cabinets as he fucked my mouth, punctuated the quiet of the kitchen, rising over his gasps for air.

We would look insane if anyone were to walk in on us like this. For a single breath, I considered Clark showing up unannounced and witnessing Troy pinned against the kitchen counter, me on my knees and his dick in my mouth. It was scandalous. Shockingly out of character for me, and—shit—it was freeing.

But the thought vanished as quickly as it had arrived, evaporating as Troy moaned.

Was it really wrong, the two of us together? We were consenting adults who clearly enjoyed what they were doing. And I’d spent my whole life always doing the right thing, and what had it gotten me? A broken, sexless marriage, followed by an expensive and messy divorce.