My Son's Sitter

Since she still hasn’t responded, I clarify: “I win out in business by persistence. Pure merciless persistence. A persistence that I apply in all areas of my life.

A longer silence, then “Fine. I’ll be there in fifteen.”

And in twenty, there she is. Standing on my doorstep. Eyes already glaring. Hands on her thick hips.

“Stevie…”

My voice trails off and away from me.

The way her lower lip is jutted out, even fuller than normal, just makes me want to kiss it. And then there’s the whole issue of the pale teal shorts she’s wearing. They appear to be made of some kind of terry cloth material. And the drawstring is already undone…

I wrench my gaze away. That’s not why I invited her here.

“Will you come in?” I ask, in a colder voice than intended.

She doesn’t move.

“Just say it,” she says.

She’s right, really. I need to get this over with. Say the right words so I don’t give my mind time to trick me into saying the wrong ones. Or my body time to just take over completely.

Because right now, if I said what I really wanted to, it would be… “Come here” in a completely different tone. For a completely different reason.

“Just come inside,” I say, more softly this time, “so we can talk.”

She stands there a good half minute, as if considering arguing further. Finally, she glides in without a word or even a look at me.

Instead, her gaze scans my house. Perhaps she’s noticing it for the first time, now that she realizes she’ll never be back. The curved ornate railings and balustrades that I designed myself. The smooth glossy wooden flooring. Every picture, every vase, every single last corner of this place I oversaw personally.

Maybe it’s a bit much, but it was one of the few things that kept me sane after Helena ran off the second time, leaving me with a baby to boot. Control. That’s what I like.

Then why am I leading Stevie and myself into a situation where I’ve proven myself to have anything but?

I pause. Hell, I’ve thoughtlessly led us back into the same living room that… it happened. Am I actually going to sweep my hand toward the same couch that Stevie sat on after we’d kissed and almost gone further, looking at me with despondent eyes?

No. Instead, I’m the one who sits down, and I look up at her as I speak.

“I’m really sorry about what happened. It was totally out of bounds of me, unprofessional, and…”

Stevie kisses the words out of my mouth.

The rush of her hands dragging over my skin. Every nerve in my body spikes into hyper-awareness.

Oh fuck, is my last thought before that gets tossed aside too, like my shirt she pulls off.

Our bodies know what to do. They pick up where we left off last time. Stevie’s smearing my six pack with sucking kisses. This time, they are up to my face.

My hands are the most eager to continue what we started. They slide down from her soft shoulders. And down her sweet arms. Down further to her torso. Then, they change direction.

Now, it’s all about up. Up, under her shirt. Up her soft navel over the full generous sweep of her waist, and up further.

When they reach where her bra should’ve been, a groan actually falls out of my lips. They’re bare.

Now, the last wisps of control leave me fully. My hands circle round the bare flesh joyously. They massage and knead and delight in the firm mounds. Her nipples are puffy, for now. They won’t be when my fingers are finished savoring them.

While my hands enjoy her bust, my lips suckle and twist around hers. Our tongues are engaged in a sort of dance. In there, over there. A flick, a lick. I dip in a bit too far. Mmmmmm.

So, the game is on. Although, as my hands slip down further, to what this has all really been leading towards, we both know who will come out on top. Literally and figuratively. Me.

When my hands settle on her ass, I’m pleased to find that her shorts’ material is just as thin as it looked. When I give those ass cheeks a squeeze, I can feel her thong through them.

My boner digs in further into the side of my thigh. Christ, what this woman does to me…

I massage and stroke her shorts right off of her. They drop to the ground somewhere, I have no idea where exactly.

Because, right now, I’m inches away from the sexiest thing I can remember seeing.

Clad in only her thin T-shirt and thong that has nothing good girl about it, is my plans for tonight. Stevie Pierce.

Oh, how I’m going to pierce that tonight…

But I savor the moment for all the juice it has. I don’t want to rush this, no. I want to soak up every bit of goodness it holds. So, I stroke my fingers lazily along the line of her thong. All around her waist, then down, into the crack between her ass. I grab and massage the firm yet supple flesh there, my boner blooming bigger all the while.