Dirty Heat (9 page)

And all I want to do is be fucked by him. Bent over. Grabbing my ankles. Ass cheeks spread open, wide and ready. Kyree grabbing me by the hips.

But then I come to what's left of my senses, and I feel so shamelessly dirty. So, so, scandalously perverted. Fucking someone almost twenty-six years younger than me.

And, yet, I keep letting him crawl back between my thighs, plunging his hard, horny dick deep into my wet, trembling cunt.

Lord, help me.

I've always been a flamboyantly sexy and beautiful woman comfortable in her own skin, confident and seemingly carefree. And although, I am way much closer to forty-five that I am to ever being thirty-five, you'd never know it. And, yes, I'm about fifteen pounds heavier than I was ten, fifteen, years ago, but thanks to Pilates and a slew of yoga classes, I've painstakingly maintained my curves in all the right places. Despite the stretch marks that fan out over my stomach, I have a body better than some of the young women half my age.

And the way Kyree and the rest of the young men his age drink in the sight of me—with hot, hungry gazes—every time they see me, confirms what I already know. Like any man, those young horny boys are enthralled with big, bouncy asses, beautiful breasts, powerful hips and lots of wet pussy.

I briefly allow my mind to roll back to when it began. When I'd first discovered it. Felt it. The temptation. The stirring between my legs that undeniably made me feel weak. The looming desire that seemed to balloon from out of nowhere.

It was the week following the Memorial Day weekend. Both of my sons were home from college, and my husband, Sebastian, had flown out to Toronto on business earlier that morning and wasn't expected back until the following week.

My twenty-one-year-old son, Dillon, spent most of his time either working at a job he'd had every summer since his freshman year of college, or he was with his girlfriend, Paige, out in Brooklyn where she lived. So I rarely saw him.

Jacob, on the other hand, was another story. He preferred to stay close to home, particularly when his father traveled. And any girlfriends he had, he'd rather bring them home rather than spend
his time at their places. He'd said he preferred to “freak them” in his own backyard. So basically he was telling me he was screwing his fast-assed girlfriends right here under my nose. My sons were very open—sometimes a bit
too
open—with me about their sexual conquests. Still, some things I simply didn't need to know, or hear.

Anyway, this particular day, I was in the kitchen preparing dinner when I heard the alarm chirp, alerting that the front door had been opened. A few moments later, I heard, “Hey, Mrs. Lang.” It was Kyree. He and Jacob have been friends since second grade so he was like family, and pretty much always had free rein to come in and out without ringing the doorbell. Truthfully, he was practically like one of my own sons.

He walked into the kitchen where I was standing at the sink, washing a pot. I could feel his gaze on my back, my ass, my legs.

I craned my neck and smiled. “Oh, hey, Kyree.”

He grinned as he stalked over wearing a V-neck tee and a pair of green camouflage cargo pants—one leg rolled up showing his bulging, heart-shaped calf—with a pair of wheat Timberland boots.

I tried not to stare at the way his T-shirt clung to his barreled chest or the way his biceps bulged under his sleeves as he made his way over and kissed me on the cheek.

“Dang. You smell good,” he said, mischief glinting in his eye. “You're making me hungry,” he said low and sexy for only me to hear.

I playfully rolled my eyes, waving him on. “Boy, stop. It isn't me that has you hungry. It's that barbecue chicken you smell baking in the oven.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Nah, it's
you
, for real. You smell real nice, Mrs. Lang.” He paused, looking me over. “You always do.”

The only thing I could do to keep from swooning was, smile and let the compliment float over my head. Kyree was known for
always flattering me and for being flirty, so it wasn't anything out of the ordinary. He'd been that way since he was around eleven, twelve. His mother and I would always joke how he was going to be a real ladies man, and a heartbreaker. And from what I'd witnessed over the years, he'd slowly become just that.

Still…

When he was younger, his flirting was harmless. Cute. But he wasn't a little boy anymore. He was a young man growing into a man's body. He was bold. And direct. And knew what he wanted. His seductive charm was borderline cannibalistic. Untamed. Dangerous.

God help me, but I was enjoying it. I was enjoying
him
.

I swallowed back the rising thoughts of what he'd look like without his clothes on, of what it'd feel like with him between my legs. “How's Carla?” I asked, changing the subject to something safe.

He gave me a puzzled look. “Who?”

“Your girlfriend.” I dried my hands on a towel, turning to face him.

“Oh, Kara. I gave her the boot.”

“Oh.” I smiled, shaking my head. He and Jacob were both notorious for showcasing a girl for a few months, sometimes for only a few weeks, before replacing her with someone
cuter
or
hotter
. Most times it was hard to keep up. It was always a revolving door of different girls. “She seemed like a nice girl.”

He shrugged, grabbing a chair from the kitchen table and taking a seat. He stretched his long legs out, crossing his size fourteens at the ankles. “She was aiight, I guess. Just not for me.”

I tilted my head. “Oh?”

“Yeah, she was too young-minded. Young girls bore me. I can't relate to 'em. And most of 'em can't handle me.”

I bit into my bottom lip, trying to control my breathing.

“I need me a woman. Someone with lots of experience.”

I swallowed, hard.

His lips curled up into a slow, sexy grin as his eyes skimmed over my body. This particular afternoon, I was wearing a short white skirt with a pink tank top that had WORLD'S SEXIEST MOM scrawled across the front in silver glitter. Toes painted pink, my pedicured feet were in a pair of sandals.

You couldn't tell me shit. I knew I was the world's sexiest mom alive. Hell, even my sons knew it, hence why they'd picked out the shirt I had on and bought it for me. But, then, would be ready to punch someone's admiring eyes shut for staring too long.

“Besides,” he added, giving me a lingering look that made my skin tingle, “older women are real sexy to me.”

I smiled, swiping a strand of hair from out of my face.

“Well, dating an older woman is every young man's fantasy. So I'm sure you'll have no problem snaring you a few cougars.”

“True.” He licked his luscious lips. Suddenly I felt like I was dancing with fire and quickly averted my eyes from his burning gaze. “Been there, done that. Now I have my eye on…”

“Yo, ma…?” my son Jacob called out walking into the kitchen.
Saved.
He frowned, stalking over and mushing Kyree in the head. “Man, why you always all up under my moms for? I just texted your ugly ass to see where you were.”

“Jacob!”

“My bad, Ma.”

Kyree sucked his teeth, pulling his phone from his front pocket. “Man, go 'head with that. Don't hate. Celebrate. You know I'm big on your mom.”

“Yeah, well, you about to get a big lump upside that big-ass head of…”

“Boy, watch your mouth,” I warned, grabbing a dishtowel and playfully swatting him with it.

He laughed. “I'm saying, Ma. This fool is always somewhere grinning in your face. You know I don't play that.” He wrapped his lanky arms around me and kissed me on the side of my head. “And you know I'm not even about to share you with this clown.”

Now it was my turn to laugh, trying to wiggle out of his embrace. “Boy, stop. You know there's enough of me to go around.” That hadn't come out the way I'd meant it, but the only one who seemed to pick up on the innuendo was Kyree.

Lust seemed to glow in his eyes. Fortunately Jacob hadn't seen it. Otherwise I'm sure things wouldn't have turned out so great that day. Both of my sons were overprotective and liked to think they were my fathers at times, especially when their father was away on business for extended periods of time, like he was this particular day.

Jacob draped his arm over my shoulder as Kyree smiled.

“Yeah, aiight. I got your clown all right,” he said, eyeing me. “Besides, you heard your mom. You gotta
share
her with me. Now we both have the
world's sexiest
mom.”

My cheeks flushed.

“Man, you buggin',” Jacob said, shooting him a dirty look. “Get outta here with that.”

“Kyree, are you staying for dinner?” I asked, shifting my weight from one foot to the other, feeling heat swell up inside of me from somewhere unknown, and so unexpected.

Jacob sucked his teeth. “You already know his greedy butt is. That's the only reason he comes over.”

Kyree laughed, rising to his feet. “Hey, what can I say”—he rubbed his stomach—“I stay hungry. And I
love
to eat. So, yup, if you cooking, Mrs. Lang, I'm eating.” His eyes twinkled when he smiled, flashing the dimple in his left cheek.

“Yo, come on, fool, before I have to punch your lights out.” Jacob
yanked him by the arm, dragging him toward the doorway. “Ma, we'll be down in the basement. Let us know when dinner's ready.”

“Okay,” I said, feeling somewhat relieved and flustered as they disappeared down the stairs, closing the door behind them.

I took a deep breath, then gasped.

Shit.

My panties were wet.

•  •  •

Later that evening, after dinner was long eaten and the dishes washed, Kyree sauntered out into the living room—leaving Jacob down in the basement, supposedly on the phone talking to his latest girlfriend. I was on the sofa finally watching the season finale of
The Blacklist
when he stood in the middle of the room.

There was about twenty more minutes left, and it literally had me sitting on the edge of my seat. And talking to me
before
a commercial break was a no-no.

“Awww, damn. This is my shit”—I shot him a scathing look—“oops, my bad, Mrs. Lang.” He looked at me apologetically. “I'm sayin' though. Reddington is
that
dude; feel me?”

I didn't answer, but it didn't matter. I eyed him out of my peripheral vision as he sat down beside me. Breathed in his masculine scent as he eased back and stretched a muscled arm over the back of the sofa and spread his legs.

I nearly jumped out of my seat when Harold Cooper got attacked in his car.

“Oh, daaaayum!”

I lightly slapped him on his hard thigh. “Boy, I'ma put you up out of here, if you don't watch your mouth.”

He grinned sheepishly. “My bad, Mrs. Lang.” His knee lightly brushed against my thigh. “You know I'd never do anything to disrespect you.”

“Then stop talking and watch your mouth,” I said, glancing over at him.

He widened his grin. “I got you,
World Sexiest Mom.”

“Boy, hush. And quit flirting with me.”

He looked over toward the archway that led into the hallway to see if the coast was clear. Then back at me. “Why? I'm only speaking truth. Am I making you uncomfortable?” There was defiance in the way he stared, smirking. He was testing me, trying to bait me. His mouth curved, revealing that scrumptious dimple.

I studied his tall muscled frame. Took in his boyish charm. God he was fine, too damn fine. I knew I was toying with fire, especially with Jacob being right there in the house. But who the hell in their right mind would dare to stick their hand in it?

Me, apparently.
Shit.

Keenly aware of the arousal bubbling inside of me, I considered scooting away from him, but I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of knowing he was unraveling me. Instead, I stayed planted in my seat, willing my racing pulse still.

“No, not at all. Should I be?”

Kyree's peering eyes stayed fixed on me when he said, very softly, “Nah. You mad sexy, Mrs. Lang. I wanna make love to you.”

“Excuse me?”

He boldly repeated himself. And that time I heard the hunger in his voice, hot and greedy, like a starved lion circling its prey.

Instantly my pussy grew wet, and my throat dry. I snatched up the remote to the DVR and pressed PAUSE. Then met his eyes, clearing my throat along with the filthy thoughts pooling in the crevices of my mind.

“Young man, have you been drinking?”

He shook his head. “Nah. I don't drink.”

I tilted my head. “Smoking?”

“I don't do that either.”

I playfully popped him in the back of the head. “Then your horny behind must have been dropped on your head to think it's okay to play with me. I'm old enough to be your mother.”

“Oww, oww.” He feigned hurt, rubbing his head, then smiled. “And I'm old enough to know what sexy is.”

“Well, sexy or not. You need to get your hormones under control.”

“See. You still think I'm a little boy?”

“Oh, you're not?”

“Nah. I'm a man, Mrs. Lang. And I'm very much in control of my hormones. If I wasn't…” His voice trailed off as he licked his lips. Heat shot through my pussy, and I shifted in my seat, pressing my thighs together in hopes to squelch the fire slowly burning inside me. “Just know I'm mature enough to know what I want.”

My brows rose. “That's nice. But, know this: in life—we
don't
always
get
what we want.”

“Don't you know I'm spoiled? I
always
get what I want.” And with that he grinned, showing his dimple again.

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, I'm sure you do.”