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Simon’s hands automatically went to my waist, slipping low to cup my ass in his palms. I’d already pushed him past the point of no return, but he was still trying to reclaim control of the situation, feebly asserting his authority.

“Amy—we can’t,” he said. “We said we wouldn’t.”

Even if there had been conviction in his voice, the presence of his hands on my ass and the way his mouth opened against mine, his hot breath filling my mouth, made his true feelings clear. I felt a little guilty for pushing him, but not enough to stop.

I moved my hand between us and ran my palm over the bulge in his trousers. I could tell by the size that he wasn’t entirely erect, but I knew it wouldn’t take long, not with the way the tension had been building all afternoon. He moved his mouth to my neck and pressed his lips to my skin, his breathing deep and desperate as I traced the outline of his thickening penis with my fingers.

“Amy,” he groaned, “We can’t do this here.”

“It’s been a whole week. Don’t you miss me?”

“Of course I do,” he said softly. “But…”

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” I whispered into his ear. I ran my fingers up to his belt and felt my way across the waistband, slipping the leather from the belt loop, the metal tongue from the slot, drawing the strap through. I made sure my mouth was close enough to his ear that he’d feel the percussion of my words even at a whisper. “I can’t stop thinking about your cock.”

“Oh Amy.” He sounded distressed, but a moment later I could hear the smile in his voice. “You’re shameless.”

The belt undone, I struggled with the button on his trousers, moving my other hand to assist, and in a few seconds I had made room for my hand, room to draw his penis from the confines of his briefs, room to wrap my fingers around the shaft, noting again that he wasn’t entirely erect yet.

“I know,” I said. I drew back to look at him and grinned. I could tell I had him now.

He gasped when I ran my fingers up and down the length of his cock lightly, letting them reach low enough to stroke his scrotum briefly.

“Amy—” There was alarm in his voice. “What if Angela—”

“Shh. We might never get a chance like this again.” I returned my mouth to his ear and kissed it, allowing my tongue to make the briefest contact with his earlobe. “Just let me suck your cock.”

I felt him sigh, a blast of hot breath on my neck, and I pressed him backward until his shoulders touched the closed door behind him. I drew away, dropping to my knees, his cock still in my hand, now fully erect and oozing precum.

He watched me position myself. He looked a little frustrated and I felt guilty again—I knew I wasn’t being fair to him, but I knew he’d forgive me as soon as I had him between my lips. I smiled up at him, extended my tongue, and ran it from the base of his cock up to the tip. One long, slow stroke.

“Oh God,” he breathed. I saw his hands clench at his sides.

I returned to the base, holding him lightly in my hand, and repeated my ascent with careful slowness, this time letting my tongue move in waves as I moved higher. His fists clenched tighter.

I licked my way back down then, and tilted my head, turning it so I could close my lips around the base of his penis, sucking lightly for a second before I moved back to the tip once more, pausing to run my tongue over the sensitive triangle of nerves below the head, delighting in the way his whole body tensed as I did. I licked up the drop of precum and swirled my tongue all around the head, raising my eyes again to check his expression. He managed a tortured smile. I smiled back and closed my lips tight around the fat head of his dick, sucking gently.

I wanted to go slow, to explore and savor the way it felt as his cock slid over my tongue, but our time was limited and I wanted him to come. I knew a sudden expression of enthusiastic lust would turn him on even faster, so I moved my hand over his shaft and kept my lips tight, turning my head and taking more of him inside me, my mouth spiraling down, my tongue curled tight against his swollen flesh.

“God…” Simon groaned and I looked up to see his eyes wide and excited. “Damn.”

I swirled my head back up, then down again, all the time stroking him with one hand. I knew he’d come quickly like this—he always did—quickly and hard. He watched, wide-eyed, entranced, as I made my way up and down, my tongue holding him in a rigid curve, my lips tight, head moving back and forth as I fed him into my mouth. His breathing got quicker and he swore again, his fists opening and closing at his sides a few times before he moved them to gently touch my face.

I varied the pressure of my mouth and focused on stroking his shaft, all too aware of how how little time we had, but I could feel him getting closer. He stroked my hair, breathing faster, and watched me with unwavering attention.

I drew my mouth off, letting the fat head of his cock pop from my lips. He gasped and smiled. I met his eyes and stroked him, moving away just slightly so I could angle his cock directly toward my mouth. He was close. I knew it wouldn’t take much, and I knew just how to push him over the edge.

“Come in my mouth,” I said quietly just before I closed my lips around the head again.

“Oh God, Amy—” His hands tightened in my hair for a moment and he groaned as I pushed myself forward, consciously relaxing as he went deeper and deeper into my mouth. “Oh God.”

I drew back, let the head pop from my lips again, took a breath, and took him deep once more. I closed my eyes and found a comfortable rhythm, holding the base of his cock tight in my fingers, cupping his balls in my other hand, and bobbed against him, the head of his cock meeting my unwilling throat, keeping it just on the edge of gagging, and thrilling to the wet sounds as my mouth filled with saliva I didn’t stop to swallow.

“Oh God, honey, are you sure?” Simon gasped above me, his voice strained.

I couldn’t answer, but I opened my eyes and met his, adjusting my posture so his cock would go just a fraction of an inch deeper.

“Amy…” his expression was a mix of lust, gratitude, and awe. He was breathing hard, closer and closer to losing control. “Oh God, you’re so goddamned sexy.”

I smiled around his cock, drew back a little, and focused on stroking him, one hand on his shaft, the other curled around his tight balls. I loved this moment—just before he came, just before the last thread of his dignified, proper, respectable persona snapped and his animal lust emerged to push him, growling, into a momentary lapse of blind need.

“I’m gonna come,” he gasped. “Oh God.” He panted, his face screwing up slightly, his voice rising higher in pitch, his lungs refusing him more air. “Amy, honey…I’m going to come.”

I readied myself, closing my eyes again to focus on what I knew was about to happen. I felt his thighs tense, his whole body followed, and then I felt his cock jump at the base where I held him, a moment later my mouth was flooded. He made a noise like he was in pain and then swore as I quickly swallowed his cum. I stroked him steadily and opened my mouth, looking up to see him watching as another stream filled my mouth, coating my tongue. Another strong pulse. I felt the gooey thickness on my tongue and lips, and had to swallow again.

“Oh fuck,” he growled, “that’s fucking sexy.”

One more jump of his cock and he whined in a piteous way and pushed forward. I let him bury himself as deep as he wanted while his cock continued to empty, his orgasm slowly ebbing.

I struggled to swallow and he drew back, groaning, and pulled me to my feet. He crushed his mouth to mine, his breath still fast, and drove his tongue between my lips. I met him eagerly, knowing he wanted to taste his own cum inside my mouth.

We kissed for a few seconds and I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him tight against me.

“Oh Amy, when you look at me—with your lips around my cock—when you take me that deep—oh God, you make me come so hard.” He trailed kisses over my face, his hands clutching at my waist, pulling me close.

“I love you, Simon.” I grinned at him, excited by his breathless praises and kissed his cheek.

He shook his head in wonder, still breathing fast. “Oh honey, I love you too.”

The familiar sound of the front door closing made us both jump. I pushed him away, panicked, looking all around me as if I could hide somewhere. Simon swore, hastily tucking himself in and rushing to get his zipper done and his belt back in place. I backed away from him, my heart hammering hard, as a familiar voice called from downstairs.

“Hi Dad, I’m home.”

Angela charged up the stairs, arriving at the top of the landing with a smile, the light behind her making her blonde hair glow like an aura.

“Hey, Amy,” she said, sounding surprised to see me. “What are you guys up to?” Then she spotted the two sleeping toddlers and dropped her voice, a huge smile spreading across her face. “No way!”

She moved across her daughter’s room to the bed where we’d laid the kids once they’d fallen asleep. Their bellies rose and fell, their sleeping faces open and calm.

“How did you get them both down at the same time?” She kept staring, smiling broadly. “Man, they’re so freaking cute when they sleep.”

Simon cleared his throat. He was composed, his guilt hidden. “Tyler fell asleep first,” he said. He crossed the room to stand next to her, bending to give her a fatherly kiss on the top of her head. “And I think Emma was lost without him, because she was asleep a few minutes later.”

“Jeez, you guys are lucky,” she said reaching down to straighten a corner of the blanket that covered her daughter. Then she straightened and turned back to her dad. “I’m gonna grab a shower while they’re down, if that’s OK. I got up so late this morning I didn’t have a chance before class. I feel gross.”

Simon didn’t look at me until his daughter had left the room and we heard the sound of the water running in the bathroom down the hall. When he finally turned to look at me, his carefully composed expression fell in relief and his hand went up to cover his mouth, his eyes wide with horror.

“Oh my God.” I giggled nervously.

“Unbelievable,” he breathed, his face pale. “Five minutes…If she’d gotten home five minutes earlier…”

I laughed again, the thought was horrifying, but I still thought it was funny. Five minutes earlier and she would have walked in just as her dad’s cum was filling my mouth.

“It’s not funny,” he said seriously.

“I know,” I said. “You’re right.” But then I burst into laughter again.

He gave me a disapproving look, but I could see he wasn’t angry. He ran his hand over his face, covering the smile that was beginning to creep across his mouth. “My God, Amy. I’m too old for this.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, still laughing. “I do terrible things to you.”

He shook his head, letting a laugh creep into his voice. “You do.”


Simon and I had started a sexual relationship four months ago. It wasn’t supposed to progress past kissing, but it did—one time. We had our night of passion, it was supposed to end there, but neither of us could manage to resist the other, despite the risk of being found out by my parents or his daughter. Each time we were together we said it would be our last, but by now, I don’t think either of us believed it.

A year and a half ago I’d moved back in with my parents. I was 20 and slinking home with the unhappy news that I was four months pregnant. Embarrassing enough, but even worse, I couldn’t be sure who the father was. I hadn’t had a steady boyfriend in months, but I’d gone out with a few different guys—nothing serious had developed, but each date had led to sex, and while we’d always used protection, it obviously hadn’t been enough. It only takes one industrious sperm cell to get the job done.

Telling my parents had been awful. I’d gotten in trouble before, but never like this. And though I wasn’t sure I wanted it—my Catholic upbringing ensured I’d have the baby. So I left school and moved back home, embarrassed, depressed, and with no idea how completely my life was about to turn upside down.

My parents had been understandably disappointed and they hadn’t hidden it. I was their third and youngest child and was constantly being compared to my siblings. My big brother had followed in dad’s footsteps and become a lawyer, and my sister, who’d always done everything above and beyond my parents’ expectations, had three degrees, a handful of publications to her name, and a tenure track position at a major University. I’d stumbled through high school, never really applying myself, and gone to college with no real idea of what I wanted to do besides have fun. My parents hadn’t expected much of me, but becoming a single mom was probably a bit lower than what they’d hoped I’d achieve.

They promised to support me through it, but made it clear this baby was mine, along with all the work and responsibility; I couldn’t count on them to be babysitters, or pay for anything beyond basic needs, but they’d help me as long as I respected their rules. They softened considerably when Tyler was born (it’s hard to hold anything hard in your heart with a tiny baby in your arms), but they still expressed their disappointment and I felt like I was grounded—no dates, no going out late—and would be until he graduated from high school, but at least they’d stopped the lectures about responsibility and potential.

I met Simon at the neighborhood park. His daughter had a similar story to mine. She’d gotten pregnant the summer before she was to start college, and the father—her boyfriend of a year—wanted nothing to do with the baby, going so far as to deny it was his. Simon and his wife had divorced only months before, but I got the feeling, when the baby came along, they’d made considerable effort to stay civil with each other in order to support their daughter and, eventually, their granddaughter Emma.

He and his ex-wife each had Emma two days a week so Angela could take classes at the community college. I’d seen him around the neighborhood pushing a stroller, and then at the park when the weather was warm. He’d caught my eye because men were rare in the playground circuit, so he stood out, but he had a kind face, lined and careworn, but with bright blue eyes that gave him the look of someone in love with life. He was tall and thin, and was always well—but not fancily—dressed. He’d caught my eye before we met, but he caught my heart the first time we talked.

Within the first few minutes of casual chat we discovered the parallel between my situation and his daughter’s. She was a few years younger than me, but our babies had been born within a week of each other. Maybe it was because he was involved in a similar drama, or maybe it was the way he talked about his daughter—without a trace of disappointment—or maybe it was his bright blue eyes and slow smile, but I felt something inside me pulse into life during that first conversation.

I didn’t know I was attracted to him at first, but I always left the park on the days he was there a little charged, a little more like my old, pre-baby self. I hadn’t had sex since I’d left school, and the lack of sleep and constant work of caring for an infant with no idea what I was doing had worn me down. I wasn’t aware of it at first, but every sweep of Simon’s hand through his thinning blonde hair, every sideways glance, every smile made me squirm with delight. It took me a while to realize it was attraction, to admit this man who was old enough to be my father, had resurrected my sex drive.

By that time we’d established a polite familiarity, enough so that when I mentioned I was thinking of taking Tyler to the zoo, he suggested we meet and go together. It was a play date, but I let myself pretend it was more than that and enjoyed every chance I got to look into his blue eyes.

After the zoo, we started meeting at other playgrounds for variety’s sake, spending rainy days in the children’s section of the public library. We were past the point of casual acquaintance and easing into a comfortable friendship, crossing invisible boundaries of intimacy. I’d already met his daughter and he’d run into me once when I was out with my parents, so he’d met them both as well. My attraction had been steadily growing, and as we got to know each other more it deepened.

One rainy afternoon we met at a library near his house, but the public school was on break, so the place was packed. Before we’d even taken off our coats Simon suggested we go to his house instead—it was only a few blocks away and completely baby proofed. He’d said it so casually, and even though my heart had jumped excitedly, I knew it wasn’t anything more than what he offered—a safe place for the kids to play.

Something happened in his house. Something changed between us. I followed Tyler around as he explored, taking in my surroundings, learning a little more about Simon as I did. He liked baseball and jazz, he read a lot (apparently even in French), and kept his house in a tidy state, but with enough randomly strewn toys to make me believe he wasn’t uptight about it.

When the kids finally settled down to play in the same room, Simon and I sat on the couch together and talked. Maybe it was being in a private space, or being in his space, or maybe it was just the natural next step in our friendship, but the conversation was much more personal than it had ever been before. We talked about family and careers, regrets and disappointments, things we were proud of about ourselves and changes we hoped we could make.

I told him about my siblings and how I felt like I was just a disappointment to my parents, he told me about his divorce and the years before when he and his wife had tried to make it work. It had all become quite serious and introspective and there was a moment where he touched my arm as he reassured me I was doing a great job given my circumstances, and his eyes held mine for a second or two longer than normal. And then the moment was gone.

But something had happened. I hadn’t imagined it. And when we said goodbye there was a hint of awkwardness about it, a hesitation at the door where neither of us seemed to know what to do or say. I wasn’t sure what had happened, but something had…something had changed.

It was a few weeks later, as the weather was getting too cold to be outside, when he invited me to his house again. And again, as the kids moved around his living room, trailing blocks and plastic dinosaurs, we sat and talked. Nothing personal this time, but everything seemed loaded or flirtatious. I watched him for signs, certain I saw them, but not certain what I should do.

As it got closer and closer to the time I’d need to leave, I felt anxious for something to happen. I decided to take a risk. A big risk. I called on the old me—the person I was before I was a mom, the person who got me into my current, single-mom situation; impulsive, pleasure-seeking Amy. She was a little gun shy, but she got me started.

I sat forward on the couch, turning my body toward Simon. I touched his knee lightly and he seemed to stiffen as he waited and watched me.

“Simon,” I said. There was a tremble in my voice that surprised me. A moment later I realized I had no idea how to say what I was feeling. I only had experience with boys who only needed a look to tell them I wanted them, but this was Simon—old as my dad Simon, respectable, dignified Simon; how could I tell him what I wanted when what I wanted was him to pull me down on the couch and fuck me right then and there?

I paused a long time, but he waited silently, looking a little nervous, like he knew what I was about to say.

“I really like you,” I said finally. It sounded lame, like I was 10 years old. “I mean I…I really like you.” I cringed, that was worse. “I think you’re…” Another pause as I looked for the word I wanted, one that wouldn’t sound cheap. I managed, “hot,” and cringed again.

He took a deep breath and let it out. He looked on the verge of saying something, but I spoke first.

“I think about you all the time.” I put my hand on his knee again and he reached out and took it away, holding it in his.

“Amy,” he said in a voice with authority in it. “Don’t. I think I know where this is going and I…I can’t go there.” He let go of my hand. “I like you too. You’re…God, you’re fantastic, but I don’t…I can’t think that. About you.” As he spoke, the authority faded from his voice and his speech took on abnormal pauses, his inflection all wrong.

“Why not?”

His brow darkened and he turned his head away as Tyler toddled over to the couch, dropped a toy into my hands, and proceeded to climb up onto my lap. I picked my son up and let him have my attention for a minute while he showed me the toy he’d brought me. There was a prolonged, weighted silence.

“It’s the age thing,” I said after a while, not lifting my eyes to his.

“The age thing, yes, but more because it’s not just about what I want or you want. There are other people involved.”


“Yes, and your parents—how would they feel if they knew? I know how I’d feel if I found out my daughter was with a middle aged man.”

Tyler wiggled his way off my lap, discarding the toy and heading back off across the room for another. I watched him, feeling sad and frustrated. I knew Simon was right, but I didn’t want him to be. Impulsively, I turned toward him again, moving onto my knees on the couch beside him. He looked at me with a little alarm, but didn’t say anything.

He hadn’t said he was attracted to me, but he hadn’t denied it either. And he was still sitting here. And he was close enough to touch. And I wasn’t sure I could resist at least trying; a year and a half is a long time to go without so much as a kiss.

I leaned closer and put my hand on his chest, moving slowly as if he was an animal I didn’t want to spook, and waited a heartbeat to see if he’d stop me before I closed the distance between his mouth and mine.

I closed my eyes, still half expecting him to stop me. I’d felt his chest expand when I touched it and it stayed expanded beneath my palm, his breath held as he waited. I kissed him softly, just pressing my lips to his, and he responded with equal softness. It was a chaste kiss, a question held within it, and when I opened my eyes I searched his face for an answer.

He exhaled slowly as I drew back, but he didn’t move.

“Your parents would kill me,” he said softly, but he didn’t move away or even look very upset. I could see he wasn’t going to reach for me, but maybe he wouldn’t stop me either. I moved my hand from his chest to his neck. I felt the throb of his pulse against my palm as I leaned forward and kissed him again, still softly, still with my passion restrained.

“Amy, it’s a lot to risk,” he said when I next drew back.

I couldn’t answer, I didn’t know what to say. I knew he was right to question it, but I thought he wanted it too. I thought if I kissed him again, if I kissed him more, if I kissed him enough to stir his passion, he’d lose his resolve. He’d give in.

For a second I wondered if I was really that selfish, if I’d really do what I wanted knowing he’d rather I didn’t. But I’d already kissed him, I’d felt his warm, soft lips against mine, felt his pulsing blood, the heat from his skin. I wanted more.

I leaned in close again and reasoned that if he really wanted to stop me, he would. He had free will. He was bigger than me. If he really didn’t want me, he’d move away, he’d resist, he’d tell me no.

He lifted his hand and touched my face. His lips parted slightly and he cupped my cheek gently, holding me as we kissed. My head flooded with relief and arousal, my barely suppressed sexual frustration set alight by his slight advance. I turned my head, scooted forward a little, opened my mouth, wanting a deeper kiss, urged on by my need for contact.

I touched his lip with my tongue and when he gasped I ran it over his bottom lip hungrily. He returned my eagerness with passion, his tongue held teasingly behind his lips, inviting mine to search for it. I did, without hesitation, clutching at his neck as we explored with our tongues, teeth nipping, both of us taking quick little breaths of surprise and delight.

A crash behind me made me draw back. I turned to look, but Simon caught my chin and pulled me toward him again. “It’s just the blocks,” he whispered. “Don’t worry about it.” His mouth was on mine before he’d even finished his sentence, kissing me softly as he reached for me, pulling me closer. He was unrestrained now—kissing me with a sudden hunger, his hands holding me tight, breathing faster as he grew more and more aroused.

There was another crash, this time from the kitchen, and when I drew back then he let me go. We’d only been kissing a few minutes, but in that time the kids had turned the room upside down. Toys were everywhere, scattered and strewn. Emma sat quietly stacking a set of plastic blocks, but Tyler was nowhere to be seen; he was the source of the crash. I waded through the mess hurriedly, noting the crash hadn’t been followed by crying, and found him removing the pots and pans from a low cupboard, dropping them behind him onto the floor with a crash as he worked.

I scooped him up, a little irritated, but mostly with myself, and started stacking the pots back in the cupboard.

“Don’t,” Simon said, crossing the room. “It’s OK, just leave them.”

I stood up, propping Tyler on my hip, and started to apologize.

“It’s alright—he can scatter them through the whole house, I don’t mind.” He moved close to me and ran his hand over Tyler’s messy curls.

I looked at him, at his gentle, lined face, the smile that always played on his lips, and the fond way he was stroking my son’s hair, and felt a pain deep inside me—a longing, an aching, wanting him in so many ways. He didn’t look at me for a few minutes and I wondered what he was thinking, if he regretted what had just happened. When he did finally turn his eyes to me again, they were full of uncertainty.

“What do we do now?” I asked. It was a few long seconds before he answered, plenty of time for my dread to build.

“Is there a now?” His voice was soft, he sounded sad.

“I want you,” I said just as softly.

He sighed.

“I’m sorry. I know that doesn’t help, but it’s true.”

Tyler squirmed in my arms. I put him down and we both watched him return to his job of removing the pans from the cupboard.

“Is it really so bad?” I asked, looking back to Simon. “Why does anyone else have to know?”

“They don’t, but if they did…” He looked up, sighed again. “It doesn’t matter, though. Even if we could…I’d never be able to see you alone, without the kids, I mean.”

Now it was my turn to sigh. I was grateful to my parents for all their help, but right now I felt trapped, stuck in perpetual house arrest. They’d relaxed a lot in the last year, but they still insisted I live by their rules, and there wasn’t a lot of flexibility within those rules. I felt unfairly punished.

“Amy.” Simon approached me and ran his hands down my arms, squeezing them gently. I could see he was going to say something important, and doubted it would be an invitation to his bedroom. I didn’t want to hear it.

“I went on birth control a couple of weeks ago.” I said suddenly, making him start.

He stared at me, clearly surprised.

“It was stupid, really, or maybe just optimistic. I mean, my parents aren’t being as fascist about me going out lately, but even if I met a guy I liked…” I looked down at Tyler, happily crawling into the cupboard to reach the pots in the back. “Even if they wanted to sleep with me, how many of them are going to find me attractive with a toddler in tow? How sexy is a single mom to a guy my age?”

Simon’s hands flexed, squeezing my arms. I looked up at him, embarrassed, but his face was kind, encouraging.

“I haven’t had sex in almost two years,” I blurted out. “I know it doesn’t matter, I know it shouldn’t—it’s just sex, but fuck…I miss it. I miss feeling sexy. After I got pregnant, it’s like my whole sense of self fell apart. I only started feeling more like myself again when I met you.”

He looked a little surprised, but didn’t say anything, his hands still on my upper arms, holding them gently.

“It wasn’t just that I thought you were hot, but I did. I do. You’re the sexiest man I can even imagine, Simon.” I paused, and watched him swallow, still staring at me, obviously taking in every word. “It’s not just that, though. It’s that you made me feel…like I was doing something right, like I wasn’t just a fuck-up.”

His brows tightened and for a second he looked like he was going to say something, but he didn’t.

“And when you kissed me,” I continued, “a few minutes ago…God, that felt so good. It was the first time in a long time I felt sexy.”

“Amy,” he breathed. He looked desperate, conflicted. “You are incredibly sexy.”

“I just want to feel like that again. I just want to be with you, Simon. And feel that good. With you.”

He hesitated a second and then folded me into his arms, kissing me hard on the mouth. I could feel the desperation in his kiss, the urgency, and as he held me close. I wrapped my arms around his neck and we kissed deeply, hungrily.

He ran a hand down my hip and over my ass, his fingers curling to grasp my flesh through my jeans. I sighed and lifted a hand to run it through his hair. His mouth moved from mine and he nudged my head to the side, pressing his whole open mouth to my neck, his tongue hot on my skin.

My body was pulsing with desire—my breasts aching to be touched, my pussy swelling with expectant need. I pressed my hips forward, wanting to slip my hand between us, to see if he was hard, but before I could, he bit my neck, making me squeal.

“If I could fuck you right here and now, I would,” he said, lifting his head and grabbing me by the arms again.

“Simon!” I said, surprised and thrilled by his language, my heart jumping excitedly.

“I can’t. I want to—I wanted to last time you were here—but I can’t.” His eyes were bright with passion and his grip on my arms was tight. “I’ve been fighting my feelings for months. You’re only a couple of years older than my daughter, but I still want you, God help me.”

He sighed and his hands loosened then dropped away from my body. At that moment Emma arrived at his side, reaching her little hands high, hopping slightly, until he bent to pick her up. He cuddled her, looking at me over the top of her head.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “If I had all night to make love with you, I would. Even if it only happened once, if it never happened again…I would feel so lucky.”

I stared at him, moved by his emotional confession, moved by the lust he was tucking away behind his sense of propriety, his role as a responsible adult.

“We can’t even get five interrupted minutes in a row,” he said, smiling at Emma. He sounded tired now, his passion burned out, his eyes no longer glowing with desire.

The next moment Tyler, having removed every pot and lid from the cupboard, toddled over and went through the same steps Emma had a minute before, asking to be lifted and held. I picked him up and faced Simon, feeling defeated, the hot sting of tears threatening. Tyler leaned into me, rubbing his eyes, and I looked around for a clock, suddenly glad to have an excuse to go. He didn’t challenge me when I said we needed to leave.

He refused my offer to help clean up, and I worried he wanted me gone as much as I wanted to go. How had it changed so fast? Hot passion one moment to this awful, sinking feeling of loss.

I finally met his eyes once I’d gotten Tyler bundled up and my own coat buttoned.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I can’t tell you how much.”

I nodded, and checked my buttons unnecessarily, thanking him for having us over, and moved toward the door. I felt his hand on my arm as I opened it. I turned and looked into his blue eyes, even though it hurt to do so.

“Will I see you next week?” There was a touch of worry in his voice and my heart ached to hear it.

“I think so,” I said, turning away. I could feel the tears coming again, so I kept my face turned away as I said a final goodbye and closed the door behind me.

I arrived home, having cried in the car once I was a few blocks away, feeling emotionally spent. I put Tyler down for his nap, and lay next to him for a little while, confused and disappointed. Why was it so hard? The attraction was there, but not the opportunity.

I stayed in a sad, tired mood all afternoon, and my mom, in a moment of irony I couldn’t have constructed better, suggested I go out after diner—see a movie, go to the mall, do something fun and let her give Tyler his bath and put him to bed.

“Treat yourself to something nice, Amy; you deserve it.”


Simon didn’t turn on the porch light before he opened the door. He only looked at me for a second, his face expressionless, before he stood back, letting me enter. It was like he’d been waiting, like he’d known what would happen but wasn’t sure what he’d do about it when it did.

He closed the door behind me and for a second we just looked at each other. My worry grew. Would he send me away? Would he lecture me like I was his own daughter?

“How?” He said after a long silence.

“I don’t want to tell you,” I said quietly.

I unbuttoned my coat, waiting. He could still tell me to leave.

“Because you lied.”

“Technically, no. But essentially, yes.”

I slid my arms from the coat and loosened my scarf. I waited. It felt like five minutes he just studied me without moving, making his decision.

“I don’t want to know,” he said finally. And then he moved toward me and a shiver passed through me—relief and arousal flooding my body making me hot and cold at the same time. He pulled me to him and held me in his arms for a moment. I pressed my face into his collar, breathing in the scent of his body. He released me and brought both hands up, taking my head in them, tilting my chin so my face turned up toward his.

“I’m just glad you’re here,” he said, the slightest smile on his lips.

I watched his face draw near as he bent to kiss me, watched his eyes close and closed my own at the moment his lips touched mine. It was a soft, sensual kiss—gentle, wet, hinting at the passion beneath. It was a kiss of consent; if he’d had any ideas of turning me away, they were gone now. He paused, his lips still on mine, and I opened my mouth, inviting him in. I touched his lips with the tip of my tongue, felt them part, and wrapped my arms around him as I slid my tongue into his mouth.

He moved his hands to my waist, and as we kissed, I pushed against his chest, urging him to back up. Without breaking contact we crossed the room slowly. I searched out the buttons on his shirt and began undoing them. Already our affection was heated, frantic, needy. By the time we reached the couch I’d worked my way to his waist and was pulling the fabric of his shirt from the waistband of his pants.

We parted and as he sat back on the couch I climbed onto his lap, straddling his hips. Our mouths met again, harder this time, and I finished the last two buttons, pushing the fabric open and running my hands over his bare chest. A rush of excitement took my breath away. I drew back, gasping.

“I want you so bad, Simon.” My head was spinning. There was so much I wanted to do, but I knew my time was limited. My parents had given me this—though they had no idea, and they’d expect me home in a couple of hours. It didn’t seem like nearly enough time to be alone, but it was all I had. And I knew it might never happen again.

I reached for the button at the front of his pants, roughly undoing it. Then I stripped my shirt off in one quick motion, shaking the static from my hair as I tossed the shirt onto the floor.

“Oh my,” he said, staring at my upper body. I could see his eyes following the outline of my black bra, a pleased smile stretching his mouth.

“I want you so fucking much,” I said, leaning over to kiss him again.

I hadn’t had sex in so long and I’d never wanted it more than this minute. If he tried to stop me now he would have had a hell of a time. I was determined to have him.

His hands slid over my arms and back lazily while we kissed. I shifted my hips back enough to work the zipper of his pants down and sat back, our kiss breaking wetly.

“Slow down,” he said, grabbing my hands. “You’re going to hurt someone if you’re not careful.”

I looked at him and realized I was tense with need, my mind in a whirl, blindly searching for more pleasure without really thinking. I smiled apologetically. “Sorry,” I said softly.

He smiled back and brought my wrist to his mouth. He kissed it softly then opened his mouth, closing it over my skin, and sucked lightly. I could feel his tongue moving slowly over my skin—it was a strange sensation, hot and slithering and stirring something deep inside me. He lifted his mouth, letting his teeth drag over my skin before he brought my other wrist up and gave it the same, slow treatment. I heard myself whimper and he smiled.

“Patience,” he said in a low voice.

He brought both my hands behind his head, pulling me toward him. He let them go and his eyes dropped to my breasts as I leaned forward. He eased me closer, his hands slipping around to cup my ass and lift me just a little higher, guiding me closer and bringing my breasts level with his face.

I looked down at him as he pressed his mouth against my breast, nuzzling it, his mouth opening as he did and until his lips were over my nipple which was hard and obvious beneath the thin fabric of my bra. He opened his mouth against it, flicking his tongue out to circle the sensitive flesh a few times.

He looked up at me as he moved his mouth to my other breast, repeating the same motions with agonizing slowness, all the while holding my gaze. He let his teeth close over my nipple gently before he drew away and I let out a little cry of surprised pleasure.

His hands came up between us to unhook my bra. The fabric sprang away and my breasts filled his open hands.

“Oh God, your breasts are perfect,” he breathed, holding them gently for a moment. “Round and firm and irresistible.”

He kneaded them gently, bringing one then the other to his mouth to kiss and suck. He moved so slowly and carefully I thought I was going to faint from the pleasure that built and built and built. I found I had the back cushion of the couch in a death grip and was holding my breath.

He leaned toward me, pressing his whole face into my cleavage, pushing the flesh of my breasts together against his face. He groaned appreciatively against my sternum, the vibration moving through my whole chest.

I brought my arms around his head and pulled him closer, holding his head against my breasts, feeling the heat of his breath on my skin and the thump of my heart in my chest.

He moved his hands from my breasts and I sat back again. My fevered need had calmed, to be replaced by a low, pulse that I felt in every part of my body. I slid from his lap, shaking my bra from my arms, and then undid the front of my jeans. He watched, unbuttoning his shirt cuffs and pulling his arms from the sleeves. I worked the denim down my hips and then, impulsively, turned, presenting him with my backside, and finished lowering the jeans down my legs.

I knew his eyes were on the cheeks of my ass, bare and framed by the slight black elastic of my thong. I bent, giving him a view of the thin strip of fabric that nestled between my ass cheeks and flared slightly to cover my pussy, and slowly lifted one leg at a time to step out of the jeans. I kicked the garment to the side as I straightened and turned to find him gaping, his brow wrinkled in something like disbelief.

“Jesus, Amy,” he breathed. And for a second I worried I’d offended him—had I been too trashy, presenting myself like that? But the next second he raised his eyes to mine and smiled. “What a sight. You have a gorgeous body, sweetheart.”

My heart jumped excitedly. I climbed onto his lap again, pushing him back against the cushion and kissing him hard. I flexed my hips and let my legs spread, settling myself down until our bodies touched and my weight held me tight against him. He moaned against my mouth and ran his hands all over my hips.

We kissed with intensity, both of us breathing more quickly as we did. I ran my hands through his hair, thoroughly messing it up as I traced the curve of his skull with my fingertips, and drew my mouth from his abruptly as lust bubbled inside me, my pussy aching with need.

“Oh God, I want to feel you inside me,” I hissed, digging my fingers into his neck. He made a surprised noise and for a second I thought he was going to tell me to slow down again, so I pressed my open mouth to his and ran my tongue over his bottom lip.

“Simon,” I groaned, the sound filling the empty chamber of his mouth. “Do you want me to suck your cock?” He made another noise, surprised, but aroused, and his hands went to my waist, lifting me up.

“I do,” he said breathlessly. “But not yet.”

He lifted me and I expected him to let go so I could climb off his lap, but he held my legs before I could and I fell against him, catching myself on the wall behind his head. He shifted slightly and I felt his mouth opening against the fabric of my thong, his tongue sliding over the fabric. I felt the heat of his tongue against my pussy and squealed, falling forward more, bracing myself against the wall as he pushed his face closer, mashing his mouth against me. He let go of my hips with one hand, steadying me as I swayed, and once he was sure I had my balance, he used his other hand to move the fabric of my panties away from my pussy.

I felt his hot breath, heard his exclamation as he breathed in my scent, and braced myself as he pressed his face close again, touching my bare pussy with his tongue. It felt so good. It felt better than anything I’d felt in years. Ever, maybe, and as I tucked my head down and watched his open mouth and searching tongue, the pleasure increased even more, making me lurch, pressing my pussy hard against him by accident.

“Fuck!” I squealed as my clit was crushed against his teeth. I steadied myself again and he moved his head in small circles, tracing around my labia teasingly. When he tilted his head and let his whole tongue slide between my pussy lips I cried out something unintelligible and closed my eyes.

I felt him part my labia with his fingers, opening me for his searching tongue, and a moment later the pressure and heat of his touch made my head swim. He moaned in satisfaction, making long swipes with his tongue, swallowing as if quenching his thirst. I leaned my head against the wall and watched, tensed and expectant, as his long swipes became more focused, his tongue pointed and stiff, zeroing in on my clit, his fingers shifting until I felt their pressure at the entrance to my vagina. He pushed gently, turning his fingers back and forth, easing them inside me a little at a time. The combination of his tongue on my clit and his fingers’ pressure brought long sighs and whimpers from deep in my throat, the pleasure growing beyond what I thought possible.

“Oh Simon…” My voice was a desperate whine, strained in my throat. “That feels so good, so good…”

I wanted the feeling to never end, but this slow build was agonizing. My insides were tensed and waiting, but the pleasure kept growing and growing, pulling me tighter, narrowing my world until the only real sensations were his tongue’s lazy dance on my clit and the slowly building rhythm of his fingers. I heard myself saying his name, praising his efforts and begging for more.

“Don’t stop that,” I moaned. “Simon, don’t stop yet…”

I realized I would come if he didn’t stop and though I worried if I peaked too soon I wouldn’t come again, I wanted it so badly. I’d waited so long for a man touch me again, for Simon to touch me. I couldn’t resist the pull. I didn’t even try.

“Oh God,” I said suddenly as my arousal spiked. “I’m going to come,” I gasped, and the realization pushed my arousal even higher.

I let go of the wall with one hand and ran it down over Simon’s head. He groaned and I felt him focus his attention, his fingers moving faster and harder, pushing against my pelvic bone, making wet squishing sounds with each motion.

“Mmm, that’s it. Fuck me like that, Simon. Do it harder.” I slid my hand behind his neck, gasping as the tension built even more, and pulled his head closer, pressing his open mouth against my soaking pussy. “Oh don’t stop, suck my clit, just like—” I gasped as he drew my clit between his lips, sucking hard, grunting with the effort of his thrusting fingers. I knew I was wearing out his arm, but I was close… “Don’t stop, I’m so close. I’m so close…”

His hand stopped for a second and my pleasure dipped, making me groan in frustration. A second later he pushed into me again, having added another finger, stretching me and pushing me over the edge.

“Fuck yes,” I gasped, grinding my pelvis against him, the pressure of his sucking mouth on my clit nearing the point of pain. I squealed his name and felt my pleasure vanish in a flash of agony that immediately shattered, filling me with a pulsing bliss that flashed and swirled like a light show of sensation. I gasped, unable to breathe, still holding his face against me, and crushed my head against the wall while my pussy squeezed his fingers tight.

When I finally let go of his head, he drew back taking a deep breath, panting hard. His face glistened with my wetness and the sight of it made me collapse. I slid down his body and kissed him, drawing his tongue into my mouth to taste myself. I wasn’t sure I’d ever come like that before, so quickly, so thoroughly, just by being eaten. I panted as we kissed, wrapping my arms around his neck and letting him pull me close.

“Simon, that was fucking amazing. God, I thought I was going to faint—I couldn’t breathe.”

“Neither could I,” he said smiling. “I thought I was going to drown.” He ran his hand through my hair and kissed me, tasting deliciously of my cunt. “In the sexiest fucking ocean.”

We kissed a little longer and then I slid from his lap and onto the couch beside him, trailing my hand over the front of his trousers where a sizable bulge had formed. I looked at him and smiled, thrilled by the thought of what lay beneath and the fact that I would soon see it and touch it and take it in my mouth.

He smiled back at me, his expression somewhere between lust and curiosity.

I sat up on my knees and reached to lower his zipper. He shifted, lifting his hips and pushing his pants lower on his hips until I took over, slowly drawing them down, the tip of his penis emerging first, the fabric moving down like a curtain being drawn to reveal his long shaft inch by inch while I stared. I gasped excitedly and felt my mouth water. I swallowed hard and finished lowering his trousers, dragging them from his legs and feet without even looking at what I was doing; my attention was on Simon’s cock. I couldn’t tear my eyes away.

I settled myself back on my heels, ran my hands up his thighs, and felt the heat before my fingers touched his cock. I touched him hesitantly, enthralled by the shape of the blunt head, the slight curve of the shaft and its thickness as it lay against his belly. It was at once obscene and beautiful—fleshy and veined with blue, glistening with precum that oozed from the slit at the tip of the turgid head.

Had my boyfriends’ cocks been this beautiful? I wondered. I couldn’t remember. I couldn’t even remember their faces and I didn’t even care.

I ran my fingers along the length and gently took him in my hand. He sighed contentedly and I felt him relax, his shoulders sinking into the cushions a little. I closed my fingers around him, enjoying the hardness in my palm, and bent my head, tucking my hair behind my ear. I extended my tongue and ran it in a circle around the smooth head of his cock, licking up the fluid that had pooled at the tip. He sighed again and I closed my eyes, to savor the sensation.

I let my tongue circle around and around a few more times before I closed my lips around him, pushing my head forward until the widest part slid past my tight lips. I held him there for a moment and then ran my tongue along the underside, keeping my mouth tight. He sighed again and ran his hand over my shoulder, making me open my eyes and look up at him. His expression was of a man slightly undone. When he smiled it was open mouthed, full of barely suppressed lust.

“Oh honey,” he said in a low voice.

I lifted my head, letting his cock slip from my mouth, and tilted him away, dropping my head to run my tongue down the whole length of him until it swirled in his pubic hair. I slid a hand between his legs, pressing his thighs apart to make room for my head. I rose up on my knees, turning my head until it was nearly upside down and pressed my face against the soft heat of his scrotum. I used my tongue to search and stroke, seeking out one testicle, which I traced and chased until I could suck it into my mouth.

He jumped with a throaty curse and I felt him take his cock in his hand and begin to stroke it. The thought of him watching me while he stroked himself was a thrilling, knowing he was so turned on he couldn’t keep from touching himself.

I released his ball from my lips and pressed my face closer, exploring with my tongue, running it all along the loose skin, nuzzling lower until his balls covered my nose and my tongue touched just below, easing over his perineum and making him squirm and stroke himself a little harder.

I licked and explored, my face wet from my own saliva, and flushed with excitement, thrilled by the noises he was making above me. I took my time working my way back up, licking his fingers when I finally reached his cock again. I pushed his hand away, taking him in my hand, dropping my mouth close and sucking the very tip of him between my lips.

I stroked him slowly and concentrated on bringing my head up and down in an easy motion, keeping the pressure of my mouth even, but moving my tongue in waves. Every few seconds I let my head drop faster, harder, taking him a little deeper and each time, he gasped and sighed my name, a little more desperation in his voice with each downward motion.

“Amy…” he groaned after a few minutes. “I’ll never last if you keep doing that.”

I would have gladly let him come in my mouth, but I wanted him inside me more, and I wasn’t sure how much time we had or how soon after an orgasm he would be hard again. I leaned back and let his cock slip from my lips with an obscenely wet pop, making him groan with delight.

He was a little breathless, his face flushed and glowing as he moved toward me, pressing me down against the surface of the couch. He grasped the thin straps of my thong and pulled the wet fabric down my hips, letting it fall to the floor next to us. He looked so fucking hot as he moved back toward me, I felt my pussy pulse in reaction—reminding me how empty it was, how much I wanted it filled. I spread my legs automatically and reached for his cock as he leaned over me.

“Patience, patience,” he said, smiling at my eagerness. He pushed my thighs apart, moving closer.

“I can’t wait any longer,” I said. I bent my knees, bringing them toward my shoulders and he slowly lowered himself down, my hand guiding him to the glistening pink target of my pleasure. “I want that cock inside me.”

He paused just as the head of his cock began to split the inner lips of my vulva and I looked up at his expression—wide-eyed and full of expectation.

“You’re so pink and soft,” he said. “Beautiful, curvaceous, and so fucking exciting, Amy,” he said. I felt his hips quiver slightly as he held himself just on the edge of penetration. “I can’t believe this is real.”

I let go of his cock, lifting my hips a little so he moved a fraction of an inch further between my swollen pussy lips. Even the slight pressure made me tense inside. I reached up and ran my hands over his chest, swirling my fingers through his greying chest hair.

“It’s real,” I said. I lifted one hand and stroked his cheek. It felt hot and prickly beneath my fingers. “Go ahead, Simon. I want you all the way inside me.”

His brow twisted a little and I felt his chest muscles flex as he relaxed, his cock sinking lower. We both looked down as my body yielded, opening, making room for him. A surge of pleasure made me freeze, a little echo of a pulse inside me, teasingly vague. He stopped, thinking I was uncomfortable, eyes flicking to my face with concern.

“Don’t stop,” I sighed, lifting both my hands to his face. “Go deeper.”

He groaned softly and his eyes closed for a second as he relaxed his hips and once more pressed forward, inching his way inside me. The anticipation of being fully filled was agonizing; I wanted to feel his body against mine, to feel full of him, part of him. I slid my legs around his waist and used them to press him closer, hooking my ankles as soon as I could and lifting my hips to meet his approaching pelvis with my own. If he was being slow for my sake, I wanted him to know he didn’t need to.

“Oh Simon, it feels so good,” I whispered. I held him tight against me with my legs, tilting my hips to feel how he filled me, where his cock pressed inside, and then I drew my legs back again, wrapping my arms around my calves so I was wide and ready, offering myself fully to him. “Fuck me, Simon.”

“Jesus,” he said in awe, staring at my open posture. He drew himself out a little, still moving with care and slowness, and rocked his hips a few times, filling me fully but gently.

“Fuck me,” I said, frustration making my words more harsh than I meant. He groaned, his hips lurching in excitement. “Fuck me.”

He drew back further, his cock nearly leaving my body, and we both watched as he plunged it deep.

“God, yes,” I whispered. “Like that.”

He shifted his weight, drew back again, and buried himself to the root. And again, this time making me gasp.

“Mmm, you’re hot and wet inside,” he said. “I love the feel of your pussy around my cock.”

He shifted again, moved one arm down to lift my leg, straightening it, and pushing it back toward my shoulder. I felt my pussy tighten around his cock, the muscles along the back of my leg stretching to their limit.

“Your body is beautiful. It’s absolutely perfect,” he murmured as he drew himself out and pushed deep again. “Heavenly…and so fucking tight.”

I looked up at his expression of wonder and felt my heart swell with affection. His tenderness and care were soothing, and I loved how it felt to be held in his eyes with so much love, but I was pulsing with an animal desire to be overwhelmed—to be fucked senseless.

I growled in frustration, reaching my free hand up to his neck and pulling against it. As soon as his eyes met mine I hissed, “Fuck me hard, Simon. Fuck my pussy—don’t hold back.”

He stared for half a second before the words triggered something in his brain, calling up his own animal needs.

“Fuck me hard,” I repeated, letting him know I meant it.

He growled and I felt his fingers tighten on my calf a second before he drew back. He nearly left my body before he plunged his whole length inside me, pushing hard with his hips, grinding our bodies together. He did it again, and a third time, making me cry out in sudden pleasure.

“Oh God.”

Simon echoed the sentiment, sounding barely in control of himself. He shifted again and started to fuck me for real—rocking and thrusting so my breasts jumped and the couch complained beneath us. I saw his control failing, falling to the intense physical need that had taken over his brain and his body.

I wasn’t sure how long it had been since he’d had sex—had he had a lover since his divorce? And how long before the divorce had he and his wife stopped sleeping together? He’d told me the last year of his marriage had only been for their daughter’s sake, while they waited for her to graduate and go off to college. Could he possibly have been without sex for that many years?

I stared up at him, feeling his thrusts growing desperate, his arms shifting so he could bend my other leg back and tilt my hips so his cock went even deeper. He grunted and swore, panting out nonsensical praises and exclamations, and I braced myself, my own pleasure blunted by the intensity of his thrusts.

“Fuck me,” I moaned, excited by the way his face was twisted in concentration, the lines of his forehead severe. I saw tiny beads of sweat along his hairline, the loose skin on his face jumping with each deep push.

His eyes met mine and he groaned. “Amy—oh God, I’m going to come!” He thrashed against me, losing control of his rhythm for a second. When he found it again he gasped and shook his head in wonder. “Feels so fucking good inside you…so fucking good.”

His orgasm broke hard, making him groan so loud and from so deep in his chest I felt it through my whole body. His voice rose in pitch as he panted increasingly desperate cries of “yes, yes, yes,” until he pushed himself deep, emptying his cock inside me. I felt the tension and trembling in his hips, the erratic pulse as he spurted inside me, and then the return of my own pleasure which had been overwhelmed by his desperate fucking.

“Oh Amy,” he whispered excitedly, his cock still twitching, still deep. “Sweetheart…”

I wormed my hand down to my pussy, spreading my fingers and sliding them over my vulva, feeling the thickness of his cock between them and the wet heat of my pussy against my palm. My arousal flared hot and I brought my fingers to my clit.

“Don’t move,” I gasped as he started to draw back. He was still panting. His eyes went wide as he realized I would come again. “Don’t pull out yet.”

I pushed my fingers hard against my clit, stroking myself roughly, desperate to come. I squeezed my pelvic muscles, feeling the presence of Simon’s cock, and he gasped, feeling it too.

“Don’t move,” I said again, though Simon was now holding perfectly still, watching me intently. “I want to come like this, full of your cock.”

“Full of my cock,” he echoed, sounding just as thrilled as I felt. “Oh Amy, come—I’m still deep inside you, baby.”

“God, you are. Inside me…” I groaned, excited and urged on by his words. I crushed my head back into the couch cushion and closed my eyes tight, closer and closer to coming. “Tell me again, Simon,” I gasped. “Tell me how deep you are…tell me how you fucked me.”

“I fucked you hard, Amy. Can you feel it? My cock deep inside you.” His voice was excited, breathy, he seemed just as turned on by what we were saying. “So deep, honey.”

“Oh fuck!”

I opened my eyes and stared at him, swearing again.

“I came deep inside your pussy.”

“Oh God.” I groaned, biting my lip. “You came inside me…”

“You’re full of my cum, can you feel it? Can you feel—”

“Fuck!” I grunted, grinding my clit between my fingers and my pubic bone. I gasped and a second later he repeated my curse as my pussy clenched tight around his still hard cock.

“Oh your pussy,” he whispered in awe. “I feel it tightening.”

I groaned when the second pulse hit—even stronger than the first, taking my breath away. I gasped and trembled as my muscles contracted in waves, squeezing him tight and sending jolts of electric pleasure through my whole body.

When I’d finally stopped coming and moved my hand away from my spent pussy, he lowered himself onto me and wrapped me in his arms, kissing my neck and face. I lifted my legs and wrapped them around his waist again, holding him tight, my body still throbbing with a gently fading arousal.

“That was the sexiest thing I’ve ever experienced,” he whispered, drawing back to look at me. “Jesus, Amy, what a fucking thrill.” He kissed me on the mouth, roughly at first, then more softly until his kisses were gentle, closed-mouthed, and sweet. My heart surged pleasantly. I felt warm and satisfied and sexy.

“I feel so much for you, Amy,” he said, pushing himself up on his arms to look down at me. I unhooked my legs and felt his cock begin to soften and retract, slipping from my body. “I love you. I know I shouldn’t even say that, it just complicates everything, but you’re something special.”

I smiled, reaching up to touch his face, and smiled even more. Inside me, the warm feeling of sexual satisfaction grew and expanded, becoming a complex sensation of pleasure and sadness all at once. I knew this wasn’t going to last—that the things that stood between us were so great and so personal they weren’t worth the risk of continuing this deceit beyond this night. Even if we were never found out, the guilt would be too much for an honest man like Simon to bear.

“Where are you supposed to be?” he asked, shifting my legs, rolling me onto my side and slipping behind me on the couch, cuddling up close, his arms around me.

“The movies. Over at the mall.”

He kissed the back of my ear, his hand sliding over my hip lightly, sending shivers over my skin.

“So, we’ve got an hour left, at the most,” he said with a little regret in his voice.

I twisted in his arms, turning to lie on my back, to see his face. He kissed me immediately and his hand slid across my belly.

“A lot can happen in an hour,” I said, kissing him back. “Take me upstairs”

He looked surprised for a half second, and then he grinned, grabbing me to kiss me again, excitement making him rough, and I knew he was thinking what I was thinking—that this was it, probably our last chance to be together, and it had to be fantastic. And I had no doubt it would be.

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