The Lover's Children novel Chapter 63

PAT

A closer look: the thong is made of a kind of shiny satin, roses embossed into the pattern. Trimmed with matching lace and strung with beads like tiny black pearls, it smells wonderful. Cupping it in both palms to my face, I inhale…

The scent of you…

It’s heady and pungent, a poor substitute for the real thing, but never mind…

Hors d’oeuvres first.

The main meal is to come…

My cock swells satisfyingly.

Sinking into you…

Enjoying your moans…

… then your screams…

First the ones you fake…

Then the ones you don’t…

From beyond the bedroom door…

Click!

Then voices…

Fuck!

A male voice, “You gotta be more careful, leaving it unlocked. Never know who might come in.”

Then female. “I’m sure I did lock it. Maybe she’s back early. Hey, Marty, you back?” footsteps, growing louder…

Fuck!

“Marty? Thought you said you don’t have a boyfriend?”

Fuck! Fuck…

Where to hide?

Shoving the thong in my pocket, I drop. Rolling under the bed, I peer through the counterpane fringe at chipped vinyl spiked heels.

A giggle. “No, silly. Short for Martina.” The heels turn and teeter out, leaving the door swinging open, then clip through to the bathroom. “Nope. She’s not here. I’ll rocket her when she gets back, leaving it unlocked like that. Anyway…” The voice turns slinky… “What can I do for you?”

“You know what you can do, Babe. C’mon, on your knees.”

Shuffling on my belly, angling toward the door, the fucking fringe interferes with my view.

Still, I can see her from behind, arms ringed around his neck…

And no, it’s not my Lily…

Martina…

Marty…

Lily’s better.

… letting him hitch up her skirt and stick his hand down her pants.

“How much you gonna charge me for a BJ?”

“Twenty okay?”

“I wanna blow over your face.”

“That’s another ten.”

“Ten! You kidding?”

“Ah, c’mon. Be fair. You do that, I’m dripping jizz. I’ve gotta wash up and do my make-up again before I can go back out.” She drops to her knees, looks up at him. “C’mon, thirty,” she wheedles. “And you can put it where you like.”

He grins, reaching for his belt. “Sure thing, Babe.”

Her hand shoots out. “Upfront.”

He scowls, but delves into a pocket, producing some crumpled notes. “How about in there?” He jerks his chin my way.

“Not my room.”

“She gonna know?”

Prick…

“S’pose not.”

The prick and his slut move into my Lily’s room. Hastily, I shuffle backwards to where, from the shadow of my hiding place, I have a grandstand view as she strips off.

“How d’you want me?”

“Keep the bra. I want your tits up. And you can finger yourself a bit while I get going.”

The mattress sags above me and I have to drop my head down. I’ve got to twist my face sideways to watch as he fishes out his limp cock, stroking himself while he watches whatever’s going on above me.

Spread wide?

Cunt open?

Fingering herself?

The bed moves and creaks to a rhythm that sets my cock jumping…

Exhibitionist little whore.

After a minute or two, Lover Boy is at full attention. “That’s enough. On your knees now.”

The mattress sinks, then rebounds, as she rolls off, dropping dust and fluff in a cloud that gets up my nose and in my eyes. By the time I’ve cleared the crap from my face, she’s already kneeling in front of him, thumb and finger ringed around him, pumping him up.

Nice ass…

She goes through the usual performance: all licking lips and ‘Hey, Big Boy”. When he shoves himself into her mouth, she sucks, slurping over his excuse for a prick, bouncing up and down as she takes him in and out. Her tits, nothing to shout about, bounce a bit with her, more of a jiggle really.

I can’t quite see her pussy, but she’s shaved, or maybe waxed.

Dry too.

The genuine article…

Time to go…

The cat’s on the settee as I pass by, snarling a threat. Snatching an apple from the fruit bowl, I lob it at the fucking animal, hard and fast, catching it square on. Screeching, it flees into the bedroom.

Gotcha.

*****

MICHAEL

Racing for the kitchen door, I have Bear right on my heels and Scruffy pelting forward to lead the way. As I bolt inside, a wave of heat hits me. “Christ, talk about April showers. It’s pelting down out there. I'm heading straight up for a hot bath.”

James stands by the hob, tasting something from a wooden spoon. His eyes widen… “Michael… The dogs…”

I turn, realising what he’s saying, but…

Too late…

Bear shakes, slinging mud and water like hail. Sludge and slime spin in all directions, splattering floor, kitchen units, door and, almost incidentally, me. Scruffy’s shake is brisker. The wire brush that passes for his fur doesn’t hold much water and he sheds the lot in a couple of shakes, then, apparently merely damp, he trots off, leaving a trail of pawprints as evidence of passage. Not that it matters in my case. I’m already saturated, drizzling muck and gunk to the tiles.

“For God’s sake,” snaps James. “Clean him down before we’re all awash… No, I’ll do it. You dry yourself off. You’re dripping crap over everything too.” He marches to the coat rack and I simply kick off my rubber boots, strip off my drenched pullover…

James snags a dog towel, turns…

“You got another of those there?” I drop my pants and shorts in a heap at my feet… “I’ll dry myself off before I trail through to the shower.” … then peel myself out of socks clinging tight and seemingly shrink-fitting to my feet…

James coughs, then clears his throat. “Michael…”

“Hmmm?” Something soft catches me in the chest, a towel, and I straighten up… “Thanks…” Rubbing it briskly through my hair, I swipe water from my eyes and face…

“Michael…”

James tone penetrates and I drop the towel. “What?”

Lips quirking, he raises brows, nodding behind me with what can only be called a meaningful gaze…

… and I turn to see Klempner at the breakfast table, mouth twitching, and beside him, a porcelain cup of her preferred mint tea poised en route to her mouth, Mitch…

Fuck...

… Head tilted, brow arched, she sucks away a smile and I whip the suddenly microscopic towel downward to where Adam kept his fig leaf.

Klempner nudges her, murmuring something, and she sets down the cup. The pair rise and make for the door, but as they exit, Mitch drops me a wink. “Very nice,” she purrs, then, her arm looped through Klempner’s, she sashays out.

My face flames mortification-scarlet.

James creases over, bent double, wagging a finger at me.

“What’s so fucking funny?” I growl.

He straightens up, wiping at his eyes. “It's not every man who would be upset to be complimented by a beautiful woman.”

“She's my fucking mother-in-law.”

James produces a cough that sounds suspiciously like another laugh. “Anyway, what were you doing out there in this weather?”

“Got a surprise for Cara. I just wanted to be sure everything’s okay.”

“What surprise?”