Chapter 4

I gunned my Chevy truck down the highway, Sophie riding shotgun, her blonde hair glowing in the October sunset. The last few weeks since the Harringtons’ barbecue had been a grind—three more football games, our team sitting at four and two for the season. I’d been dragging myself through practices, my body battered but holding together. Off the field, though, my life was a fucking circus.

Sophie and I had been dating for a few weeks, and she was everything I should’ve wanted—smart, funny, with that freckled smile and a track-star body that turned heads. She was into me, her hands getting bold during our makeout sessions, but my cock was on strike. It wasn’t her fault. The shadow of Natasha Harrington, my best friend Matt’s hot-as-fuck mother, loomed over every kiss, her curves and filthy mouth ruining me for anyone else.

I felt like a twisted bastard, guilt eating me alive whenever Sophie’s touch left me limp. She was starting to notice, her eyes sharp with questions. Why’s he even with me if he’s not attracted? I could practically hear her thinking. I didn’t have the guts to admit my head was stuck on a forty-three-year-old who’d fucked me senseless in her guest bedroom, her wine celler, and her garage.

Tonight was the movie night Matt had been planning for weeks, a dozen teenagers cramming into the Harringtons’ swanky home theater. I’d been dreading it for days, Natasha’s emerald eyes and wicked grin haunting my dreams. But Matt had invited me and Sophie personally, and dodging it would’ve set off alarms. Sophie would’ve grilled me, and I couldn’t let her sniff out the truth. Besides, with a room full of kids and my girlfriend glued to my side, I figured I was safe. Natasha wouldn’t pull anything in a crowd, right? Yeah, keep telling yourself that, dumbass.

Sophie shifted in her seat, smoothing her denim skirt. “This place is gonna be insane, isn’t it?” she said, peering out at the mansions lining the road. “Matt’s house sounds like a palace.” She’d been to the Harringtons’ fall barbecue in their backyard, where we’d first really met, but she’d never been inside.

I snorted, gripping the wheel. “Yeah, it’s a fucking museum. Natasha—Mrs. Harrington—loves flexing it. Big house, big parties, big ... everything.” My voice caught, and I cursed myself. Get it together, Ryan.

Sophie grinned, oblivious. “Sounds fun. You’ve been here a lot, huh? Helping Matt with stuff?”

“Too much,” I muttered, my stomach twisting. “It’s ... a lot.” She shot me a curious look, but I forced a smile. “You’ll see. It’s wild.”

I pulled into the Harringtons’ driveway, the mansion sprawling like a predator waiting to pounce. Sophie’s eyes widened. “Holy shit, Ryan. You weren’t kidding.”

“Told ya,” I said, killing the engine. My heart was already hammering, knowing who’d be at the door.

Sure as shit, Natasha answered, and my cock betrayed me instantly. She wore a black wrap dress, the neckline plunging just enough to tease her cleavage, the fabric hugging her yoga-sculpted curves. Respectable for a mom hosting a teen party, but pure sex to anyone with a pulse. Her raven hair spilled over one shoulder, and her perfume slammed into me like a drug. “Sophie! Ryan!” she purred, pulling Sophie into a hug. “Oh, sweetheart, you look stunning. That skirt is adorable, and those legs! You’re a heartbreaker.”

Sophie blushed, giggling. “Thanks, Mrs. Harrington. Just something I threw on.”

“Call me Natasha, please,” she said, her emerald eyes flicking to me. “And Ryan, my God, don’t you clean up nice?” Her hand grazed my arm, lingering. “Sophie’s so lucky to have such a ... capable boyfriend. So strong, so ... tireless.” Her lips curled, the innuendo flying over Sophie’s head but hitting me like a freight train. My cock throbbed, and I shifted, praying my jeans hid the bulge.

“He’s all right,” Sophie teased, nudging me. “Keeps me on my toes.”

“Oh, I bet he does,” Natasha said, her voice dripping honey. “A boy like Ryan? He’s got ... stamina.” She winked at me, and I nearly choked. “Come on, let’s get you two downstairs. The theater’s all set up.”

Sophie beamed. “This is so cool. Thanks for having us, Natasha.”

“Anytime, darling,” Natasha said, linking arms with Sophie and motioning to me to follow. Her hips swayed as we crossed the marble foyer, her heels clicking. “Ryan’s practically family, so his girl’s welcome anytime. Isn’t that right, Ryan?”

“Uh, yeah,” I mumbled, my throat dry. “Thanks.” Her smirk told me she knew exactly what she was doing, which was not good news for me.

We passed Richard in his office, papers strewn across his desk. He glanced up, looking frazzled. “Natasha, I’m working on the bills like you asked,” he said, waving a stack. “They literally came today. I’m almost done.”

“Then finish them,” Natasha snapped, her tone cutting. “I don’t want them piling up, Richard. We’ve talked about this.”

“They’re not piling up!” he protested, rubbing his temple. “I’ll be done in ten minutes, tops.”

“Stay in your study and handle it,” she said, her glare shutting him down.

He shrugged, muttering, “Fine, ten minutes,” and turned back to his laptop. Natasha’s lips twitched with a smug smile, her control over him chilling. I swallowed hard, my nerves fraying.

We hit the basement stairs, and Natasha parted ways with us, her fingers squeezing my bicep one last time. She leaned in, her body brushing against mine, her breath hot on my ear. “Have fun, darling,” she whispered. “Don’t keep Sophie waiting,” she taunted. My cock lurched, and I forced a nod, practically shoving Sophie ahead of me to escape.

The home theater was a teenage dream—plush recliners, a massive screen, and a snack table piled with homemade popcorn, candy, and sodas. A dozen kids sprawled across the seats, some Matt’s buddies, others their dates, tossing popcorn and laughing. Matt spotted us and walked over, fist-bumping me. “Yo, Coleman! Sophie! You made it!”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” I said, trying to sound normal. Sophie’s hand slipped into mine, grounding me.

“Matt, this place is awesome,” Sophie said, eyeing the room. “Your house is like a movie set.”

Matt grinned, scratching his neck. “Yeah, Mom goes all out. Wait till you see the screen—it’s nuts.” He waved us toward the snack table. “Grab some popcorn. We’re doing a double feature tonight. First up’s The Big Lebowski—total classic, right? Then Fight Club. Gotta love that mind-fuck energy.”

“Nice picks,” Sophie said, grabbing a soda. “I haven’t seen Lebowski in forever. The Dude abides, right?”

“Hell yeah!” Matt laughed. “That rug really tied the room together.”

I chuckled, relaxing a bit. “Fight Club’s gonna have everyone quoting Tyler Durden by the end. ‘First rule,’ blah blah.”

“Exactly!” Matt said, tossing a popcorn kernel and catching it in his mouth. “Me and the guys were arguing about it all week. Jake swears Lebowski’s overrated, but he’s full of shit.”

“Jake’s just mad he doesn’t get the Coen brothers,” Sophie said, smirking. “What’s the vibe tonight? Everyone just chilling?”

“Yeah, bunch of us from school,” Matt said, nodding at the crowd. “Some dates, some randos. You know how it goes. Mom’s upstairs playing perfect host, but we’ve got the run of this place.”

“Sounds perfect,” Sophie said, squeezing my hand. Her smile was warm, but I caught that flicker of doubt again, like she was searching my face for answers. “Ryan, you good? You’re quiet.”

“I’m good,” I lied, forcing a grin. “Just, uh, hyped for the movies. Long week, you know?”

“Tell me about it,” Matt said, oblivious. “That last game kicked our asses. You were a beast out there, though, man. That sack in the fourth quarter? Savage.”

“Thanks,” I said, my chest loosening. “You weren’t half bad yourself, Harrington.”

“Psh, I try,” Matt said, grinning. “Yo, Sophie, you ever seen Ryan’s highlight reel? Dude’s a monster.”

Sophie laughed, leaning into me. “Oh, I believe it. He’s all humble, but I know he’s a big deal.”

“Big deal, my ass,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I’m just trying not to trip over my own feet.”

“Whatever, man,” Matt said, clapping my shoulder. “Grab some seats before the good ones are gone. I gotta check the projector.” He strode off, yelling at a kid who’d spilled soda on a recliner.

Sophie turned to me, her blue eyes soft but probing. “You sure you’re okay? You seem ... off.”

I swallowed, my gut twisting. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired. Football’s been brutal, and, uh, school’s piling up.”

She nodded, but her frown lingered. “Okay. I just ... I want us to have fun tonight, you know? Together.”

“We will,” I said, squeezing her hand. “Promise. Lebowski and Fight Club with you? Can’t beat that.”

Her smile returned, tentative but real. “Deal. But I’m holding you to it, Coleman.”

We grabbed popcorn and claimed a couple of recliners near the back. Our seats were out of sight of the rest of the room, and Sophie’s smirk and raised eyebrow meant she expected us to take advantage of the isolation to have some fun. I wanted to, oh God I wanted to, but I felt the pressure to perform. Sophie wasn’t going to wait forever for me to get it up for her.

More kids trickled in, the room buzzing with chatter and laughter. I tried to focus on Sophie, her shoulder brushing mine, but Natasha’s whisper clung to me like smoke. Her touch, her fucking wink—it was all burned into me. I scanned the room, half-expecting her to slink in, but she was still upstairs. For now. My cock twitched at the thought, and I cursed myself, gripping Sophie’s hand tighter. I had to keep it together. For her. For me.

The lights dimmed, and The Big Lebowski kicked off, the room quieting as The Dude’s drawl filled the speakers. I tried to focus on the screen, laughing with everyone else at the bowling alley scenes, but my head was a mess. Sophie’s hand brushed my thigh, and I tensed, glancing at her. She grabbed a blanket from the armrest and draped it over us, her eyebrows waggling in the dim light. “Cozy, right?” she whispered, her voice playful.

“Uh, yeah,” I said, my throat tight. Under the blanket, her hand slid to my crotch, deftly unzipping my jeans. My cock stiffened as she fished it out, her fingers wrapping around me. Fuck, she was bold. I shifted, glancing around, but the room was dark, everyone glued to the screen. Still, my heart pounded—someone could turn around any second.

Sophie’s strokes were slow, deliberate, her thumb circling the tip. I bit back a groan, my hips twitching. She leaned in, her lips brushing my ear. “I’ve been ... studying,” she whispered, her voice sly. “You know, brushing up on my technique. How’s it feel, Ryan? Am I doing it right?”

“Fuck, Sophie,” I hissed, my voice low. “It’s ... really good. Don’t stop.” My cock was rock-hard, pulsing in her grip. For the first time in weeks, I felt like I could actually perform with her, like Natasha’s hold might finally snap. Sophie’s touch was different—gentler, less predatory—but it was working. I groaned softly, leaning back, hope flickering in my chest.

Then a shadow loomed over my seat, and Natasha’s perfume hit me like a punch. She leaned down, her raven hair brushing my shoulder, her whisper hot against my ear. “Ryan, darling, we’ve got a problem with the projector. I need your help.”

I froze, my cock still in Sophie’s hand. “Uh, it looks fine to me,” I said, nodding at the screen. The Dude was ranting about his rug, clear as day. “Picture’s good.”

Natasha’s lips curled, her eyes glinting in the dark. “It’s acting up, trust me. I need a strong pair of hands to fix it. Come on, don’t make me beg.” Her tone was insistent, her hand grazing my arm.

I glanced at Sophie, who’d paused her stroking, looking curious but not suspicious. Fuck, I couldn’t say no without looking like a dick. “All right,” I muttered, my voice tight. “I’ll be quick.”

Sophie leaned in, tucking my cock back into my jeans under the blanket, her fingers lingering. “Hurry back,” she whispered, her breath warm on my neck. “We’re not done here.” Her smirk was teasing, but I caught the edge of frustration in her eyes. Great, now I was pissing her off too.

I followed Natasha to the back of the theater, my legs shaky, my cock still half-hard and aching from Sophie’s ministrations, though if I’m being honest, probably also from Natasha’s mere presence. The projector sat on a stand behind the refreshments counter, humming steadily, no sign of trouble. Natasha knelt down, her dress riding up her thighs as she settled her knees on the floor. “It’s something down here,” she said, her voice low and sultry. Before I could blink, she unzipped my jeans, yanking my cock out with a soft moan. “Oh, Ryan, look at you. Already hard? Is this for me?”

“Natasha, stop,” I hissed, my voice barely a whisper. I glanced back at the theater—Sophie was watching the movie, but anyone could turn around. “We can’t. Sophie’s right there. Matt’s right there.”

She smirked, her fingers stroking me slowly. “Oh, relax, darling. No one’s looking.” She leaned in, her tongue flicking the tip of my cock, and I groaned despite myself, my knees buckling. “God, I’ve missed this,” she purred, her lips wrapping around me. She sucked me deep, her tongue swirling, her eyes locked on mine with that wicked glint. “So big, so perfect. Why haven’t you come over to see Matt lately? I’ve been aching for this cock since the barbecue.”

“Fuck, Natasha, please,” I whispered, my hands gripping the counter. Her mouth was relentless, hot and wet, her moans vibrating against me. My protests melted into groans, my body betraying me as she took me deeper, gagging softly. Sophie’s handjob had gotten me started, but Natasha’s blowjob was on another level, her experience and hunger overwhelming. I hated myself for it, but my cock throbbed, my hips rocking into her mouth. Natasha’s hold wasn’t snapping—it was tightening, and I was too weak to stop her.

Natasha’s mouth worked me over, her lips sliding up and down my cock with pornstar precision, her tongue flicking in ways that made my eyes roll back. I gripped the refreshments counter, my knuckles white, trying to stay quiet as The Big Lebowski blared on the screen. Every slurp and soft moan from her throat felt like a siren, loud enough to drown out The Dude’s drawl. I whispered, “Natasha, fuck, someone’s gonna hear,” but she just pulled off with a wet pop, her emerald eyes glinting up at me.

“Relax, darling,” she purred, stroking me with her spit-slick hand. “Does Sophie ever suck you like this? I bet she doesn’t know how to handle this gorgeous cock.” She licked the tip, slow and deliberate, and I groaned, my hips jerking despite myself. “Mmm, so big, so perfect. You need a real woman to take care of it, Ryan, not some fumbling teenager.”

“Stop,” I hissed, but my voice cracked, weak as shit. Her mouth was back on me, deep-throating me with a muffled moan, and I hated how much I loved it. My body was a traitor, my cock throbbing as she bobbed faster, her nails grazing my thighs. The theater was dark, but I could feel eyes on me, the risk of getting caught spiking my pulse.

Then I saw Matt turn his head, glancing over his shoulder from his seat. Fuck. I froze, forcing my face into a blank stare, like I was inspecting the projector’s wiring. Natasha didn’t miss a beat, her lips still working me, her tongue swirling behind the counter’s cover. My heart hammered, but Matt just shrugged, muttering something to the kid next to him before turning back to the movie. I let out a shaky breath, my legs trembling as Natasha’s muffled chuckle vibrated against my cock.