Chapter 10: Riskier – Son Home, Quickie Danger

The text from Rachel came just after lunch, her words trembling across the screen like she was typing with shaking fingers: Jake’s home early. Gaming in the basement. Back door’s unlocked. Laundry room. Hurry. My cock thickened instantly against my thigh, a heavy, insistent ache that had nothing to do with memory and everything to do with the fact that her son was right there, ten feet below the very spot where I was about to ruin her again. I slipped out my back door and crossed the yards in under two minutes, the afternoon sun warm on my neck while my pulse hammered like a war drum.

She was waiting just inside the laundry room, the narrow space smelling of fabric softener and the faint, warm trace of her skin. The washing machine hummed on the spin cycle, a low, steady rumble that vibrated through the tile floor and up into the walls. Rachel stood there in a loose gray sundress she probably threw on for chores, the thin cotton already clinging to the soft curve of her belly and the heavy outline of her breasts. No bra. Her nipples pressed against the fabric like they were already anticipating me. Her eyes were wide, pupils blown, cheeks flushed the color of shame and want.

“He’s downstairs,” she breathed the second I closed the door behind me, voice barely above a whisper. “He just started a new match. The TV’s loud, but ... Derek, we can’t. Not here. Not with him right there.”

I didn’t answer with words. I crossed the two steps between us, spun her around, and pressed her front against the vibrating side of the washing machine. The metal was cool through her dress, the rumble traveling straight into her body and making her thighs quiver. My hands slid under the hem, yanking the sundress up to her waist in one rough motion. Plain white cotton panties underneath—nothing fancy, nothing planned—and I hooked my fingers in the waistband and dragged them to the side, exposing her already slick, swollen lips.

“Quiet,” I growled against her ear, one palm clamping firmly over her mouth. My other arm hooked under one thick thigh, lifting her foot off the floor so her leg bent and hooked around my hip. The standing carry position pinned her perfectly between me and the machine, her back arched, ass tilted just enough for me to line up. My cock was out in seconds, thick and flushed, the head nudging her entrance. I thrust up in one smooth, deliberate stroke, burying myself to the hilt in her tight, soaking heat.