Chapter 8

Elliot Davis pushed open the front door after another endless school day, backpack sagging off one skinny shoulder, eyes already locked on the stairs that led up to the safety of his room. The walk home had been the usual blur of keeping his head down and praying none of Jax’s crew spotted him. He was still raw from prom, from everything that had happened with Lily, from the way his mother had sat so close the night before and touched him while she told him he was overreacting. He just wanted to lock his door, put on his headphones, and disappear until the hollow ache in his chest went quiet.

Then he stopped short. The sound of power tools and his mother’s laughter spilled out of the living room, bright and easy and completely unexpected. He had not heard her laugh like that in a long time. It was warm, almost girlish, the kind of sound that made something twist low in his gut. Something metallic clanged. A deep male voice rumbled a reply he could not quite catch, and Lauren’s answering giggle rolled through the house. Elliot’s stomach tightened. He set his backpack down by the door without thinking and stepped into the archway.

The living room was a mess of drop cloths and cardboard. A new ceiling light fixture sat half-unboxed on the floor, some heavy modern thing of black metal and frosted glass that looked expensive. Balanced on a stepladder right in the center of the room was Jax Harlan, shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of dark athletic shorts that hung low on his hips. His broad back and shoulders gleamed under the afternoon light. Sweat traced the deep grooves of his spine and the heavy slabs of muscle that flexed every time he reached up. The shorts rode up as he stretched, flashing the hard curve of one ass cheek and the thick outline of his cock against the thin fabric. Even soft it looked heavy, the kind of size that made Elliot’s mouth go dry with remembered fear.

And right beside the ladder, close enough that her shoulder brushed Jax’s bare calf every time she moved, stood Lauren. Elliot’s breath left him in a shaky rush.

His mother had clearly gotten dressed up. There was no other way to put it. She was wearing a tight black halter top that tied behind her neck and left her entire back bare, the thin strings digging into the soft skin of her shoulders. The front was cut low enough that the full, heavy swells of her natural tits strained against the fabric, the deep valley of her cleavage on full display. The material stretched tight across her nipples, stiff little peaks that poked through every time she breathed. Her midriff was completely exposed, smooth toned skin and that soft little curve just above the waistband of her shorts. Those shorts were tiny, frayed denim that rode high on her hips, the bottom curves of her ass cheeks peeking out whenever she shifted. Her long legs looked endless in a pair of strappy high-heeled sandals that made her calves flex. Her honey-blonde hair was down for once, falling in loose tousled waves past her shoulders. She had on more makeup than usual, glossy lips and darker lashes that made her green eyes look bigger. She looked stunning, the kind of stunning that made it hard to remember she was his mother, and the sight of her hit Elliot low in the gut like a fist.

She was handing Jax a pair of pliers, her fingers lingering just a second too long on his thick forearm before she pulled back. She laughed at whatever he had just said, then glanced toward the doorway and her smile faltered for a fraction of a second when she saw Elliot standing there. Her eyes flicked away quickly, then back again, a little nervous dart of green. “There you go,” she said, her voice soft and warm. “You make it look so easy.”

Jax glanced down at her from the ladder, that cocky half-lidded smirk already in place. Then his dark eyes flicked over and locked on Elliot. The smirk widened. “Well look who finally decided to show up,” Jax drawled. “The man of the house. About time, Davis. Your mom’s been telling me how you never help with shit around here. I was starting to think she raised a lazy little bitch.”

Lauren laughed, a bright sound that cut Elliot deeper than the words. She turned toward him, still standing close to the ladder, and gave Jax a playful little smack right in the center of his broad chest. Her hand stayed there for a beat longer than it needed to, palm flat against the hard muscle, before she let it drop. She glanced at Elliot again, a quick nervous look, then smiled as if nothing was wrong.

“You’re so bad,” she said, but there was a little too much warmth in it. “Be nice.” She looked at Elliot properly and the smile turned fond, almost maternal. “Honey, come say hello. Jax was kind enough to come over and install the new light for us. Isn’t it gorgeous? I decided the old one was too dated and he offered to help.”

Elliot’s face burned. He could feel his cock thickening against the front of his jeans, a shameful unwanted pulse that only got worse the longer he stared at his mother’s body. Those shorts left almost nothing to the imagination. Every time she shifted he caught another flash of soft ass cheek. Her tits jiggled with every little movement, heavy and full, clearly free of any bra. He could see the faint outline of her areolas through the stretchy fabric. She smelled like expensive perfume and something warmer underneath. He hated how hard he was getting just looking at her.

He muttered something under his breath that even he could not hear and took a step toward the stairs.

Lauren’s voice stopped him, sharper than usual. “Elliot. Manners. We have a guest.”

He froze. The tone still worked on him. He turned back reluctantly, cheeks flaming, and forced the words out. “Hey, Jax.”

Lauren’s smile returned, soft and approving, but she glanced at him again with that same little flicker of nerves before she looked back up at Jax. “That’s better,” she said. “But you still need to work on your courtesy, baby. Jax is doing us a real favor.” She reached up and rested her hand lightly on Jax’s bare thigh, right above the knee, fingers curling against the thick muscle for just a second before she pulled it away like she had realized what she was doing. She glanced at Elliot again, quick and almost guilty. “He could have been anywhere this afternoon, but he came here to help. Isn’t that sweet?”

Jax’s grin was pure cruelty as he looked down at Elliot. “Could use a beer while I finish this,” he said, casual as anything. “Been working up a sweat.”

Lauren giggled, that same warm sound, then glanced at Elliot again with a flash of something that looked almost like worry before she smoothed it over. “Of course you have,” she said. She turned her green eyes on her son and the order came out soft but firm. “Elliot, be a good boy and go grab two beers from the fridge for us. The cold ones in the back.”

Elliot’s mouth opened before he could stop himself. “Since when do you even drink beer?”

Jax’s laugh was low and amused. He looked down at Lauren with open satisfaction. “Started after she met someone who knows how to show her a good time,” he said, voice dripping with smugness. “Turns out your mommy likes a cold one every now and then. Who knew?”

Lauren smacked his arm lightly, playful, but her cheeks were a little pink and she glanced at Elliot again, a quick nervous dart of her eyes. “You’re terrible,” she said, but she did not deny it. Her hand hovered near Jax’s thigh for a second longer than it should have before she pulled it back. Then she looked at Elliot and the order came out soft but absolute. “Go get the beers, honey. No more arguing.”

Elliot’s fists clenched at his sides. Heat flooded his face, shame and rage and that sick throbbing arousal all twisting together until he could barely breathe. He could see everything. The way his mother’s tiny shorts had ridden up so far the soft curves of her ass were on full display. The way her heavy tits rose and fell with every breath. The way she kept looking at Jax like he was the most interesting thing in the room, then flicking those nervous little glances back at Elliot as if she was checking to make sure he was not reading too much into it. His own cock was fully hard now, a shameful ridge pressing against his zipper, and the knowledge that both of them could probably see it only made the humiliation burn hotter.

“No, no fucking way,” he muttered, voice cracking. “This is bullshit. He’s not even...”

Jax’s voice cut across him, lazy and dangerous. “Do as your mother told you, Davis. Unless you want me to come down off this ladder and beat your ass right here in front of her. Again.”

Lauren’s eyes went wide for a second. A small smile tugged at her glossy lips before she glanced at Elliot again, that same nervous flicker, and then she reached out and gave Jax’s bare calf a quick, almost automatic stroke with her fingers, like she couldn’t quite stop herself. She pulled her hand back fast and looked at her son with soft eyes. “Listen to him, baby,” she said gently. “He’s right. Be a good boy and go get those beers. I don’t want any trouble.”

Elliot’s entire body went hot and cold at once. The way she said it while her fingers had just been on Jax’s leg made something dark and filthy twist low in his gut. He couldn’t stop staring at her. At the way her ass looked in those tiny shorts, at the soft jiggling of her tits every time she breathed, at the wet shine of her lips and the way she kept glancing up at Jax like she wanted to touch him more and then looking back at Elliot with that little nervous flash in her eyes. His cock throbbed so hard it hurt. He hated himself for it. He hated how hot she looked while she stood there flirting with his bully right in front of him. He hated Jax for existing. And still he could not look away.

He turned on his heel and almost ran for the kitchen, ears ringing with the sound of Lauren’s soft laughter and the low satisfied rumble of Jax’s voice following him.

“That’s it, boy. Fetch.”

In the kitchen Elliot yanked open the fridge with shaking hands. The cold air hit his face but did nothing to cool the burning in his cheeks or the aching hardness between his legs. He could still see her. The deep cleavage, the stiff nipples poking through that ridiculous halter top, the way her ass cheeks peeked out of the denim every time she moved. He could still feel the phantom brush of her hand on Jax’s chest, the way she had looked at the bully like she wanted to do more and then glanced back at Elliot with that nervous little dart of her eyes. His own mother. Forty years old and dressed like she was trying to impress an eighteen-year-old who had spent years making Elliot’s life hell.

He grabbed two bottles of beer, the expensive craft ones she must have bought specially, and stood there for a long moment with his forehead pressed against the cold fridge door. His cock was leaking in his jeans. The shame of it made his eyes burn. He should have been furious. He was furious. But under the rage was that same sick secret heat that had been growing for weeks, the way his eyes kept drifting to her body when she was not looking, the way he had jerked off last night with her name on his lips while he thought about the way she had touched him on the couch. Now she was out there laughing with Jax like Elliot didn’t even exist, like the man of the house was the one standing half-naked on a ladder while Elliot played servant.

He forced himself to walk back into the living room. Lauren was still right beside the ladder, but now she was on her tiptoes, reaching up to hold the heavy fixture steady while Jax tightened the final screws. The position stretched her body into a filthy arch. Her back was bowed, her full tits thrust forward until they nearly spilled out of the halter, the soft undersides visible. Her tiny shorts had ridden up so high that the entire bottom curves of her ass were bare. Jax’s free hand was resting casually on the small of her back, fingers splayed over the bare skin just above her ass, holding her steady. Lauren glanced over her shoulder at Elliot the second he reappeared, a quick nervous look, then turned her face back up to Jax as if nothing had happened.

“Perfect timing,” Jax said without looking down. “Crack those open for us, Davis. Your mom’s worked up a thirst.”

Lauren glanced at Elliot again, that same little flash of nerves, then smiled softly as she took both bottles from him. Her fingers brushed his deliberately, lingering just long enough for him to feel how warm and soft her skin was. She passed one up to Jax, then twisted the cap off her own and took a long slow swallow. A little drop of beer escaped the corner of her glossy mouth and rolled down her chin. She caught it with her tongue, eyes locked on Jax for a second too long, then flicked another quick nervous glance at Elliot before she smoothed her expression. “Mmm. Cold,” she said. “Just what I needed after watching you work so hard.”

Jax took a deep pull from his own bottle, still balanced effortlessly on the ladder, and then deliberately dribbled a little of the cold liquid down the center of his chest. It ran between his pecs and over the ridges of his abs. Lauren’s eyes followed every drop. She hesitated for half a second, glanced at Elliot again with that nervous flicker, then leaned in and wiped the beer away with her fingers, laughing a little too brightly as she did it. “You’re making a mess,” she said, voice light, but her cheeks were flushed.

Elliot made a choked sound.

Lauren pulled back just enough to look at her son, lips shiny, eyes soft. “What’s wrong, honey?” she asked gently. “You look a little flushed. Is it warm in here?” She took another sip of beer, then pressed the cold bottle against the side of her own neck for a second. A little shiver ran through her. She glanced at Elliot again, quick and almost guilty. “Maybe you should go change into something cooler. Or better yet ... stay and watch. Jax is almost done. You can hand him tools. Be useful for once.”

Jax’s laugh was pure amusement. “Yeah, Davis. Stick around. Your mom’s been telling me how lonely she gets when you’re locked in your room all the time. Figured the least you can do is keep her company while a real man takes care of the heavy lifting.”

Lauren smacked his chest lightly, but she was smiling, and she glanced at Elliot again with that same nervous dart of her eyes before she let her hand rest against Jax’s bare side for a second longer than necessary. “Stop it,” she said, voice soft. “You’re going to embarrass him.”

“Good,” Jax said. “He should be embarrassed. Look at you. All dressed up, looking pretty, and he’s standing there with a hard-on staring at his own mother like a little pervert. Pathetic.”