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Erotica | Cheating | Stepfamily | Forbidden Kiss | Married | Guilt | Masturbation | Taboo Attraction

Alone with My Stepson — 5

A single heated kiss in the car changed everything, leaving me touching myself in the shower while my husband was away — torn between guilt and the ache I couldn't ignore.

PART 4

I made a sound.

A little sound, half gasp, half moan, and his fingers gripped my hair.

The kiss grew more ravenous.

His body was turned toward me across the center console, and my hands, I don't know what to do with my hands, were on his chest.

The henley was made of soft cotton.

Warm from his skin.

Under it I felt the solid plane of his pectoral, the slight thud of his heart.

His heart was pounding.

Nearly as quick as mine.

That little fact set me off.

He was affected.

This wasn’t just some teenage conquest, some game he’d been playing to pass the time.

He was as dismayed as I was.

I backed off, gasping.

My lips tingled.

I was hot all over.

We should… I need to think.

“Okay.”

He was also panting.

His pupils blown wide, the blue reduced to a thin ring around black.

“Okay.

Think.”

“It is not okay to say 'okay' like that.”

What do you mean you don't know how to say it?

“Not okay.

Not ‘okay’ I don't know.

None of this is okay.”

“It's fine with me.”

He brushed a hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear.

It was such a loving gesture that it choked me.

It's the "most okay thing I've ever done,"" he says.

I laughed.

The watery sound, teetering on the edge of tears.

“You’re insane.”

“Maybe.”

He sat back in his seat, allowing me some room.

His hands were back on the steering wheel.

“But I'm right, too.

You know I'm right.

That's what you're afraid of.”

He wasn’t wrong.

It was a quiet drive home.

Not clumsy, or not just clumsy.

A new silence, one that is pregnant with possibility.

With what-ifs.

With the ghost of that kiss still buzzing on my lips.

Nathan drove into the garage and shut down the car.

The automatic garage door rolled shut behind us, leaving us in the dark.

There was a long silence.

“What happens now?” I asked.

“Whatever you want to happen, it will happen.”

“That’s not an answer.”

That's the only solution I can think of.

He turned to look at me.

His face was in shadow, his eyes unreadable in the dim light of the garage.

I'm not going to push you, Leah, I'm not going to be that guy, you want to pretend today didn't happen?

Let's pretend, you want to talk about it?

Let's talk you want…”

He paused.

Swallowed.

“You want more?

I’m here.”

The final two words hit like rocks in calm water.

I’m here.

What Mark didn't say.

The one thing Mark never was.

I reached out to the car door handle.

Paused.

“I need a shower.”

“Yeah.”

His smile was gone, and there it was, in the darkness.

“You do that.”

I ran into the house!

Up the stairs.

Into the bathroom.

The door is closed, water is dripping, clothes are strewn on the tile floor.

It was hot and I stood under it with my hands on my face, feeling the heat penetrate my skin, and my mind playing the kiss over and over again.

My hand in his waist.

His tongue in my mouth, The vibration of his chest and my hands when I'd whined, a low, coarse sound.

I squeezed my thighs together.

There was no denying the pain between them.

Had been there since Giovanni's, since his foot had touched my ankle, since he'd said I want you like it was the simplest truth in the world.

My hand fell down.

Hesitated.

I never did this.

Not since I’d gotten married.

It was like I was betraying myself somehow, touching myself while thinking of someone else.

But Mark was in Atlanta and his last text was a thumbs up emoji and Nathan's kiss was still on my mouth and I was so tired of being good.

My fingers found my clit.

Slick, swollen.

The barest touch made my hips jerk.

I clenched my lips and started to think about his hands, his long fingers, that vein, and began to move slowly, increasing the pressure.

The bathroom door was shut and locked.

The water was loud.

No one could hear me.

I pressed harder.

Faster.

My other hand was on the tile wall and my knees were weak.

The orgasm came so quickly, so embarrassingly fast, from the memory of his voice, his scent, the way he had called my name.

Leah.

Not stepmom.

Not Dad’s wife.

Just Leah.

I came with a hushed breath, my forehead against the cool tile, water running down my back.

It was a quick and intense pleasure, and as soon as it was over, guilt came in after.

Wave after wave of it.

I’d just gotten myself off thinking about my husband’s son.

In the shower of my husband.

While my husband was on a business trip.

I shut off the water and stood there dripping, feeling like the worst person in the world.

Dinner was awkward.

I had made a salad and some grilled chicken and we were sitting at opposite ends of the kitchen table, forks clicking against plates, neither of us saying much.

The TV was playing in the living room, I had turned it on for background noise, I was desperate for something to fill the silence.

“You okay?” Nathan asked.

“Fine.”

“You've been playing with the tomato on your plate for 5 minutes.”

I looked down.

The tomato was a bloody mess, stabbed several times but never eaten.

I'm not as hungry as I used to be.

He placed his fork on the table.

“Leah.

Talk to me.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Bullshit.”

I jumped at the word.

Not because it was rude, but because it was true.

What can I say?

That I’m confused?

That I’m scared?

“That I have been married for three years and my husband refuses to call and talk to me for more than five minutes, and his son seems to know me better than he ever has?”

Nathan’s jaw tightened.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“That's not what it's about, for making my life harder.”

If that's the case, what was the point?

PART 6