Mom stepped back into the kitchen like nothing in the world had shifted.
David was already on the other side of the island, pouring coffee with steady hands. I sat on the stool with my thighs pressed tightly together, his c*m still warm and thick as it continued to leak out of me and soak into my sleep shorts. The air still smelled faintly of s*x if you knew what to look for. Mom didn’t.
“Sorry about that,” she said, setting her phone on the counter. “Tokyo always calls at the worst times. Did I miss anything?”
“Nothing important,” David answered. His voice was perfectly even.
I kept my eyes on the glass of water in front of me. Every small shift of my hips sent another slow trickle of him down my inner thigh. I could feel it. I knew he could probably smell it. The same counter he had
