I’m pressed against the marble counter in Mom’s kitchen, Jace’s hands gripping my hips as he thrusts into me, slow and deep. His breath is hot against my neck, and the risk of Mom walking in any second makes my pulse race.
“f**k, Lila,” he growls, his voice rough,
“you’re tighter than I imagined.” My sundress is bunched around my waist, panties shoved aside, and every stroke of his c**k sends shivers through me, my body already slick with want.
It started an hour ago when I caught him leaving Mom’s bedroom, shirtless, sweat glistening on his chiseled abs. He smirked, knowing I’d been staring for weeks. Mom’s at her yoga class, and the house is ours.
“You want this, don’t you?” he’d said, closing the distance. I didn’t answer just grabbed his belt and pulled him to me.
Now, his fing
