Secure in the confidence that Jon’s large frame blocked her from view; Patricia poked out her tongue and licked across the seam of his lips. “Later. You can have me any way you want me.”
A low growl rumbled in his chest. “Already plotting the ways.” Jerking her up hard against his chest, Jon stole a kiss, slapped her hard on the ass, and walked out of the room calling over his shoulder, “Come on, old man, those boxes aren’t going to move themselves!”
In the garage, Jon was momentarily paralyzed by the sheer volume of random pieces of furniture and boxes overflowing with yard sale items, but he got over it quickly and kicked his ass into gear.
Leaving his mother alone with Patricia, especially after the promise of baby picture, made him a little unsettled. The last thing he wanted was to imagine the two of them oohing and awing over his awkward years. Or better yet, the photo of his five-year-old self racing through the house at break neck speed with his child-sized junk suspended high and to the left, and that he’d dreamt about burning more than once. Women. He shook his head and hefted one side of the old love seat in the air.
Together, he and his father carried it outside and set it down on the front lawn.
An hour later, Jon stood, digging his fists into his lower back to stretch out the muscles. He glimpsed several of the neighbors he’d grown up seeing every day in various stages of setting up their own yards.
“Hey, Mr. and Mrs. Helmy,” he shouted across the street. A little gray around the edges, but otherwise still looking young and fit, the couple turned to wave back at him.
He was preparing to head back into the garage for round one hundred and eighty, give or take, when he was stopped in his tracks by an angel.
Patricia positively glowed as she stepped out of the house balancing two overloaded trays of snacks in her hands. Her hips swayed as she crossed the lawn to the table that was set up beneath the old elm tree he used to climb as a kid. His mouth watered.
“So, how did the two of you meet?” His father’s voice broke through his thoughts like a wrecking ball, and Jon forced himself to turn away from her.
He shrugged. “The first time or the second?”
His father’s bushy brows pulled together. “I’ll go with whichever story is more interesting.” He turned and led the way back to the garage.
“Well,” Jon said, crouching down to pick up a box of old books. “I kind of rear-ended her.”
“That’s a hell of a way to put it.” His frown deepened.
Puzzled, Jon paused halfway out the door, beads of sweat popping out across his forehead as he struggled to hold the weight of the box against his middle. “Wait, do you think? No! God, Dad, really?” He shook his head. “I didn’t mean I rear-ended her. I meant I literally rear-ended her, as in busted up her car with mine. Jesus…” He trailed off, shuddering at the mere mention of sex around his old man.
“I don’t know what you’re getting offended about, son,” his dad said, coming up beside him. They dropped their burden in the grass and knelt to unload the contents on to one of the many pop-up tables. “Your mother and I are well aware that you are a sexually active grown man. It’s a completely natural occurrence that you shouldn’t be ashamed of.”
“I’m not ashamed. I just don’t want to have this talk with you. No offense,” he added.
“None taken. You don’t tell me about your sexual escapades and I won’t tell you about mine and your mother’s, like that time in the hot tub up at the cabin…”
“Dad, seriously!”
His father nudged him in the side. “Just fucking with you, son. Don’t get all bent out of shape. Save that privilege for the young woman.”
Unable to take another minute of his good-natured ribbing, Jon bolted for the safety of indoors calling over his shoulder, “I’m going to hit the bathroom.”
Inside, Jon marched up the stairs to the second floor. He was hot, a little tired, but mostly he’d just needed the excuse to get away for a minute.
He loved visiting his parents, but what he really wanted to do with his day had nothing to do with sales or heavy labor.
Closing himself in the bathroom, Jon filled the sink basin with cold water. Cupping his hands under the faucet, he filled his palms with the cool liquid and bent to splash it against his heated face. It was a welcomed relief from the sweltering brilliance of the near afternoon sun. He couldn’t understand the appeal of having a yard sale during one of the hottest months of the year, but then he never did understand the minds of his elders very well. Jon much preferred the crispness of fall or the biting cold of winter to the heat of summer. At least he could warm himself during the colder months. Cooling off was much harder to accomplish and it always came with the added bonus of sunburns and farmer tans.
“It’s right up those stairs, third door on the left at the end of the hall.”
Hearing his mother’s muted voice, followed by Patricia’s gracious “thank you,” Jon stiffened. Literally. His cock just sprang right up at the sound of her voice. Interesting.
Scrubbing one of the hand towels down his face, Jon listened at the door as Patricia’s soft footsteps approached. They stopped, hesitating outside the door, and when she lightly rapped her knuckles against it, Jon grabbed the handle and ripped the door open.
“Oh!” Surprised, Patricia’s eyes widened. “I thought you were still outside.”
Ducking his head into the hallway, Jon took a quick peek to make sure the coast was clear, then grabbed her hand, and pulled her inside.
“Jon, what are you doing?” Patricia squealed, the sound a mixture of delight and worry. “You’re parents are downstairs,” she hissed as Jon bent to grab the backs of her thighs and lift her onto the countertop.
“You said any way I want it,” he reminded her. “This is how I want it.” Splitting her thighs wide, Jon insinuated himself between them, pressing the firm ridge of his cock against her. “Mmm, that’s nice.”
“Jon,” Patricia said weakly, tilting her head to the side, opening her throat up to him. “We shouldn’t do this.”
“What shouldn’t we do? Kiss?” He swiped his tongue up her throat and nipped her chin.
Drunk, heavy-lidded eyes gazed up at him. “This.” Her finger motioned between them. “We can’t have sex in the middle of your parent’s bathroom. It’s not kosher.”
An unexpected laugh ripped out of him. “Kosher? Honey, I don’t think the word ‘kosher’ can be applied to a bathroom situation.”
She rolled her beautiful blue eyes. “You know what I mean. It’s not right.” Palms flat against his chest, she pushed against him while wiggling closer to the edge of the counter.
“Where do you think you’re running off to, sweetness?” Jon remained firmly in place, affording her no room to get down from the counter. He had her right where he wanted her and he wasn’t about to let her get away…not before he had his fill of her delectable body.
“Jon, seriously, we need to head back. I was supposed to be coming up here to freshen up, not screw the son of the people I just met and am trying to make a good impression on.”
“Believe me,” Jon assured her, his hands wandering under her top to release the button on her shorts. “They seeing how happy you have made me this past week is all the ‘impression’ they need.”
Patricia fought him—albeit it was the weakest attempt he’d ever witnessed—to keep her clothes in place, but he managed to wiggle her shorts down past her hips, and from there they just fell right off.