"Um yeah, it was good, thanks for inviting me," I murmured, cheeks flaring. "Really fun, thanks again."
And I was about to blab some other inane thing when suddenly Jonah's eyes seized on the bowl of milk on the ground. Oh shit. The bowl itself looked innocuous but there were little splatters of milk all around from our sex session, even a bit of yellow goo mixed in if you looked closely. Holy cow, that was Mr. Martin's semen that hadn't blended with the milk, pale yellow droplets of goodness that floated like oil on top.
"What's that doing down there?" asked Jonah suspiciously, looking around the entire kitchen now, seeing if there was anything else awry. "The cereal's up here, not on the floor. What the fuck is that doing down there?"
My mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for air. Because what possible reason could there be? Oh shit, oh shit.
But Mr. Martin was slick and smart, on it in a flash.
"There's a mouse in the kitchen, figured we'd try to catch it with a little milk," he drawled smoothly, not even hesitating as he browned up another couple strips of bacon. "You know, bait it with some of the good stuff."
And I choked then, because the good stuff was Mr. Martin's semen, the yellowy drops that splattered on the surface, coating my breasts and cunt even now. And whoever heard of a mouse being tempted by milk? It was cats which loved milk, right?
But all it did was set Jonah off on a tirade, a rant about how even fancy Manhattan apartments had mice, that you couldn't trust new construction these days, how his dad had gotten ripped off and should ask for his money back, some type of partial rebate at least.
And as Jonah went on and on, unleashing a stream of blue into the air, Rob just glanced at me and winked, his gaze knowing, tantalizing, devouring me even with his son in the room. Because yeah, we'd had a naughty session right here, just minutes ago … and all I wanted was to go all the way with the big man, as soon as possible.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Rob
Thanksgiving lunch was delicious as usual. Mrs. Larson, our cook, made a delectable meal but it was pretty much ruined by my son's ramblings. I don't know what's gotten into him, but Jonah goes on and on about his himself with no thought to ask about others. For example, I mentioned casually that I'd taken a trip to China for business the last month, but instead of asking, "Oh how was it?" or even "How did you like the food?" instead, Jonah made it all about himself.
"Oh China," he rolled his eyes, "everyone is so into the Middle Kingdom these days."
That was true, the country's got a quarter of the world's population, so yeah, a lot of folks are sending their kids for Mandarin lessons and the like. But Jonah was a self-centered teen to the max.
"I want to go there too," he pouted, frowning at his mashed potatoes. "I've heard that it's best to travel in the south during the winter, and the north during the summer, maybe take the Manchurian Express. Or was it the Siberian Express?" he frowned, eyes on his plate. "Who knows, I'll look it up later."
And that's what I mean by self-centered. It was all about I, I, I, and most of his comments were really ignorant. First of all, there is no Manchurian Express, the term was a figment of his imagination from watching too many Fu Manchu movies. Second, the Siberian Express runs East-West, so Jonah's comments about seeing the North and the South were just idiocy, his sense of geography was all wrong.
And I could tell Ally knew. She smiled at me as we ate, Jonah blabbering on and on about this and that, but the girl didn't say much. In fact, she was pretty much a model guest, eating a little of everything, murmuring how good the food was. But just as I dug into my turkey, I felt it then. A flutter, a small nudge against my foot.
My breath stopped for a moment. Holy shit, it'd been ages since I'd played footsie under the table, probably the last time had been when I was fifteen with the nubile and beautiful Betty Harmon. But shit, I had another nubile, beautiful girl with me, and it was the perfect way to distract myself from Jonah's monologue, which at this point had launched into a nonsensical explanation of Chinese history which was frankly wrong on most points.
"Did you know that each Emperor had many empresses?" he boasted, digging into the creamed spinach. "Each emperor could marry as many women as he liked, I'm into that," he smirked, staring at Ally.
And she smiled beatifically back.
"Oh, I'm not sure if they had that many empresses," she said, "I think they had concubines right? Like women who they weren't married to, but who they kept around as courtesans."
At that moment, I could feel her soft foot creep up my calf, stroking the muscle there. Holy shit, it felt so good and I stiffened under the table, knife clattering slightly as I cut into my meat. But my son was clueless, frowning at the perceived challenge to his intelligence.
"I guess," he muttered. "What's the difference anyways, concubine versus empress? It's all the same, they were highborn ladies."
And Ally smiled beatifically again, her foot going higher on my leg, moving across my knee now. Holy shit, this was so wrong. We were at the table with her boyfriend, my son, and yet her softness was traveling over my flesh, going closer and closer, edging up the vee of my thighs.
I harrumphed slightly, turning it into an awkward cough.
"Naw, it's different," I drawled. "An empress is a wife, with her own station and her own duties, a royal with the privileges that accompany the position. While a concubine," and here I hacked slightly again, like I'd just choked on a piece of broccoli, "is a woman kept in the palace for sex."
And right on the word "sex," Ally's foot touched my groin, slowly stroking my cock through my pants. Shit, it felt so good, the way she caressed the aching curve, how it popped out under her soft touch, ready to do damage. But shit, this couldn't go anywhere, she was on the opposite side of the table from me. We were too far apart to actually get dick in pussy or even her hand on my cock, so I forced myself to picture the dry, barren dessert, or a particularly ugly camel, anything to get my erection to go down.
"Jonah, where were you planning on going for Spring Break?" I asked through gritted teeth, changing the topic, trying to seem as normal as possible.
And of course, my lunkhead son was only too happy to talk about himself.
"I was thinking Bali or Tahiti, some place warm and nice," he began, picking at a tiny bit of turkey stuck in his teeth as he mused the possibilities. "Or maybe Bora Bora, I've heard there's amazing snorkeling there."
Of course, he couldn't swim, but this wasn't the time to bring that up. Because Ally had "accidentally" dropped a spoonful of corn on the floor, gasping as her hand flew to her lips.
"Oh my god, I'm so sorry," she said with mock-wretchedness, the golden kernels spread all over like a splatter painting. "I'll pick it up," she said, immediately on her knees.
"No need," I growled. I didn't want the little girl to act like a maid, we had one coming over tomorrow, it was fine to leave the mess until then. But at that moment, I felt soft hands on my crotch, undoing my belt, unzipping me so that I popped out full mast. Holy shit? Was this really happening? Was the little girl touching my dick under the table, shit, oh shit, yep, she'd just slid me into her mouth, her wet cavern so soft, suckling me deep, right there at the Thanksgiving table.
And I let out another hacking cough, face going red seeing how the air had just been vacuumed from my lungs.
"You okay?" asked Jonah suspiciously, eyeing me. "Ally, get out from under there, there's no need, the maid's coming tomorrow," he called.
And oh god, but the little girl had to pop me out of her mouth first before answering.
"No, no, it's fine," she said from beneath the table, a soft finger tracing my hardness. "I'll be done in just a minute, there's just a little more corn left."
And I groaned under my breath. Shit, she was right, we'd be done in just a minute seeing that she'd slipped my cock right back into her mouth, tonguing the heavy vein on one side, lightly licking my tip. And my groin rushed with blood as I forced myself to sit rock steady, smiling like nothing was wrong.
"Bora Bora?" I asked as casually as I could manage, feeling the brunette's soft lips cover my penis head, tonguing softly, parting the soft slit, questing inside my member. And maybe it was the fact that this was so fucking wrong, so fucking illicit, but I blew my load right then. Usually I'm able to hang on for a lot longer, I can do hours of foreplay, prolong the pleasure until I'm good and ready, but with this girl, I'd lost all control. Because my semen shot straight out my dick like a firehose cranked on max, jetting against the back of her throat and I heard a muffled gasp under the table, a slight rasping sound.