“Oh, yeah. Rough all around. He really let me have it on that second round of Minecraft. That kid knows how to build.”
Greg rolled his eyes and bumped against him. “You suck. Fine. I’ll ask. How are things with Kara?”
Though he knew his friend would never spread rumors or gossip, he decided to keep Kara’s troubles to himself. If she wanted others to know about her issues with her ex, she would tell them. Maybe already had. “Good. Moving slow.” Probably should have moved slower, but that was over and done now.
“Slow is good when you’ve got a kid to consider. Great kid, though.”
“You’re not kidding.” They parted ways in the parking lot. “See you at two.”
Greg waved, and Graham drove the fifteen minutes home through the back gate. When he turned down his street, he squinted. There was another car parked in his driveway.
As he pulled closer, he realized whose it was, and he grinned. Kara had come to visit.
She got out of her car as he pulled into his garage. She wore skintight pants that capped at her ankle and a racer-back tank, showing off her svelte body to perfection. Her feet were in running shoes and her hair, in a high, messy bun. A few strands of hair were stuck to her temple, as if she’d been sweating earlier, and it had dried that way.
“Hey, you.” He opened his arms and she walked right into them, as if it were an everyday occurrence to meet for lunch at home. The idea appealed. “What brings you to my neck of the woods at this time of day?”
“I had time, and a little birdie told me you did, too.”
“Is the little birdie about yea tall, with Nordic goddess coloring and can wrap an ankle in under a minute?”
Kara laughed at that, wrapping one arm around him and walking with him into the house. “She would love that description. But no, this birdie likes impractical heels and business suits.”
“Reagan.” Thank you, Reagan. “I admit I don’t have a lot to eat here. I was just going to sort of scrounge around for something. Not very healthy, I know, but it works.” He opened the fridge and passed her a bottle of water without looking behind him. She took it, and he heard the top crack open. “I see my leftover salad from yesterday, which I could eat but you probably wouldn’t want. Maybe a sandwich? I’ve always got bread and peanut butter and jelly. Some lunch meat, but that’s probably not safe, so—Whoa.”
Kara’s hand slipped below the waistband of his shorts and yanked hard enough to send him stumbling back a step. The refrigerator door snapped closed.
He leaned back against the counter by the sink, watching as she set the water bottle down on the table. Something had shifted in her gaze. Gone was the easygoing yogi happy to spend the lunch hour relaxing on his couch with a sandwich. In her place was a woman who had an obvious hunger nothing in his fridge would satisfy.
“I’ve been thinking,” she said slowly, walking to him. One step, she toed off her running shoe and let it drop. Then another step, toed off the other. Left them where they landed. “Thinking about last night.”
He knew a moment of panic, then realized no. This wasn’t regret. This was a continuation. “Yeah? Are you going to ask for a repeat performance? Just to make sure I haven’t lost my skills overnight?”
“Mmm.” Threading her fingers through his hair, she shook her head. “Another time. But right now, I need some practice.”
He wanted to ask what kind of practice, but she sealed her lips over his and kissed the question out of his mind. When he grabbed her hips to pull her into him, she stood on her toes, bringing their groins together. With a groan, he reached for the waistband of her yoga pants. She did the same with his shorts.
Thanks to the modern invention of the elastic waistband, she had his shorts around his ass before he could blink, his hardening cock in her hand and she was stroking him fast. At this rate, he’d last maybe a dozen seconds before shooting off in her hand and ruining the entire lunch break. When he managed to get her pants over her butt and down to her knees, he grabbed her ass, twirled her around and deposited her on the counter.
“Ohmygod, that’s cold!” She shrieked it, hissing in a breath and shifting her weight from cheek to cheek. He pulled and tugged until one of her pant legs came free; the other, he abandoned entirely to dangle from her calf. Then she stopped shifting as he thrust her thighs apart. Yoga had definitely done her well, when they split wide, giving him easy access. She no longer could reach him, but her core was open and perfectly displayed for him.
He bent down and gave her a few testing licks, inserting two fingers quickly to pump. If he didn’t speed her up to where he was, he’d embarrass the hell out of himself in three quick thrusts. He wouldn’t—couldn’t—leave her hanging behind.