by M. E. Carter
“I think so,” I mumble against her skin. “It’s because you’re comfortable.” She wiggles her ass back against me again. “And a little horny, aren’t you?”
She chuckles huskily, her voice still not completely cleared of sleep. “Maybe a little.”
Grabbing her hips, I grind against her, making her gasp. “Well then, what are we waiting for?”
“We need to brush our teeth,” she whispers, reaching over her head to grab my hair and tug. The feeling increases my need to be inside her.
“Nope. No time for that,” I respond and roll her over to face me, giving her a very quick, very closed-mouth peck on the lips before lying on my back and pulling her on top of me. “Ride me, baby, and our mouths won’t get anywhere near each other.”
I waggle my eyebrows, and she smiles at my ingenuity. But she also complies. Fortunately, we never put any clothes on last night, so we don’t have to waste any time. Sitting up on her knees, I situate myself underneath her. We groan simultaneously when she slides down on top of me, until she’s fully seated, hip to hip. Then I watch as she begins to move. Her hair is still mussed from sleep. Her skin glows in the morning sunlight. Her small breasts bounce slightly as she moves to and fro.
“You’re so beautiful like this,” I whisper and reach up to play with her nipples. She gasps and her eyes roll into the back of her head.
Suddenly, there’s a quick knock and her bedroom door flies open.
“Ma, it’s late. Why are you still in . . .?”
If this was a movie, people would be laughing at the ridiculousness of the scene. Because all of a sudden, everyone is yelling and moving at a frantic pace. Joie is screaming while jumping off my lap, trying to cover herself but exposing my hard-on in the process. Stevens is screaming and looking back and forth between his mother and me, and sometimes at my dick, which keeps showing itself every time Joie moves.
But this isn’t a movie, so someone has to get this situation back in control, and I suppose that’s gonna have to be me.
Propping up on my elbow, I go into coach mode and yell, “Okay, everyone shut up!” Surprisingly, it works. All the screaming stops. “Stevens, cover your eyes!”
“Yes, sir,” he shouts and brings his hand to his face, slapping himself so hard, the sound echoes off the walls.
“Now get out,” I command.
“Yes, sir,” he shouts again and turns to leave, running into the wall a couple of times since he refuses to take his hand off his face.
“Close the door behind you.”
The only response is the slam as he complies with my request.
Flopping back down on the bed, I let out a deep breath and look over at Joie. She’s wrapped tightly in the sheet, face down, hands covering her eyes.
“You can open your eyes now. He’s gone.”
She shakes her head and her voice comes out muffled as she speaks. “Maybe if I don’t look, it’ll all go away.”
I chuckle and roll to my side, running my hand down her back in comfort. “I don’t think that’s how it works, babe.”
Her body raises and lowers as she inhales deeply, before turning to look at me. “This is not the way I wanted him to find out about us.”
“I know. I don’t find it ideal either.” I continue rubbing her back, trying to help calm her.
“It’s been just him and me for so long, ya know?” She bites her bottom lip and stares off into space as she talks. “I don’t think I’ve ever introduced him to anyone I’ve dated before. Not in his whole life.”
“Not even that guy from when he was in middle school?”
She shakes her head slowly and rests her chin on her arms. “Not that I can remember. Maybe once in passing, but other than that, no. I guess I was never serious enough with anyone to bother.”
The room goes quiet as we both get lost in our thoughts. What a weird mess we’re in. If her child were younger, I would understand being careful with him knowing about her dating. A child can attach to an adult pretty easily, and that would be really bad for him if the relationship didn’t work out.
But this situation seems different, somehow. Stevens is an adult. He lives on his own and has his own life. No matter what happens between his mother and me, he’ll never call me dad. He’s too old for us to bond like that.
But I am still his coach, which puts me in a position of authority over him. And he did get an eyeful of his mother making like a rodeo star. Hmm. Maybe this situation is more convoluted than I first thought.
“You think he saw too much?” she finally asks. “Maybe he didn’t really see anything. Right?”
She looks so hopeful, I almost don’t want to tell her the truth. Instead, I raise an eyebrow at her, making her grimace. I don’t need to say anything. She knows. “Babe, he saw his mother practicing her bull riding skills on his coach. We could have been fully-clothed and he still would’ve seen too much.”
She groans and buries her head her pillow. “I was hoping you’d say we were covered up enough that he didn’t get an eyeful. Or that he was looking at the ceiling or something.”
I grab her hand, kissing her knuckles. “Sorry, baby. Not only is he traumatized by seeing you, I’m sure he’s not going to get the image of my full erection out of his head any time soon.”
Her head pops up. “You were totally naked?”
Chuckling, I say, “You were so busy trying to cover yourself, you kept uncovering me.”
She groans again. “This just keeps getting worse.”
“Do you want me to talk to him?”
She sighs and looks up at me, her big brown eyes set in resolve. “No, I will. Assuming he’s still here. Maybe I can butter him up with some pancakes or something.”
“Eggs. He needs protein. He’s in the middle of a season.”
She snickers. “Yes, coach. I’ll be sure to make him a healthy omelet full of vegetables and meat. No carbs.”
“Good, girl,” I say my lips quirking up as I try my best to ignore the unsettled ache hanging between my legs. “So I’m guessing rodeo practice is done for the day?”
She snorts a laugh before climbing out of bed. “I think we’ll have to save that for another time.” She flashes me a nervous look, and I brace myself for what she’s about to say. “I hope this doesn’t sound terrible, and I really hate to say it, but I think I need to talk to Isaac alone.”
Relief floods through me that it’s nothing more serious than that. “Of course. He’s your son. As much as I was hoping to spend the day with you, this is more important. You guys need to have a private conversation without me hanging out, listening.”
She leans over the bed and kisses me quickly. “Thank you.” I run my hand down her cheek, glancing over her features one more time before clamoring out of bed.
Joie wraps herself in a pink fluffy robe and walks into the attached master bathroom while I put all of yesterday’s clothes back on. I chuckle to myself as I realize I’m about to do the walk of shame in front of one of my kids. Usually it’s them coming into the locker room in day-old duds. Talk about turnabout.
When she’s done brushing her teeth and I’ve popped a piece of my spearmint gum in my mouth, she wraps her arms around my waist. “Thank you for an amazing night.”
“It was the best milk I ever tasted,” I remark, making her laugh against my chest as I rub my hands down her back.
“As long as you still want the cow, too.”
“For as long as she’ll have me.”
She pulls away and I lean down to kiss her gently, sweeping my tongue in her mouth once, twice, three times before pulling away and rubbing my hands up and down her arms.
I can read the nervousness on her face. “Are you sure you want to do this alone? I don’t mind staying if you want me as your moral support.”
She gives me a shy smile and nods. “Yeah. I’ll be okay. It’s just going to be an awkward conversation.”
I nod once and clasp her hand, intertwining our fingers. “All right. Walk me
out?”
“Of course.”
We make our way down the short hallway, past the kitchen and small eating area. Stevens is sitting at the table, his hands wrapped around a steaming mug of what I assume is coffee. I could really go for a cup myself, but when we pass by, he looks up and glares at me. If I was in coach mode, I’d tell him to wipe that look off his face and give me some laps for being disrespectful. But since I’m in boyfriend mode, I say nothing, instead mentally calculating how close the nearest drive-thru coffee shop is.
We reach the front door and I turn to Joie, cupping her face and giving her another quick kiss. “I’ll call you later, okay?”
“Okay.” She tries to smile, but she looks nervous. “And I’ll let you know how it goes. Wish me luck.”
I kiss her one last time and pull the door open, leaving Joie behind to clean up a mess I helped her make.
I shut the door behind Jack and rest my forehead on the wood, taking a deep breath. This is not the type of conversation I wanted to have with my son. But it’s time to face the music, so to speak.
Turning, I pad my way to the kitchen, the sound of my slippers brushing against the carpet breaking through the silence. The house is quiet. Too quiet for when Isaac is home. I don’t like it.
Grabbing a cup of coffee, I doctor it with milk, sugar, and a little bit of the peppermint flavoring I got in my Christmas stocking last year. Isaac still doesn’t speak. My boy always has something to say. He’s a chatterbox. It’s unnerving when he’s quiet.
Turning to lean against the counter, I realize the washing machine is going. “Is that your laundry in the washer or the towels that were on the floor?”
“The towels,” he responds. That’s progress. But he still doesn’t look up from his mug, which is bad. He’s been staring at it since I walked into the room.
“Thanks for doing that.”
The only response I get is a slight nod to his head. This is going to be harder than I thought. Taking a deep breath, I place my mug on the counter before speaking. “So are we going to just sit here in silence all day or are we going to talk about this?”
His eyes snap up to mine. “Which part do you want to talk about, Mom?” he spits out. “The fact that I now have visual images of you I can never unsee? Or the part about me now knowing how big my coach’s dick is?”
“Isaac Gregory Stevens! I understand you’re shocked after walking in on something you never should have seen. But you will not disrespect me. Ever,” I berate, and his anger appears to deflate just a little. “I understand no one cares about privacy when you’re living with a bunch of football players in a dorm. But when you knock once on my bedroom door and come barreling in before getting the go-ahead from me, you’re libel to see something you shouldn’t. And that part isn’t my mistake. That’s yours.”
He throws his shoulders back against the chair, stretching his legs out in front of him. He’s obviously frustrated, but he knows I’m right about that. Picking up my coffee from the counter, I walk to the table and sit across from him. His eyes are still avoiding mine, but I refuse to be deterred. This needs to be sorted out.
“Isaac.” I sigh when he doesn’t respond. “Yes, you are my child, but you are my adult child. So we’re going to discuss this like adults. I’ll answer any question you have. Except about what you saw, of course.”
He grimaces, and I realize reminding him of the scene in my bedroom isn’t a smart idea. But now isn’t the time to apologize for the misstep, so I ignore it and move on.
“So,” I settle in and clasp my hands together, resting my elbows on the table. “What do you want to know?”
He takes a few seconds before finally giving in. “Are you dating, or are you just fucking him?”
“Isaac . . .” I warn. I’m glad he’s talking to me, but there are still boundaries.
“It’s a valid question, Mom,” he says when he finally looks up at me. “I have to work with Coach Pride every single day. I need to know what this”—he waves his hand around, like he can’t quite find the word—“this . . . thing is. Is it a relationship? Is it a”—he grimaces—“a one-night stand?”
I nod in understanding. As much as I want to scold him, he’s right. This information could very well change his on-field relationship with Jack.
“We’re dating.”
“Is he your boyfriend?”
“I don’t know how to answer that.”
He scoffs. “Seriously, Mom? You’re sleeping with him, but you don’t even know if he’s your boyfriend?”
“I don’t know how to explain it, Isaac,” I rebut. “Boyfriend sounds very juvenile for a man in his forties. We’re dating exclusively. Does that answer your question?”
“Yes,” he says quietly and rubs his finger over his lip while he thinks. I wait until he’s ready. There’s no reason to rush his thoughts. “How long have you been dating?”
“A couple months.”
His eyes snap up to mine again, and I can see that particular answer is only leading to more questions. “A couple months? But the donor banquet was less than a month ago.”
I clear my throat before admitting the truth. “We were already dating the night of the banquet.”
“But . . .” He looks around, trying to make sense of the memories he has of that night. “But you met that night. I introduced you.”
I shake my head, and his shoulders drop. I lied to Isaac that night, and I never lie. I’ve always tried to instill in him that his honesty was his most important character trait. Now I’ve been caught doing exactly what I’ve always warned him against. Once again, I’m ashamed of Isaac seeing me this way. I know I’m only human, and none of this is anything I should be apologetic for, but part of me never wanted Isaac to know that I’m as flawed as everyone else.
Oddly, he seems to gloss over the lies part, as he continues to try and figure this all out. “If you were already dating, why did you pretend you didn’t know each other?”
I slightly squirm in my seat. Isaac has always been protective of me, as is the case for many only-children of a single mom. And this is the part that could set him off again. “We were fighting. Instead of making a scene in front of the donors and boosters, when you came up and introduced us, we just went along with it.”
He runs his fingers through his hair, clearly irritated at this news. “So let me get this straight—you’ve been dating my coach, the man I’ve talked about looking up to, for a couple of months. You’ve already had a major fight, so you pretended not to know each other. And you don’t know if he’s your boyfriend or not.”
I cock my head at him. “Factually, yes. But that’s really twisting my words to make it sound different than it is.”
“Then how is it? And why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t want to tell you until I knew this was serious. I didn’t want you involved.”
“Didn’t want me involved?” He pops up from his chair and begins pacing, emotions heightening again. “You’re dating my coach. That automatically makes me involved.”
“Which is why I was going to tell you, but before I could”—I point down the hallway—“that whole scene happened.”
“Jesus Christ, Mom . . .”
“Don’t you dare cuss in my house, young man . . .” I challenge, pointing my finger at him, but he ignores me, continuing his rant.
“What happens when this goes south, huh? Will I lose my scholarship? Will I lose my place on the team? Will he just bench me to get back at you?”
“Oh yes, I’m sure that’s what will happen. To get back at me, he’s going to bench his best offensive lineman, lose a few games, risk his salary bonus, and possibly not get a contract extension, just to get back at me.” I stand up and walk to him, trying to talk him down. “And who says this is going to end anyway?”
“He’s married!” he yells.
“His wife died, Isaac!” I yell back.
He scoffs. “Even better. You’re his rebound.”
I
look to the sky and beg for help to calm down before I say something I regret. “Jack’s wife died three years ago, Isaac, after her third battle with cancer. If there was going to be a rebound woman, it would have happened years ago.”
“Whatever.” He throws his hands in the air and stalks to the laundry room. I follow right behind him.
“I’m sorry you found out this way, Isaac. That was very, very unfortunate,” I maintain. “But until last night, I didn’t know how serious this was.” He snorts a humorless laugh and throws his dirty clothes back in his giant laundry bag. “I’ve always kept my dating life separate from you for this very reason. There was no reason to get you involved, or force you into a relationship if I didn’t see a future with that person. Now, I finally do.”
He stops what he’s doing and stands up straight to look at me. “Wait, you mean you’ve kept this kind of thing a secret before?”
I have the sudden realization that Isaac genuinely and honestly has no idea I have a life outside of being his mother and my former job. “Do you really think I’ve been a hermit since your father left?”
His jaw clenches and he throws the last of the clothes in his bag, pulling the drawstring tight. “Whatever,” he says and throws the bag over his shoulder. “I’m going to a laundromat.”
I follow behind him as he storms toward the front door, pleading with him as I go. “Isaac, just stay. We need to talk about this.”
“Nope. No talking,” he refuses without a backward glance. “I know too much. I’ve seen way too much. I’m out of here.”
Slamming the door behind him, another important man in my life leaves me alone in silence for the second time today. And it’s not even noon yet.
“Come on, ladies! We’re playing football, not dancing in the fucking ballet!” Hank yells and bangs on his clipboard as he paces next to me. I’m standing in my usual position, arms over my chest, chewing my gum.