“Holy shit,” Darren moans. “What’s going on?”

I’m pulling his belt apart and attacking the button on his pants. If I pop it off completely…well, I know how to sew. “Apparently, you being a good dad makes me want to swallow your dick.” I’m in such a horny rush that I’m panting.

“Since when? Fuck!”

I reposition myself, so I can shove half my arm into his boxers to retrieve his dick. He’s soft and warm, and he smells like a spicy body wash and sweat. “Apparently, since right now. But to be honest, I’ve been dying to gobble this dick since the day we met.”

“Gobble this—oh shit, Nadia. I mean, Jourdan. Oh my God, I’m sorry.”

I stroke his dick and smile up at him. “You don’t have to apologize for calling me her name. If you knew the kind of dreams I’ve been having about her, you wouldn’t even bother.”

His eyes slam shut, and his body jerks. I feel his dick begin to harden in my palm.

“Good, I’m glad you like hearing that.” He’s not hard enough, but I suck just the tip of his dick into my mouth. I groan when the taste of his salty precome hits my tongue. “My God, you taste good.”

“Jourdan.”

The way he moans my name is… I suck the soft length of him into my mouth and hold him there while I shimmy my skirt over my hips so I can touch myself.

“We just took our STI test, Jourdan. Fuck. We shouldn’t…”

He’s right; we shouldn’t.

“We can’t…”

He’s wrong about that, though. I pop him out of my mouth and begin to stroke his wet dick with one hand while I spread my knees as wide as they’ll go so that I can circle my clit with the other. I jack Darren’s dick and suck one of his balls into my mouth, laving it with the flat of my tongue insistently and lovingly.

Actually, we can.

I realize that it’s reckless. That we’ve decided not to be reckless because we shouldn’t be. We all have lives. They have kids. This thing between us might be fleeting. But when Darren is hard and wet, and I suck him back into my mouth, all I can think is, ‘What if this thing between the three of us is anything but fleeting? What if it’s real?’

I can’t tell Darren that, though, and not because I might be emotionally constipated — although sometimes I worry that I am — but because my mouth is full up of Darren’s dick, and he tastes even better than I’d hoped. I feel his precome squirting down my throat. My pussy is dripping onto the kitchen floor.

Darren is fiddling with his phone.