I Saw Mommy Kissing Her Stepson

Mona heard them laughing through the wall. Sweet little sounds, the kind that made her stomach twist. Dallas kept saying Tate's name like it belonged to her. Mona slid out from under the bed, knees popping, heart punching her ribs. Tate froze in the doorway. His girlfriend was in the next room, still humming some stupid song. Mona didn't bother talking. She grabbed his belt, yanked him close, shoved her mouth against his ear. "Mine," she whispered. Then she pushed him down, climbed on top, worked his zipper with fast, greedy hands. His cock sprang free and she wrapped her fingers around it like she had the right. She did. She sank down without waiting, wet already, and the bed creaked under both of them. She rode him hard, grinding slow when she wanted to tease, then fast again, sweat sliding down her spine. Every time he tried to speak she pressed her palm to his mouth. Dallas was still singing next door, oblivious. Mona leaned forward, teeth at his throat, hips snapping sharp and sure. "She doesn't know how you like it," she hissed. "I do."