Free Addicted To Him (Man Season) by Mila McClung Page B

His hand was hot,
electric; he began stroking her leg then slipped his fingers onto her thigh and
moved them up her skirt.
    “What are you doing?”
    “You’re not hungry, really, not for
food?”
    “I have to meet my mom.”
    “Call her and cancel.”
    “But she’s right inside.”
    “She hasn’t seen you. Call her.”
    He handed her a cell phone with his
free hand. The other had worked its way into her panties and was manipulating
her into a quiet frenzy.
    She nodded, punched the number,
trying not to moan as she talked to her mother.
    “Mom? It’s me. I know it’s not my cell
phone. I borrowed it from a friend. No, I can’t make it. Something …” She
glanced at his slacks, gasped at the hardness of him. “… something has come up.” Westcott laughed. “No, I’m not with a man. That was … the TV, in
the back room. Yeah, I’m still at work. I’ve got a ton of arrangements to
finish. I’ll see you tonight. No, I’ll grab a snack here in a minute.” Westcott
unzipped his pants, motioned for her to take him.
“Sure, I will. I’m sorry I couldn’t meet you, but have a nice dinner. Bye.”
    As soon as she flicked the phone
shut, Westcott knocked it away and set her hand on him, encouraging her to
fondle him while he continued to arouse her with his fingers.
    “People will see us here,” she
worried.
    “No, they won’t. We’re not under a
streetlight. Kiss it.”
    She was confused. He was making her
feel like no one had ever done before but it was humiliating, being right there
in his car with people passing by, and knowing her mom was in the restaurant
right in front of them.
    “Wait, I can’t do this here.”
    “Relax. No one can see us.”
    “But I can see them.”
    “So close your eyes.”
    He knelt down in the darkness, hiked
up her skirt and yanked her panties down. Then he lifted her hips and began to
drink at her like a cup. Tegan couldn’t help but
gyrate beneath him, the orgasms building in little waves until they burst out
of her in a torrent of pleasure. She put her hand to her mouth to keep from
screaming.
    “This is so not right,” she
whispered.
    “But it’s so good, hum?” he asked,
raising his head to smile at her. “My turn,” he said hoarsely.
    Tegan kept her eyes closed tight as she
bent to his lap and took him into her mouth. He groaned as if in torment as she
explored him with her mouth and tongue. The scent of him was dusky and sweet,
arousing her back to a crest of desire. He realized she wasn’t through and
eased his hand between her thighs.
    “Stroke it, that’s right,” he sighed. Tegan dared open her eyes, watched his silhouette as he flung his head backwards, his chest rising up and
down in quick bursts of anguish. “Now, get ready, get ready…”
    She moved her lips over him in a
dizzying motion, felt his need growing and expanding. His flesh was hot, firm, wonderful .
    Finally he came, shooting into her
mouth so forcefully she was afraid she’d drown. But she took all of him, and
more, until he couldn’t spare a drop. He raised her off of him, zipped his
pants.
    Without a word he started the Jaguar
and steered them away from the curb. Tegan readjusted
her clothing, sat looking straight ahead, fearing she’d done something to
displease him.
    “Are you all right?” she asked.
    “Fine,” he answered curtly.
    “Was I horrible at it?”
    “No.”
    “Then I don’t understand why …”
    “Look, it’s over. It was good. Great, in fact. I’ll take you home
now, and you can clean up before your mother gets home.”

 
    CHAPTER TWO
     
    Westcott remained silent at the wheel
during the drive to Tegan’s neighborhood. Her
questioning glances failed to elicit one response.
    “I don’t get you at all,” she said,
tears welling up in her eyes.
    “You’re part of a rather
non-exclusive club. Of which I am a member myself. Partridge Street , did you say?”
    “Yes. But …”
    “Here’s the street. Which house?”
    “There, the blue one,