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“I can have you on your back in five seconds,” I warn.
“Okay. Okay. I hear you.” She hops backward with a wave of her hands. Watching her dress does not help soften my erection. When I get home, I’ll have to rub one out, but that’s not going to provide much more relief than a piss after having been inside her warm cunt. But what can I do but suffer until lunchtime?
She doesn’t bother to turn on any lights, but I do see the person in the living room is a woman and not Mick. Lauren pays the woman no attention, so I ignore her too. “I’m going to come by for breakfast. Don’t think I can wait until lunch.” I give her another wet, hot kiss. She makes a reluctant sound when I draw back. I rub my finger across her lower lip. “Dream of me, babe.”
Chapter Fourteen
LAUREN
Iclose the door behind Griff and check the clock on the microwave. Mick will probably be home soon. He was probably listening for the door. I wanted Griff to stay longer, and I know he wanted to stay too, but the more time I spend around him, the urge to hang on to him grows, and that’s dangerous.
“Punching above your weight class, aren’t you?” a voice says from the nearby kitchen table.
“Mom!” I shriek in surprise.
“Where’s Mick?” Her voice is gravely, as if she’s just woken up and these are the first words out of her mouth after a long rest. “I mean, I’m glad he’s not here with all the racket you were making, but I want to see my baby boy.”
My cheeks heat slightly at Mom’s not-so-subtle dig at my bedroom shenanigans with Griff. I shuffle over to the kitchen and cover my embarrassment under the guise of making some hot chocolate.
“Sorry. I didn’t realize we were being loud.” I grab a filter out of the cupboard. I wonder how I’m going to be with Griff in the future. I can’t keep kicking Mick out. Plus, there’s my mom who thinks she can come in whenever she feels like.
“I hope you’re protecting yourself,” Mom says, rising to join me at the counter. She fills the glass pot with water and hands it to me.
I dump the water into the coffee maker and hit brew for the hot water. I say, “I know what I’m doing,” but we didn’t use a condom or any other kind of protection.
“He’s not going to marry you, Lauren baby. I saw his ride. That’s a fifty thousand dollar bike. A man like him isn’t going to settle down with a girl like you. You have to stay in your own lane. I’m not saying that because you aren’t beautiful and you don’t deserve more. It’s just the truth. Like marries like. You only have to look at your mom to know what kind of hurt you’re in for if you get your hopes up too high.”
I don’t need to examine my mother’s face to know what expression she’s wearing. It’s the one that’s etched into the lines in her forehead and the crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes. It’s the one that says men are terrible and the cause of all of life’s unhappiness. Men leave. That’s the mantra she’s always taught me.
And to be fair, it’s the life experience she’s always had. She’s never been able to find a man to take on her two rowdy kids. She wasn’t always turning tricks. When she was younger, she had actual boyfriends. I guess that was still transactional. She got gifts instead of cash. Her advice comes from a well of bad experiences.
“Don’t worry. It’s not serious.”
“You’ve never let a man in your bed. It might not be serious for him but it is for you.”
I keep my eyes on the water dripping into the glass pot because after all this time, Mom can read even the slightest twitches of my lips. “We’re just enjoying each other’s company.“
She harrumphs and stomps over to the table. “I know you, baby girl. You are hungry for a man to love you up, but he’ll bethe death of you. Take him for his money and then cut line on this one before he drags you under.”
“I’m not going under,” I tell her. The water’s done. I mix a mug for her and one for me. She dumps some vodka into her drink.
Mick comes in noisily and immediately turns around when he spots Mom.
“Don’t go, Mickey darling. I haven’t see my baby boy in an age. Come and give your mama a kiss. What have you been up to?”
His head jerks up, and his eyes fly to mine. He does not want Mom to know that he was just in jail for stealing.
“Playing League with the neighbor,” I chirp. “Your drink’s getting cold.”
“You can just stick it in the microwave. What’s this league thing? Baseball? Isn’t it too late for that?” She looks around as if trying to spot his equipment.
“It’s a computer game, Ma.” Mick reluctantly drags himself to the table. He sniffs my mug before grimacing. “No juice?”
“You’re nineteen,” I remind him.
“Ma?”
“It’s cold,” she warns as she pushes her vodka-laced chocolate toward him. I intercept the mug and go pour it down the sink.
