Recognizing how much I need her, all the versions of her, even the ones she might not want me to see, makes this experience so much more intense than usual. While I battle my response to being inside her like this, I trace the delicate lines of her body, distracting myself with the way her skin dampens under my touch and her muscles flex and tighten when I hit a sensitive spot. All of it threatens to push me over the edge, despite not having moved at all. I drop a hand between her thighs and draw tight circles, shifting under her just enough to make her come and keep myself balanced on the painful edge.

As soon as the orgasm tips her into bliss, I move to the edge of the couch, wrap her legs around my waist and pull her close until our chests meet. I rock her over me, the ache in my balls bitingly vicious as it expands, shooting down my legs and forcing its way up my spine.

“Ah, fuck.” I press my face into her neck, sucking on the skin, nipping my way up to her mouth. I kiss her, fighting to stay gentle, but need takes over and our teeth clash. I pull back, and Charlene’s nails bite into the back of my neck.

Her eyes are soft but her words are not. “You gave, now take.”

I hold her hips, lift and lower, over and over, faster, harder until I come—the whole world a wash of white and stars, the fusion of pleasure and pain so violent I nearly black out.

Charlene runs her fingers through my hair, the rhythmic action soothing. Eventually I lift my head from the crook of her neck.

“Hi.” Her voice is hoarse.

“Hey.”

“Feel better?”

“Mmm.” I kiss her tenderly. She’ll need lip balm for days after this. I make a note to do some research and have some sent to her while I’m away. “You?”

“Mmm. Better times four, I think.”

“I would like to spend the night, if that’s all right with you.”

Her eyes flare with surprise, and her smile makes my chest tight.

“That’s all right with me.”

Charlene’s bed is a double, so it means we spoon most of the night. My sleep might not have been the greatest, but the night was excellent, so I consider it a fair trade.

We sleep in late and have lazy morning sex. I’d like to spend the entire day with her, but apparently she has yoga with the girls this afternoon. We shower together, which turns into another round of sex, the slippery kind. Afterward, I watch her get dressed. She wears black yoga pants and a sports tank, her long auburn hair pulled into a ponytail. Like last night, her face is makeup free. She’s always stunning, but I’ve decided I like her best like this. I want her without the mask.

I fold a hand behind my head as she slips on pair of flip flops. “What are your plans after yoga?”

“We usually go out for shakes afterwards. Would you like me to cancel?”

The answer to that is yes. I would very much like her to cancel, but I’m also aware it might be pushing Charlene too much, too quickly.

“I don’t want to interfere with your plans. We fly out early tomorrow, so it’s best if I get ready this afternoon and get a good night’s sleep.” I don’t like that the first two playoff games of the series are away, but there’s nothing we can do about it, other than come in prepared.

I throw the covers off and swing my feet over the edge of the bed. Crooking a finger I beckon her over. When she reaches me, I pull her between my legs and run my hands down her arms. Even with all the fabric in the way, she shivers.

“I’d like to speak with you tonight, if that’s all right.”

“Speak with me? About what?”

A furrow creases her brow, so I smooth it out with my thumbs.

“To find out how your day was. To hear your voice.”

“Oh.” The furrow returns.

“Is that okay?”

“Of course it’s okay.”

“Great.” I take her face between my palms and kiss her until she has to push away and rush out the door for fear of being late.

I flop back down on the mattress. I could upgrade it for her. Get her something better and bigger, but I don’t want to make her place more comfortable.

I meet up with Alex for an afternoon workout since I have nothing else to do and then head home. As I pack a bag for tomorrow’s flight, I check my messages and frown when I note a voicemail from my grandparents. My good mood is dunked in a bucket of shit when I find out my parents are supposed to be in town this week for some kind of conference. I never hear from them directly. Technically I don’t consider them my parents at all since my grandparents officially adopted me when I was four. At least I won’t be in Chicago at the same time they are, so that’s a relief.

I want to brush it off as meaningless, but it shines a dark light on the progress I made with Charlene last night. Because as much as I want things to change, one thing I want to keep her away from is my family, and I’m not sure I’ll be able to do that forever.

Which is exactly how long I want to keep Charlene.

CHARLENE

Tonight the girls are coming over to watch the hockey game. I tidy up the living room, having passed out on the couch last night. I’ll blame it on lack of sleep prior to Darren going away and the Hoarders marathon. The whole him showing up unannounced, flowers and chocolate thing was a shock, not to mention the normal-people sex and the all-night spooning. But I’ll admit, I enjoyed every moment of it, and I’m not opposed to a repeat.

I go about setting out all the snacks—the Doritos and onion dip are perfect since the boys are away—and make sure I have wine and sparkling juice for Sunny and Violet. The doorbell rings in the middle of setting up. It’s only five-thirty, and the girls aren’t supposed to arrive until closer to seven, but Violet often shows up early, bestie privileges and all.

I open the door, ready for the shenanigans to begin, and Violet’s snide comments about pearl necklaces and anal. Except it’s not my bestie.

“Mom?”

“Char-char!” She drops her bag and throws her arms around me, enveloping me in a tight, painful hug.

I pat her back, glancing over her shoulder. Laverne, the old lady next door is busy tending her garden—or was. She’s currently staring slack jawed in our direction. It takes me a moment to realize why. My mom is dressed in her work gear.

“Why don’t you come in?” I maintain the hug while dragging her inside the house and away from the neighbor’s eyes. I hope Laverne’s pacemaker is working these days, because she looks like she might be going into shock.

I grab my mom’s bag from the front porch, give Laverne a quick wave, and disappear inside.

“I didn’t realize you were arriving today.” My voice has that high-pitched quality to it, much like a prepubescent boy who’s accidentally zipped up his man noodle.

My mom is decked out in a black leather corset, complete with buckles and chains—hence the painfulness of the hug. Her skirt is short and barely covers her butt, and she’s wearing fishnets and huge heeled boots with buckles that end mid-calf. Her makeup can only be described as goth, or maybe emo. Her hair has been dyed jet black, and her lipstick is the color of a rich cabernet sauvignon.

“Oh! Did I forget to tell you I was coming in today? I swore I left a voicemail for you, or maybe that was in my head. I thought it might be nicer to stay with you than at a hotel. We can catch up and have some real quality mother-daughter bonding time!”

“Right. Sure. I have a spare bedroom. How long are you going to be in town?” I’m beyond relieved that Darren has already left Chicago for a variety of reasons.

“Just three days, so I want to make the most of it. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you. You look . . .” She seems to struggle to find the right descriptive word and finally settles on “Good.” Her pinched expression tells me she does not, in fact, think I look good.

I would describe my outfit as cute. As soon as I arrived home from work, I changed into my Westinghouse jersey and a pair of black and red leggings boasting the Chicago logo.

My mom flits around the kitchen, adjusting the dishcloth draped over the edge of the sink. “Anyway, tonight’s a bit of a rush. I have a client meeting at eight that will probably take a few hours, depending—” She’s interrupted by another knock.

Shit. It’s still too early for the girls to be here.

“Oh! That’s for me.” My mother struts to the door.

“Did you invite your client here?” I choke the words out, mortified by the possibility.

She throws a look over her shoulder. “Of course not, Char-char. I’ll explain it all. Just give me a moment.”

She throws open the door and a swarm of people flood my kitchen. With video cameras. And there’s some guy wearing one of those latex face masks with only eyeholes and a mouth hole, dressed in leather chaps, his entire ass on display. Thankfully his penis isn’t hanging out.

“Mom?” There’s that high pitch again.

She turns and claps her hands excitedly. “They’re casting for a reality show this weekend. It’s called Momma Domme! Isn’t that cute? Anyway, I thought it was a great opportunity. This is my audition video. It’s so much classier to film it in a house, you know? It’ll only take half an hour.”

And this, right here, is one of the many reasons I have never introduced Darren to my mother.

I pull her aside. “Is that a good idea, Mom? Being on a reality show? I mean, you’ll be putting your face out there for everyone to see.”