This is part 2 of an ongoing erotica short story. If you haven’t already read it, I suggest you start with On His Naughty List Part 1.

“So she called out her teacher?” Loman was shaking his head, tears streaming from his eyes. The wine sloshed in his glass as he laughed.

Michelle nodded. “In front of the whole school. I mean, I only heard second hand, obviously, but from what I heard…”

“Damn, I bet he never said shit to her after that.”

The curse word shocked her for a moment, even through the alcohol haze. “I raised my daughter to know her own mind.” She blushed as she crossed one leg over the other.

Saying the words out loud struck a chord inside Michelle’s heart, making it skip a beat. She had raised Sarah. She’d done it almost all on her own–Derek was a provider, not a nurturer–and no matter what else anyone said about the young woman she’d become, her daughter was never one to shrink from a righteous cause. She flipped open her phone case with one hand, started to unlock it, then paused and took a breath.

She needed to be sober to compose that particular text.

“I need to meet this niece of mine.” Loman leaned forward, picked up the bottle and poured the last dregs into his glass. “Oh dear, we seem to have finished another bottle.” He laughed. “Will you be seeing Sarah tomorrow?”

Michelle met his eyes, and for a moment she hesitated. Loman didn’t look much like her husband. Not really. But the eyes…those dark, soulful eyes…the eyes were the same. “I’ll get another bottle from the kitchen,” she said, standing.

He shook his head, downing a mouthful. “If I have any more, I won’t be able to ride home.”

“You’ve had too much already for that.”

She immediately felt stupid. When had she started to sound like her own mother? It was none of her business what Loman did or didn’t do. She certainly wasn’t his mother.

“Sorry.” She forced a half smile. “You can do what you like.”

He grinned. “No, it’s nice that you’re looking out for me. I shouldn’t be riding in this state.”

Her heart skipped. The way he was looking at her made her legs tremble. She could blame the thoughts on the alcohol in her system. The questions tumbled in her mind. What would he be like in bed? Would she need to teach him? Direct him? Would he be pliable? Eager to please?

Good God, she shouldn’t be thinking like that, but the idea wouldn’t go away.

“I should call a cab,” he said, and she responded on instinct:

“Oh, I…” The heat spread over Michelle’s face and she took a deep breath. What the hell had gotten into her? “Of course, no, you’re right.” Her heart thundered. She was making a complete fool of herself.

“What were you going to say?”

“Nothing, it doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me.”

The words hung in the air, meaning more than they said. Michelle felt the skin prickle along her shoulders, sweat forming under her arms, in the small of her back and between her breasts. The top she was wearing was too showy. It left far too much skin on display. He was bound to see what was happening to her body. She felt like a teenager again, all bashful and awkward, wanting something she knew would get her into trouble if anyone found out.

“I was going to…” The words stuck in her throat, coming out croaky. She swallowed. “That is, I thought you might stay?” Her tone made it a question, like she wasn’t quite willing to admit to the words.

“Do you want me to?”

“If you have other plans-”

“That’s not what I mean.” He stood, and she had to clench her buttocks to stop herself retreating away from him. “Are you asking me to stay?”

“If you want…” She took a deep breath. His eyes wandered, undressing her, taking in every curve, every blemish, every imperfection. And it was clear as a shard of ice that he appreciated it all. He wanted it all. “Please stay,” she muttered, shocking herself with how needy it sounded.

“All right.”

He stepped forward and she would swear that she didn’t initiate anything. She wanted it, though she’d hardly even admit that to herself, but she wasn’t the instigator. If he’d held back, maybe she would have resisted too. Maybe nothing would have come of it. Maybe, over time, the feeling would have petered out.

Instead, she felt his hand clasp her bare arm, and her first thought was that it was such an incongruously delicate hand. With a muscular, rugged body like that he deserved club-like appendages designed for heavy work and the great outdoors. What did his biker friends think of such womanly hands? Did they tease him?

Had he ever been in a fist fight? Wasn’t that what bikers did? She felt like she wanted to protect him from all that, to preserve his beauty. He had the money now to do anything he wanted. To do something safe and creative and inspiring that wouldn’t put a scratch on that handsome face or a scar on that gorgeous body.

The thought of his body made her melt. She’d seen it. Glimpsed it. Naked except for those tiny briefs when she’d been almost nude herself. Almost totally open to him, laid out for him, everything on display…see anything you like?

The way he held her was light, but insistent. Gently, he pulled her closer, his eyes pinning her down so that she wouldn’t–couldn’t–resist. It was his eyes that had the strength over her. If it was simply physical, she could have pulled away, could have told him to leave and that she loved her husband. But his eyes wouldn’t allow it. His eyes insisted that she submit. And she did. She tilted her head back, looking up from beneath her lashes, suddenly coy and seductive, and was in the middle of a breath when he kissed her.

He kissed her hard, his lips mashing against her own, making her cry out with shock. The glass slipped from her hand and clattered dully against the thick carpet. Michelle squirmed, but not to get away. She squirmed because her nipples were uncomfortably hard, because her panties were sticky between her thighs. Ignoring his grip on her arm, she flung herself at him, grabbing his neck and kissing him back, as hard or even harder than he kissed her. Her lipstick smeared over his mouth, up his cheeks. Her hair came loose from its tie and settled against her neck, tickling the suddenly hypersensitive flesh. She wanted him to bite her there, to mark her, like it didn’t matter if anyone saw.

Like she wouldn’t care if they were found out.

Suddenly, she pulled away, her mind rejecting the whole idea. “No.” She pushed against his chest and he fell back instantly. “I can’t do this. I shouldn’t.” She met his eyes and saw fire, lust, and she almost relented. But she held strong. “We mustn’t!” She hissed the words, shaking her head, unwilling to admit how much she wanted him.

“OK, OK.” He held his hands up and stepped back.

“The wine must have…”

He nodded. “I understand. I should go.”

“No. Stay. You’ve had too much to drink…and the spare room is made up. Let’s just…forget all this.”

“I should just go.”

“Please stay.” She blinked away tears. “Please.”

Loman nodded. “If that’s what you want.”

“Yes. It’s what I want.” Michelle breathed a sigh. What she wanted, she couldn’t have, but at least if he was close. If there was just a single, thin wall between them. “I’ll show you the room. It’s comfortable.”

“I can sleep anywhere.”

“It’s comfortable. You’ll like it. I’m right next door if you need…not that you would.” She was shaking as she leaned down and grabbed the dropped glass, standing it on the table. “This way.”

Continue to Part 3 of On His Naughty List!

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Also Available In Print

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On His Naughty List is being serialized for Masturbation Monday. Head over to the main site for more erotica, sexy blog posts and images.