Chapter 10 Critical Condition
Chapter ten
Critical Condition
Dominic
The air smelled of sex—hot, musky, undeniable.
At last I sagged forward, forehead nearly crashing to her shoulder, cock still twitching in her grip.
“You see that?” I whispered, voice ruined. “You see how much I need you? No one else could ever do this to me. No one could make me cum like that. Just you, Mommy. Always you.”
Her breath hitched.
She didn’t answer.
But her hand was still on me.
Sticky.
Wet.
Trembling.
And my cock—messy, glistening, drained but still swollen—rested in her palm like proof of everything I’d said.
Obsessive hunger wrapped around my spine, dangerous and deep.
I’d given her all of me in that orgasm.
My cum.
My control.
My obsession.
And yet I still wanted more.
So much more.
“Go upstairs.”
She quirked her brows.
“Read the story and say goodnight.” I licked my lips. “And then come back down so I can show all my thanks to your pussy with my tongue and cock.”
She moved her hand. “I. . .shouldn’t have done this—”
“It’s too late to say that.”
“It is not.” She grabbed my towel and wiped the cum into it. “I-I really shouldn’t have done that—”
“Then, why did you do it?”
“Because I was horny, your cock is big, and I wanted to touch it and. . .I felt powerful and in charge after. . .”
“After what?”
“After feeling restrained and fucking weak for so long.” She set the towel on the table. “But this doesn’t happen again. I-I shouldn’t have done that—”
“You’re lying to yourself—”
“No. I’m being a responsible adult—”
“Come back downstairs and let me eat your pussy until—”
“I’m not coming back—”
“You must. I owe you—”
“Dominic, this doesn’t happen again—”
“Then, you shouldn’t have fucking made me cum because this won’t be enough—”
“It must be enough—”
“I fucking want you, Teyonah—”
“Don’t jack off in the backyard again.” She backed up.
I tried to grab her.
She dodged my reach. “I have to go. This is insane. I. . .shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t have come down here at all—”
“But you did come down and you knew what would happen. And you liked jacking me off. Doesn’t it feel good to just enjoy yourself and be free? Answer that. Did it feel good?”
“Yes.”
“Then, come back down.”
“Just because it felt good doesn’t mean I should keep doing it.” She backed away. “This doesn’t happen again—”
“It will—”
“Forget this happened—”
“How could I when it is the best thing that’s happened to me in my life?”
Her bottom lip quivered. “I’m sorry, Dominic. I’m sorry.”
“Teyonah—”
“Goodnight.” She rushed away, and I stood there shocked and destroyed.
A minute later, her footsteps sounded above, telling me that she must have raced up to the house.
Silence settled next and it was loud as thunder.
Forget this happened? I can’t. I won’t.
My pulse hammered in my throat.
I braced my hands on the little table and imagined the soothing life above me—the murmur of her voice, the rustle of sheets, Oliver’s excited chatter tumbling into a whisper, J’s softer questions.
In my mind, a storybook opened.
Pages turned.
She read to them like a good mother should, and I thought of the stains I’d put on her shirt and pants.
No. You don’t get to walk away from me after this. You’re mine.
For several obscene minutes, I stood in the wreckage—books on the floor, cum-soaked towel near, mouth tasting of citrus and something I could only call hers—and I knew there was no going back.
Yet. . .time passed, and she never came back downstairs that night.
I waited, cock still out, cum drying sticky on my skin.
Staring at the ceiling.
Listening for the sound of her oncoming steps, her voice, her scent drifting down to me again.
Nothing.
The hours stretched, and the silence grew heavy.
How much did she regret it?
Was she upstairs convincing herself it hadn’t happened, that her lips hadn’t parted under mine, that her hand hadn’t stroked my cock like she’d been born knowing exactly how to undo me?
Maybe she was up there telling herself it was a mistake. That she was a mother first, and I was just a line she should’ve never crossed.
Perhaps, she thought she took advantage of me.
My chest tightened.
I knew what I’d felt.
What she’d felt.
Even if she tried to bury it, even if she ran from it, I wasn’t letting go.
She could regret it all she wanted.
I wasn’t going to stop.
Not after tonight.