Call Me Mommy I
Marvin
The kitchen smelled like sizzling bacon and expensive perfume. I stood in the doorway, arms crossed over my chest, watching Anita move around like she owned the place—which, technically, she did now.
She was wearing that damn black silk robe again. The one that barely covered anything. Every time she reached for the spatula or flipped a strip of bacon, the hem rode higher up her smooth thighs, teasing the curve of her ass. She was twenty-four. Two years younger than me. And somehow my father’s wife.
“Morning, Marvin,” she said sweetly, not even turning around. Her voice had that fake innocent lilt she loved to use around my dad. “You want some breakfast, baby?”
“Fuck off, Anita.”
My father groaned from the breakfast nook, lowering his newspaper. “Marvin, watch your mouth. She’s your mother now.”
I turned to him slowly, disbelief burning in my chest. “Are you for real, Pops? She’s twenty-four. I’m twenty-six. She’s not my mother. She’s barely old enough to drink.”
Dad stood up, adjusting his tie with a tired sigh. He walked over to Anita at the stove and slid his hand around her waist, pulling her back against him. She let out a soft, breathy sound and arched into his touch, but her eyes stayed locked on mine the entire time—challenging, amused, victorious.
“Because she’s my wife, son,” Dad said firmly. “Show some respect.” He kissed the side of her neck, slow and possessive, then gave her ass a squeeze right in front of me before grabbing his briefcase. “I’ll be back late tonight. Try not to kill each other.”
The front door clicked shut behind him.
The second he was gone, the air in the kitchen changed. Anita turned around, leaning back against the counter. The robe had slipped open just enough to show the deep space between her full breasts and the hard outline of her nipples pressing against the thin silk. She crossed her arms under her chest, deliberately pushing them higher.
“See, Marvin?” she said with a sly smile. “If you just shut up and behave… nothing bad will happen to you.”
I stared at her for a long second, jaw clenched. Heat crawled up my neck—not just anger. Something darker. More dangerous. I turned on my heel and left the kitchen before I did something stupid.
I needed those property documents for the renovation project. The sooner I found them, the sooner I could finish this job and get the hell out of this house. I headed straight for my father’s study, closing the heavy oak door behind me with a little more force than necessary.
I dropped to my knees in front of the big mahogany desk and started rifling through the bottom drawer. Papers, old contracts, letters… where the fuck were they?
The door clicked open again.
“Looking for something, Marvin?”
Anita’s voice wrapped around me like warm honey. She stepped inside and closed the door softly, then leaned against it, blocking my exit. The robe had slipped further off one shoulder, exposing the smooth golden skin there. Her long dark hair fell in loose waves over her chest.
I stood up slowly, towering over her. “Get out of my way, Anita.”
She didn’t move. Instead, she tilted her head, eyes sparkling with mischief. “What are you hiding in your hand? Something Daddy shouldn’t see?”
I glanced down at the folded documents I’d managed to find. “This doesn’t concern you. Move.”
She stepped forward instead, reaching up on her tiptoes to grab for the papers. Her body brushed against mine—soft tits pressing into my chest, the scent of her perfume invading my senses. I lifted my arm high above my head, keeping the documents well out of her reach.
“Anita, I’m not playing. Get the fuck out of my way.”
She jumped lightly, trying to snatch them, her robe riding higher up her thighs with every movement. Her bare legs rubbed against mine. The silk was so thin I could feel the heat of her skin. We grappled like that for a few seconds—her stubborn, me irritated and exhausted from weeks of this bullshit.
“Give it here,” she demanded, stretching higher.
I tried to step around her, but my foot caught on the edge of the rug. We both lost our balance and tumbled backward. I landed hard in the big leather armchair behind the desk, and Anita came crashing down on top of me.
She straddled my lap completely, her thighs spread wide over my hips. The short robe had ridden all the way up to her waist, exposing the smooth, bare skin of her ass and the tiny black thong she was wearing underneath. She was still fighting, reaching desperately for the papers I held high above us both, her body squirming and grinding against my crotch with every frantic movement.
Her tits were practically in my face now, heaving with exertion. The silk had slipped open further. I could see everything—the soft curves, the hard pink nipples, the way her skin flushed pink from the struggle.
“Stop it,” I growled, my free hand coming down hard on her bare ass in a sharp, frustrated smack.
SMACK.
The sound cracked through the quiet study like a whip.
Anita froze on top of me.
A low, moan escaped her lips.
Her thighs clenched hard around my hips. I felt her pussy press down against the growing bulge in my sweatpants for one dangerous second. Her eyes widened, cheeks burning bright red, but the look on her face wasn’t shock or anger.
It was pure, raw arousal.
My hand was still resting on the warm, stinging curve of her ass where I’d spanked her. The skin was already turning a soft pink under my palm. I could feel her heartbeat racing against my chest.
“I—I didn’t mean to do that,” I said roughly, voice lower than I intended.
Anita bit her lower lip, breathing faster now. She didn’t climb off me. Instead, she shifted her hips just slightly, grinding down against the hard length she could clearly feel beneath her.
She looked down at me through half-lidded eyes, voice husky and trembling with something new.
“…Do that again.”
The study fell silent except for our heavy breathing. The papers I’d been fighting for were forgotten in my raised hand. All I could focus on was the heat of her body on top of mine, the way her ass still stung warm under my palm, and the dangerous, hungry look in her eyes.
This was bad.
This was very, very bad.
And neither of us was moving.
