My Son Has Good Taste

Jelena Jensen’s sitting there when her phone rings. Her son says he just won ten million bucks. She’s grinning till he drops the next bomb—he got married. The smile falls right off her face while she wonders what the hell some random chick wants with a brand-new millionaire. Before she can grill him, he says they’re already on the way. She straightens up on the living-room couch and puts on her best meet-the-new-daughter-in-law smile. Lana Rhoades walks in all smiles and sparkle. The son bails after two minutes to meet a realtor, and now the two women are alone. Jelena throws out the polite questions—job, hobbies—and every answer makes her stomach sink. She keeps picturing divorce papers and alimony wrangled on a ten-million-dollar foundation. Lana asks where “her room” is. Jelena points down the hall, face tight. Moments later, she hears soft, slick sounds. She goes to check, ready to call the girl out, but the door swings open on Lana stretched out naked, legs spread, fingers working fast between them. Jelena backs up like she touched a hot stove. Lana’s voice cuts through—sweet and cocky—telling her it’s fine, they’re family now and should be comfy. Jelena tries to leave twice, but her feet don’t stick to it; every move draws her eyes back to the glistening pink between Lana’s lips and the way those little fingertips keep circling. When Lana sits up, still rubbing herself, she reaches for the top button of Jelena’s blouse and pops it open. Jelena’s hands swat at her once, but the second the younger woman’s mouth closes around her nipple the fight melts. It feels too goddamn good to shove her away again.