Following another pause, Gareth said, “I promise, mum. Nothing’s going to happen.”
Marion sighed, partly hating herself for her weakness as she said, “Oh, god. I suppose so.” She shifted across the big bed, the sheet cold through the long tee-shirt she wore as a nightdress. “Here, get in,” Marion added, lifting the quilt. Then, as a caveat, she finished with a stern, “Five minutes, that’s all.”
“Five minutes,” her son confirmed as he slid into the warmth.
***
Gareth left it a full minute before he started. He was fully erect, aroused and excited by the memory of what she’d done before. The bed was warm from where his mother had lain, and desire swirled inside him. He felt the desperate need yawning within, a deep, aching void of carnal longing.
He heard the lust in his own voice when he asked, “Can’t I just cuddle up, mum?”
As expected, his mother replied with, “No, Gareth. I don’t think you should.”
“Just for a minute. That’s all. I’ll get warmer quicker that way.”
“Gareth, please…” his mother said on another exasperated sigh.
“It’s just a cuddle,” he said, tone petulant.
His mother heaved yet another sigh. Said, “God. Bloody hell, Gareth. You always want more.”
“I’m sorry,” Gareth replied. “I don’t mean to be a pest.” He felt the bed bounce. Boards creaked, wooden slats clacked.
“Turn around,” his mother said. “I’ll spoon against your back.”
Gareth smiled into the dark. He rolled onto his side. “Mmm, that’s nice,” he said when his mother snuggled against him.
“Just for a minute, remember.”
Gareth felt the quick gallop of his mother’s heartbeat against his back. Inside his head, he willed for her hand to move to the waistband of his underwear, for her fingers to slip inside, for her fist to grip his shaft. Like she had before. Like she had when it had happened the last time.
He lay that way for far longer than the allotted minute. In fact, his mother stayed there snuggled against him for longer than the original five minutes she’d specified at the outset. In the end, with no sign of her hand meandering down to his cock, Gareth squirmed and half-rolled onto his back.
“My arm’s going to sleep,” Gareth complained.
His mother’s response was, “Maybe you should go back to your own bed.”
“Aw, not yet,” he said. “But how about we swap? What if I spooned you?”
Gareth heard the dubious note in her tone when his mother said, “I don’t know about that. I think we’ve probably gone too far already. I’m not comfortable with this, Gareth. It’s a bit too … intimate.”
“I like it,” he said on a quick rush of desire. “It’s cosy. Nice and warm. And I am your son. It isn’t weird being in bed with you.”
She snorted and said, “It’s exactly because you’re my son that it is weird, Gareth. You’re a man now. You’re nineteen. You’re too big to be in bed with me. It’s so inappropriate. God,” she went on with a sigh, “if anyone knew…”
Gareth seized the opportunity. In argument, he said, “How is anyone going to know? It’s only us in the cottage. There’s two foot of snow outside. Nobody is going to burst in and catch us this way – not in the middle if the night. Not ever. And I’m not going to tell anyone, mum. Are you?”