"What?" Emma went to lean back, but became aware of a growing heat on her chest.

She lowered her head and saw the pendent was dangling and touching the top of Eric's shoulder.

"I was thinking you really looked good. You didn't look like my mom; you looked like a sexy older woman."

“Eric, you sh..." She tried to say shouldn't look, but the words came out.

"Tell me more.”

"I thought about what I would do if you weren't my mother."

“Like what?" She put her hand on his chest and could feel his heart pounding beneath her touch.

"Like everything that kid said and more and...." The next words were barely audible.

"I saw myself doing them to you and you loving it."

Emma's heart was racing as well and she was heating up again. Her face was flushing and her pussy flowing. Her nipples had grown stiff and Eric's hot and heavy breathing in her ear told her he was experiencing the same thing.

“Its been a long time since your mother's gotten a good fucking."

Where was this coming from?

"From deep inside you. They're your thoughts, Emma, not mine. You want your boy. Wanted him since Steven died and you had that dream about him with Ashley and you wanted it to be you."

"Shut up," she whispered.

"Mom? Are you mad?" Eric asked.

"Mad I wanted to touch you like that?"

“Of course not, I'd love my baby boy to show me how much he loves and wants me."

She jumped when Eric placed his hands on her cheeks and turned her head to face him.

"Then let me show you." Like before he leaned towards her, his eyes closed, his lips parted.

As Emma leaned closer to him, his hand left her cheek and slid down her bare arm. His lips found hers and pressed firmly against them.

They both groaned and Emma's hips rocked when his hand dropped to her thigh.

She shivered when his hand slid onto the soft inner half of her thigh and gently caressed it. He kissed her harder and she returned it with equal passion. Eric's fingers trailed up her thigh then left it. She gasped when she felt him tugging on her shorts and a wave of moisture flowed through her when she felt her snap pop open.

The sound of her zipper sounded over the rushing of blood in her ears and somewhere in her mind she yelled that her son was trying to take off her shorts.

"And you want to let him."

Emma rose up, so she was kneeling on one leg on the bed, her other foot on the floor. Her head was now over his, the pendent laying against his cheek and so bright it seemed to be glowing. Emma cupped his face in her hands as he had done to her and kissed him hard, driving her tongue into his mouth.