by L. D. Davis
“Oh, Mayson,” he murmured, looking at my chest with awe.
With a moan of relish, he sucked one taut nipple into his warm mouth. I groaned and gently held the back of his head as I watched him suckle me.
I was so glad that he didn’t hesitate again, that he understood that I knew what I wanted and didn’t need any further questions.
He switched to my other breast and gave that one equal attention as his hands slowly ran up and down my back and side. When he released my nipple, he pulled my head down for another deep, hot kiss as his hands massaged my breasts.
Anxious to have him, I broke the kiss, slid back into his lap a little and eagerly pushed his T-shirt up and over his hard stomach. I ran my fingertips over it, down and over his navel, and down to his jeans. He watched me heatedly and played with a few tendrils of my hair as I made quick work unbuckling his belt. Biting my bottom lip with anticipation, I released the button on his jeans and pulled the zipper down.
Breathing heavily and staring into his brown eyes, I reached into his boxer briefs. When my hand closed around the thick and long erection, we both gasped. He was bigger than I remembered, or maybe it had just been a very long time.
I stroked him root to tip once, twice, and three times, making him groan and thrust into my hand with each stroke. When I released him, we both reached for my dress. He was just as eager as I was to get it out of the way.
With a little bit of effort, we hiked the dress up and over my thighs. I held onto it as Grant’s fingers moved over my damp panties, making me moan loudly. He rubbed me hard for a moment before pulling them to the side as he put a hand on my hip and pulled me close. I pushed up on my knees as I positioned myself over him.
We’d barely had any foreplay, and we were both still dressed, but he wanted me just as much as I wanted him. There would be other times to take it slow, and we both seemed to understand that as our eyes locked.
I reached down between us with my free hand and adjusted him so that he was at my entrance.
“I love you,” Grant whispered, just before I lowered myself onto his erection.
I gasped. My eyes widened and my mouth hung open as I slowly eased myself down on him, taking him inside me inch by inch. Both of his hands were holding my hips, his fingers again digging into me as his jaw locked with restraint. He had always been the one to take the lead in the past when we made love, but things had changed. He knew that he had to let me feel like I was in control.
I moaned as he invaded me, filled me, and possessed me. Once I was completely seated on him, I was gasping and knotting his shirt in my hands. I dropped my forehead to his as I tried to get acclimated with his size. He kissed my mouth lightly with small, tender kisses, as he patiently waited for me to be ready.
Finally, I laced my fingers behind his head and moved carefully and slowly at first. Grant made guttural sounds of desire as his mouth moved over my collar bone toward my neck.
Maybe under different circumstances, we would have made love, with leisure and sweetness, but I wanted immediate gratification, and I didn’t want it sweetly. Feeling the restraint in Grant’s body, I had a strong feeling he didn’t want it to be that way, either.
I have no eloquent words to describe how things proceeded, because it wasn’t a beautiful thing that happened. There wasn’t any grace or elegance in what we did. It was hot, hard, and fast. We held on to each other and let go; we held nothing back. I don’t know if he was fucking me, or I was fucking him, but we moved together with moans and groans and muttered curses. Sweat trickled down my temples and glistened on my chest, and Grant’s brow was shiny with perspiration. The springs of the mattress creaked and the headboard banged against the wall as my breasts bounced against him.
“Mayson,” he grunted out my name. I could see tension in his jaw and neck. “I’m so…”
He didn’t have to finish what he was saying. I already knew it. He was close to his orgasm, and he was trying hard not to come before me. Grant was always a gentleman like that. He always pleased me before taking his own pleasure, and all our years apart hadn’t changed that.
What had changed, though, was me. Sex—and the subsequent orgasms—used to be easy when I was younger, but the events of my life severely impacted my sexuality. The sexual being I wanted to be was far from the sexual being I actually was.
Just as I began to wonder if I would be able to get there, it started to happen. My body tensed. Warmth rushed through my veins like a flash fire. The tingling that ran up and down my spine and to my extremities was so intense that I began to tremble. There was a powerful pulsing between my thighs as my inner walls started to contract around Grant’s thick cock.
The tension in my muscles suddenly intensified and my body went rigid. My vision blurred and I forgot to breathe. Small, animal-like sounds emitted from my mouth as waves of pleasure raced through my body. I felt like I was melting, disintegrating, and exploding all at once. I felt like a volcano, erupting with heat that burned and sizzled.
“Grant!” I cried out as I held on to him like my life depended on it.
My hips shook uncontrollably as my orgasm tore through me. Part of me wanted to stop and get off him because he was so deep inside of me, but at the same time, I didn’t want it to end. I wanted my climax to roll on and on until it took the life out of me.
Grant’s control waned as I fell apart.
“I want you to feel me,” he groaned and growled as he painfully gripped my hips and thrust hard and deep. “Feel me coming inside you,” he grunted.
Suddenly, he stilled, and held me in place. He groaned deep and loud as I felt him pulsating inside of me. I felt the warmth of him, spurting hotly. For a moment, I thought that I really would die from pleasure, because my fading orgasm found new life as I shared in Grant’s climax.
When it finally came to an end, all the strength left my body. My muscles grew slack and my mind went numb. I barely had enough sense left to lift myself off him. I collapsed on the bed beside him, boneless, mindless, and immensely satisfied.
Grant traced patterns across my bare back as he lay beside me on the bed. I had removed my dress and panties before stretching out naked on my stomach. I felt amazingly relaxed, the most I had been in more time than I could remember.
“What are you drawing?” I asked, my voice soft and sleepy.
“Butterfly wings,” he said, smiling.
“What color are my wings?”
He watched his fingers sweep over my back. “It changes. Right now they’re blue, which means you’re calm and tranquil. A little while ago, they were blazing red with energy and passion. I like red. I like red almost as much, if not the same as yellow.”
I raised an eyebrow. “What does yellow symbolize?”
“Hope.” He met my eyes. “Happiness. Joy.” His fingers eased down my spine, making me shiver. “I love your pretty wings, even when they are black and seem to be too heavy for you to carry.”
He caressed my cheek with the back of his hand as his smile faded away and was replaced with concern, as it had been earlier when I was blubbering in his arms.
“Why did you cry?” he asked.
I was quiet for a moment, absently biting my lip as I considered his question. Finally, I sighed and said, “I want to tell you, but even though I am mad and fighting with my family, I don’t want you mad and fighting with my family. Does that make sense?”
“It does make sense, but you know I will only step in if I really have to. I know you can take care of yourself. I know you can handle just about anything. You don’t need a hero, Mayson. You can, and have saved yourself. You need someone to have your back, and I do.”
My heart seemed to overflow at that moment. I felt all mushy and disgustingly in love. If I were a character in a romance movie, I’d want to slap the sappy smile off my face, but I couldn’t help it. Those few words meant so much. It meant that he believed in me, believed in the strengths I didn’t even know I possessed. He didn’t want to take over and lea
d the way. He didn’t want me to give up any control as some women did. He trusted me to know my own path, and that meant everything.
“Hmm.” Grant leaned down to kiss my bare shoulder and back. “Yellow wings.”
I giggled before falling silent for a few moments. He waited patiently as he went back to drawing butterfly wings on my back.
“We had a big fight last night,” I finally said. “All of them against me.”
His brow came down and his hand froze for a few seconds before he continued again. He may not have felt the need to be my hero, but that didn’t mean that he wouldn’t get angry on my behalf.
“As usual,” I went on, “everyone was patting themselves and each other on the back for being sensationally successful. The law firm is raking in high profile clients and money. Tabitha’s books are getting made into movies. Emmya is in demand around the world, and everybody wants to eat at one of Leo’s establishments. Not to mention, they all feel super accomplished for producing ankle biters and having leaky breasts and whatnot.”
Grant tried unsuccessfully not to smile, but I ignored his amusement and recounted the argument in detail. He listened intently and patiently. He didn’t attempt to draw any conclusions or make meaningless statements; he remained quiet and attentive, watching my face carefully.
“For many years, I’ve felt some small separation between my cousins and me, but I have never felt it as acutely as I did last night. I felt so disconnected from them,” I whispered. “So isolated. What made matters worse is that I think that for the first time, they really saw the gulf between us, too. I think they saw it the way I saw it, that there was them, and then there was me.”
Grant wordlessly pulled me close, wrapping me in his warm body.
“Things were super tense this morning, and my feelings hadn’t changed. I still felt alone. When I saw you and the kids come inside…” I let out a shaky sigh. “I wasn’t alone anymore, and I was so damn relieved and so damn grateful.”
“And that’s why you cried,” he murmured and kissed my forehead.
“And that’s why I cried,” I confirmed.
We were quiet for a couple minutes, and then Grant asked, “Do you want to stay?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know.” I looked up at him suddenly, questioningly. “Was I wrong? Was I wrong last night?”
“I think,” he started slowly, “that who you are friends with is your business, but you should have told your family about the drugs. They’re probably devastated, Mayson—not because you did drugs but because they weren’t there to help you. They didn’t know that you even needed help, and maybe in a way, that’s their fault. Maybe they do have their heads up their own asses, but do you really believe that they don’t care? That they don’t love you? Do you really think that if they knew about the drugs and all the other shit you’ve been through that they wouldn’t want to help you? So, do I think that you were wrong? Not really. You were right to call them out. They needed to know how you felt, but you should have come clean a long time ago about a couple things. Do you want to know what else I think?”
“If I say no, are you going to tell me anyway?” I asked dryly.
He pinched my bare ass, making me yelp.
“Yes, smartass,” he said, rubbing the spot he had pinched. “I also think that you could have told them if you really wanted to. I think that you didn’t tell them because you wanted them to know you well enough to figure out that something was wrong on their own. Even if they did have an idea that something was wrong, you probably hid behind your sarcasm and inappropriate comments. I think that you wanted them to want to look beyond that. It’s like a sick game of Hide-and-Seek. You want to hide, and maybe you don’t want to be found right away, but eventually, you want someone to find you. You want them to want to find you.”
I wanted to slide away from him and his x-ray vision that gave him an unobstructed view of me, right down to the marrow. I had never thought of things in the way he had just described, but it felt like it was true. It seemed more accurate than almost anything else about me.
Stubbornly refusing to admit anything, I grumbled, “I didn’t know that you got your Ph.D. in psychoanalysis while you were in Texas.”
“Judging by your smartass comment, I’m going to assume I am right and let it go.”
“Smart man.”
He tickled my side, making me giggle and yelp as I struggled to get away from him.
“What did you say, smart ass? Have any other smart ass comments, smart ass?”
“Please stop,” I cried.
He did stop and kissed me gently despite the fact that I was still giggling.
“I’m glad you’re here,” I told him again, cupping his cheek in my hand.
“I’ll always be here,” he promised.
For the first time ever, I believed him. One-hundred percent.
Chapter Nineteen
We stood clustered together in the kitchen, staring out a window with a view of the back yard. The men stood around a big grill, drinking beers, holding babies, and shooting the shit as the kids played in the yard. Our focus, however, was on Grant.
“Heavens that is a good-looking man,” Tabitha said.
Donya sighed. “Those lips.”
“That beautiful brown skin,” Emmy added wistfully.
“And he’s not just good looking,” I added. “He’s funny and intelligent.”
“And he’s such a good father,” Tabitha crooned.
“He doesn’t mind holding babies,” Emmy said with too much excitement.
“Those lips,” Donya repeated.
“Yeah, but,” Sam started with exasperation, “How big is his penis, and does he know how to use it?”
My cousins and I all looked at Sam, as if we were all surprised when we shouldn’t have been at all.
“Mom!” Emmy whined. “Now every time any one of us looks at him, we’re going to inadvertently look at his junk! What the hell is wrong with you?”
Samantha shrugged nonchalantly. “It was a reasonable question.”
“Not for nothing, Emmy,” Donya cut in. “You bragged about Luke’s um, bountiful manhood once upon a time. Do you really believe that our eyes didn’t occasionally and inadvertently look down?”
“I would appreciate it if you all could keep your eyes above my man’s waist,” I said.
It had been two days since Grant’s arrival. To make space, we moved the little girls into the boys’ room and the boys to the living room. It was a perfect arrangement for the boys, who stayed up late into the night playing video games, or until some parent yelled at them to go to sleep.
The tension between my family and I hadn’t gone away, but with an unspoken agreement, we had put the fight on hold. Well, I had put it on hold, whereas they had probably believed it was over. It’s not that I wanted a fight, but I didn’t want to sweep it under the rug. If I did that, nothing would change. They would continue to treat me as they always had. For a long time, I was fine with my position in the family, but for the first time, I really began to see myself, to understand myself, and to know that I deserved more.
“I don’t understand why you didn’t tell us about him before,” Emmy said after Sam went outside.
She took a long sip of a freshly made margarita and sighed with contentment.
“Are you allowed to drink when your nipples are on loan to a little person?” I asked doubtfully.
“There’s bagged breast milk in the fridge.”
“Ew…”
She gave me a chastising look. “Don’t change the subject. Why didn’t you tell us about Grant?”
I sighed. “It’s been…complicated.”
No one said anything, which was fair since they’d all had their own share of complications with their spouses. Emmy and Luke’s difficulties didn’t end when Kyle was out of the picture. Tabitha and Leo were secretly in love for fifteen years before they finally got together, and even then, the beginning of their relationship had been bumpy. Donya once
told me that Emmet was her soul mate, but it took them more than twenty years, and both having disastrous marriages to other people before they pulled it together.
“Well…” Emmy sighed as she glanced out the window again. “He is a good man, as far as I can tell. I’ve never seen you as content and happy as I have seen you in the past few days.”
“I can’t believe you’re with a guy with kids.” Tabitha chuckled. “I know you love our kids, but you’re otherwise not very fond of them.”
I shrugged. “Sometimes I can’t believe it, either.”
“They’re good practice,” Emmy said, raising her eyebrows suggestively. “You know, for when you have your own. God, your ovaries must be screaming to make babies with that man. My ovaries are screaming for you to make babies with that man.”
I rolled my eyes. “My ovaries aren’t really interested.”
“That man has some good genes,” Emmy went on as if I hadn’t spoken. “His kids are gorgeous, but the kids that you two can have together would be striking. How many more kids does he want? Have you guys talked about it?”
“We’re not having any kids,” I said, pulling produce out of the fridge to make a salad. “Aren’t we supposed to be making stuff for dinner?”
“You still have a few childbearing years left,” she said with a shrug. “You might change your mind.”
“I’m not going to change my mind.”
I handed her the lettuce to wash. Donya peeked into a simmering pot and poked at the rice inside with a spoon before covering it back up as Tabitha began to open cylinders of dough for biscuits.
“I didn’t think I was going to have another kid after Kaitlyn,” Emmy continued.
“Emmy, let it go,” Donya said. “Having another kid is entirely different from having any in the first place. I think she knows what she wants and doesn’t want.”
“Sometimes what we think we want, we don’t really want. Sometimes what we don’t want, we really want,” Emmy argued. “We all know that. You know that probably more than any of us, Donya.”
“Let it go,” Donya sang, shaking her head.
