Enigma

by C. M. Lally

  Her legs quiver when I touch my tongue to the indentation of her knee. My hands push the hem of her dress upward...slowly massaging her skin. My thumbs draw circles on her inner thighs as the hem rides higher. She’s perfect.

  My tongue tentatively licks the small, heart-shaped mole on her thigh, and a broken gasp escapes her throat. Her legs re-adjust into a wider stance, giving me more room to pleasure her. I shift onto my knees when my hands arrive at her ass. I cup each ass cheek, slowly sliding my fingers along the rim of her legs. She’s built solid and strong, and I love that. Weak and wilting is not attractive to me. I like my women healthy and fit.

  My fingers trace the edges of her panties up and over the hips and back down into the cleft of her legs. She’s wet for me. I slide a finger into her panties and push them to the side, holding them there while my hands spread her legs open wider.

  My finger curls into her labial lips, massaging her, in and out as she begins to tremble and whimper. She’s warm honey in my hands.

  I push my finger deeper, stroking her, and cupping her. Fucking possessing her. Her legs shake, and she can’t stand still, swaying left and right, flexing up and down on her calves— squirming. Husky sighs fill the air around us making my dick rock hard.

  Her pussy squeezes tight on my finger; she’s about to orgasm. I look up, and her back is arched with her head flexed up to the ceiling. She’s lost in the feeling. Her soft dress is gathered to her chest, and the bottom lace of her bra teases me now— just like the heart-shaped mole. I’m not in the mood to be teased.

  I rise, bending her over my shoulder and carry her up the narrow stairs to the loft. When my knees hit the mattress, I gently lay her down onto the quilt, still rumpled and messy from her nap this afternoon. I reach up and remove the elastic that holds her braid, fanning out her messy hair; I want to see her wild and free as I make her cum.

  She crosses her arms and pulls the dress over her head, tossing it across the room. She spreads her arms wide giving me an unashamed view of her body. Good fucking God, she’s gorgeous. Her lace panties sit high on her hips accentuating strong quad and glute muscles. Her abdomen is flat and trim, showing off pert breasts entrapped in a matching lace bra. A tight bud is poking and stretching the lace, begging for my fingers to touch it.

  With nimble fingers, I twist the front clasp open quickly. Her eyes follow my hands as they push the soft fabric left, then right baring her to me. Her fingers reach up and graze the stubble on my chin, lightly cupping it before pulling me forward and releasing it. She’s curious and excited for more— her back arches high meeting my lips halfway.

  I take one nipple into my mouth, rolling my tongue over it, pressing on it, nibbling at it. My fingers massage her breasts, squeezing them into perfectly sized mounds to latch onto. I suck hard, pulling on her taut bud until it releases from my mouth.

  Her ass squirms on the bed and her heels dig into the edge of the mattress. My tongue traces her breastbone and continues down to her navel causing goosebumps to appear on her quivering skin. Her fingers uncurl from the sheets she’s grasping to reach for my hair. Nails claw against the back of my neck while her hands push my shoulders down.

  I crave her.

  Her mouth is parted, and her tongue swoops out to lick her lips in anticipation, leaving a bead of moisture in that small divot above her upper lip. Instinctively, I reach forward and grasp her bent knees, pulling her ass to the edge of the bed. My knees hit the floor in a hallelujah moment of finally finding Heaven.

  Her legs drop open and I position her heels on my shoulders, knowing exactly what she wants. Her hands rest on her inner thighs offering to me what I was already going to take. Her pussy is as well-groomed as her nails. I’ve barely noticed any of this on a woman before, but it’s sexy as fuck on her.

  “Please,” she moans, pressing her heels down on my shoulders.

  My tongue slips between her pussy lips, spreading her. I dip in and out until I reach her clit, licking, nibbling and teasing it until it’s swollen. Her legs are quivering. I press two fingers into her, in and out again until the need to taste her again consumes me. Her ass bucks from the bed and I force her hips down, gliding my tongue into her velvet pussy. Within minutes her body explodes in orgasm, panting hard and calling my name. Her legs lock around my shoulders, and I suck her clit through the quaking, gripping her ass and holding her to me.

  Holy fuck.

  She tastes so fucking good.

  She feels so fucking right.

  She’s so fucking mine.

  I strip my shirt off, and unbutton my jeans, dropping them to the floor. She half-sits and helps me remove my boxer briefs— we frantically push and tug to get them off my legs. My dick springs from the fabric as she pushes them down to the floor. I’m not a large man by any means, but I know how to make a woman feel good. I reach down into my back pocket and pull out a condom.

  She takes it from me, trying to rip the foil with her fingers but can’t. She licks her lips again looking up at me in frustration. Her hair falls in soft waves framing her face, and she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Her long fingers reach out to stroke me, gripping me tight in her palm. I take a step closer and grab her hand that’s around my cock, prying her fingers from me.

  “But I want to pleasure you,” she protests.

  “You already did that when I watched you cum.” I reach for the condom and take it from her hand, ripping the foil and rolling it on. I twirl my fingers in a circle, motioning for her to turn around. Her eyes light up— she’s unafraid.

  The bed dips down as I crawl onto it following her to the center. She looks over her shoulder at me with an encouraging smile. Her heart-shaped ass begs me to spank it, but I’m not into that shit. I wanna find someone I can make love with, not fuck and push them out the door. I’ve had that, and it’s not satisfying.

  I rub her ass cheeks in soft swirls with one hand, while the other fingers her sweet pussy. She sighs and moans in ecstasy— her head drops down to the mattress with her hair spread all around her. My name tumbles from her lips.

  Jade is my person. She may not know it yet, but she is.

  She’s the only one I need to impress as a man, a person, a fighter...and as a lover.

  “Kol.”

  “Yes.” I strum her clit with my fingers while my thumb strokes that sweet spot inside her. She’s rocking back and forth, forcing me deeper with each thrust backward.

  “I ache for you.”

  I slide into her, feeling her walls grip and clench my dick as I fill her. My hips roll and grind, seeking the most intimate part of her. That spot that no one else has touched. It’s mine, and I’m laying claim to it. Each plunge makes it harder to fight the release my body craves. My dick pulses harder and faster, building up for release. Her face is still buried in the mess of sheets and quilt, taking every thrust I give her. Muffled sighs and moans vibrate through the air.

  I’m not ready for this to end.

  With a will that I didn’t know I had, I pull out of her. My hips push back toward her warmth with a mind of their own, but I need to slow it down, or I’m going to explode. She feels too fucking good to lose it this soon. She pushes herself up on her elbows, turning to me. Her lips are pursed into a pout.

  I sit on the edge of the bed. “Jade, come here. Take control. Ride me.”

  “Oh, God!” Her long legs propel her forward with the giddiness of a school child offered candy. I hold my dick steady, guiding her while she sits on my lap, slowly adjusting to the different position. She’s fantastically wet and warm.

  I bunch and twist her hair around my hand, holding her in place as she glides up and down on me at an even pace. Her feet flex on her toes, and her thigh muscles strain with each movement. I lean forward and place tiny little kisses across her shoulders in a row. Her speed picks up, causing our breath to come in short, sharp gasps.

  “I can’t stop it. I’m gonna cum.”

  The tingling in the base of my spine tells me I
‘m close too.

  “Cum for me, Jade.”

  Her toes grind into the hardwood of the floor. She leans forward, forcing me deeper. I spread my legs a little wider, so my dick is rubbing her clit with each thrust. My hands find her hips and hold her stable. It takes every fucking scrap of strength I have not to cum until she does. I’m tinkering on the edge watching her pussy play hide-n-seek with my dick. She rotates her hips, and her pussy walls squeeze me in a tight grip. It’s too much.

  “Oh fuck!” I can’t hold back. The blood in my dick rushes to the tip, and I buck my hips upward meeting her halfway.

  “Oh God, yes!” she cries, grinding her ass onto me in one final plunge. We both fall backward, her back lying on my chest. Our panting breaths fill the room. I gather her hair and push it to the side away from my face. When my head stops buzzing from the roller coaster ride she took me on, I reach to her front and trace the swell of her breasts with my fingertips. I swallow hard knowing I lack the strength and will to move her. So we lay there in the early evening hours, content and satisfied, while I rub circles over the heart-shaped mole on the back of her thigh.

  That’s the first time I’ve ever made love to a woman.

  Chapter Fourteen - Jade

  I WAKE UP TO LONG RAYS of sunshine dancing across my pillow and face. My eyes open and squeeze close just as fast in the bright light. We forgot to pull the curtains in our lust-filled moment last night. Moment? It was more than a moment. It was an eternity wrapped up in a few hours of teasing and torturous seduction.

  That man knows how to fight and fuck. Fuck? No, that wasn’t fucking. He made love to me. Was that his intent? Does he make love to all his women? Is that his preferred method of sex?

  Fucking someone has no emotion— it’s a means to an end with bodies, attraction, and arousal. Well, sometimes there is an attraction, other times it’s a sickness.

  Making love to someone requires emotion, right? Can you make love without emotion? I need time to examine my own feelings about this. Did I fuck him or make love to him? That I’m even questioning what happened confuses me. I need to run and sweat to process these thoughts.

  My back is turned to him. I sit up quietly, removing the sheets from my legs and grabbing the T-shirt dress I tossed off last night. I slide my arms through it, but I can’t find my bra or panties anywhere. They must be on the floor on his side of the bed. I don’t want to wake him up and experience the awkwardness that usually comes the morning after, so I tiptoe to my suitcase and grab my running clothes from the front enclosure. I spy my undies across the room and pick them up on the way to the bathroom.

  I sneak a peek at the bed, praying I didn’t wake him up, but it’s empty. I walk over and touch the rumpled sheets where he laid. They’re cold. I know he’s an early riser, but there isn’t any noise rising up from the kitchen.

  Damn. Make love to a woman and then abandon her to wake up alone. That’s an asshole move.

  I shower and get ready for my run. Stepping out onto the front porch, I stretch my muscles, elongating them over the steps. The heat of the day is already building at 8:30 am. The air is thick with humidity as I adjust my headband to catch a bead of perspiration trickling down my forehead. A run will clear my mind of this hurt, while my plan of ignoring him for the rest of this trip will soothe my soul.

  Birds are chirping, squirrels are chasing each other around the trees, and in the distance, a grass mower’s engine is running. Someone else is hammering something as the ping of metal hitting nail echoes through the trees. Hammering. Shit, I forgot. That’s Kol banging away on that decrepit old porch. Change in plans.

  My legs carry me back upstairs to change into some comfy clothes to go help him. I stop by the kitchen to grab a few bottles of water and protein bars, tucking them into a canvas cooler hanging from the door, and tossing in a few handfuls of ice before zipping it up.

  I skip down Rose Petal Lane with a change in mood. He wasn’t leaving me, skipping out after our night. He went to keep a promise to an elderly woman— to uphold his status of knight-in-shining-armor in her eyes.

  Each step around the bend of the road brings him into view. Closer and closer until my heart is beating wildly in my chest.

  He’s shirtless and bent over a pair of sawhorses, slicing through a piece of wood with a hand-held saw. I stop mid-stride and watch his muscles push and pull the metal teeth through the length of lumber. He’s cutting it into lengths that match the current floorboard size and tossing them into a pile.

  The sun is glistening off the sweat beading on his skin, and I narrow my stride feeling my panties become wet while watching him. Damn him for looking as fine as a knight. Kinda makes me wish I was a Princess.

  Miss Crawford steps out onto the porch with a pitcher of water with lemons floating on top of it, lifting it for Kol to see before she sets it down in the shade. Kol sees her and grabs his shirt hanging from the waistband of his shorts to wipe his face off.

  Miss Crawford spots me and waves me to come over to them. Kol turns his weary body toward me. His shoulders are slumped, and his eyes are emotionless. Suddenly, I’m not sure how to approach him. He doesn’t smile or nod to welcome me. He doesn’t even move a muscle to acknowledge me. He takes the glass of water that’s handed to him and downs it in one long drink.

  “Good morning, child. I was wondering if the Supervisor was going to show up on the job today.” She smiles a toothy grin and hands me a similar glass of water.

  “Good morning, Miss Crawford. Did he show up on time? He forgot to clock in back at the office.”

  She raises her eyebrows in surprise. “Oh, yes. He was here bright and early. I believe it was 6:00 am to be exact.” She eyes him mindfully, picking up on my hint that he left without telling me.

  He removes a cube of ice from the glass and runs it across this forehead. “I was trying to beat the heat, but it seems the heat is winning. Why is it so blazing hot this early?” He wipes his face again with his t-shirt and tucks it back down into his shorts.

  “We’re getting an Indian Summer. I hope the coast of Africa is calm this year when it starts throwing out those hurricanes at us. The Motherland’s been trying to kill me and this house the last few summers. I’m getting too old for this.”

  “We’ll get you squared away before too long. Don’t you worry,” I assure her with a nod and a wink. She fans herself with her hand and steps back inside her house to escape the heat.

  When she goes inside, big black X’s and O’s jump up at me from the porch floor. Kol must have marked the pieces of wood that are rotting or need some kind of repair. Looks like it’s going to be a busy day.

  While he drinks another tall glass of lemon water, I start carrying the cut pieces of wood closer to the porch and stack them in counts of five.

  “Here.” He hands me a pair of leather gloves as he passes. Without looking at me, he says over his shoulder, “Don’t ruin that manicure. I like seeing those perfect nails on my skin.”

  I squint my eyes at him through the sunlight and smile as I tug them on, happy that we’re not going to do the awkward morning-after dance around each other.

  We work in sync. He cuts the wood, I carry it to the porch. While he’s measuring, I use the crowbar to pry up the rotting pieces and toss them into a pile. While he’s nailing the new board in place, I remove the old nails from the wood, so no one gets hurt after we’re gone. We make a good team.

  Miss Crawford keeps us supplied with ice water. At noon, she comes out to announce that lunch is served in the back garden. We both look at each other in surprise and head out back, stopping by the spigot to throw some water on our faces, and wash our hands.

  Kol opens the back gate for me to enter first and there on the back patio is a picnic table decked out with sliced sandwiches loaded with vegetables. There’s also a platter of fresh fruit, bowls of coleslaw and potato salad, slices of bright red tomatoes drizzled in olive oil and pepper. She shuffles outside with a pitcher of iced, sweet tea in her h
and. My mouth is watering before I can take my seat.

  “Miss Crawford, you’ve outdone yourself. This looks amazing,” Kol relishes her with praise, and she beams with his words.

  “Don’t be shy now. Dig in,” she encourages by handing plates to us, and we do.

  She sits and eats with us, telling stories about her garden and how it’s grown and changed over the years with the surrounding landscape.

  “You know, I was sweet on your Lou when we were growing up,” she confesses bashfully. Her cheeks pinken a bit.

  “No. Really?” Kol takes a bite of his sandwich and scoots closer to the table in rapt attention wanting to hear the story.

  “Oh yes. He was a looker back in the day. So tall with those broad shoulders. My daddy didn’t like him, because Louie was always getting into fights. He was a scrapper, you see. Always mad, feeling like the world was holding us colored folk back. This was a few years before Dr. King, mind you. Being colored in the South has never been easy, but it was at its worst at that time. My daddy was worried he’d get mad and forget I was a woman and hit me. It didn’t matter anyway. He went off to Camp LeJeune to the Marines.”

  “I never knew this about him. The Marines, huh? I’m gonna have to ask him about that.”

  “Oh, child. I wouldn’t if I were you. They discharged him home early. He was fire and brimstone mad for a few years after; he up and moved away to Orangeburg.”

  “That’s where we met. I’m from near Orangeburg. He saw me fighting in the underground. He found out where I lived and offered to train me. My foster dad ran him off. It was a crazy idea thinking that you could fight for a living. But he kept after me; showing up at other fights. He ended up being at a particularly bad fight one night, tracking me down afterward in the chaos, even though I didn’t want to be found. He explained that I was fighting for a living now, so why not earn money for myself and not my foster parents. The rest is history. He’s a good man in my book.”

  “I never saw him again until his mother passed on. Now that was a great woman. At her funeral, he asked me to watch the house for him and handed me a set of keys. He comes every few months to go fishing or to get away from the big city I guess. I see him driving that beat up ol’ truck down to the ocean every now and again.”