Hearts on Hold

by Charish Reid

  Victoria’s head fell to the side as she sighed, “Yes.”

  He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her against his chest. Her hand left his and clutched the table in front of her. “I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in days, Victoria,” he said, tracing a path of kisses to the exposed side of her neck. “But I hope to god I can dream of you tonight. You with these flowers, in this heat.”

  Both of John’s hands roamed her body: one at the first button of her blouse, while the other reached down to the hem of her skirt. He licked and nipped at the delicate curve of her ear as he fumbled blindly at her buttons. As her bottom pressed against his groin, John lost what sense he walked into the greenhouse with. All blood was flowing downward and need was overriding dexterity. Victoria sensed this and pulled his hand from her breast to her hip. “I’ve got it,” she breathed. She made quick work of unbuttoning the herringbone blouse, while he hitched her gray skirt over her ass.

  “Thank you,” he said, pulling at the sides of her panties. He dragged them down her legs and waited for her to step out of them.

  Victoria spun around and immediately snatched the undergarment from him. “These are staying with me this time,” she said with a playful grin. Her eyes glittered with amusement as she wound her panties around her wrist.

  A low growl crept up his throat as he jerked her hips to him. “That’s not fair.”

  “Surely this makes up for them.” She continued to undo the buttons of her blouse, revealing the edges of her lacy black bra. With a couple of tugs, she pulled her shirt out of the waist of her skirt and became the first to get topless. John soon joined her by wrenching his own long-sleeve T-shirt over his head and tossing it on a nearby table.

  “Watch out for the geraniums, John,” she scolded.

  “I don’t give a fuck about the geraniums, Victoria,” he said. “I only care about my orchid.”

  Her face flushed from the valley of her breasts right up to her cheeks. She forgot the shirt and focused her attention on his belt buckle, feeling bold enough to pull it apart herself. Her nimble fingers set upon the button and fly of his jeans, bumping against his hard-on that strained for her touch. John hissed and closed his eyes when she found what she was looking for, and backed her against the table behind her. “You have no idea how badly I need this,” he whispered as he slipped the thin bra straps down her soft shoulders.

  “The sleepover was that bad?” she asked, shoving his pants to his thighs.

  “It was four girls who would not stop talking.” John reached around and unhooked her bra. He tossed it at the geraniums and marveled at her breasts. Ample wasn’t the word. John had large hands and palming even one was a beautiful challenge. He tested the weight and gently massaged while covering her mouth with his. He moved around her quiet moans, teasing her bottom lip with his teeth. “How does that feel?”

  She jerked her head up and down in reply.

  Not wanting the other breast to feel left out, John’s other hand joined in on the kneading. Her nipples, dark brown stiffened peaks, were begging for his attention as well. As his kiss deepened, he lifted her onto the table beside the orchids. She didn’t break away, even as she made room, shoving away several pots. Her legs wrapped about his thighs, drawing him closer, desperately holding him against her. Their tongues sparred with wet and plunging thrusts, a fiery dance that competed against the heat of the greenhouse. John feared that Victoria’s kisses were a powerful toxin, sweet and deliciously drugging. Behind those belladonna-dark eyes lay a trap that he was more than willing to fall into. The desire to taste her kisses consumed him. She was going to ruin him for any other woman.

  And then she reached into his briefs.

  John squeezed his eyes shut, broke his kiss with a ragged gasp, and pressed his forehead to hers. Her grip was like her handshake: firm and confident. When she pulled along his rigid length, Victoria ran her thumb along the tip, wiping away the drops of fluid. John’s breath caught in his throat as he watched her bring her finger to her lips and suck.

  “I wanted to do that last time, but you had to run to a meeting,” she said with a throaty purr.

  Goddamn... “I was a fool,” he said, nearly doubling over as she returned to his cock. John wasn’t going to let her work alone. He licked the tips of his fingers and applied them directly to the already moist folds between her thighs. Victoria’s eyes widened at his touch. It was the same surprised expression that had lit her face when his tongue first touched her. He relished the way her full lips made an “o” and her brows drew upward in the middle. As his fingers rubbed tight circles around her entrance, he knew she was ripe enough to unravel in his arms.

  They touched each other while breathing short shallow pants in the humid air. As she massaged his hot, silky column of flesh, John kept his pace quick and his pressure consistent. Even as her hips squirmed against his hand, Victoria managed to maintain eye contact. Her eyes darkened with dilated pupils, staring defiantly back at him, until her body hitched. “Johnny,” she pleaded.

  She was on edge and her grip on his cock was slipping. His name was on her lips, begging for release, and he sped up his pace. John moved over her, swallowing each plaintive moan that escaped her mouth. His hand stayed between them, working feverishly as their kiss intensified. Her hands left his shaft and seized the back of his head. John loved it when she went right for his hair. He imagined that he had grown it out just for her to rake her fingers through it. No sense in leaving my hair in a bun when I meet with her.

  “J-Johnny...” Victoria whispered, breaking away from his lips.

  “Ride it, honey.”

  “I’m—I’m—” Her eyes squeezed shut as her hands tightened on the back of his neck. “Oh god.” He felt primal pleasure sweep through her body as she clenched around him. Her thighs shook as she arched against his chest. The skin-to-skin heat building between them sent of jolt of electricity to John’s heart. Victoria wrapped her arms around his shoulders and hugged him tightly as she rode a warm wave of bliss. “Johnny,” she sighed. The sound was so sweet to his ears, he took her by the thighs and lifted her from the table, raising her to his eye-level.

  “Did you come?” he asked, panting against her cheek.

  Victoria nuzzled his neck, planting light kisses around his excited pulse. “Of course, I did,” she breathed heavily.

  He carried her to the nearby wooden bench. “Would you like to come again?”

  She chuckled in his ear. “Of course, I would.”

  Good to hear. John laid her on the narrow bench and straddled her body as she hitched her skirt higher. He grabbed one of the condoms from his back pocket before shoving his jeans and briefs lower. A devilish grin spread across Victoria’s face when he exposed himself further.

  “Hello again,” she said to the stiff rod being covered with latex.

  “He’s excited to be here,” John said as he lowered himself over her. The bench didn’t offer much room for him to maneuver, but he would navigate the space as best as he could. With one hand planted beside her head, he propped himself up in a one-armed pushup.

  “I’m excited to have him,” Victoria quipped.

  He had to hold back his laughter and leveled his erection between her thighs. Her aroused satiny flesh was indeed ready to accept him. As he sank into her lush, wet sheath, John gritted his teeth and breathed through every push until he filled her to the hilt. With no more jokes in her quiver, Victoria’s mouth fell open and her back arched away from the bench.

  “Ooh, okay,” she squeaked, grabbing onto his wrist beside her head.

  John paused to analyze her face; her russet-brown complexion had gone red again. “I can go any speed you’d like.”

  “Yes, please.”

  He laughed that time. “What?”

  Her eyes flew open. “Just go,” she said. “Fast and hard.”

  John withdrew slightly
and plunged hard, knocking her so hard that her breasts bounced up. She held on to the bench and his wrist as he drove into her, each stroke as delicious and hot as the last. The sensations that wrapped tight around his cock propelled him to the precipice. In that moment, John was in an incredible aware and focused headspace. It was as if a singular goal was branded in his mind. Caress, stroke, thrust, squeeze. There was nothing else but him and Victoria. Beautiful and brilliant Victoria, nestled deep in a rainforest, waiting on him to inhale her essence.

  His free hand traced the lines of her body, starting with her long elegant neck, over the ridge of her collar bone. He paused his journey only to cup the sweet fullness of her breast, teasing and pinching her sensitive nipple between his thumb and forefinger. She gasped at the pain before moaning in delight. With another powerful thrust, he dipped down and took the erect tip in his mouth and sucked, lashing his tongue like a healing balm. Victoria’s hand came around his head and held him there. She arched her back and rocked her hips in time with his pace. “Please...” her voice came in trembling whisper. “More.”

  John would give her more.

  He raised himself, switched arms, and gave her other breast the same careful attention. He delighted in her response to his every touch. It seemed as though her body was specially molded for his hands and mouth. He savored every sigh, every crease of her brow, every squeeze of her hand. The primitive idea that Victoria could be made only for him to pleasure, pushed him over the edge. She was his. She belonged to him. Victoria was his flower.

  “Victoria,” he gasped.

  As if she could sense he was on the brink, she reached downward and touched herself. Her fingers were on the same bundle of tight nerves he’d caressed only moments earlier. She opened her eyes and her dark stare seared into his soul as he impaled her. Bold and challenging. He kept his eyes locked on hers in an attempt to let her catch up. If he watched her pleasure herself, he would certainly explode. When her tight walls spasmed around him, he felt safe enough to grip her by the waist and fuck her fast and rough. Her pants became moans, and then staccato-like screams. She slapped her own hand over her mouth as tears streamed down her temples. “Oh...my...god,” she said, her muffled shouts captured by her fingers.

  John wasn’t faring any better. He felt a combustion rising in him like the hottest fire, clouding his brain. Electricity seemed to arc through him as a burning tide raged between their joined bodies. A savage growl choked him as he lurched forward, clutching Victoria’s hip tightly. He gave himself over to the rolling wave of sensations. Stars bursting behind the dark veil of his eyelids, the sound of his heart pounding in his ears, his lover’s quivering damp thighs... John felt and saw it all. He fell into her arms, burying himself in her hold and hesitant to break their connection. He wanted to stay there, inside her, for the rest of his life. John belonged to her now. Victoria traced gentle circles along his back with her fingertips, sending another shudder through his body. “Am I too heavy?” he asked, breathing harshly against her cheek. With his eyes closed, he could feel her smile next to his mouth.

  “You’re fine,” she whispered. “I like this weight. I feel...safe.”

  It made John sigh to hear that. She feels safe. But eventually, he needed to release her. He couldn’t bear the thought of his hard weight suffocating her feminine softness. Slowly, he lifted himself, pulling out of her. She moved her legs aside to allow him space to sit. As Victoria unwound the panties wrapped around her wrist, John chuckled to himself.

  “What?” she asked, slipping her legs through them. He watched her pull them up her thighs until they hid her beautiful juncture.

  “Oh nothing,” he said with a disappointed sigh.

  She flashed him a cheeky grin. “You don’t need these to fuel your imagination for the rest of the day.”

  He removed the condom and tied it off before tossing it into a nearby trashcan. “I suppose I don’t... But I was hoping to give the pair under my pillow a buddy.”

  This made her burst into laughter. John smiled as he hitched up and fastened his pants. “You have a really goofy laugh,” he told her. “It’s kind of a raspy hyuk, hyuk.”

  “It’s not,” she protested through the chuckles. She went back to the table of geraniums and found her bra. As she hooked herself into the garment, she leaned over to inspect the flowers.

  “But I like it,” John said, standing from the bench and stretching his tired arms. He didn’t think he could last so long in a one-armed horizontal position. “It’s a laugh of honest joy.”

  “I think your laugh sounds hearty.” Victoria tossed him his shirt and began searching for her own. She plucked it from the concrete and shook it out before draping it around her shoulders. “Like a Viking.”

  As he slipping his shirt over his head, he began to chuckle.

  “See? There it is,” she said, planting her fists on her hips and standing legs astride. “Ho ho ho!”

  Seeing this lighter side of Victoria, made John’s insides light and warm. While she continued to do a terrible imitation of Eric the Red, he walked over to her and slid his arms around her waist. “I don’t sound like that,” he said in a low voice, pulling her close.

  “And you do the menacing growl too,” she said as she tickled his beard. “Ho ho ho, I drink mead.”

  Why would she want this to end in three weeks?

  “I must take a shield-maiden for a wife,” Victoria continued.

  John raised a brow. “Do I?”

  She stopped talking to purse her lips. Another creeping blush settled in her cheeks. “What do you have planned for today?” she asked with a clumsiness he was used to.

  To save her pride, he didn’t miss a beat. “I’ve got a child-free day, so I’m going to the gym.” He knelt his head to kiss her cheek. “Then I’ll probably pillage a nearby town and bathe my broadsword with the blood of Christians. You?”

  Her wide smile, with its one dimple, returned. “I actually came to campus to grade papers. I have twenty-three left.”

  “Well then, I should probably let you get to it.” He said the words but made no moves to release her.

  Victoria worked around his arms, buttoning her blouse and stuffing the hem back into the waist of her skirt. “Just to be safe, I should leave first and then you can exit after a few minutes.”

  Even though it was Sunday, she still worried. John took a deep breath. “Sure.”

  She smoothed her skirt down and patted her braided bun, making certain that every skinny plait was in place. “How do I look?”

  He buried the animal inside his chest; the one who was really doing all of the growling. It ordered him to never let her go. John ignored it and swallowed before answering her. “Beautiful.”

  “Thank you, John,” she said, planting her hands on his chest and standing on her tiptoes. She kissed his lips, softly and sweetly, the warmth of her breath fanning across his face. “And thank you for doing this.”

  He pulled his own reins and stopped himself from sipping any more of her nectar. “It’s my pleasure,” he whispered.

  As she settled back on her heels, her chin dipped until all he could see was the fluttering fringe of her lashes. “I mean it. I don’t know how many men—” her voice caught in her throat.

  Taking her by the chin, John tilted her face upward. “—would promise you a sordid affair?”

  Her dark gaze flitted from his eyes to his mouth. He could tell the wheels were turning in her head as she regarded him. “Right...that.”

  He didn’t get it exactly right though, did he? Something else hung in the air; something on the tip of her tongue. “Thank you,” she said for a final time before stepping away. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  “Sure.” John watched her walk around the corner. When the door in the other room closed, he realized how empty and lonely this glass building was. Earlier Victoria had mentioned the greenhouse�
�s calming effect. He doubted she could come back to this place without a vivid reminder of their passionate union. A few moments passed before John pulled on his jacket and made his exit. The cold October winds shocked him back to reality and forced him to continue his comparatively ordinary day.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Victoria glanced at her notes while she scribbled a portion of her lesson on the whiteboard. “Okay,” she said in a loud voice. “Now let’s talk about Frederick Douglass’s Narrative and its rhetorical prowess compared to... Harriet Beecher Stowe’s Uncle Tom’s Cabin.” Once she finished writing, she turned around and faced her students. Some of them furiously flipped through their textbooks, evidence they may not have read the night before. “Both of them are trying to address something, they’re trying to fix a huge social problem. Tell me what Douglass has that Stowe doesn’t?”

  Several hands flew up.

  “Hannah?”

  The young woman near the back of the classroom referred to her notebook before answering. “One obvious thing that separates them is Douglass’s firsthand knowledge. He was a slave on a plantation and he witnessed the horrors.”

  “Exactly,” Victoria said, jabbing her marker in the young woman’s direction. “We have a primary source of information that’s incredibly candid and, at points, gruesome. Someone tell me about Douglass’s writing style that drives his point home.”

  “The events are shocking,” said a young man near the door. “But they’re really detailed. Like, he’s cataloging the facts in a really clinical way.”

  Victoria nodded.

  “It’s like even though it happened to him, he has to take a step back and write it objectively,” said another student.

  “You’re both right,” Victoria replied, stepping away from the podium. She strolled down the center aisle of her class and addressed her students. “These horrors are catalogued, as Jeremy pointed out, in a way that would shock us. But as a writer, imagine sitting down to list all of the tragedy in your life... How do you do it? Is there a way to shut off part of your brain to write, or what?”