by A. C. Arthur
Jenise held his head tightly to her bosom, an action Savian adored. With her soft flesh surrounding his face, he inhaled the sweet scent of the soap she used, opening his mouth wider to gorge on her tender flesh. She didn’t whisper his name, but moaned with the pleasure she received from his ministrations. They didn’t talk much during sex, both of them too engrossed in the simple bliss of the act, Savian supposed.
With that in mind he reluctantly tore his mouth away from her generous breasts and shifted positions so that she was now lying on her stomach and he was straddling her. Today had been a particularly stressful day with the latest headlines and his cousin Dion calling an emergency meeting first thing tomorrow morning. Savian knew that he needed to unwind tonight. That’s why he’d left the office an hour early, sending Jenise a text message that he was on his way. Savian had known without a doubt that she’d be right here waiting for him, like a savior.
He ripped the nightgown away from her body, resigning himself to having to replace it later. Beneath him she’d made a sound but he was certain it wasn’t in dispute to his actions. Her fingers gripped the comforter and her head turned to the side. For endless moments Savian stared down at Jenise’s back, to the tattoo she had going down her spine. Each time he saw it, Savian was compelled to touch it, thinking long and hard on what it said and how close to his own way of thinking it was.
Alis Volat Propriis written in a swirling script font and surrounded on each end by a spread winged red robin. It was Latin for ‘she who flies with her own wings’. Savian’s fingers tingled as he grazed over the first robin, then slid gently down to touch the second. Jenise moaned. She always did. He enjoyed that sound, much more than he figured he should have.
Averting his hands and attention to the plump globes of her ass, Savian rubbed and squeezed until his erection grew harder and more painful. With a whispered curse, he moved back a bit until he could reach his pants that he’d thrown over the side of the chair. He wasn’t a fan of the way she had her furniture set up in here, but had to thank the heavens the chair and his pants were so convenient because he didn’t think he could wait another moment before sinking inside of her.
Seconds after he was sheathed Savian was between Jenise’s legs, loving the softness of her thick thighs, recalling how it felt to have them tightly tucked around him as he worked himself inside deeper. He lifted her hips from the bed, spreading her until he could watch the tender folds of her vagina open and then positioned himself right there. On a ragged moan from him and a blissful sigh from her, Savian pressed into her until he was buried to the hilt.
Jenise clutched the sheets even tighter as he began to move. Savian let his head fall back, eyes closed, his fingers gripping her by the waist as he pumped in and out. This was everything Savian needed to remain calm in the disastrous situation he found himself in. With each stroke he let go of a little more stress, relaxing into the damp warmth of her body.
The sound of his groin slapping rhythmically against the generous globes of her ass filled his ears and had tendrils of pleasure sliding down his spine. This felt so good. Here, inside of her felt so sublime, it almost felt…right.
Savian opened his eyes in that moment, hoping to get rid of that thought with a blast of reality. He was riding her from behind, a position he’d grown to favor with her because it gave him deeper access and because he enjoyed watching her ass as he took her. He was so completely inside of her now, enjoying how wet and eager for him she always was. She gave him so much and yet, at the same time, they both gave so little.
This was okay because there was nothing deep here, nothing beyond these moments of pure physical pleasure. He needed this release and so did she. While he was certain they both had pasts, that had shaped the adults they eventually became, he never offered any details of his and neither did Jenise. It was the first bit of equal footing Savian had discovered about them, all they concerned themselves with was the here and now.
For him, Jenise was the lawyer that was being paid to clear his name and the woman that was fulfilling a sexual need. Savian had no idea specifically what he was doing for her, besides the pleasure, and he refused to think beyond that point. It was simpler that way and would make for a cleaner break when the time came. It was what they both wanted, what they’d silently agreed upon. It was the way things had to be.
#
Things were getting out of hand.
Jenise knew it and still she closed her eyes again and let the feel of Savian so thick and hard and fully inside of her, take over. On impulse, she’d pulled away from him turning over and spreading her legs once again in welcome. She’d wanted to see him tonight. With her eyes wide open she saw his slight pause and then sighed with glee as he held his shaft at the base and guided his length to her waiting center once more. It felt so good when he began stroking in and out of her that she’d lifted her hands to cup her own breasts, loving the multiple spikes of pleasure shooting throughout her body.
The feel of him pushing her hands away from her breasts, his body leaning in closer so that while one of his hands took over kneading the now sensitive mounds, his mouth could minister to the other. He touched and kissed her breasts like he adored them. It was two-fold, she thought as her hands went to the back of his head, holding him in place as she arched her back.
Jenise was no stranger to good sex. She’d had lovers before and she knew how to give herself pleasure when need be. This wasn’t new. Well, on one hand it was. She’d never had an affair with a client, had never let that thought enter her mind. Long ago she’d sworn against such tricky situations that could end up disastrously, as they had before. She’d been so intent on that goal that no one, not one single man that she’d met in the eight years she’d been practicing law, the last one here in Miami, had even remotely appealed to her, on any personal level. Every date, every sex partner had been in a totally different career than her, and of the same mindset that the relationship was casual and could end at any time.
That was the way she preferred to operate. It was the way things had to be in her mind, to keep the last shreds of her sanity she had in place. This plan had worked for her, until three months ago, when Savian Donovan had walked into her office.
He’d looked at her as if there was nothing from her head to her toes that he liked or approved of. That was the first time she’d seen him. When he’d shown up in her office again, later that same day, she’d been surprised to see him. She’d been even more surprised about how that visit had ended.
They’d had sex in the lobby of her law firm—the only branch of Langley Law in Miami. The firm she was solely in charge of on a trial basis, against her parents’ wishes. She was just a woman after all and while it was commendable that she’d been the first Langley daughter to follow her father and grandfather into the field of law, the belief was still that she’d continue to work at the main branch of their firm in Chicago until she was married. Once she found the perfect husband, there would be no time for work. Children would come next because continuing the Langley bloodline was of utmost importance. It was the only thing her parents had ever really expected of her and her younger sister Morgan.
“You’ll both marry well,” Marianne Langley had told her daughters when they were teenagers. “You’ll make your father and me very proud.”
Jenise wanted them to be proud of her for graduating cum laude and receiving a BA in Sociology from the University of Chicago. While they were at it, they could also manage to feel some semblance of pride in the fact that she’d also graduated in the top five percent of her class at the University of Chicago Law School. She wanted them to acknowledge that she was just as good a lawyer as the men in their family and that she was doing the right thing by expanding the firm that her grandparents’ started on the heels of the Civil Rights Movement.
At the same time Jenise understood that approval might never come. She also knew that with or without it she planned to continue on, to create her own legacy if need be. To do that she had to
remain focused, and not get caught up the way she had before. Caught up and almost destroyed.
When Savian’s clever mouth moved down her torso, kissing her navel, as he’d pulled out of her and now stroked her clit until her thighs convulsed, she cried out in ecstasy. The foggy sense of floating through an abyss of pleasure comforted her and muddled the painful thoughts of her past so that they mixed with those of her reality. In seconds, her entire body was shaking, her fingers gripping the comforter once more as her release ripped through every pore of her body.
Her eyes were still closed but she knew he was watching her, knew he liked to watch her when she came. She’d looked at him one time, saw how intensely dark his eyes became. When she’d first met Savian and Parker Donovan she’d immediately noted the differences between these brothers. Parker was of a darker complexion and had an athletic build that wore his designer suits well. He was also the more laid back brother, the one who smiled and charmed. While Savian’s complexion was lighter, like perfect caramel, his build was broader, his suit custom-cut and made to accentuate how totally fine he was. Their eyes were startling but Jenise had recognized immediately that Parker’s were lighter and brasher against his dark skin. Savian’s on the other hand, while still green but filled with darker brown and gray flecks that made him look more ominous and to her chagrin, sexier, gave him a steadier, more intense look. When he watched her come, his eyes grew even darker, his mouth partially open, and body perfectly still.
At six feet, three and a half inches tall, he always looked down at her when they stood. Lying down, his sculpted body—thanks to the hours she now knew he spent working out—lay perfectly aligned with hers, flanking her with a sense of strength and power she’d never experienced before. Not that she needed to feel anyone’s strength or power, because she had enough of her own. Still, she had to admit she liked it. She liked it a lot.
He was, once again, turning her over, rubbing his hands over her ass as she came up on her knees and again arched her back. Even though she’d desperately wanted to see him take his pleasure this time, Jenise knew that Savian liked taking her from behind. He always ran his fingers up and down her spine, pressing his palm at the base of her back to see if he could get her to arch a little more. She also sensed that he liked looking at her tattoo, even though he never said a word about it since the first time he’d asked, “What’s this for?”
Apparently, he’d already known what it said and while she’d been a little surprised at that fact, Jenise had replied honestly, “It means I do what I want, not what is expected or demanded of me. My life. My choice.”
Savian had nodded his response as if he understood, even though he’d never said those words exactly.
She sighed when his fingers brushed slowly down her spine while his thick, hot length, poked persistently at her bottom. He found his target in no time, finally sinking into her waiting heat. Jenise could think of nothing else at this point—only the way he expertly stroked her, pulling out and then sinking in once more. It was a delicious sensation that rippled through her body like a fine wine after a long day’s work. No, it was so much better than that, so much more addicting.
That’s precisely what Jenise was afraid had been happening. She was becoming addicted to Savian Donovan.
He stilled over her at that moment. His fingers gripping her waist tightly. His moan came next, long and slow, as if the sound itself omitted some sort of relief. Very much needed and coveted relief, at that. Jenise’s eyes were wide open at this point, her gaze fixated on her headboard since she couldn’t see him. That was most likely his plan, she’d thought long ago, because this was how their sexual escapades always ended. No matter which position they started in, or the others they enjoyed throughout the session, it always ended this way. Savian would find his release from behind her. He would then pull slowly out of her and offer to help her to the bathroom.
There were no shared showers. No holding or cuddling. No words of endearment or promises of a next time.
Jenise knew the drill, and after a few seconds when she felt him moving off the bed, she moved as well. When she stood she was on the opposite side of her bed, looking up just in time to see Savian’s gloriously naked body standing at the chair where he’d dropped his clothes.
“You can have the bathroom first,” she offered this time, but knew he would decline.
“I’ll just use the guest one out here,” he said, dropping his clothes over his arm and ready to turn and walk out of the room.
“That’s fine,” she said. “I’ll be out in a moment.”
She moved a little faster than normal, wanting to get away from him sooner than she ever had before. Once she was in her bathroom with the door closed securely behind her, Jenise leaned against it. She closed her eyes and cursed softly.
She didn’t want to get away from Savian. What she really wanted was to lay in her bed curled in his arms and ask him how his day went. He was stressed, she could see it the moment he walked into her apartment. Then again, that had been Savian’s look since the first day he met her. Still, she knew the ongoing murder investigation was weighing heavily on him. It was her job, as his attorney, to assure him that she would take care of his legal troubles, and she was confident that she could. But there was more. In the past weeks she’d seen the worry in his eyes, the heaviness of his shoulders each time they were together. That was the real reason he was here tonight.
It was the reason every night he showed up.
She was his release, his safe haven so to speak. Jenise knew that and at first she hadn’t minded at all. As she preferred, Savian was good at the “friends with benefits” theme. He didn’t ask questions, didn’t give any unnecessary information and didn’t intrude. He requested her time, at the very least, hours in advance and whenever—which in the past weeks had grown even less frequently—she needed to reschedule or cancel, he’d been understanding. Their arrangement had been perfect.
It had been.
“I need to get going,” he’d said after a soft knock on the bathroom door.
Jenise had jerked away from the door for fear he’d somehow known she’d been standing there thinking about him and what she might be beginning to feel.
“Ah, oh okay,” she said grabbing her robe from the hook and hurriedly slipping it on. She opened the door to see him standing right there, completely dressed and ready to leave.
“Early meeting tomorrow,” he said, with his brow furrowed, his lips in a thin straight line.
“Is it something I can help with?” she asked, then immediately regretted the question as it went against every nuance of their arrangement. “I mean, is it about the case? Do you need me to speak with your family to give them an update on where the investigation is now?”
Circling back to their professional relationship, the one with the only true commitment, Jenise tied the belt at her waist tightly.
“No,” he replied immediately. “I can handle my family on my own.”
He could handle everything on his own, Jenise thought. He always did.
“That’s good,” she said with a curt nod.
They stood there for a few silent moments, the room still heavy with the scent of their sex—or was that her? Yes, she thought. She could still smell him on her skin and if she closed her eyes she would feel his hands and his mouth on her, just as it was so devilishly good only minutes before.
“It’s time for me to leave,” he announced, although he did not move.
Jenise cleared her throat and her mind of those pointless thoughts. There were never two times in one night, or one visit. Only one very potent and exceptionally pleasing encounter and then they went their separate ways. Every time.
“Yes,” she said, more quietly than she realized. “It is.”
Savian still did not move. In fact, he stood just a few feet away from her for so long Jenise had to fight the urge to close the space between them and initiate another interlude herself. That wasn’t what Savian wanted. It wasn’t wh
at they’d silently agreed upon. And so, with her mind still reeling with traitorous thoughts, she said, “Good night.”
Another few seconds and Savian was nodding. The light and perfectly barbered beard almost hiding that muscle that twitched on the left side of his jaw. She’d seen that before and had wanted to reach out and touch it, to possibly rub that bit of tension away. This time she thrust her hands into the pockets of her robe and gave him the smallest smile she could muster.
“Good night, Jenise,” Savian said finally, before turning and leaving her standing there.
He knew his way out. He would flip the latch on her door knob to lock it before closing and walking down the hall to the elevator. From there he would ride down to the garage where he’d parked his car two levels up. Jenise had no idea if Savian knew anyone else in this building, but since the first time that she’d invited him to come here, he’d insisted on parking on another floor so as to hopefully not be seen leaving her apartment or even coming from the floor where her apartment was located. It wouldn’t do for the press to find out about them sleeping together. Not the press, or his friends, or his family.
She was Savian Donovan’s secret. And he was hers.
Three months ago that had made perfect sense to her.
Now…her phone rang, thankfully jerking her away from those thoughts.
“Hello?” Jenise said into the phone after retrieving it from her nightstand.
“Well, hello,” her mother, Marianne Langley, replied. “It’s so nice to hear my daughter’s voice after so many weeks.”
Jenise closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to recalibrate her patience. This was always a required act when speaking to her mother, or her father, or one of her older brothers. It was only those calls received or made to her younger sister Morgan that had the relaxed and familiar tone that should be had with family.
