by M. Mabie
“Thank you, it was a gift,” I explained, but my mother, the secret keeper already knew.
My brothers and I gave my parents the present we’d planned to give at the party, a trip to Vancouver. It was a wonderful night. We drank champagne and laughed.
“Would you like to see our dessert menu tonight?” the server asked as we were winding down. I wanted dessert, but I was stuffed. Plus, I wanted to get home and celebrate our milestone in private.
“Boys, do you want anything? We’re fine,” my mom said.
“No, I’m good,” Shane answered, rubbing his stomach.
“No, thank you,” added Reggie.
“Well, what about us?” I asked. What if we wanted some?
“I have your dessert right here,” my mom told me as she picked up a little brown bag she’d kept hidden between her and my dad. “Casey got this for you, but forgot it at our house.”
I looked back and forth between them. They were together. I hadn’t imagined it.
Then, like she’d said something wrong, she clarified. “Your dad needed help with something earlier and Casey swung by.”
Fibber.
“Thanks for bringing it,” he crooned.
“Well, if that’ll be all, you’re all settled up. I’ll be back with your receipt, Mr. Moore,” the waitress explained as she walked off. He surprised us all with that one.
“Happy anniversary. I hope we’re as happy together as you are.” He tipped his chin admiringly to my parents as he got up. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, I’ve got a long day tomorrow. I hope you don’t mind if we head out?”
“Thank you, son,” my dad replied, and nobody made a big deal of it, but my heart squeezed as my dad grinned at the man who made my world spin.
My love for him would only grow and mature and that wasn’t a promise. It was a privilege.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
IT WAS A HUGE privilege to see the pride my girl had at dinner. Her head held as high as her spirits.
“So what’s in the bag, roomie?” she asked from the passenger seat on the drive back to the apartment.
“Your dessert,” I said as nonchalantly as I could. I loved that she hadn’t opened the bag. However, she had to know. I could smell it through the paper sack since her mother handed it to her.
We’d had a great night, aside from the episode when we first arrived at the restaurant. The look on her face when I’d touched her arm had turned my hot blood into ice in my veins. I never wanted her to look at me like that again. Ever.
Pure fear. Panic.
Since she’d told me about what he did to her, I should have known not to grab her, no matter what. I hadn’t been rough with her, or even aggressive, but I knew now there were triggers that would probably pop up over time. Aside from talking to Dr. Rex about it, I would have to be even more careful with her.
I could do better. Even though she was on the mend and I had no intention of causing her discomfort, I had. Clearly, there was still a lot of healing left to do. And I’d help her do it one inch at a time. It would be my pleasure—my mission—to erase what I could of that night from her memory. I didn’t want my touch to ever frighten her.
How could a woman who was so strong, be so fragile at the same time? I guess we all were.
Those were thoughts for another time because in the car she was smiling and enjoying the night. It was time for celebration. For firsts. For good things.
“I know what’s in there. It’s all mine,” Blake teased. “This reminds me of something.” Then she giggled, thinking about the first time we’d shared cheesecake.
“I kind of remember winning a piece away from you last time.”
“Mr. Moore, I’d love a rematch. I feel like I’m better prepared this time.”
“So you still like Quadruple Chocolate? I thought you might be on to something else by now.” Animated and carefree, she knew what she was getting into. I loved our games.
“Lou, I know a good thing when I see it. I absolutely still love Quadruple Chocolate, and I’m prepared to defend both of my pieces this time.” She got as close as her seatbelt would allow and whispered in my ear, “And I’m very hungry.”
Oh, fuck. My cock loved that. Time proved that my girl’s dirty talk was improving.
Focus on driving, Casey. Focus.
The last thing I wanted to do was cause an accident. I needed to get her home safely, inside of her bed. Nothing was more important than her safety, but a close second was getting my cock there safely, and then getting it inside of her.
Safety first.
It was apparent she had no care for my cock’s safety whatsoever, because when her hand traced the bulge in my pants, I damn near killed us all.
“I love your enthusiasm, Blake, and I look forward to the challenge, but if you don’t leave my dick alone, I’ll be forced to pull this car over.” I stopped at a red light and turned my head just enough to feel her breath on my lips. “And if I fuck you in this car, your precious cheesecake may not survive.”
She laughed and put her head on my shoulder, thankfully letting me drive her—and my defenseless penis—home. However, the little shit continued to talk smack.
How had I managed to find a woman who was as ornery as me?
“All right, Mr. Moore, I see what you’re doing. You’re afraid of my A-game and you need time to get your defense in line.” She patted my leg. “But when the front door shuts, you better be prepared. I want that chocolate and I want it bad.”
I didn’t drive recklessly, per se. But I was only using the speed limits as a guideline. I’d learned my way around her neighborhood. The drive back was short.
She looked like an angel, but I didn’t miss the extra sway of her ass as she sauntered to the door, not waiting for me. One hand held the bag; the other held the key, which she’d had ready three blocks back.
Oh, my fucking God. She was perfect and she really loved that damn chocolate cheesecake. It was almost a shame to move her away from it. Almost.
I’m sure San Francisco had something to rival it. First thing on the list when we got settled in: find it. Every man needs to know his woman’s weakness.
Quadruple Chocolate was hers. She was mine. You do the math.
The door was open by the time I made it around the car. She stood holding it for me in that sexy-as-fuck half-librarian, half-vixen dress, as I walked through the threshold. She shut it behind me and I heard the lock click.
I loosened my tie.
It was about to get real. Real hot. Real intense. And real fun.
Blake walked past me into the kitchen and promptly put the whole bag in the refrigerator.
“We don’t want it to spoil. This might take a while,” she said, her voice thick with need. Hell, I hoped some of that need belonged to me and not just the cheesecake. It didn’t really matter. I’d fly that shit south every week for this kind of attention.
Her fingers went to work on the buttons on the front of her dress. My fingers itched to do it for her, but my eyes loved the show.
“You see, I’ve been craving something, Casey. In fact, just thinking about it is making my mouth water.”
I kicked off my shoes and she fought off a smile, doing her best to stay in seductress mode. I stepped toward her. It was going to be a showdown at the Cheesecake-sex Corral.
“Blake, there are just too many things I could say right now. You talk a good game, but talk is cheap.” When I got to the hall, I walked backward toward her room. Stripping as I went. Her eyes followed my hands as they mirrored hers, button for button. I slipped the shirt off, but chose to leave the tie. You know. Something new. Throw her off.
She pulled her dress over her head, careful not to strain the still tender muscles.
That’s it, honeybee, take it all off. Let me see that fucking body.
I was familiar with her in the nude, but seeing her in the white lace bra and panties she wore about stopped my heart. She looked flawless. Her lips were still plum and shiny fro
m the gloss she’d reapplied earlier. Her chestnut brown hair fell perfectly across her shoulders. I wished I had a camera.
Then she admitted, “I wish I had a picture of you wearing just those pants and that tie.” I bit back the laugh rising in my throat from our almost identical thoughts. Those moments always caught me off guard. Sometimes it was like she read my mind. My dirty, filthy, heathen mind.
She stalked toward me. Oh, hell was I lucky.
I sat on the bed and waited for her. I wanted her to climb on top of me and earn that dessert, but she had other ideas. Tossing a pillow from the bed on the floor, she knelt in front of my parted legs. I leaned back on one elbow and ran a hand through her hair. I loved when she was playful like this.
As she worked at my pants, I said, “Thank you for moving in with me. You make me so fucking happy.” It was odd in the moment; we had this whole sex battle brewing, but I meant it. I had to get it off my chest, and I really wanted her to know.
“You’re welcome,” she said concentrating on my briefs. I lifted for her to pull them down. I was about to get a blow job—probably a damn good one at that—but suddenly my heart was feeling something else. Then she looked up at me, big brown eyes, nose flushed my favorite pink and added, “But sweet talk and jewelry aren’t going to get you a piece of that cake, Casey. Now tell me what you want me to do with your cock.” Her hand slid up the skin of my shaft and back down.
I was at a loss. My heart was somewhere, clambering on about mushy love stuff in my chest, but you know what? I could barely hear that fucker anymore. It was drowned out by my dick saying, “Tell her to suck me! Tell her right now, you jackass!”
I coughed as I watched her tongue sneak out and dip low behind my manhood. She never broke eye contact as she licked up the length of me. The sight of her opening up and slipping me into her mouth was the best thing I’d ever seen in my life. That record was quickly shattered by the closely followed maneuver of her taking every inch of me down to the base—eyes still on me, mind you—and she shook her dirty head while she moaned.
My balls went into production mode and tightened. They knew they’d be working third shift that night.
I still hadn’t said anything. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t blink. The dick-sucking spectacle had paralyzed me from my penis out to every limb. I’m not kidding. I could only feel my cock and her mouth. Up and down she went. Sliding over every ridge, swirling her tongue around me when she topped my head. Her hands finding purchase where her mouth left a wet absence. She was unmerciful.
My stomach quaked and tensed.
She lifted her head up and pulled mine down with the tie, bringing our mouths close. Then whispered, “If you don’t want me to eat all that cake, you better fill me up. Don’t make me wait. I’m hungry.”
Then the minx went back down on me. Licking. Sucking. Running her teeth lightly over the command post for every nerve in my body. With her free hand she placed my palm behind her neck and then she took me all in. She pulled on the tie and I held on to her without applying any pressure. I let her run the show. Fuck, she was doing just fine.
She moaned as I twitched between her beautiful lips. My body tensing as I felt come inch its way up my dick and into her hot mouth.
“Ah-ah,” I breathed. My legs flexed and I came up off the bed, Blake still sucking every ounce I had to give. “Oh, God. Jesus. God.” It was the most religious cheesecake sex war experience of my life. Sure, it was only my second cheesecake sex war, but that would be hard to top. She was a fierce opponent.
Her grip loosened on the tie and she pulled away from me wiping her open, sinful lips with her thumb.
I’d need a moment before my empire was ready to strike back, and mark my words it was going to strike. Hard.
I helped her up and kissed her. There is much to be said about kissing a woman so shortly after she’s ingested—to my estimation on feelings alone, nothing short of three gallons of come, going on pure pleasure alone—but I didn’t give a fuck. She was the sexiest thing I’d ever witnessed. Eyes red and a little glassy, cheeks flushed the same pink as the center of her face. Lips swollen and wet.
I laid her down and all the play was gone from her expression. There was only lust and me in her eyes. The game was probably over, but there was no way in hell it was a forfeit. I’d play her body until the buzzer.
I kissed her stomach and noticed her bra was the clip-in-front kind. She knew I liked those. I swirled my tongue around her navel and freed her breasts without even looking. I filled my mouth with her left breast as I moved between her legs.
I painted her with kisses. Her neck. Her chest.
I propped myself above her with one hand and my other found her damp panties. I gave them a little tug and her mouth fell open. I filled it with mine, then slipped my fingers under the wet silk she had between her legs.
She was shaved, all but a little patch at the top. I really liked that, and my recovering dick unquestionably loved it.
As much as I wanted her, as much as I needed her, I had to be careful and take my time.
It was always marvelous watching her body respond to me. Seeing how it conceded to my touch. With only one finger touching her clit, ever so lightly, I stroked her like that until she was almost bucking.
Patience, honeybee.
Although, I was a terrible example of patience. I blew my load before the sheets were warm.
They were warm now.
I teased her with my hand over and over, bringing her just to the point of madness. Then I’d back off just enough to keep her at bay. She wasn’t the only greedy one in our bed that night. I wanted to taste her and feel her come on my tongue just as she had me. I leaned away and pulled her delicate underwear off, and my lips found their way to her sex.
She was sweet and already so close. Her flesh plump and ripe for me. Selfishly, I wouldn’t make her wait much longer because I was greedy for her pleasure.
It didn’t take her long.
A long lick up her center. A flutter at her clit. Two fingers coaxing her orgasm from the inside out. Then she was there.
“Casey,” she panted. “Casey. Yes. Yes.” Followed by the most ego-stroking moans a man could dream of.
It was a beautiful thing, the female anatomy. Where I needed a few minutes to recuperate, she had the ability and luxury of blissfully going and going. My hand never left her until I was positioned at her opening. Even then, I slid my thumb over her pulsing clit as I slowly sunk inside.
I looked down at her, the sweat gathered at her hairline, how the rose color had spread outward from her nose to every surface of her skin. Pink everywhere. Her eyes were focused on mine, but in a dreamy way. The look was both at me and through me at the same time. Maybe she was looking deeper. Maybe she could see all the way inside.
I kissed her forehead and pushed a hand under the pillow beneath her head. Our bodies did the rest on their own.
The friction.
The grind.
The hold we had on each other.
Our breathing paired just like the rest of us. In and out. In and out.
Until we both came again. Her hands clutching my hair. My face buried in her neck. And long after we were finished, we still lay like that, joined like prize-winning Siamese cheesecake sex-war fighters.
“You get two pieces,” I mumbled into her hair.
“No, I’ll share one,” she relented, still out of breath.
“Okay, you have to go get them though, because I’m dead.” I rolled over and pulled out of her. “My legs don’t work.”
She laughed, a most satisfied sound.
My dick considered round three.
I most certainly noted the weeble in her wobble as she padded off toward the kitchen. She wasn’t running at maximum capacity either.
Game well played, Casey.
Then I heard her shout, “You fucker, there are four in here!” And I laughed until it hurt.
I was learning, and even though there were going to be rough pa
tches, through sorrow and joy, we’d always be like this. We’d always be Betty and Lou.
Monday, June 29, 2010
SAN FRANCISCO WAS GOING to be home base and surprisingly, it made me feel much more at ease. Relaxed. It felt like home. Like where Betty and Lou belonged.
Together, over the summer and even before my divorce, we’d started replacing some of his mom’s decorations with art and pictures we’d chosen. It hadn’t felt odd that way. Doing a little here and a little there. I think even then we both knew we wanted to be in that house.
That afternoon, while Casey was on a bike ride, I decided to begin going through Deb’s bedroom. Casey told me he’d always planned on going through his mom’s room and packing things up he wanted to keep and bagging up items that could be donated, but never got around to it. I knew it wasn’t an easy thing for him. How could it be?
He’d asked for help with it before, but for some reason that day it was calling to me. The room smelled different than the rest of the house. It was sweet and inviting, not that the home wasn’t, but it smelled like a mom, the faint hint of what was probably her favorite perfume still lingering from the uncapped bottle on her dresser. It wasn’t my kind of scent, but it was lovely and made me think of roses, which I knew she loved by the sheer population of them in her yard.
I bet being there, with all of her treasures and things that were totally her, made him miss his mother even more.
I brought in a few bags and a plastic tote to sort out what should stay and what could go. Ultimately, Casey and Cory would make sure I hadn’t thrown out anything sentimental, but I had free rein to clear the room.
Her dresser drawers were orderly and everything had its place. Some things, I didn’t even think twice about pitching, while other things, if I had any inkling it may be important, I’d put aside for their decision.
I opened up the closet, where many of her things were already packed and sorted, then lugged box after box to the basement. The few that were labeled pictures of the boys I opened and rummaged through.
She was a wonderful mom. It was obvious. I thumbed past years and birthdays, holidays and vacations. So many good memories she must have had.
