Kennedy got up and kissed him. She looked out of the limousine window. The city lights were sparkling. “Okay. Now that we’ve got that all cleared up, Mr. I’m Ready for the World, could you please tell me where we’re going? The last time I checked your house was on the Upper East Side, not headed toward the Midtown Tunnel.”
“Oh, that’s easy. We’re on our way to my favorite house. The other house, not my town house or the one on the West Side. I hope you don’t mind because I’d like it if we became even more familiar. I trust you, believe me, I do. Not to flatter you, but I’ve never taken a woman to where we’re going. This house has always been my private domain. You’ll see why. Now relax and sit your feet on my lap. It’s going to be a long ride.”
As Michael rubbed Kennedy’s feet, she smiled. She was surprised that he knew more about her than she thought. That was all she needed to hear. Time to open up the shades and let the sunshine in. She could be herself.
The limo slowed as it approached Michael’s house in the Hamptons. Tucked behind tall trees with a manicured lawn decorated with perfectly groomed hedges, the brick house seemed to be mostly made of windows. Damn, she thought, I lucked up this time. From the outside the house was beautiful. Tinted double glass front doors stood out from behind six white stone pillars, surrounded by an arc of windows that allowed her a glimpse of the foyer. A white-paned two-story window showed off a baby grand piano on one side. A semi-circular staircase showed through the other. She knew from Michael’s excellent taste that the inside would be impeccable. As just about any woman would, she could imagine herself living there.
The driver delivered the bags to the front porch and almost strategically placed them between the six pillars. Michael unlocked the door, and she knew that she was at home just from the sense of peace she felt from the warmth of the earth tones that greeted her when she stepped inside.
“Baby, your house is beautiful.”
“Come on in, mi casa es su casa,” Michael said in bad Spanish.
His house looked like something out of a magazine. The terra-cotta marble foyer had muted sage green walls with terra-cotta and beige stripes and was as big as a two-car garage. To the left of the foyer was a beautiful cherry-wood staircase with gold leaf engravings. Kennedy turned around and acted like she wasn’t impressed until she saw the white baby-grand piano sitting in the opposite room. Forgetting her composure, she walked to it and fingered the keys.
“Do you play?” Michael leaned against the piano.
“A little. Not as much as I’d like.” Kennedy got up and walked out of the room. “So what’s next? You’re giving me the grand tour, right?”
“No, that’s reserved for guests. You aren’t a guest, you’re home.” Michael winked and rubbed her back as she walked toward the rear of the house.
Kennedy went straight to the kitchen, intentionally passing a few rooms. She would see them when alone. The house was eye candy for her and she didn’t want him to know how excited she felt. Hell yes, she was home, even if the house wasn’t hers. It would be one day, and she knew it.
“Michael, this house is fab—that means it’s very nice. It’s beautiful. I didn’t know a brotha could live like this and still be considered a brotha.” Kennedy laughed and playfully nudged Michael with her elbow. “No, I’m only kidding. I’ve seen places like this, just not this close to the city and I’ve only been inside one once. I don’t know why you choose to live in the city instead of out here. But there’s something missing, it just doesn’t feel like home. You need paintings, rugs, and other little things that make a house feel like a home. Since I’m here for the weekend, I’ll take the liberty of handling all of that for you tomorrow. You don’t mind, do you?”
Michael grabbed Kennedy’s chin and kissed her forehead, nose, and then her lips. He gazed into her eyes. “That’s precisely what I like about you. Many others have seen my house, relatives you know, and no one has come out and told me what it needs. But you, you pull no punches. Make yourself at home and do whatever you like, but just to clear things up, I do have a picture of you over the fireplace in the den. It’s from the time when we were at Tavern on the Green and I took it upon myself to have it oil painted, I hope you don’t mind.”
Kennedy breathed deeply and put her hand to her chest. No one had ever made her feel so special. Once again she was overwhelmed by this man. She closed her eyes and said a silent prayer of thanks because Michael had to be a godsend.
Michael left for the grocery store. She had given him a list, because if she didn’t get the chance to do anything else, she was going to cook for him. Big Ma, her father’s mother, had taught her how to cook and she liked to show off her Southern skills. She could turn a vegetarian into a meat lover. And besides, since he had shown her before that he liked to eat, she would give him his dinner and his dessert. Anybody who could taste her the way he did had to also like to eat food. She smiled, thinking of how his face seemed so at home between her legs. The way his tongue opened her door and entered as if it lived there. Come on in, she thought and laughed.
She went to the master bedroom to unpack. No need to feel like a guest living out of bags. She dropped her shoe and it rolled under the bed. On her knees looking for it, she noticed a brand-new big tube of K-Y jelly on the floor just under the bed. She left it there. Michael was a bigger freak than he led her to believe. She smiled.
She sat on the bed and bounced. She nodded, satisfied with the quality of the mattress. Running her hands on the chenille comforter, she licked her lips and sighed deeply. Her heart fluttered. She and Michael could do a lot of damage here, she thought.
She went into the adjoining sitting room and smiled at the barely there décor. A cream damask sofa sat opposite a matching chaise. Poor Michael. He had a beautiful house and didn’t know how to furnish it. In the midst of her snooping she was startled by a noise downstairs, and jumped. She tripped over her own feet and laughed, catching her balance she fell against the wall and heard a click. The fireplace came on, then the television that hung just above it. She clicked the switches off and wiped the sweat from her forehead. Her heart was racing.
“Kennedy, I’m home.”
“I’m upstairs, I’ll be down in a minute,” she said, gathering her composure.
Kennedy glided down the stairs in her gold chemise set, which complemented her skin tone. The silk made her look as elegant as ever. Since Michael was as unfamiliar with a grocery store as most men, she had had time to unpack, shower, and change. With a little loose powder, lip gloss, and a couple of dabs of Chanel perfume, she was all set. She knew she was a sight to behold because not only did she look sexy, she felt sexy.
Michael’s eyes twinkled as he licked his lips and rubbed his hands together. “Um um um, don’t we look nice. Are you sure you’ll be able to cook in that?”
Kennedy spun around and bowed, taking in the compliment. “Of course. I see that you’re not very familiar with the grocery store because it took you a while. But that’s okay because I needed to shower and change.”
“Sorry, sweetheart, but I am very, very familiar with the grocery store. Before college I went to culinary school and when I was in college I made my living as a chef. I bet you didn’t know that, did you?” Michael grabbed an onion and peeled it. “The reason that I took so long is because I needed to stop at the liquor store and pick up some champagne because I don’t have any in the wine cellar, and I had to pick up a little something for you. It’s a surprise and I’m afraid that you’ll have to wait until after dinner.”
Kennedy eased between Michael and the kitchen counter, making sure to rub her lower body against his. “Michael, can I please have my surprise now? If you give it to me now, I promise that you won’t be sorry—”
Michael stepped back. “No how, no way. Some things are worth waiting for. I waited for you all my life and I don’t regret it. Hopefully you won’t regret your surprise. It’s nothing really, but it’s something that I wanted you to have.”
A
fter Michael cooked a delicious dinner of chicken smothered in gravy and onions, collard greens, baked macaroni and cheese, sweet potatoes, and corn bread, Michael and Kennedy retired to the master bedroom, where Michael lit the fire. Kennedy admired the outline of his muscles through his open silk pajama shirt. She ran her eyes down to the matching silk bottoms. He looked such the gentleman.
“Michael, you look so nice,” she whispered as he led her outside the master bedroom’s double doors which connected to the veranda.
“Shh. Don’t say a word, I just want to look at you and admire you. Kennedy, a woman has never made me feel this way. I crave you and for the longest time I’ve lusted for you. But all that can wait. We have all weekend, baby, and I don’t want to rush it.”
Kennedy stood behind him. On her toes, she rubbed her hands over his shoulders then inside of his shirt. She caressed his chest and licked his earlobe. “Oh, believe me, you’re not rushing it or me. I’ve wanted to make love to you from day one. The only reason I didn’t is because I have too much respect for myself. Not to say that I wouldn’t have, but I had to make sure that you would respect me the same. And four months is more than enough time, wouldn’t you say?”
Michael turned and held her hands. He was silent for a moment. “I agree that four months is enough time for us to figure out what we really want. But still, I want us to take our time and do it right. You must first understand that although I want you, I don’t want to ruin it. You are so much more than just a piece to me and I want to savor every moment. Kennedy, I consider you to be marriage material—”
Kennedy removed her hands from his. She leaned against the rail and looked out at the water. She was disappointed. Michael had always been respectful, now he was too respectful. Tonight she didn’t need a gentleman. She wanted a gentle man. Gentle in bed. She sucked her teeth.
“Kennedy, did I say something wrong?”
Kennedy tilted her head. “No. Well, I take that back,” she said, turning to face him, “you did say something wrong. Why do you always put me off? Every time I make an advance, you find a way to get out of it. Something isn’t right, Michael. I just find it strange that your reason for not making love to me is because you respect me too much. If that’s the case, why don’t you have a problem with doing me? Every time I look down between my legs, there’s your face.” Kennedy rolled her eyes and huffed.
Michael smiled. “Are you serious? Do I do it that much?”
Kennedy rolled her eyes and nodded. “I’m not finding humor in this conversation, Michael.”
Michael hugged her. “I’m sorry. I try to control myself, I really do. But you are just so damn irresistible. Believe me, you can’t understand how hard it is for me to keep my hands off you. Please don’t think that I don’t want you. I do . . . all the time. I just try to be respectful because I want to keep you. It’s childish, but it was my way of making you want me more. I wanted to make love to your mind and heart first.”
Kennedy held back a smile. It was hard for her to be mad at him. “You’re right, it is childish. I have a daughter at home. If I want to play games, I can do it with her.” Kennedy crossed her arms over her chest.
Michael cupped her chin in his hands. “I told you. I told you, you’re wife material. Not only are you smart and sexy, you are so much more than even you know. I like that you don’t play games . . . not with your life, not with this,” he said, pointing to her heart. “You are after something in life and that’s very important to me. You have goals. A bachelor’s degree wasn’t enough for you, you had to have your master’s and you’re in the process of getting that. You’ve been in relationships before with men who were well off and you didn’t try to trap them with a baby as a lot of women these days do. And you have met me—a man of considerable wealth and social standing—yet you don’t see just that and you don’t succumb to it, but instead, you stand your ground and you don’t bite your tongue. You couldn’t care less about my money, but about the way that I treat you. And to top it all off, you aren’t easy or too difficult. You’re just right. I don’t think that you realize your value.”
Kennedy walked into the house and sat by the fire. How could she be mad at him after all of that? She couldn’t. Michael sat beside her and traced his finger along her jaw. She felt a tingle.
“Michael, don’t underestimate me, I do know my value. It’s not that I don’t know it, I just know what I want, and what I want is you. I want for you and me to be together mentally, emotionally, and physically—you know, sexually.”
“I know, Kennedy, and that’s the reason I got you a gift. Like I said, it’s nothing big, but it means a lot to me because I’ve never given anyone something like this before, not even my mother, and believe me when I tell you that she wants for nothing, not anymore anyway.”
“Just give it to me and stop teasing me. You know that I’ve been waiting all night and I can’t take it anymore. It’s bad enough that you keep making me wait for other things.”
“Okay, since you insist, Ms. Kennedy. But first let’s have a glass of wine. You make the toast.”
“To the future and everything it brings . . . good or bad. Because I know that you and I together can do anything, overcome all things, achieve everything, and one day, love, as we never have. Salut.”
“Salut. And for that, your personalized toast, as I thought, you do deserve this gift, a small token of my appreciation. I was right about you, I knew that I was.” Michael handed her a small box.
For a moment Kennedy held the small velvet box. It was too big to hold a ring and too small to hold a watch. She had received many gifts in her time and this was one she didn’t recognize. Although she wanted it and was eager for it, she was somewhat hesitant to open it. Finally she did. Inside lay two keys and a piece of paper with five numbers on it. At first she thought she knew what it was, but then the numbers threw her off.
“What is this, Michael?”
“What does it look like, baby?”
“Keys and a piece of paper.”
“Keys to this house and the alarm code,” Michael explained.
“Oh my God.” She laughed. “You threw me off. I thought I knew what the keys were for, but I assumed that they were for your Manhattan town house, but the numbers didn’t ring a bell because my alarm code for my apartment only has four numbers. Nevertheless, I’m surprised. Are you sure about this?”
Michael knelt and rubbed her thigh. “Yes, I’m sure. No woman has made me feel this way and you seem to love this house just as much as I do. You even went so far as to make plans to make it more comfortable. And I don’t see why you should make it comfortable just for my benefit. You may come here whenever you like, with or without me. Me casa es su casa, remember? And the only thing that makes it seem as beautiful as you say it is, is your eyes. Kennedy, I truly want you to be a part of me and everything I do.”
Kennedy kissed him. She couldn’t believe it, and yet she knew enough not to be a fool and play coy. Hell, getting house keys before giving up the you-know-what was unusual. Please, even after that. Usually men asked for too much, they wanted too much. She was going to put it on Michael. Maybe he was ready for it all. No man had ever given her keys, even if it wasn’t to his main residence. But then again she didn’t really know how much time he spent in the Hamptons. At least he showed her that he wanted her.
While Michael kissed her he made his way down to her breasts. She stopped him and sank to her knees, pulling down his silk pajama pants and boxers. He knew she was quick with her tongue. Now, she was ready to show him what else she could do with it.
She pushed him on the bed and grabbed her glass of wine. Looking at him, she licked, then seductively chewed her bottom lip, carefully pouring wine on Michael’s chest and his stomach. She eased on top of him and began licking it off. She licked down to his navel and paused. She stuck her tongue in the deepness and slurped out the wine. Michael reached down and caressed her breasts, and she moaned. She gently grabbed his penis and moved her
hand in an up-down motion and kissed it. She could feel Michael arch his back as she put it in her mouth. She looked up, and their eyes locked. He put his hand on her bobbing head, as she took in as much of him as she could.
Michael trembled, flipped her over, and stood. He picked her up and rested her thighs on his shoulders. He buried his face between her legs and licked, sucked, and licked some more. Kennedy put her hands on his shoulders and thrust herself forward. She shivered and felt her body drop.
Her ankles were on Michael’s shoulders while one of his hands supported her back. Oh God—standing up. She wiggled as his penis parted her. Rubbing it up and down, Michael teased her. She wanted it badly and felt herself throb and melt. He worked his way inside and stayed until Kennedy climaxed over and over.
* * *
“Hello, Miranda! Girl, what’s up? You’ll never believe where I’m at—”
“So I see you made it,” Miranda said.
“What’s wrong with you, girl? Spit it out and you’ll feel better. And don’t dare lie, I can hear it in your voice.” Kennedy was surprised by Miranda’s tone. Miranda usually didn’t have too many things to be upset about, unless of course she was on her period. That was when she was guaranteed to be a miserable and cranky bitch. But all in all she was like a sister, at times more so than Simone.
“Look, Kennedy—” Miranda began to cry as she spoke. “I’m having the most terrible day of my life. No, let me rephrase that, I am having the most fucked-up day of my life and I really don’t feel up to talking right now—”
“Uh-uh, honey, you’re going to talk about it. And you’re going to talk about it to me. You know I’m the closest thing to family you have. I’ll be over there as soon as I can. It depends on how crowded the Long Island Expressway is and since it’s Sunday it might take a little while.” Miranda not wanting to talk, it must be serious. The teeth tapper of the year, Miranda’s mouth was always moving, even when she was asleep. But no one would ever know because outside of their private circle she was as quiet as a fugitive on the run from the feds.
Momma's Baby, Daddy's Maybe Page 7
