by Ivy Jordan
His eyes widened, obviously surprised that I delivered on my promise of a good homecooked meal. “Would you like a glass of wine?” I asked, moving into the kitchen.
The friction between my legs was stirring up more juices, and my body began to tingle with excitement. Elijah nodded unenthusiastically. “You don’t drink wine, do you?” I questioned, realizing he’d drank a whiskey at dinner the night we went out.
He smirked, shaking his head. “For you, I’d drink dirty bath water.”
“I think my dad had a hidden stash of whiskey in the pantry,” I smiled, motioning towards the small door in the kitchen.
Elijah didn’t hesitate to begin his search, and within seconds, he pulled a full bottle of Jack from the small storage room. “That’s more like it,” he announced, holding the bottle in the air like a trophy.
My dad was never a big drinker, but he always kept certain bottles in the house for when guests would stop by. He was a very gracious host, making him a popular guy on the small island. It must be where I’d gotten my good hostess skills, always wanting to please my guest.
I plated our meals while Elijah poured me a glass of wine, and himself a whiskey over ice. “You really didn’t have to go to all this trouble. I would’ve more than gladly taken you out,” he offered.
“I know,” I smirked, pushing his plate in front of him.
It was like I’d never reacted like a school girl after our night together; like he’d never received the shocking news of fatherhood. Our conversation flowed freely, easily, and it felt good to laugh, to see him laugh.
“I didn’t make any dessert,” I blurted, realizing I’d forgotten to pick up anything sweet.
Elijah’s eyes lay heavy on mine as his lips curled into a smirk. “I know where to find something sweet,” his tongue slid across his bottom lip.
Chapter Seventeen
Elijah
I hadn’t planned on coming on so strong, but something about Taylor brought out the beast in me. Her scent, her smile, her laugh, everything about her drove me wild.
She seemed a little anxious as my flirting crossed the line of tasteful to straight crude. “I’m sorry. I’m just flirting with you,” I apologized, hoping to ease her mind. I wasn’t going to leap on her, even though my cock was more than ready to feel her warmth crushing against it again.
“Let me help,” I offered, grabbing her plate as she scooted her chair from the table. She moved to the sink where I’d rinsed the plates and began filling it with warm water. I watched her squeeze the green liquid soap into the water, and then gently swish it until it bubbled. It was relaxing being with her. Something about her comforted me, and all I wanted to do was make her smile.
“I can do these later,” she urged, motioning for me to move away from the sink.
“I would like to help. You made an amazing meal. It’s the least I can do,” I pushed right back.
Her smile convinced me I’d made the right choice by not giving in so easily. I reached into the sudsy water, gripped the sponge, and began washing the first dishes I’d washed in at least ten years.
We refilled our glasses and moved to the living room where memories of her sweet flavor against my lips lingered in my mind. As she took the seat next to me, my cock twitched as I remembered how beautiful she was spread out before me with her robe flowing open, her tan skin begging for my touch, her sweet lips uttering such dirty phrases in her primal, passionate state. My God, I want to experience that again and again.
“Was there something you wanted to talk to me about the other day?” I asked, doing anything to keep my mind from its dirty thoughts, and the blood from rushing to my dick.
“There was, but it can wait. I knew you had enough going on,” she smiled so warmly I could feel my temperature rising.
“Yeah. I still haven’t decided what to do,” I admitted, unveiling the elephant in the room.
Taylor moved closer to me, her hand sliding into mine as her eyes offered support and comfort. “It’s a big decision,” she said softly.
“I just don’t want to mess the little girl’s life up. I mean, what if…” I stopped, swallowing hard to rid myself of the lump forming in my throat.
“You’re not your father, Elijah. You know everything he did wrong, so it should be easy for you to do everything right,” she smiled. Damn, everything she says always makes so much fuckin’ sense.
“You’re right. I just need more time to absorb it all,” I smiled, hoping the topic could change.
“How about I help relieve your stress a little,” she suggested.
My dick began to swell with anticipation. “Yes, please,” I responded with a smile and eager eyes.
Taylor’s hands reached towards me, gripping at my shoulders just as I was ready to lean in for a kiss. She began to squeeze and massage my tired muscles, something I wasn’t expecting, but appreciated after so much work on the old man’s house, my house. “Turn around,” she instructed.
I followed her orders, moving so she could reach my shoulders with less strain. My body reacted to her touch by melting like butter beneath her fingers. All the stress I’d been carrying magically disappeared, leaving only Taylor on my mind. I turned towards her, leaning in for a kiss quickly before she could decline. My mouth covered hers, my tongue spread her lips, entered her mouth, and stroked against her sweet, wine-drenched tongue with the same passion as our first kiss, maybe even more.
My hands moved to her hips, pulling her to me, onto me. She slid onto my lap; her legs straddled around me as our mouths locked together. I slid my fingers slowly up her arms to her shoulders, then down as I took her dress straps with me. Her breathing grew rapid as her bare breasts pushed against my chest.
I pulled back, having to see her, needing to see her. She was so beautiful, so perfect that it nearly ripped my heart from my chest just to look into her passion-filled eyes.
My mouth lowered onto her neck and traveled to her chest as her head fell back against her shoulders and sweet sighs of satisfaction escaped her red lips. My lips grazed her left nipple, and then her right, and then my warm breath teased her skin causing goose bumps to form around her areola. I hardened between her legs, my cock pushing against my jeans. Her hips rocked slowly back and forth, her silk panties grinding into my cock, creating a friction that made me growl with pleasure.
I clamped down on her right nipple, my teeth gently grazing it, pulling it ever so slightly from her breast. She moaned; my God, that beautiful fucking sound made me wild with desire.
My hands gripped around her waist, lifting her from my crotch and tossing her to her back on the couch beside me. My mouth immediately returned to her breast, sucking the sensitive flesh of her nipple between my lips, flicking it with my tongue as my hand moved between her legs.
Her silk panties were damp, clinging to her sweet pussy from the arousal I’d stirred in her. My finger pushed them aside, exploring the warmth of her pussy, playing in the slick of her arousal, and teasing her as she moaned and ground her hips towards me.
My mouth lifted from her breast, causing her back to arch, pushing her sweet tits towards me, and pleading for more attention. I had other things on my mind, other flavors I wanted to taste. I slid down the couch until my mouth rested between her legs. Her red silk panties pushed to the side, exposing the sweet pink flesh I craved. My fingers spread her open, inspecting her tight hole with my eyes, enjoying the sensation it gave my cock. My tongue flicked at her clit, pushing back the hood with my tongue to expose her sweet pearl. Fuck, she tasted so good. I couldn’t get enough of her sweet juices on my tongue as I buried inside of her, lapping up the arousal as quickly as it was created.
Her hands gripped my head, guiding my tongue along her slit to her swollen nubby pearl. “Just like that,” she whispered. Fuck, my dick was pushing against my jeans so hard it nearly ripped through the denim. Those sweet noises she made, the sexy commands, and the delicious juices she provided were overloading my senses, sending me into a state of
confusion where my heart began to swell and three words I never spoken to anyone rested on the tip of my tongue.
Her hips rocked in a steady motion, sliding my tongue along her opening, and then she thrust into my mouth, letting me bury my tongue deep inside of her to collect my sweet reward of her cum. “Suck my clit,” she gasped, pulling back on my head to guide me towards it.
I sucked it into my mouth, massaging it with my tongue as my finger slid deep inside her tight cunt. Contractions squeezed around me, pulling me deeper into her and causing her moans to grow louder. I sucked harder, tugging her swollen flesh with the same motion as I enjoyed my cock sucked, hard and slow. “Fuck,” her high-pitched squeal nearly brought me to climax in my pants.
Those three little words were about to fall from my tongue as she contracted around me, her body started twitching beneath me, and her cum flowed in a warm gush around my longest finger.
“I love…” she gasped, her breathing sporadic and her words pulling my attention, hopeful. “I love… your tongue,” she finished her sentence with not the words I’d hoped to hear.
Chapter Eighteen
Taylor
My body was trembling as I caught myself from the carnal sin of blurting out ‘I love you’ to the man who’d just made me come so hard I nearly forgot my name. That was a rule all women knew, well, learned at one point in their sexual lives. It was a mood killer, and in most cases, when used at the wrong time, a great way to lose a guy, for good.
Elijah wiped the glaze of my cum from his face as he stared at me with a strange expression. I had to pull myself back to reality just to ensure I hadn’t actually slipped and uttered the words. No, I hadn’t. Maybe he was just freaked out thinking I was going to say the words that would shrivel his dick behind his balls.
“I need to taste you,” I demanded, lifting myself up and quickly kneeling between his legs on the floor. My hands ravished his jeans, opening them in record time. He lifted from the couch, pushing the denim away from his body and unleashing his beautiful cock just inches from my face.
My hand reached out, gripping his shaft tightly. I slid up and down, pulling his skin with my motion hard enough to tug at his tight balls. My free hand cupped the warm pile of flesh, gently squeezing it while my mouth settled on the tip of his cock. My lips tightened, sucking the head of his cock with a fast rhythm, my hand keeping pace along his shaft. My head pushed down, taking more of him into my mouth as I worked saliva from my cheeks to slide him easily a bit deeper. My lips stretched around him, and my throat loosened as he tapped at the beginning of my throat.
Elijah’s hands caressed my back, his nails digging gently into my skin as I swallowed him down my tight throat, squeezing his balls and tugging with my hand with each stroke. “I don’t want to come,” he growled, his body beginning to tense, and his cock flexing against my cheeks. I wanted to taste him, to feel his warm cum slide down my throat, but it was obvious he wasn’t willing to give up the main event: fucking my pussy. I let him guide my mouth from him, his cock slapping from my mouth against his thigh. My pussy was already dripping, ready for him to deliver the few hard thrusts needed to bring me to another orgasmic ending. “Stay there,” he demanded, scooting up from the couch.
He pulled a condom from his jeans, sliding it on without any hesitation and moved behind me. His hands lifted my hips, pulling me to all fours. My panties pulled away from my pussy and traveled down my legs, and then to the floor as I lifted each knee for Elijah to uncover my body. He pushed my dress up around my hips, his hands caressed my backside, my ass cheeks, and then my pussy. I twitched from his touch, anxious to feel him inside of me again.
“Spread your legs,” he ordered as his hand pushed between my thighs. I obliged, opening myself up in a way I’d never experienced. I loved that he was enjoying my body, becoming aroused by my pink flesh now spread open before him. A finger ran between my ass cheeks, teasing my puckered hole as it made its way to my pussy. I was soaked with pleasure, my cum already dripping to my thigh as he teased me with the tip of his cock rested at my entrance. “You have the sweetest pussy,” he whispered in my ear, leaning in and pushing himself into my tight body. Moans rolled from my lips without my consent or my control as he thrust into me deep, and hard. His hands gripped my hips, holding me from moving as he plowed into me with such force his balls slapped into my clit, tugging at it from the sticky arousal clinging to his soft flesh. “Fuck me hard,” I begged, breaking free from his grip and grinding my hips into him, lifting my ass just enough to push his cock against my G-spot.
I was already close, so close I couldn’t stop my orgasm if I tried. He reached around my waist, his fingers walking past my belly button to my throbbing clit. He pressed into the flesh, rubbing with the same fast rhythm he plunged into me until I arched my back and tightened my legs around him with a quick rush of pleasure. My body shook, my legs trembled, and warm cum squirted from my body so violently it left me breathless.
Elijah held me close to him as my orgasm burst around his cock. Strong twitches pushed against the walls of my pussy, and then a deep grumble of his release sounded in my ear. Wow, just wow…
His weight fell onto me as I melted towards the couch and the floor. I could feel his heart racing as fast as mine, and his breathing hard and labored as we both worked to calm our bodies from the overwhelming arousal. “I’ve never felt so damn good,” he gasped, falling away from me, his worn-out cock sliding from between my legs. I hadn’t either, ever. I didn’t tell him that. I wanted to, but I was afraid if I spoke, those three little words would fall out of my lips.
Elijah gave my ass a playful smack as he moved towards the bathroom. “Can we get a shower?” he called out into the room.
“Yes,” I gasped, making it to my feet and following the sound of his voice to the bathroom.
The shower wasn’t exactly built for two. It was an old house, but we made it work. I’d never showered with anyone before, and something about it felt so intimate as he washed my back, slicked my wet hair from my face, and pulled me close to his hard chest. If I had my way, this would be the only way I showered from here on out, even with the cramped space and inconvenience of sharing the water.
After we’d dried off and dressed, we lounged on the couch together, not talking much, just enjoying each other’s company. I wanted to bring up Tommy, to ask him about his death, but I knew now wasn’t the right time. He wasn’t leaving for a few weeks, and if he decided to play a role as Bailey’s father, maybe he wouldn’t leave at all.
“You know, I think I’ll take some time off next week if you want to take me on that hike,” I declared.
Elijah looked down at me; his lips curled into the same crooked smile as Bailey’s at the store. “To Xander’s?” he asked, obviously surprised.
I nodded, and then tucked my head back under his arm and against his chest.
It would be fun to make the journey with Elijah, and maybe seeing Xander would make it easier to open up a discussion about Tommy.
Chapter Nineteen
Elijah
I laid sod where the water truck destroyed the yard, and planted a few flowers around the pool to spruce up the place. I thought about cutting down the tree in the front yard but decided that could be someone else’s problem. The outside of the house was looking good, like a home. My skin crawled at the thought of how easy it was, how little money and effort it took to make it so charming. It was beginning to look like a backyard that a kid would’ve loved to grow up in: one that I would’ve loved to grow up in.
It was unusually humid for a late January day in Molokai, with temperatures reaching to the high eighties. I was glad to be working inside and happy for the warm weather and hot sun to warm the pool water a little faster.
The living room was left just as I’d remembered it as a kid. The old couch with an orange-brown covering and two green chairs that looked like they came from a thrift store were still there, along with the TV with rabbit ears antennas, and a thick rug woven
with a mixture of earth tone colors. I carried the TV outside, setting it on the curb for the trash. I remembered how it blared late into the night, and sometimes all the way into the morning with heavy static when the programming would go off the air for the night. Dad, good ole dad, he’d pass out in front of it, lying on the couch with a beer in his hand, and if you dared to try to shut it off, he’d wake in a furious rage. I learned to sleep with the noise, and even now as an adult, I prefer to have some noise in the room or near my room in order to get a good night’s sleep. I chuckled at the irony. I hated the noise as a kid, and now…I have to have it.
The screen door barely hung on its hinges, and the screen was ripped right down the middle. I yanked it from the front door, carried it to the trash, and added that to my list.
I didn’t really want to buy new furniture, but I knew what was here just made the house look old. It needed to be removed so I could repair the hardwood floors anyway, so fuck it, out it goes.
The couch smelled of whiskey, beer, and a slight hint of urine. I nearly puked as I pulled it from the house, dragging it to the curb with the other furniture. The green chairs came next, and then the old wooden coffee table that was so sticky with years of spilled alcohol that it would need to be sanded down before used again. I didn’t have the energy to care for the items in my childhood home. It was easier to throw them away and buy new. I’d make this place look like a million bucks so some happy family could move in and turn it into a real home.
I strolled through the house, taking into account all the items that needed to be replaced. Getting the crap out was going to make it easier to work in here, painting, repairing floors, carpeting, and plumbing, but with each piece of furniture I moved out, it created an eerie feeling in my soul.
The only piece of furniture in the entire house left was my bed. I chuckled as I rolled my hand around the headboard post, feeling for the notches I’d made. I’d actually made real notches in my bedpost for each of my sexual encounters, conquests as I called them back then. My finger ran across one, two, three, and then four indents into the wood, made with a small pocket knife I hid under my mattress. I realized it didn’t seem as impressive as it had back then, just four girls, but in high school, on this small island, it was quite a feat.
