"No.” Her voice was breathy. “I was almost finished anyway."
His eyes lifted, piercing her. “Let me bathe you."
A cord of heat shot through her body from her heart to her vagina. Her knee shot up in reaction, squeezing her sex muscles tight.
His brow lifted at her continued silence. “Can I take that as a yes?"
Claire swallowed and managed to nod her head.
Russell took his eyes from her briefly to light a couple candles on the shelf against the wall. The flickering atmosphere turned seductive.
Russell knelt beside the tub with slow care. Her heart pounded. When his long muscled arm reached across her, she stiffened. But he didn't touch her. He turned on the water for a gentle stream into her bath water. He pursed his lips in reprimand. “Believe me, Claire. This only goes as far as you want it to. When you say stop, I'll stop."
She nodded, forcing her muscles to unclench. But she didn't lean back. Russell stood up, reaching for the shower head attached to a long silver tube. Standing over her, Claire focused on his lean hips where the scrubs rode low and the white tank pulled free, baring the place where his stomach met his groin. An inch more and she'd be looking at his goodies.
Too soon, he returned to the floor with the shower head in his hand. He used one finger to flip the control that diverted the water from the tub faucet to the shower spray. He flicked a quick spray at her chest. Claire recoiled, but giggled.
"You have a beautiful body, Claire.” His lids drifted half shut. He sprayed each part as he named it. “Your throat. Shoulders. Arms. Fingers. Knees.” He used his other hand to hook one knee out of the water. Claire relished the feel of his strong fingers in the bend behind her knee. It was gone too soon.
She leaned forward, putting her chin on her hand on the side of the tub. “Russell, I don't want you to be disappointed if things ... don't go the way you expect."
"What way is that?” His eyes seemed to brighten behind the hooded lids.
"You know. Fantastic, mind-blowing sex. That's just not me.” She shook her head with a rueful grimace.
The spray stilled. “You don't think you'll enjoy it?"
She reassured him. “Oh, it's not you. I—I'm attracted to you. A lot.” She swallowed, as her gaze drifted across the bulge of his pecs peeking from the tank's neckline.
The spray flicked. “That's nice to know."
She met his eyes. “But you know my history. I'm never able to completely relax when I'm having sex. I'm resigned to that."
She let her gaze linger down his chest again. “But I'll make sure you're ... satisfied.” She slid her hand over the tub rim, reaching downwards.
Russell pushed his hips back, giving a soft laugh. “I'm certain of that."
Their looks met and tangled.
"But let's not worry about that now. For now, I'm just giving you a bath. Okay?"
She leaned back with a gentle sigh. Okay, why not?
She watched him unplug the tub and stuff a washcloth into the opening to slow the drainage. Then he let the shower head fall into the water. Soaping his hands, he massaged them into a rich lather. He moved his hands on the sides of her neck in gentle massage.
She leaned her head back with a soft moan.
"That's it. Relax.” The voice was a whisper.
She closed her eyes and let her other senses savor the strokes along her shoulders and arms. Water sprayed the suds from her body. The lathered hands returned to her chest, cupping her breasts, kneading them. Her arousal jolted awake, but when the strokes continued in slow easy circles, she drifted back into her dreamy state.
Then rough thumbs brushed across her nipples. Claire arched her body, sloshing the water back and forth and opened her eyes to stare at him. His gaze was on her breasts, a small smile curving those full cherry lips.
"How pink,” he murmured. “Pink and sweet. I wonder if they taste as sweet as they look?"
She didn't answer, arousal throbbing through her body. Her strongest orgasms had always come from self-stimulation. Russell's hands were exciting, and she began to wonder if maybe—finally—he'd be able to bring her to peak, unlike the other men she'd known.
His dark hands on her white breasts were an erotic image. His thumbs kept rubbing her nipples until she couldn't restrain herself. She grabbed his hands and pulled them, streaming water, up to her lips. She caressed them with her lips, the scent of the bath water going straight to her head.
Russell chuckled. He freed his hands and stroked the skin of her face, drenching her nose, cheeks, and brows. He tweaked the rim of her ears between his fingers and surprised Claire with the burst of erotic energy that speared through her body.
"Oh!” she moaned, rolling her head.
Russell's fingers pushed into her hair, clenching in the strands caught on top of her head with a scrunchie. In a flurry of water, he was over her, pulling her head back, lips on hers forcing her mouth open. Claire responded by circling her hands around the back of his neck and pulling tighter.
Russell dragged away with a gasping laugh. “Damn, lady. You are too delicious. Let's slow it down a beat."
Frustration mingled with her acquiescence. In retaliation, she arched her hips upward so that water cascaded down her sides from her waist, breast and hips.
A small explosion lit the depths of Russell's eyes. “Damn.” Another soft oath.
She wasn't strong enough to keep that pose in the slippery water and fell back almost right away, satisfied with his reaction.
"Let's just get that ass.” Russell's voice was shaky now as were the hands that cupped her buttocks, fingering her crack.
The sensation was a gliding caress with the water and oil coating their skin. The front of Russell's knit shirt was soaked, plastered to his sculpted stomach and chest.
She moaned again, pressing her eyes shut. His fingers eased her crack open further, fingers pulsating until she thought she would die. Then, a fingertip slid inside her anus. A strangled cry ripped from her throat as her body thrashed.
"Damn!” he exclaimed again, an apparent expression of awe and torment. One hand clenched in a tight hold, driving the finger deep, while his other hand curved around to her mound, stroking a finger into her cleft. Claire's stomach clenched and her legs spread wide, sloshing water over the sides of the tub.
Her brain short-circuited with desire and fear. The desire was wild, but the fear was an entity that clenched her sexual muscles tight, choking off the pleasure, shriveling up the readiness.
"No!” she cried, eyes wide, hips jerking.
Russell recoiled, staring at her in shock and confusion. A wall of silence slapped down between them, freezing them both.
The ringing phone broke the spell and took Russell from the bathroom. Claire hurried from the tub and wrapped herself in a big terry cloth robe.
She emerged from the room to find Russell pulling on a pair of jeans. Once more, she was startled by his natural ease with his own nakedness. He turned to her, pulling up the zipper. “That was Gerard. Kenda's asleep, and he's feeling down. I think I should go and keep him company for a little while."
"Sure,” she said in a low voice.
He hesitated, as if wondering if he should approach her. “I meant what I said about taking this as slow as you want."
She nodded, not meeting his eyes.
"I'll be home as quick as I can."
The door clicked shut behind him, and the silence dropped down around her. Looking around, Claire realized she was alone. She didn't think she wanted to be that way anymore.
* * * *
She had long been asleep across Russell's bed when the opening of the front door roused her. She lifted up to look at him across the room. A hazy light from the open windows cast stripes across the room, enclosing them in a magical aura.
"Sorry,” whispered Russell. “I didn't want to wake you."
Claire pulled her knees up close under her oversized T-shirt. “I'm okay. How's Gerard?"
"He's okay.
Just worn out, looking forward to having Kenda home. Which should be tomorrow, by the way."
"I'm glad to hear that."
Another pause. She could see his silhouette in the slim fitting jeans and T-shirt. “I could stay at Gerard's place, but I wanted to check on you."
A rush of tenderness went through her for this man who cared whether she needed a gentle touch like his right now. “About before—"
Russell hurried into speech. “Don't worry about that. I told you we'd go at your own speed. I apologize for getting carried away."
Gratitude for his sympathy filled Claire's heart. She gave up trying to find the right words. She got off the bed and crossed the room, pulled him into a strong embrace and mashed her lips against his.
Russell's arms closed around her, his head tilted so that his mouth slanted across hers, pushing his tongue between her teeth. His mouth moved to her neck while she tried to breathe. “This is hard for me, Claire. I really want to show you how beautiful I think you are."
Claire closed her eyes. “Show me."
He paid erotic homage to her neck, licking and kissing the flesh as his hands made their way down her back. His fingers aroused her through the thin material of her gown. Then he was slipping it off over her head. Her eyes shut tightly, and she arched her back. She felt herself tensing up. “I want to do this right."
Russell placed a finger on her lips. “Don't do anything, Claire. Just enjoy."
Through mutual, unspoken consent, they stumbled to the bed, lips and arms entwined. The world shifted as Russell eased her down on the bed beneath him.
Claire struggled to keep her brain from overwhelming her feelings. Her friend's courage inspired Claire. Kenda had healed, reaching for a richer life. Claire kept her thoughts on the man with her. His beauty, his kindness, his strength. He was a man who loved women, someone whose priority would be her pleasure.
Russell moved between her legs, fitting perfectly. His erection was a throbbing mass of solid flesh. His sheer masculinity loomed, threatening her. She reminded herself he was not her adversary; he was her lover. Her hands wrapped around his back moving down to massage his muscles.
Russell's hands continued their perusal of her body and landed on her breasts. He squeezed, making Claire freeze momentarily. He seemed to sense her reaction, because he came almost to a standstill, letting her respiration and her heartbeat slow down.
"Are you okay?"
Claire managed a little grunt. “I want you,” she whispered.
His hands began to move again with feather light brushes. Claire relaxed. The strokes moved down her bare legs. His hands were so smooth against her soft skin, the friction infused her with flecks of erotic pleasure.
She heard a groan, not certain if it came out of her or him. Her fingernails dug into his shoulders as he slipped his tongue into her mouth and stroked the dark moist places within.
He trailed his mouth down her arms and over her breasts. “It's perfect, so soft.” He took the whole nipple in his mouth, and she whispered his name and placed her hand on the back of his head urging him closer.
He was so slow, so deliberate, so utterly delicious. Her senses were on fire.
His tongue swirled her belly button, dancing lower. She bit her bottom lip to prevent the protest at the edge of her tongue. She cursed herself and told herself to enjoy the moment, but she suddenly felt a wrongness about her body, about the idea of sharing it with someone, someone using it.
Russell's voice came out in a strangled pant. “Don't worry, Claire. Just tell me what you'd like."
She squeezed her eyelids shut, fisting handfuls of sheet in order to control her feelings. Russell waited without speaking until she relaxed again. Now instead of tensing with fear, she quivered with desire. He flicked the top of her mound with his tongue. Claire moaned.
"Like that?"
Claire shivered as desire shot through her womb. “Yes!"
"If you want me to stop just tell me one word."
"Please, Russell,” she whispered unable to hold back.
His tongue dipped into her slit. He began running his tongue over her, inside of her, around her. Claire undulated against his tongue, screaming for mercy.
A hot little core of fire rolled in turmoil inside her, struggling for some kind of release. She feared it almost as much as she wanted more of it. Russell's ministrations became steadier, harder and more demanding, and suddenly, the tiny flame in her body exploded like lava from a volcano.
Claire screeched and bucked under his open mouth, grabbing his head. She didn't know how long she was suspended in a universe of pure delight. She drifted back to the present to find Russell holding her in his arms, talking to her softly. His erection pressed at the slick opening to her womanhood, and she could feel the heat radiating between them.
His eyes glittered with desire and another emotion she didn't fully recognize, but it echoed something deep inside her. “Claire, I want you more than ever. Tell me it's okay now. Please."
She didn't want him to stop. Her response was guttural, demanding. “I need you.” She urged him on with her nails in his sweat-slickened back and arched against him to draw him into her center.
"I don't want you to stop,” she groaned. “Please do it."
Claire screamed louder than she had before as his cock filled her to the limits. Amazing sensations flooded her. In minutes, their bodies settled down into a languorous rhythm, slow long strokes. She wanted to die, to live, to never stop feeling his heaven.
* * * *
"I hear someone here might be going home today?"
The people in the room turned at Gerard's cheerful greeting as he stepped through the door, pulled a bouquet of flowers from behind his back and presented it to Kenda.
Kenda smiled and held out her arms for him. Gerard handed the bouquet to Claire, and took Kenda in his arms for a kiss.
Claire's eyes moistened as she watched Gerard whispering in her friend's ear, something that made her smile, her teeth flashing white, her eyes turning up at the corners. Claire had always loved Kenda's smile and the fact that Gerard was so good at bringing it out, made her love him too.
Russell and Kenda's surgeon broke off their conversation. The doctor slapped Gerard on the back. “I can see you have better things to do at the moment. I'll let your brother fill you in on the details of follow-up care."
Russell stepped closer to Claire, slipping an arm around her waist. Her breath caught. She had to force her gaze away or she would be lost, just as much as Kenda was at the moment. There was much to explore in this new relationship with Russell and she looked forward to it.
Russell's arm squeezed her before he stepped away. “Okay, bro, leave the ladies alone for a minute. I'll help you carry the bags downstairs."
Claire and Kenda watched them with affection as they left the room. Claire gave a sigh and turned her friend.
"He really loves you, doesn't he?"
Kenda's look went dreamy. “Oh yes. I know he does."
"I'm glad,” said Claire.
"And you?"
Claire gave a start at Kenda's sly look. Kenda laughed. She took hold of Claire's hand. “Russell is a good man, Claire. I'm glad if you can see his heart."
Claire gave a wondering sigh. “I never realized that I was just as maimed in my heart as you were in your body that day. But because of Russell, I can appreciate how it feels to be fully alive and loved down to my toes."
Kenda clasped her hands around Claire's. They brushed their noses together in a childhood gesture of affection, dark skin in contrast with pale, joined by love. Dampness glistened in Kenda's midnight eyes. “Yes, my dear Claire. We are both whole now."
* * * *
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Tattoos
© Sergio Ortiz
Don't talk to me about men who dance on Soul Train reruns. They do their thing and leave me in front of the mirror with my hair braided like an Aztec Queen, starin
g through the shower mist as if El David walked in naked, and I am drooling at the view.
Forget about saying a prayer, it isn't Forever I desire, it's not even sleeping on the left side of the bed. It's the sun glowing on my back, the midnight train to Istanbul.
Why the skeletons on my shoulders? Because tonight,
I'm not the only one that's lonely.
* * * *
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If Only You Knew
© Zoe Nichols
Kit Morgan figured that if ogling Andrea Francis was an Olympic sport, she'd already be a gold medalist. From the corner of one eye, she watched the woman settle into her customary spot against the big oak tree that dominated the middle of the little campus of Linden College.
With her knees drawn up, Kit rested her head on them and subtly watched as Andrea, dressed smartly in a gray pencil skirt and a pretty burgundy sweater that hugged her small, rounded breasts comfortably, pulled her lunch out of its small brown bag before pulling a thick, dog-eared book from her tote and flipping it open. She absently tucked a shining black curl behind a small ear the color of creamy coffee and picking up her apple, took a quick bite while reading.
Kit wanted nothing more than to walk over and settle beside her. Maybe share the apple and then kiss away the taste from Andrea's soft red mouth. Swallowing, she glanced away only to get her gaze caught by her friend, Jamie Gordon's wide grin.
Before he could say it, she was raising one long middle finger his way. “Fuck you,” she hissed in her thick Southern drawl. Even now, three years after abandoning Alabama for the more liberal California, she still had that cursed drawl.
He shuddered delicately. “Not on your life, princess. Don't you know? Girls have tits,” he mock-gagged as he said the word and Kit could feel her mouth pulling into a smile that she promptly buried against her denim-clad knees, shivering faintly. Fall had brought a biting breeze that danced chills across bare hands and faces.
"And anyway,” Jamie tossed his dark brown curls then snuggled deeper into his blue bomber-style jacket. “You want our lovely English teacher, not my fabulous cock. Thank God."
Coming Together: At Last, Volume One Page 17
