"You have a beautiful home," said Jack, appearing at my side.
"Thank you," I said, looking at my friends.
"Have you lived here long?" he asked.
I turned to look up at him. He stared, unwavering, at my face. I could feel the heat emanating from his body. My body reacted to his closeness.
"My husband built this house." Grinning, I added, "I've probably lived here longer than you've been alive."
"Really? And how long would that be?"
When I talked about this house, the memories I created with Moses usually would overwhelm me, but this time, standing with Jack, they didn't come.
"Thirty-five years."
"I got that beat by a year," he said.
"You're a baby." I raised my hand, intending to pinch his cheek, hoping to emphasize the difference in our ages, but he caught my hand. Kissing my palm, he lowered it back to my side.
The scent of gardenia floated over me as Red joined us in the tight corner. She cocked her hip against mine, resting a hand on my shoulder. It was a possessive pose, as if she would spring if he made one wrong move. "Lovely evening, isn't it?"
"Yes, ma'am, it is," he answered, stepping back.
"Did you enjoy the music?" she asked, her eyes locked on his face. She had asserted herself as the dominant personality in our little huddle. It was amusing to watch him relinquish control.
"It was lovely," he said.
"Lovely. There's that word again. I know something else that's lovely. She is," Red said, nodding in my direction.
"Yes, ma'am, she is." His voice was subdued, but his gaze was not.
"I've been told that you are a good man, Jackson. So I trust you to be kind to my lovely friend," Red said. Her eyes were warm and her stance was open, but her tone was threatening.
He said nothing, a slight smile curving his lips. His long, black eyelashes fluttered across his cheeks, the color rising across his face.
"What is it that you want, Jackson?" Red asked, increasing the tension.
"Surely it's plain by now," he said, staring at me.
Red waved her hand, a cocky look on her face. "I'm not interested in subterfuge. Make it plain or get the hell out of here. You can have a good evening somewhere else, or you can—"
"Have Mercy," he interrupted, ending her sentence. He grabbed my hand again, squeezing it. I bristled, feeling left out of this transaction.
"Three-hour minimum. Five hundred for the block. A special rate for the entire night, if you're interested," she said. There must have been a blank expression on my face. I felt numb as Red defined a price for my body.
"How much for the entire night?" Jack asked.
"For you, sweetie, I think she's willing to go three grand," she tossed out. Her eyes cut to mine. She was testing the limits of his game. Calling his bluff.
If there was a game being played, Red had started it when she invited him. I said, "I don't know. I think he qualifies for the kids' meal. How about two grand, handsome?" Red's breathing slowed, but she didn't say anything. Her gaze was pinned on him.
He swayed a bit, shifting his weight. He seemed to be hiding a chuckle. "Fine."
"Fine what?" Red prodded.
Impatience flared in his eyes. I didn't think he was impatient for the night to begin. Relinquishing control was probably foreign for him, and he wanted to take over. Our gazes locked. Mine perturbed. His gleeful. The color of his eyes grew intense, almost hypnotic when he said, "Two grand for the night."
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
We stood in my bedroom, facing each other. Two feet separated us physically. Two decades separated us emotionally.
"Do you have the money?" It was time to end this farce. Jack had wanted to get me alone, but I didn't think he had intended to let things go this far.
"Do you accept checks?" he asked, a grin splitting his face.
"Who carries checks nowadays?"
"I do." He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. Opening it, he lifted out a wad of cash and pushed his wallet back into his jeans.
"One. Two. Three. Four." He counted out twenty one-hundred dollar bills. He tossed them on my dresser and stared at me, waiting for the next move.
"Do you always carry that much money on you?"
"John warned me."
"Ah. That explains so much."
"I don't mean to be rude, but I didn't just pay two thousand dollars to be mocked."
"You've ruined my night."
Stepping towards me, he lowered his voice. "Trust me. The night isn't ruined, especially if you can keep that tart mouth in check." I opened my mouth to retort, but he lifted his finger and placed it over my lips. "What ever happened to 'the customer is always right'?"
"That's a standard, not a promise," I said.
He shoved his fingers through his hair, turning away from me. Resting his hands against my dresser, he stood facing the wall. He laughed softly, ducking his head to stare at the floor. He shuffled his feet as if swiping at a speck on my carpet. "Take your clothes off."
I ignored him. He hadn't spoken directly to me. I wasn't removing a stitch.
"You really suck at this, you know. You should reconsider your career choice," he said, turning to face me. "Take your clothes off." He enunciated each word, seemingly forced out through his teeth.
He moved away from the dresser, coming to stand inches away from me. Moses had been tall, but his height had always felt protective, a security against the world. With Jack, his height was like another barrier separating us. He intimidated me. Feeling weaker than him shouldn't have pleased me, but it did.
He circled my body. His fingers caressed my shoulder; his lips brushed across my temple. He moved to stand behind me. Wrapping his hands around my waist, he pulled me back into his chest. His clothing scraped against the thin fabric of my dress. His arousal nudged me. With one arm locked around my middle, he used his free hand to unbutton the collar of my dress.
He tugged the fabric down over my breasts, pressing kisses on the back of my neck. My head fell away from his contact and I lifted my arms to cover my exposed body. Grabbing my forearms, he pushed my arms back down to my sides.
I stayed in that position as his fingers traced across my stomach. He pushed the dress over my hips and it pooled around my feet. "Kick it aside," he said, pressing his mouth against my ear. I stepped out of the dress, shoving it away.
He kissed my shoulder, pleased with my response to his command. His fingers moved down my back as he stepped in front of me. "I can smell you. I can smell your arousal." He mocked me as he reached around my back, unhooking my bra.
He pulled it from my body, tossing it on top of the dress. I closed my eyes, feeling the cool air sweep over my exposed breasts. I didn't raise my hands to cover myself. Unlike the General, I didn't think Jack would allow such modesty.
His hands were at my hips, moving to grip my ass. He squeezed, laughed, and pulled me into his chest. Dipping his head, he nipped along the column of my neck. For a moment, he held me like that. Our bodies swaying. His breath searing hot against my skin.
Jack's movements became brisk as his hands roamed up over my waist and onto the small of my back. He gripped me, lifting me to stand on my toes as he crouched down and pressed his face between my breasts. My feet flattened onto the floor as he kissed down my abdomen, his teeth grazing over my belly button. I sucked in a sharp breath as his mouth hovered over my panties. He dropped a kiss on my mound. I stepped back, putting distance between us.
"Do this often?" I asked with my typical snide tone.
He stood up and peered down at me. "More often than you, it seems." Wrapping an arm around my waist, he pulled me against his body. I gazed over his shoulder, afraid that looking into his eyes would establish a deeper intimacy. My attention settled on the bedside photo of Moses. I closed my eyes, feeling a wave of shame. This was different from my failed night with Truman. With him, there had been a mutual sense of awkwardness as we fumbled around in the dark.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"I'm sorry, but I can't do this," I conceded, still not looking into his face. "You can have your money back. This was a stupid idea."
"So you mean this is on the house?" He didn't know about my internal struggle. He didn't know that his words would cause me to flinch further away.
"Go," I said, pushing him away.
"You are lousy at this," he said, refusing to move. "I didn't think women your age would still be playing these games."
"I'm not some gal you picked up at a bar, kiddo." I called him that even though I stood there, damn near fully naked.
"I'll go when you look me in the eye and tell me to go. If you can't do that, no deal," he said.
My head snapped upwards, my eyes locked on his. "Go."
He grimaced. A half-grin formed on his face. "I lied," he said. "I should feel bad about that, but I don't."
I smacked him. Maybe that would be enough incentive for him to leave Moses's house. The force of the blow lurched his head to the side.
He was cheerful when he looked back at me. "I was raised a gentleman, so I'm going to ignore that. But, I want you to know, the next time you hit me, I'll spank your ass. How's that for role reversal, you old bag?" he mocked, pinching my chin. "Do you really want me to go?"
Fuck me for playing the coy miss. I searched out Moses's image, wanting to understand my emotions. I loved Moses and I would always love him, but he was no longer here. Instead, this living, breathing man stood before me, desiring my body enough that he was willing to pay for it. He could walk into any bar, and he would have women crawling over him with minimal effort on his part.
His gaze followed mine, locking on the picture. He whipped around, eyes narrowing, his stare locked on my face. "Who's that?"
"My husband, Moses."
He looked back at the picture. "And Moses is okay with you doing this?"
I glanced up to the ceiling as if I could see straight up to Heaven. "I don't know."
"He doesn't know?"
"I don't know if he knows or not. I guess it depends on whether you believe people are always watching over you. If that's the case, he knows. He's dead, Jack. I've had no other man in this house," I said.
"How have you dealt with your other men? Your clients?"
"What do you mean?"
"Never mind. I'd rather not talk about your dead husband. Can we please move that picture?" he asked, stepping towards the bedside nightstand.
I lifted my hands, but I didn't grab his clothing. I could have stopped him, but I didn't want to. He avoided looking at the picture as he placed it in the drawer, his manner slow and respectful. He turned back to me, his hands wide open. "Better?"
"Yes, actually."
"No more dead husband thoughts," he said, wiggling his fingers as if casting a magical spell.
I laughed, feeling my heart tug over this young one. An impish grin settled on his face as he stood before me, staring down at my bare breasts.
"You really aren't bothered by this," I said.
"Hmm? Bothered by what?"
"The difference in our ages. I'm old enough to be your mother."
His gaze flickered back to the nightstand, a worried look on his face. "Do I need to hide an image of the kids?"
"I don't have any children."
His brows crinkled as he stared at me. "Makes things a bit less awkward, right?"
"Oh no. This is totally awkward," I muttered.
"Why? You're a beautiful woman. I'm a damn good-looking man. Seems rather simple and straightforward to me," he said. "Let's agree on a couple of things."
"And what would these things be?" I asked.
"First, quit with the kiddo. I'm an adult male attracted to an adult female. Age is irrelevant when there's mutual desire. Second, when you are with me, you think only of me. No husband. No other clients. Seems easy? I think so. Third, finally, we'll try everything once," he said, grinning.
"No on that last part," I said, responding to his mood.
"C'mon. It'll be fun," he said. I shook my head, declining to agree. "Okay. We will work on that last part."
It wasn't until his fingers grazed my nipples that I remembered I stood only in my panties. He still wore all of his clothing. My mouth went dry as I wondered how we would proceed.
I must have tensed because he said "Relax" as his hand cupped my breast. He slid his other hand up my neck and into my braided bun. He stepped closer as he began to tug my hair free. It fell around my shoulders and he grunted in satisfaction.
"Alright. Your turn," he said.
"You don't have any hair for me to release," I teased.
He smiled, shaking his head. He took my hands into his and placed them on his chest. "My clothing."
Taking a deep breath, I nibbled on my bottom lip. I restrained myself from making some sarcastic comment. I moved my hands to the bottom of his shirt and I began to tug it up his body. He lifted his arms and I tossed the shirt aside. He wore no undershirt. Moses had always worn an undershirt. Even the General wore an undershirt. Was this a generational thing?
"Stop it," he said, snapping me out of my thoughts.
"Stop removing your clothes?" I asked.
"No. Stop thinking about whatever you were thinking about," he responded. "I'm a selfish bastard. I don't like sharing my time with anyone else, especially when I've paid so much."
"Fair enough," I said. I vowed to myself that I wouldn't think about anyone else but Jack. It might have been a challenge, but I was willing to meet it.
He stood still as I moved my fingers over his body. My hands settled on his stomach. With my thumb, I traced the line of hair that went from his belly button and down into his jeans. I combed my fingers through the hair on his chest, tugging lightly. I laughed at his wince.
Something impish settled in me. I bent towards him, swiping my tongue against his nipple. He hissed when I blew lightly against it. Relishing the small bit of power, I kissed his sternum as my fingers traced over his sculpted chest. He had the body of a warrior, someone whose strength and stamina were at its peak.
"Keep going," he encouraged.
"Did I rush you? I'm trying to recall." His lips curved, but he kept them shut. He said nothing more as I continued my exploration.
I slid my hands around his waist, mimicking the movements he used on me earlier. He laughed softly, the sound rumbling from him as I pressed my head against his chest. I pulled away, grinning up at him. His brown-blue eye had darkened, giving the illusion that the eye was dark brown with blue flecks. My grin faded as I marveled at him.
"I did a bit more," he said, referring to his kisses down my body and over my mound.
"Shut up."
"Yes, ma'am."
My hands skimmed down his body, settling over the button of his jeans. His hand hovered over mine. I glanced up at him. "Last chance to reconsider," he said.
"I'm in. All in," I said as I unbuttoned him. I lowered the zipper, pushing the denim down his hips. The jeans fell to his feet and he kicked them aside.
"Alright. We're wearing the same amount of clothing," he commented.
"I feel empowered," I said.
"You should," he responded.
I made no moves, hoping he would resume control of the encounter. He didn't let me down when he lowered his head and brushed his lips across mine. "Is that alright?" he asked softly.
"What?"
"Kissing you," he said against my lips.
My lashes fluttered as I closed my eyes. I knew what he meant. Regardless of the tenderness, this was still business. He was the customer and I was the provider. I knew that many escorts chose not to kiss their clients, not wanting to blur the line between business and
pleasure. I didn't hold those same reservations. Not with him.
"Absolutely," I said, leaning into him.
He responded quickly, pulling me into his embrace. He rested one hand on my shoulder and wrapped the other around my waist. His mouth slanted over mine, our breath mingling as he kissed me. Our breathing grew shallow and quick as our arousal began to build.
He turned our bodies, pushing me onto the bed. Our lips never parted as we settled towards the head of the bed. I locked my arms around his shoulders, deepening our kiss. My mouth opened and his tongue darted in.
I moaned as I felt his hands slide down my body towards my panties. Sweat pooled on my stomach as our bodies rubbed against each other. I lifted my leg, letting him remove the lacy undergarment. Pulling away for a moment, he grabbed a condom from his jeans. He tore open the wrapper, tossed the package aside and slipped on the condom.
My legs fell open as he settled between my thighs. His lips left mine as he began to kiss my throat. He grasped one of my breasts, squeezing it, causing the nipple to harden further. His tongue swiped over the peak. Once. Twice. Then he sucked it into his mouth. He pulled at the nipple, wiggling it between his teeth.
He left that breast to lavish attention on the other. This time, he nibbled across the roundness, letting the point rub across his lips. His tongue flicked out, touching my nipple lightly.
He moved further down my body, alternating between nips and kisses. His tongue darted into my navel and I arched my back. He continued moving lower until his hands rested on my thighs. He pushed them further apart and I bucked, grabbing his ears.
"Wait," I said, pushing him away from my body.
He laughed, dropping his head against my thigh. "It's been a long time since I've had my ears boxed."
"You don't have to do that."
"Why not?" he said, removing my hands. He looked at me, a sweet smile on his face. "I want to." His head remained pressed against my thigh. I felt embarrassed thinking about how close he was to my vagina. As if sensing my apprehension, he placed a small kiss on top of my mound.
I closed my eyes and took several deep breaths. I relaxed my body, letting my legs fall wider apart. It was the warmth of his breath that I noticed first. Then it was the pressure of his tongue as he flicked it across my clitoris. My hands balled into fists as I fought not to push him away.
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