Open All Night

by Sahara Kelly

  And finally, he’d given in, pulled her to him, and sunk into her, unable to wait a moment longer.

  She’d ridden him with every ounce of passion she’d had, and he hoped he’d given her back half as much in return.

  But whatever he’d given, it would never be enough. Not to repay the trust she’d shown in him tonight…the things she’d done.

  And now she was writhing above him, lost in her orgasm, and pulling his from him, willingly but demandingly, insisting he come with her.

  Hell yeah.

  He let the shout break from his throat, raw and harsh, as his cock flexed and found the relief it needed so badly. His balls tightened and found a home snug up against Daphne’s pussy as he thrust deep, spurting himself hard and long into her.

  Jesus. He wished it was her, not the damn condom. Her flesh was hot and slick and welcoming, and for one of the few times Jack could remember, he wanted to feel it, skin-to-skin, not skin-to-latex. He wanted her heat, he wanted to feel every single ripple and shudder as she climaxed. He wanted to fill her sheath and her womb and her peritoneal cavity if there was any room left. He wanted all of her.

  And he wanted it touching all of him.

  Shaking with his orgasm, Jack let the splendor of his feelings wash over him, like Daphne’s scent, rippling across his body and into his heart.

  At that moment he faced the truth and stared deep into her eyes.

  He was in love with Daphne.

  *~~*~~*

  “Beep…beep…beep…”

  The strident sound of her alarm clock woke Daphne from a deep sleep on Monday morning. But instead of her usual curses and thumps with a pillow, she stretched, leaned over and pressed the “snooze” button.

  She’d woken from a dream of Jack and the sensation lingered - she wanted to enjoy it for a few moments longer.

  It had been a weekend right out of one of her dreams, mused Daphne, idly watching the morning sunshine filtering through her shades and making lacy patterns on the opposite wall.

  They’d loved with a madness she’d never guessed could exist, and on a huge porn movie bed, too. She’d lost every inhibition she’d ever had, and then some, in the arms of this…this…God among men.

  She grinned and made a mental note never to tell him that particular phrase. There was honesty, and then there was ego-stroking.

  But he’d certainly taken her to Olympian heights, and then cuddled her afterwards with tenderness and care as they’d dozed. Finally, as dawn broke over the quiet Sunday streets, they’d driven back to his apartment, stopping for coffee and bagels along the way.

  The coffee had been cold, however, by the time they’d gotten to it. Tired and sticky, they’d both showered - together - and it had turned into another brand new sensual experience for Daphne.

  He’d shown no hesitation in getting down on his knees in the huge shower and putting his mouth…well, she shivered just thinking about it. All slick and soapy, Jack was a mouthwatering sight, and who could blame her if she’d offered to return the favor?

  She’d never, in a million years, imagined doing that to a man. Or enjoying it as much as she had. He tasted of man and salt and a dash of herbs from his soap…he was soft velvet and hard muscle and if she could have swallowed more than just his semen, she would have done. She was so hungry for him it bordered on the absurd.

  She stretched again, and realized she was naked beneath the sheets. It hadn’t seemed important last night. She’d been so damn tired, and lonely in a different way for the first time in her life.

  They’d slept several hours at Jack’s, and then he’d woken her, in such a nice way, only to announce that they were going to the zoo.

  The zoo!

  And so they had, walking hand-in-hand through throngs of happy animal-lovers, clutching bags of peanuts for the poor elephant who seemed pretty tired of them by the time they reached his enclosure. He sniffed the bag and delicately lifted a couple of nuts from Daphne’s hand, tickling her palm and making her laugh.

  Jack had laughed too.

  In fact, they’d both smiled - and laughed - a lot. Just being together, in the sunshine, enjoying such a simple outing, had been…incredible.

  They’d both found it nearly impossible to say goodnight, but reality had clonked them both upside the head when they realized that Monday was just hours away. Daphne had to get up early, and Jack mentioned something about an early morning, too. She had no idea what time his store opened, but figured he was the boss. He had to be there.

  It had taken them an hour of fervent necking in the car outside her apartment just to part.

  Daphne grinned again. For a hotly sexual man, Jack sure did love necking. Long lingering kisses, accompanied by soft strokes to all the right places beneath her clothes…she’d nearly come twice in the front seat of his Corvette.

  Of course, she’d gotten in a few strokes of her own, too. Damn, the man turned her into a sex-starved nymphet. Or maybe she’d always been a sex-starved nymphet and it had taken Jack to bring that side of her personality out of the depths of the closet.

  She shrugged and wrinkled her nose as the “snooze” alarm reminded her that her leisure time was over. Monday, in all its realistic glory, was upon her.

  But this Monday was different.

  This Monday she was in love with a sweet and wonderful store manager, handsome as sin, fabulous in bed, and a really, really great kisser.

  Life was good.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Jack came in the shower with a grunt and a shudder.

  He astounded himself. After such a sexually active weekend, he’d figured it was back to normal on Monday morning, but standing under the running water and lathering his body had brought back vivid memories of Daphne and what she’d - they’d - done…right there.

  Within seconds, Jack’s cock had been as hard as nails and his vision blurred as he could damn near feel her mouth on him once more. He’d had no choice.

  Grasping himself firmly he’d begun to stroke, seeing not his hand, but Daphne. Her eyes glancing up at him, watching his face, then closing as she slid her lips over as much of his cock as she could. It had been unskilled, wonderful and as close to heaven on earth as Jack figured it could possibly get.

  When she’d swallowed as he spurted into the back of throat, well…Jack had almost passed out.

  For years, oral sex had been part and parcel of his daily grind. He’d filmed it, staged it, orchestrated it and even shown a couple of actors how to do it right for the cameras.

  He’d done it himself and had it done to him more times than he could count. But never, ever, had it felt like it did when Daphne touched him.

  He sighed and reached for his shampoo. He was going to have to face some difficult decisions - and soon. Fate had really dealt him a wild card this time around.

  Absently working his hair into a lather, Jack closed his eyes and tried to consider the whole situation rationally, running it through his mind like files in a drawer. First, there was Daphne. A very thick file, and one that would probably get him hard all over again if he opened it.

  He let it be for a bit and moved on. The black-bordered file was the one that was troubling him, and it had a name on it. “Big John Johnson”. This identity, the one Daphne knew nothing about, was going to have to be revealed, and soon.

  He couldn’t possibly go on maintaining the façade of a store manager with a woman like Daphne. She deserved the truth, the best of everything and lots more sex.

  Ooops. Wrong file.

  Rinsing himself off, Jack tried to see a way around this issue. Somehow, he was going to have to tell Daphne who he really was. What he did for a living. And he didn’t like the whole frickin’ idea. He realized that he didn’t like Big John very much anymore, either.

  It was Jack who’d had fun at the zoo yesterday, not Big John. And although they’d fucked like rabbits in a porn studio, it had been Jack bringing those cries of pleasure from Daphne’s throat, not Big John.

&nb
sp; In fact, Big John Johnson was starting to become a liability, not an integral part of Jack’s life anymore.

  Thoughtfully, Jack toweled himself off and dressed for the day.

  He’d known this time would come. The disenchantment had already begun, before he’d even met Daphne. She’d just accelerated the process for him, and realigned his thinking.

  But what the fuck am I gonna do?

  Jack stared into his mirror as he brushed his drying hair, but saw nothing of his own image. He was trying to see a future as Jack Foster, not Big John Johnson. He knew it was out there, and the more he thought about it, the more he realized it was closer today than it had ever been.

  Today, he wanted it. He wanted a future as plain Jack Foster. He wanted to turn out the lights in his studio and say goodnight to Big John and the plastic-breasted world of porn movies. He’d done his best, given it his all, and was proud of his accomplishments.

  Been there, done that, censored the T-shirt and invested the profits from it, thank you.

  But now he knew, sure as shit, that something had been missing…and that something was Daphne. A woman who cared about him for who he was. A woman who, quite possibly, loved Jack Foster. No strings attached.

  At least he prayed she loved him. It had taken no time at all for him to tumble head-over-ass for those doe-brown eyes of hers, and the magic spell they’d cast on him still made his head spin.

  He’d accepted that she was “the one”. He’d been around the block enough times to leave ruts in the asphalt, and he had no doubts that these emotions he felt when he was with her were the real thing.

  But…there was a distinct chance he’d lose it all - and her - when she found out the truth.

  It wasn’t a picture he liked looking at.

  Jack closed his mental folder and slammed the drawer shut on the filing cabinet.

  There had to be a way. And dammit, he’d find it. Daphne was too important to him now for it to be otherwise.

  With that resolve uppermost in his mind, Jack headed out for the studio, determined to find a solution - not only for the sake of his relationship with Daphne, but for his own future.

  He didn’t want to be Big John anymore.

  Big John would have to die.

  *~~*~~*

  Daphne was hoarse.

  Mondays were “Mom’s Hour” in the Children’s section of the library, and featured a guest storyteller surrounded by what seemed like hordes of colorful munchkins. All talking at once.

  As were their weary moms, who seized the opportunity to plunk Junior down on his or her butt in a circle with twenty other “Juniors” in front of an amazingly loud-voiced volunteer. The storyteller held the kids in thrall for anywhere up to an hour, and the moms could kick back and breathe a bit, without having to do much more than detach one kid’s hands from another’s hair, or make frequent potty trips to the little bathroom.

  It was a very popular feature, and usually afforded Daphne a great deal of satisfaction, since she’d inaugurated the program in the first place.

  But today was one of those days when every child seemed to have its volume control cranked up to “high”, and she’d been shouting over the cacophony for so darn long her throat ached.

  Fortunately, it was also the day that included not only the Assistant Librarian, but also two more volunteers. A bunch of kids in the right mood could wreak more havoc in a library than two divisions of armored marines.

  As a lull fell over the building, and the storyteller droned soothingly to her motley audience, Daphne felt safe enough to take a quick break.

  “I’m gonna go grab a coffee, Shel…want anything?”

  Assistant Librarian Shelly Miles glanced up with a grimace. “Vodka and tonic? Double?”

  Daphne grinned. “Too early.”

  Shelly grinned back. “It’s gotta be five o’clock somewhere in the world.”

  “I know what you mean.”

  The other woman sighed. “I’ll pass, honey, thanks. Any more coffee and you’ll have to peel me off the ceiling along with the kids. I’m starting to think there must be caffeine in that apple juice they bring with them. They’re cranked today, for sure.”

  Daphne nodded. “Yeah. You’re right. I’ll be ten minutes at most, okay?”

  Shelly waved her off. “Go…relax. Breathe. Strangle a munchkin. Make it two…one for me.” She gazed at the returns cart, which now tilted at a drunken angle and had burped books all over the floor. “The lollipop league struck again.”

  Daphne smothered a laugh and slunk out the side entrance, heading for her favorite bookstore less than a block away. They served great coffee, and also offered great deals on older titles. Daphne was a regular shopper, drinker, and browser.

  The soothing beverage eased her throat, the quiet of the store calmed her thoughts, and for the first time that morning she felt free enough to allow the warmth that was Jack to creep into her mind.

  Thinking about him while trying to work had resulted in some appallingly awful mis-filings, a couple of lost returns and a patron who couldn’t understand why the book he’d put on reserve for his research into the mating habits of the Canadian goose had suddenly turned into an erotic romance.

  Daphne shook her head to clear it of all but those thoughts she wanted to enjoy, and strolled the aisles.

  Jack. Always Jack. He was so comfortably settled into her brain she had a hard time recalling her life before he arrived. It was like she’d known him forever, had reserved a place in her heart for him, and had just been waiting for him to come along and fill it.

  He had. He’d filled a few other places with perfect precision, too.

  She felt a blush heating her cheeks, and sternly told herself to focus on the books, not the sex.

  Idly scanning the bargain table, a large volume tucked beneath caught her eye, and she balanced her coffee carefully as she knelt down to take a closer look.

  “The Best Movies Ever Made.” It was huge, with a glossy cover featuring a classic movie-poster graphic that reminded her of the film noir ads from the nineteen-thirties. She pulled it out with difficulty and rested it on an empty stand.

  Oooh. It was, in a word, gorgeous.

  Carefully turning the pages, Daphne lost herself in the beautiful color stills from some of the finest movies ever made. The darn thing lived up to its title. She smiled at a black-and-white full size photo of Ingrid Bergman and Humphrey Bogart sharing “that” look. Casablanca, of course.

  There was plenty of narrative, quotes from some of the best directors, from D.W. Griffith to Martin Scorsese, and a mammoth amount of information about dozens of fabulous films.

  It was the “coffee table” book to end all coffee table books for movie fans, and Daphne knew just the coffee table it belonged on.

  Jack’s.

  Nervously she opened the flyleaf and checked the price. Okay. Not cheap. But marked down… Not surprising, really, since this was a book for celluloid aficionados, not someone looking to fill an empty space in their decorating scheme. A much cheaper volume on Renoir or Monet would serve that purpose.

  This one was a treasure trove of information, photography and movie lore, and Daphne was convinced after only a few pages that Jack would love it. He was so knowledgeable about film, especially the classics, that this would only enhance his collection.

  She had a vision of them snuggled in front of his couch on the floor, turning the pages and discussing the movies featured in the book.

  It was an image that brought a lump to her throat. It was one from a future she so hoped would come to pass. They’d gotten hot and heavy with each other, become sexually involved so quickly, and then…in a backwards reversal of everything she’d assumed was right, they’d gotten to know each other.

  And how she loved what she’d found.

  Closing the book, she hefted it under her arm, grabbed her coffee with the other hand, and headed for the checkout aisle. This book was a sign. An omen. She’d buy it, give it to Jack and flat ou
t tell him how she felt.

  The hell with the rules on this sort of thing. She couldn’t live another day without releasing a lot of emotional stuff, whether he wanted to hear it or not. It was time.

  Time to say a few words that could make or break her future. Not three little words, but four. “I love you, Jack.”

  She couldn’t wait.

  Of course the library had other ideas.

  As soon as she got back and tucked her purchase safely into a desk drawer, her phone started ringing. And it rang, continually, for much of the rest of the day. Annoyingly demanding calls, pleasantly soliciting calls, calls from callers Daphne could willingly have shot point blank at the end of the afternoon.

  When the final call came in, it was truly the last straw.

  “Good afternoon, Miss Littlewood, I’m sorry to bother you…”

  Why? Everybody else and their brother has, today…

  “I was in this morning for Mom’s Hour, and just now I found…”

  What? A book? Your kid stole a book? Ripped off a first edition? Used Webster’s as a teething ring? What?

  “Spots.”

  Daphne blinked. “Spots?”

  “Yep. Spots. All over Jessica.”

  “Uh…” Daphne’s brain struggled.

  “It’s been confirmed by our pediatrician. It’s the chicken pox.”

  “Oh lord.” Daphne rested her forehead on her hand and closed her eyes.

  “I’m awfully sorry. But I thought you should know. The children who were with Jessica this morning - they’ve all been exposed…”

  “Yes…yes, I see the problem.” What Daphne saw was another round of phone calls alerting mothers to the possibility of more spots.

  “So I was hoping you could make a few quick phone calls? I’ve alerted my friends, of course, but there were lots of people there I didn’t recognize. I’m not sure if you keep a list of kids attending…?”

  The woman’s voice trailed off hopefully.

  Daphne straightened her shoulders. “I can check the library cards for books taken out after story hour. Most of the children take one home with them afterwards, so it’ll just be a matter of sorting the records.”