Always Our Love

by Tawdra Kandle

  “Say it.” I breathed out the two words. “Please. I need to know.”

  Linc smoothed back my hair and framed my face with his two large hands, just as he had the first time he’d kissed me. Staring deep into my eyes, he spoke slowly and clearly.

  “Jenna, I love you. I love you. I know this is new, and I know there’s a shit ton of reasons why we don’t make sense and why we might not work, but I don’t care about any of them, because I am so fucking deep in love with you that nothing else matters. I want a future with you. I don’t know what that’s going to look like, but we’ll figure it out together. As long we love each other—” He paused. “That was not my subtle way to get you to say you love me, too. I’m not pushing you. If and when, you’ll say it in your own time. I just—”

  “Lincoln. Would you hush a minute and let me talk?” I laid one finger on his mouth, smiling a little through my tears when he pursed his lips to kiss the fingertip. I took a deep, shuddering breath and went for broke. “I love you. This is me saying it in my own time, not because you told me or because I feel like I have to say it now. I don’t. I want that future, too. I want to be with you always, and figure out a way around all those things that stand in our way. I know it’s not going to be easy, but if at the end of the day, I end up with you, I don’t care how difficult it is.”

  Linc kissed me again as the last word left my mouth, and this time there was nothing fast or hard about it. He nudged my lips apart and swept his tongue over me, teasing until my own tangled with his. Desire thrummed through my blood, making my breasts feel heavy and my core ache.

  With a little moan, I shifted so that I straddled his body, letting the most needy part of me rub against the hard ridge beneath the fly of his jeans. Linc answered with a loud groan and slipped his hands under my T-shirt, cupping my boobs through my bra, his thumbs brushing over my sensitive nipples.

  We’d come this far before. Linc had touched me over the material of my bra, even slid his searching fingers into the cups to rub my nipples into peaks. But tonight, I wanted more. I wanted to give him more. Not sex—I wasn’t there yet. But I knew I could make him feel good. I could make sure that when he left my house tonight, it wouldn’t be with a bad case of blue balls.

  With hands that shook only a little, I reached for the button of his jeans. Linc jerked in surprise when the backs of my fingers brushed the firm plane of his stomach. He broke our kiss and frowned at me.

  “Jenna. What are you doing?”

  I wriggled back so that I was in a better position. “I want to touch you, Linc. I want to . . . make you feel good.” Drunk on the heady mix of love and pent-up desire, I went for broke. “I want to make you come.”

  “Babe—that’s—that would be incredible, but you don’t have to do that. Not tonight.” He captured the hand that was attempting to tug down his zipper.

  “Lincoln.” I twisted my wrist loose. “Please let me do this. I want to. God, I want to touch you.” I traced the line of his jaw and then followed my finger with my lips, dropped small kisses there. “I’m terrified to disappoint you when it comes to sex. I don’t want to let you down. But just now, I’m feeling brave and bold, and I want to put my hands on you.” The zipper finally began to give way. “I want my mouth on you. Letting me make you come will be the best gift you could give me. Okay? Please.”

  Without waiting for his answer, I dropped to the floor again between his legs, this time facing him. Linc watched me, indecision warring on his face, but when I closed my hand around his cock through the tight cotton boxer briefs, he seemed to make up his mind. Lifting his hips, he helped me ease his jeans partway down his legs until I had the access I wanted.

  I’d been thinking about this for a while, and I’d done my research. I knew what to do in strictly technical terms, but when faced with an actual erection rather than a hypothetical one, all of my rational thoughts fled. Timidly, I stroked him once, and then twice, all of the time watching his face closely.

  Linc hissed out a breath and arched his neck. “Jenna. My God. If you only knew how many times I’ve dreamed about you doing this . . .”

  That gave me courage. I rolled down the boxers, revealing his long, thick shaft. The head was round and flared, and a small bead of moisture shone at the tip. I touched him there, and Linc jerked his hips upward, closing his eyes. I circled him with my fingers, giving a few experimental pumps of my hands, and then I rose on my knees and took just the head between my lips.

  Words poured out of Linc’s mouth, but none of them made any sense. He stroked my hair with one hand as my tongue circled the ridge of his cockhead. I was surprised to realize that as much as I was focused on giving him pleasure, I was incredibly turned on, too. I slipped my free hand down between my legs, touching myself, moaning as the friction increased.

  Feeling even bolder, I slid my mouth lower, taking more of him within me. He pulsed beneath the ministrations of my tongue, lips and hand, and I moved up and down, unconsciously mimicking the way that he thrust himself deeper into my mouth.

  “Jenna—baby. I’m coming. Move your mouth. I don’t want to—” He didn’t have to explain anymore. I knew my own limitations, and while I might have someday been all right with him orgasming in my mouth, tonight was my very first blowjob, and I felt that finishing him off with my hand was perfectly okay.

  Judging by the way he cried out my name as he came, I’d have said Linc agreed.

  I crawled back up into his lap, laying my head on his chest as his heart thudded beneath my ear. I wanted to ask him if that had been okay, if I’d done a good job—no pun intended—but I was afraid to know the answer.

  “Jenna, that was fucking amazing. God, baby. It was beyond anything I ever dreamed. You astound me. Just when I think you can’t surprise me, you do something that blows my mind.” He grinned. “And not just my mind, apparently.”

  “Hmmm.” I moved restless against him. “I’m glad it felt good. You were the recipient of my very first oral sex.”

  “No shit?” I was immensely gratified by the surprise in his voice. “Babe, you rocked it. You rocked me.” He smirked, and I narrowed my eyes.

  “What? What’s funny?”

  “Nothing. I was just remembering something you said the day we met, out at Oak Grove. You told me that you were always thorough, no matter what you did. Even back then, that kind of made me hot for you.” His hand wandered down to squeeze my ass. “Now, I can say for sure that I’m all for your type of thoroughness.” He slid one fingers just barely under the waistband of my pants. “Can I return the favor? Let me make you come, too.”

  I was on the verge of saying no. Not that I wasn’t on fire for him—I was—and not that I didn’t want him to touch me—I did. But there was still that part of me that was afraid.

  “Just let me touch you. Nothing else. I promise, baby, I’ll make you feel good.” Even as he spoke, his hand went around my back to unclasp my bra, freeing my breasts. My heart pounding in my ears, I lifted my arms one at a time to let him ease me out of it, so that I was bare beneath the large T-shirt.

  Linc cupped one boob, and then he nudged me to sit up a little. He lifted my shirt, and the expression on his face when he looked at me was nothing short of reverent.

  His mouth closed around one small pink bud, and the feel of him sucking on me was beyond any words I knew. I moved, bringing myself closer, letting him take more of me. When his lips moved to the other side, his hand skimmed down my stomach and beneath my yoga pants.

  I wasn’t wearing anything underneath, since the yoga pants tended to show panty lines no matter what. So when his fingers ventured under the waistband, they found me wet and ready for him.

  Just the feel of his touch on my most sensitive parts threatened to push me right over the edge. I moaned, long and loud, as Linc slipped one long finger into me and used his talented thumb to rub against my clit. His mouth continued to suck my nipple, and mindless, enormous pleasure took over.

  I rose up, keeping his lips
on my breast as I rode his hand. The most exquisite pressure built low in my abdomen as I climbed higher and higher, everything in me focused on where his fingers moved relentlessly. It all culminated in one long, roaring crescendo that had me shouting Linc’s name as my channel clenched around his finger.

  I collapsed onto his body, panting and exultant. I managed to turn my head long enough to meet his eyes.

  “That was the most . . . wow. Oh, my God. Thank you. Thank God. Thank whoever it was who invented sex and . . . oh, my God.”

  Linc shook beneath me as he laughed. “Jenna Sutton, have I told you how much I love you?”

  I smiled sleepily, raising one hand to smooth over his bristly cheek. “You did, but feel free to tell me again as often as you like. Also, feel free to make me come as often as you like, because that was fucking amazing.”

  Before I could take another breath, he’d flipped me beneath him on the couch, his face close to mine.

  “Just remember, baby, you asked for it.” He began to kiss down my neck to my chest.

  Oh, yes, I did. And I’d do it again.

  DORIS AND HANK ROBBINS HADN’T always been my biggest fans. After all, I’d been a punk-nosed kid from a family of cowboys when I’d met their seventeen-year old daughter in high school, and three years later, I’d persuaded her to marry me and go on the road with my job, working for Leo Groff. Sylvia was their only child, and I’d torn her away from them.

  Still, they were the only family I really had left. My own mother had died when I was sixteen, leaving me with an often-absentee father and two older brothers. Without a woman to tie us together, we’d drifted apart, and I was lucky if I spoke to any of them even once a year. But Doris and Hank . . . even when they disapproved of our plans, they had our backs. Doris was there when Becca was born, and again when Ollie came barreling into the world.

  And when the shit hit the fan and I couldn’t handle life after my wife’s death, they’d parented my kids until I could man up and do it myself. I’d forever be grateful for that. I’d been aware on some level that Doris had wanted to take legal custody of Becca and Oliver, to continue raising them, but Hank had put his foot down. It was because of him that I’d been able to take back my children. The day I’d left with them, he’d laid a hand on my shoulder, looked me in the eye and said, “Son, you’re their father. You’re responsible for every little thing in their lives now. Again. Don’t fuck it up.”

  Short, sweet and to the point. I liked it.

  Still, I was a little unsettled by the idea of them coming to my new town, to my new house, to see us. Maybe part of me was afraid they’d find something lacking in how we did things and insist on taking my kids away again. I was slightly worried that I’d lose Becca and Oliver’s allegiance again, that they’d tell me they wanted to go back to Texas. After all, living with their grandparents, they’d had the focused attention of two doting adults twenty-four/seven. Hank was retired from his job with the telephone company, and Doris had never worked outside the home. With me, in Burton, the children were often juggled between friends, out to the Reynolds’ farm or over to Flynn and Ali’s house. They were too old, really, for a babysitter or childcare, but too young to be left on their own while I worked. A neighborhood girl who was in her late teens came over sometimes to sit with them when I had to be in the company office, and that had worked well this summer, but I knew I’d have to put some kind of regular routine in place for the school year, when they’d need a predictable schedule.

  So when Hank and Doris’s familiar extended cab pickup pulled into our driveway early on that Friday morning, I fought back the urge to grab hold of the kids and beg them to love me more. Becca, who’d been watching at the front window, cried out, “Gramma’s here!” and flew out the front door, her brother hot on her heels.

  I hung back a little, watching Doris jump out of the truck and fold her grandchildren into her arms. She held Becca at arms’ length, and I could guess that she was exclaiming over how much my daughter had grown up since May.

  It was true. Becca had begun to blossom into a miniature young woman, no longer a little girl. Under Jenna’s tutelage, she’d started wearing a bra—something I didn’t want to know about but had gladly paid for, since Jenna was the one who’d taken her shopping for it—and she now had what she called night-time skin care, when she washed her face with some creamy stuff and then smoothed some kind of oil over it. Sure, she was still a kid who loved to run all over the fields with Bridget out on the farm, but the inner prissiness she’d had before was maturing into something more.

  And Oliver . . . he’d gotten taller, too. He looked sturdy and healthy. Watching my children interact with their grandparents, it hit me that they’d not only survived the first months of life with me, but they’d actually thrived. I hadn’t fucked it up. So far, at least.

  After a few minutes, I wandered outside to join them in the driveway. Hank met me halfway, pumping my hand and telling me about their drive to Georgia from Texas.

  “Thirteen hours, and the worst traffic we hit was in Atlanta. God almighty, what a mess.” He shook his head.

  “Lincoln. Come over here and give me a hug.” Doris wrapped her arms around me and squeezed. “You look good. All of you look good and healthy.” She hugged Becca to her side again. “Oh, I’m just so happy to see y’all. Now take me inside and show me around. This is a lovely neighborhood, Linc. And the house is just precious.”

  And so the morning went. I’d told the guys I wouldn’t be on-site until later, which was a good thing, since the kids insisted on giving their grandparents a tour of the town. We stopped in at the bakery for coffee and Danish, and Kiki fussed over Doris and Hank, telling them what a wonderful young lady Becca was and how much everyone in Burton loved all of us. We stopped in at the library, where Becca had made friends with Cory Evans, the librarian and Flynn’s mom, and had a picnic lunch from Kenny’s on the green.

  Finally, I drove out to Oak Grove, with Hank and Doris following me, kids in their truck, so that they could see what I was working on before they all left for their weekend in Savannah. As I bumped into the yard, I spied Jenna’s car and smiled. She’d known I was going to be absent from the site; I assumed she was there to keep her eye on things. Ever responsible and vigilant, my Jenna was.

  “Hey, Dad, Jenna’s here!” Ollie shouted as he slid down from his grandparents’ truck.

  “Yeah, but I don’t think she has any cookies for you here, bud.” I tapped him on the head, grinning.

  “That’s okay. I’m still full from lunch.” He rubbed his stomach.

  I pretended to stagger back. “It’s happened. It’s finally happened! We managed to fill Ollie up!”

  He rolled his eyes as we all laughed. “I could eat a cookie if she had one,” he mumbled. “I’m just saying I’m not, like, starved.”

  “Linc, this is amazing.” Doris shaded her eyes as she gazed up at Oak Grove. “I looked this place up on line and saw what it looked like before. I know you’re not finished, but even so . . . it’s come a long way.”

  “Thanks.” I was proud of what we’d done here so far, pleased with my crew’s hard work and how, together with the historical society, we were realizing the vision we shared for this piece of history.

  I gave them the grand tour, going through the downstairs rooms and pointing out what we’d added, what we’d restored and what we’d had to adapt. All the while, I kept one eye open for Jenna, listening for her voice and waiting to find her.

  She wasn’t on the first floor, but when Ollie clamored up the stairs ahead of us, I heard her call out his name.

  “Ollie, hey! What’re you doing here? I thought you were heading to Savannah today.”

  We all followed the sound into one of the smaller bedrooms, where Jenna knelt on the floor in front of a window, sandpaper in her hand. Our eyes met across the empty space, and I felt naked, vulnerable, as though Hank and Doris and both kids could see our connection.

  “Gramma, this is Jenn
a.” Becca dragged her grandmother over to Jenna. “She works at the historical society, and she did all the research about Oak Grove. She knows everything about it. And she’s my friend, too.” There was a heap of meaning behind that one word, and I knew Jenna felt it as much as I did. Her breath hitched a little, her lips parted, and she smiled up at my daughter.

  “Jenna, I’ve heard so much about you.” Doris offered her hand as Jenna rose to her feet, her eyes shooting to me in question. “Becca told me what a great help you’ve been to her. Oh, heck with shaking hands—come here and give me a hug, honey.”

  I hadn’t realized how tense I’d been about my in-laws meeting Jenna until that moment, when relief washed over me. Jenna embraced Doris, her eyes closing as the older woman squeezed her tight.

  “What’re you doing, Jenna?” I cleared my throat and pointed to the sandpaper still in her hand. “Did they put you to work?”

  “Oh.” She glanced down as though surprised to find the paper there. “Jerry told me that the painters are coming Monday for the upstairs, and they were worried about having this sanding done, since they’re all working on stuff on the first floor. I figured I’d lend a hand.”

  Hank chuckled. “This one’s a keeper, Linc. Any gal who’ll pick up sandpaper and pitch in is one you don’t want to let get away. Maybe think about hiring her for your crew.”

  A slow smile spread over my lips as Jenna’s face flushed the prettiest shade of pink. “Not a bad idea, Hank. I’ll have to take it under consideration. Not a bad idea at all.”

  Hank, Doris and the kids left soon after that, both kids hugging me tight and kissing my cheek.

  “Daddy, will you be all right, alone all weekend?” Becca’s eyes were anxious. “I don’t want you to be lonely without Ollie and me.”

  I touched my daughter’s cheek with one finger. “Sugar, I’ll be fine. I’m going to catch up on some work and probably watch a ton of old movies on TV—the kind that you and your brother hate. You go and have a wonderful time. Don’t you worry about me one minute.”