She nodded her head and sat up, stretching as she stood upright. When she padded to the bathroom, she couldn’t help looking back at her bed and the übermasculine man atop it. Jamison should have never stopped to catch one extra glance of him. At least then she wouldn’t have been distracted enough to smack herself in the head with the door frame. The worst part of it wasn’t the small pain from her injury, but watching the wince scroll across his face after the loud cracking smack the collision created. Not her best look and sadly enough not the worst either. There was that time in band class…
The decades-old memory embarrassed her even now. It was the year before her dad died, and she was twelve. She was an avid participant in band class, finding her friends amidst the band geeks and misfits. Until one day she came into class and picked up her school issued bassoon. Somehow she tripped over one of the steps and dropped her case, unable to stop herself from falling. Even at that age, she was a busty girl, and her burgeoning breasts bounced her at least twice off her chair before she fell in the floor in front of Brand, her crush. After then, she was the butt of many jokes for months, most of the students calling her names like “boobs-a-bouncing” or “busty big bounce.” It was those moments that quickly taught her the value of melding into her environment. Then after the passing of her only parent, the foster homes finalized the rest of her education about hiding in plain sight. To be unseen was sometimes the best protection from people with bad intentions. But even then, being unseen was the one thing that can create an instant victim. The one and only time her anonymous demeanor didn’t save her was the day she ended up in the group home until she graduated from high school.
Perturbed at the turn her thoughts took, Jamison decided to clear her head with a quick shower. By the time she finished and applied a light mist of body oil in a spray bottle, it was time for her morning workout. She put on the sports bra she normally wore for these occasions. Otherwise she would end up slapping herself in the eye as she transitioned. As she padded to the window, she tried to pretend Marq wasn’t there, but of course he watched every move she made. Yet, within five minutes of her initial stretch, she was grounded enough to forget his presence and the day felt nearly the same as any other she’d had in the last year.
Over the last months she had perfected the art of finding Zen anywhere. Crowded trailers, cold desert sands, freezing tundra, and a few other places she found herself during her working career. She was at the point now she could leave the wireless game entirely. The only thing that held her back was her best friends. Once she pulled stakes from her day job and Makenzie’s apartment, no more Wilmington. She may just post up in California this time. She’d lived a little of everywhere, from sunny Florida to bustling New York. But for now, she enjoyed her ability to bask in her first real, adult female friendships. Before Charli and Makenzie, she was a self-proclaimed occasional beard for some of her closeted buddies at professional and personal gatherings. So it was needless to say that she didn’t want to throw away her relationship with Makenzie and Charlene. But she didn’t really feel…satisfied. There was more out there for her, she knew it. Whether or not it was here remained to be seen.
As she transitioned through the asana, Jamison let her mind roam as it would. It seemed with these moments each day, she learned more about herself. She understood what she wanted and needed from life. She knew where she wanted her path to lead her and what she required to be happy. For most people, they already knew or at least had an inkling of what they needed from life. For her it was different. She never expected to be joyful, and content was enough to keep her alive and in the moment. As the poses progressed, Jamison found she attained then held the positions a bit too easily and decided to up the ante on her workout. She finished the few variants needed to end her round of salutations and moved to a free form of postures designed to push her flexibility to the max. She adopted a corpse pose first for a moment of rest and reflection.
When she finished, she bent her knees and brought them to her chest and rocked from left to right, giving her spine a supple stretch. Using her weak but present abdominals, she forced her lower half into the air and rolled her back upward. When that stage was complete, she was a propped into a full shoulder stand. It took her a moment to melt within the pose and fully relax while engaging every muscle. Her hips lowered in degrees and, once her lower half of her body was perpendicular to the upper, gave one deep push to send her feet to the floor. Her flexibility only allowed her to touch her toes to the ground here, but it was enough to achieve the posture. Lastly, she bent her knees to the floor, one on each side of her face. She could feel sweat roll from her skin. This was exactly what she needed to challenge herself today.
Marques had remained so silent that Jamison had forgotten he was watching her just across the room. Until she attained plow posture as the pose was called, and then she heard a gasp and choking sounds. The muted noises were enough to break her concentration and the natural endorphins gave way to adrenaline-based fire boiling through her veins at the realization that she let him watch her. Due to the nature of her stance, she was unable to see him, but she heard the heightened breathing and movement. She pushed off with her feet, and unwound her body from the awkward posture. When she was sitting upright again, her head swam with oxygen and a drugging sense of awareness mixed heavily with arousal. The totality of her night and day with her own McSexy was too delicious, amazing in a way that left her breathless. She waited long moments attempting to soothe herself, keep the yearning at bay. It surely wouldn’t do to let him see how much she craved him. For goodness sakes, she had just climbed off the man not an hour ago. But when she looked over at him, he ogled her in a way that she’d never been looked at before, dick hard and already sheathed with a rubber. Before she could remark on the ready erection, he cocked a brow upward before his eyes dropped to his length of pipe and back up to her gaze. She bit her lip before she licked over it and let his gaze pull her to where they both wanted her. On his dick.
Chapter Five:
Give It to Me
It didn’t take much to see where Jamison was headed. Marques was a real man and, even to her, more than enough to satisfy her hunger. As the days progressed, Marq showed her so much about herself. She didn’t even know how much she would like wearing sensual lingerie. She had never thought of herself as a lace kind of girl, but he had shown her how decadent lovemaking could be with the right garments. She had screamed and squirmed in a bustier Monday night. She had moaned and groaned in lace on Tuesday. He made her beg and weep in leather on Wednesday. On Thursday he made her faint from pleasure wearing a silk toga. Friday and Saturday were dedicated to hedonism at its finest, and he covered her in naught but fruit. Every day for the last week she had been introduced to something new. They both loved to watch campy movies and laugh at errors they found as they went along. He was one of the few men she had met who knew the ins and outs of the industry without being directly involved in the business of film.
If she never had this experience, it would have been a big mistake. Who else would take her to a boutique for clothes and eat her pussy in the dressing room between clothing changes? Imagine something like that happening to her of all people? How in the world did he come up with half of the stuff he did to her? She had no idea, but she knew that he was quickly worming his way into her heart. Everything that he had done for her helped make her so much happier than she had ever been. She was able to actually able look others in the eye now, and it was a good feeling. When she thought back to before they met, there was a tinge of disgust for the person that let she herself become. It almost seemed like she had no spine. Even though life had beat at her badly over the years, she should have never just let all hope go.
* * * *
Marq had quickly become accustomed to molding Jamison into the best version of herself. Every day he found somewhere new to take her. Something different to show her. She was a more than apt pupil for all that he had to teach her. He even learned a few things fro
m her, namely about the movie business and how it worked. Jamison was the only woman he’d ever met that understood him and appreciated who he really was. Since he was working on the linguistics of a couple of contracts in Dubai, he was out of the office for the next month. He was blessed with a gift for languages, and the contract only took a fraction of the time he had allotted. So he was free to squire around Jamison at will. She still had to work, but usually they ran errands in the morning. Each day he tried to find at least two sets of undergarments, one for that day and the other for that night. The major goal was to burn every ugly piece of clothing she owned. Even the shoes were bad. Not that he had a problem with Clark’s, but to own nothing but numerous bland colors of the shoes? Not good, she was too young to act so old.
For some reason, La Perla was especially lovely against her skin, French fripperies highlighting the bright gold of her flesh. The color reminded him of peanut brittle, tasted just as sweet, and even spiced with freckles the color of nutmeg in odd places. Across the backs of her hands and feet, sprinkles of spots over her breasts and bridge of her nose teased him to taste the odd bits of skin. Along with the lingerie, there were new clothes for his protégé. He’d even gotten into the habit of matching the outerwear with the underwear. Red was luscious on her, brightened the light brown of her eyes to a rich amber, and in silk she was a vixen. After the first Monday, they decided not to spend her lunches together, due to the fact that he decided to have her for lunch and she had him for dinner with no stop between the two feasts of fleshly pleasures. Of course she never made it back to the office that day.
He spent four and a half grueling, sweating, panting hours inside her that afternoon teasing her into squirming on his cock while screaming for more. The only reason they stopped was someone knocked on the door until he stopped fucking her and she stopped squealing, followed with him shrugging on underwear to answer the summons. When he opened the door, a small woman stood with her eyes and mouth gaped open. He didn’t even say anything, merely looked the nosy neighbor dead in the face as the flushed, olive-skinned woman ogled him from toes to head twice before she stammered a quick apology and made her way back across the hall. He shut the door and, without removing the unwanted boxers, re-impaled the waiting hot pussy in bed. When he finished with her, they had to go to his place. He was through with restrictions, and he wanted the comfort of his bed. The king-sized frame was much larger than hers, and he required more legroom.
It was bright and early Tuesday morning of their second week together Marques woke Jamison with a contract for permission to record their sexual encounters. When he saw her sleeping, he didn’t want to wake her. Not for this. But he had the itch and, before he could sacrifice Jamison to the desires burning his veins, had to get the green light. When she opened her eyes, she smiled sleepily, the flutter of eyelashes nearly his undoing as the thick hairs beckoned him to fuck. But he tamped down the lust and thrust the now-slightly-crumpled papers before her. She didn’t seem surprised by the fistful of contracts and slid on the waiting glasses on the nightstand. Sitting patiently in one of the wingback chairs next to his bed, he watched Jamison read the entirety of the document from beginning to end and let his mind wander. It was enough to amaze him. He hadn’t fucked any woman without one since Renee. The thought sobered him slightly. He had relegated the episode to the deepest recesses of his mind and had nearly banished the painful memory until now. It was bittersweet to remember the youthful indulgences that nearly cost him everything.
He had just really gotten into the concept of taping sexual encounters just the year prior to the incident. One night he and his friends were playing around with the video camera, and he unintentionally left it running after being distracted. Just an hour later he was having some decent sex with a sophomore sorority girl. When he decided to watch and edit the film the next day, he saw himself having sex and was hooked. It almost looked better than the fuck actually felt at the time. After that he had to do it again and again. He had never asked a woman if she would agree to being taped and childishly hid the cameras during a few choice encounters with some extra friendly ladies, not realizing what an invasion of privacy it was on his part by hiding his fetish for film. In either event, one night he had met a fellow student at a party on campus his fraternity was having. A girl there caught his eye. He’d seen her around school, and she was a lovely young woman.
Renee had beautiful hazel eyes and golden hair the color of wheat twitching past her waist. She had the potential to be stunning as she aged, but at this moment she hadn’t lived in her skin long enough to reflect the confidence of a truly beautiful woman. In those days the fresh beauty she portrayed was all it took for him to hoist his cock to rampant. She threw out signals that she was interested in him, rubbed against his cock during a handful of dances, and he quickly swallowed the scantily clad bait. One of his brothers was more than happy to toss a box of condoms at him before they ascended the stairs to his room. He caught the pack, laughed as they would be too small, and tossed them back. Three minutes later he pulled his own box of Magnums from the dresser drawer before activating the camera hidden under a stray towel in the dresser and followed up by fucking the living daylights out of her. When they finished, the mystery of the flaxen beauty was gone. She fucked terribly, stiffer than a wooden board, and it was more work than it was worth to put on the rubber and do her.
Marq had never been a die-hard slut, and now the wasted fuck meant he wouldn’t be doing anyone else until tomorrow night. He’d never liked the idea of bouncing from one woman to the next in a single evening, so if he came tonight, it would be by his own hand. He didn’t even finish, instead letting her think his soft cock was due to coming. She was so naive that she fell for the ruse hook, line, and sinker. But she somehow mistakenly thought that he was going to be her boyfriend and that they would begin dating because of the fact she gave him some. She was dead wrong, and when he advised her there was no way they would date or even fuck again, she slapped the taste out of his mouth and left. On the way out she threw a temper tantrum and tossed various items at him and his drunken frat brothers as he escorted her out. His line brother, Quinn, was hit with one of the missiles she lobbed, and as he wasn’t known to be the nicest drunk, tossed her out of the house on her ass in a pair of panties and nothing else. Of course that left her holding what was left of her dress in her hands in the way out.
It had to be horribly embarrassing as the party was still going strong and half the campus was milling drunkenly on the frat house lawn. But when he looked at the burning hatred in her eyes as she walked away, he knew she was going to be trouble as he anticipated months of pathetic tricks by her and her sorors from the Gamma house.
It was the following day he found out what she had up her sleeve. He awoke to the police at his front door at six a.m. and was taken from his room in handcuffs. On the way to the precinct, he was reviled by the officers, who were happy to treat him as if he were guilty of the crimes they accused him of. When they arrived at the station, he used his one call to find Deven, who in turn sent the family attorney to get him. They browbeat him for three hours while Attorney Cohen was in route. Marq chose not to speak even though the words that proved his innocence burned to leave his lips. The police were attempting to charge him with rape and aggravated assault as well as the delinquency of a minor, as Renee had a beer that evening and she was nineteen. The moment was the worst in his life, and to make matters worse, even Attorney Cohen seemed to believe him guilty when he arrived at noon. He’d never forget what the family friend and legal counsel had to say.
“Marques, I’m going to speak to you as a friend of your father first. I know that you’ve been indulged your whole life, but this is reprehensible. Just because you come from a background of means doesn’t give you the right to take what you will. Now I’m going to speak to you as your counsel. The DA is willing to reduce the charges if you accept a deal. Now I’m going to recommend we don’t take it. If you do, you’re going to end up wit
h something on your record no matter if I am able to seal it or not. We can take it to trial, but I will have to dig some dirt up on this girl to keep your ass out of jail.” The older man’s face revealed how he felt, a mixture of disgust and disappointment making the forty-odd-year-old man appear much older. At this point he knew he didn’t have any choices left. He had been carefully cultivating tapes for over a year, risking being caught several times by his momentary paramours and hoarding footage like a miser. He’d never shared the sex tapes with anyone, not even his own brothers.
Marques remembered how bitterly angry he felt that it had come to this. He was going to have to divulge his secret. “Mr. Cohen, I can prove that I didn’t rape her.”
The attorney looked stunned. “And how is that, may I ask?”
Marques wouldn’t say anything further until he was home. “Just take me to my dorm.”
When they arrived, his frat brothers were in a frenzy. Most were nursing hangovers combined with fury at his dawn arrest. He sent all of them away with a joviality he certainly didn’t feel. But he was good at keeping up appearances. It was the way of the upper crust, the crème de la crème of society, those with money so old that the funds could be traced back in centuries. When the attorney walked into the trashed room, he snubbed his nose up, but at this point Marq could give a fuck what the asshole thought. He just wanted this over with, now. When he plugged the video camera into the TV, the tape showed what happened with him and Renee the night before. It was clear she was willing and nowhere near drunk when he screwed her the night before, along with her petulant behavior afterward.
Attorney Cohen called the DA, and once the footage was shared with the investigators, the charges were dropped. His lawyer told him he could press charges against Renee, but Marq saw no point. He was free and one hundred percent clear. After the truth came out, Renee disappeared. As far as he knew, she transferred to another college, and he decided he would finish his education in the law. No one would ever strip his rights from him again. He knew the law wasn’t his passion. He was an IT guy and worked better with networks than he did with the loopholes the law provided. Computers were black and white. The law had too many shades of gray to make sense to a man of logic and clear convictions. He received a few strange looks around campus, but he ignored those and kept moving. Two days after the matter was fully settled, Attorney Cohen came back to him with a single thin manila envelope and an offer for lunch. Marq accepted even though he didn’t want to talk to the man but did so out of respect to his parents, who considered him an informal member of the family. Their lunch was silent until after the meal was half eaten.
Willows, Jennifer - A Harem of One [The Moreland Brothers 3] (Siren Publishing Allure) Page 8
