In Time to Love

by Gloria Martin

  “Okay, I’m ready,” I say. “Get up here and show me you can handle it.”

  “Thank you, Tara,” he says, climbing up after me. With my ass so high, he’s between crouching and standing, but that’s how I need him in order to get him in deep. The bed bounces a little, but it’s an expensive bed so it molds to our needs. Once he’s in position, I feel his crotch and balls against my backside as he narrows the head of his dick. It tickles as he plays with it around my ass, but then he continues on lower until it’s at the opening of my lips.

  “Yes, get it,” I say. “Tell me that I have permission to scream.”

  “Tara, you have permission to scream,” he says.

  “I don’t want anybody to hear me,” I say. “I’m embarrassed. And if you want to get it right I need to know.” This isn’t like me. With it popping, encouraging his dick to land, I realize that he never answered me about how weird Jill and Gloria got. I haven’t been around Mae Lin, but I’m sure if I was I would have seen some strange quirk.

  “Why were those other chicks acting like that?” I ask. “Tell me why Jill said she knows. Tell me why Gloria was checking for your sperm.”

  His cock enters me again, and in a lighting-quick reach he has my hair in his hand and his hips thrust against my butt like the second hand on a clock. My eyes roll back. Denver, stop changing the subject!

  “Answer me, motherfucker,” I say. It’s really all I can say. “I need to know I’m not on camera. I need to know some dirty chick isn’t coming in here tomorrow looking for my hairs.” I’m so embarrassed and so turned on and intimidated and encouraged that I don’t know what to do but cry again. I let him take control of me, and now he’s pounding, pounding, pounding—pulling, pulling, pulling—my moans echoing in the room. Just answer me, baby. Get the truth out there.

  “They have to check to make sure I’m not dead,” he says, spanking me hard. It kind of hurts, but it only makes me wobble against him harder. Once my ass starts it’s not stopping.

  “Spank me again, bastard,” I moan.

  He does.

  This is like clockwork.

  “If you would have told them you were with me they wouldn’t have come looking,” he says. Is he for real? If I was just honest none of this would have happened?

  “But what happened—” it’s hard for me to speak with this piston grinding me into overdrive. “—what happened with your company? The emergency? Is everything going to be okay?”

  “I hope so,” he says. “I could lose everything. Are you going to pop it for me like this if that happens?”

  “Yes, Denver, yes I will,” I moan.

  “You will, what, Tara?”

  “I will pop it for you, I will!” This is the kind of steady sex that is too good to change—the objective isn’t to orgasm, it’s to get buck wild. I’m thrusting my hips and ass in ways that I know I will regret later, but right now I’m letting this man exercise me into paradise.

  “Just be my woman and I’ll never let go,” he says.

  “I’m yours, Denver,” I say with a huge smile, “I’m all yours.” I let him ride me—and that’s what this is, a sexy god of a man riding me hard—for the better part of an hour until my pussy is almost dry. I’ve held out on the orgasm for that long, but in our grunts and moans I just breathe and feel him against me, planning my next strike. I want his orgasm to blow his mind. I want to come together. I want him to cum inside me.

  “Pull out,” I demand. “Lay down. It’s my turn to ride you.” He does, and I can tell he’s spent and excited to take a breather. Panting hard, he lies on his back, dick erect, waiting for me to hook on. I stagger on top of him because I can barely wait for it. I just know that I needed to change positions or I was about to squirt all over him.

  “I don’t want this to be just sex,” I say, getting him in me and letting out a loud groan. I lean my body over so that my breasts hang onto his chest and our eyes are locked. “I want it to be love. I want you to make love to me. Don’t just fuck me, Denver. I want this to be the real deal. I want to be a woman making love to a man, I want to be a woman loving a man. I want give it to you and listen to you talk for hours. I want to know about your life. I want to know everything.”

  Holding me firmly he rides in sync with my hips. “I will love you, Tara. I do love you, and we will learn. We will learn each other like you wouldn’t believe. Until you get tired of me.”

  “No, until you get tired of me,” I say. “I won’t get tired of you.”

  “And I won’t get tired of you,” he says, doing these little light pops, tensing his ass and thrusting into me.

  “Good, because I want it to last,” I say. “I’m trying to make this work. I need something to work in my life right now. I feel like I’m going to lose it.”

  “We have each other, and as long as we do we will never lose anything,” he says. Our thrusts are desperate, as if our hips are having an argument, and the moans that I let out sound like I’m angry with Denver. But I’m not. No, I’m not.

  I rise up, my hands behind my back so that my breasts are just right, and I swivel until the engine revs. “Denver, I’m going to give it to you,” I whisper, holding it in so that I can release a scream. “I want you to come with me. I want you to come in me. Is that okay?”

  I know this type of thing is normally wrong but I don’t care, I’m on the pill and it will be fine. I just want to feel his hot semen in me. Is that so bad?

  “Yes, that’s okay,” he says. “I’m going to do it. I have to know that you’re not joking. I need to know if you’re saying it out of passion or not.”

  “No, baby,” I scream, “this ain’t passion! Give me that cum! Shoot it in my pussy!”

  “Okay, Tara, I’m about to give it to you, baby doll!” he yells.

  “I’m cumming, baby!”

  “I love you, Tara!”

  “I love you, Denver!”

  His hot ejaculate fills my pussy and there is nothing more comforting or blissful to go with my own orgasm—as I empty out, I feel our secretions mixing together inside me. I thrust my hips and our hands are locked. Looking down, I see that his eyes are rolling back and his muscles are stretched. I put my palm against him and squeeze as I wiggle the last of the cum out of him.

  “Denver, I gotta get it,” I moan. I don’t know what to say, it’s just my body doing the talking. I’m thrusting against his dick so hard that I’m afraid I’m hurting him, but it intensifies my orgasm so I can only assume it does the same for him.

  His mouth hasn’t closed this whole time, and from his mouth escapes a warble of different sounds—moans, screams, dirty words. That’s my man, I think, and now he’s inside me. I lift up and roll over, basically tumbling, succumbing to gravity. I land next to him and my hair in his nose makes him sneeze, which makes me laugh.

  “I’m sorry, boo,” I say, getting it out of his face. “I’m a mess.”

  “You’re amazing,” he says, gasping. “You’re the most amazing woman on earth.” We lie, limbs akimbo, and catch our breath in moans.

  *****

  I instantly pass out, and just as quick I’m awakened by a nightmare of Denver disappearing again. When I open my eyes, he’s still there, but I don’t know how much time has passed. Judging by the change in light I’d say two hours. I look over to him and he’s breathing in long, drawn out patterns, his mouth open. So cute.

  This is what I wanted to wake up to the first time. But he was gone.

  I lie here and just enjoy him. It feels like hours. He’s in a deep sleep. I can tell because his snoring goes unperturbed even if I prod at him. Running my fingers along his body, I think about how I could get used to this. I want to treat him every night. But how often does he work, really? And what about those other women? Will I have to be around them every day? Was he being honest when he said he wasn’t with them?

  I go on thinking crazy thoughts about Denver’s lifestyle and what the future might have in store for us for a while. He must really need
this rest, because even though I’ve gotten up to use the bathroom a couple times he hasn’t moved once.

  I decide that it’s safe to go explore the other rooms because he won’t wake up, and if he does then I’ll just be real with him. If I’m going to let a man have my body like that I need to know he’s not keeping any secrets. I would have checked his phone if it wasn’t dead and I knew where his charger was.

  The orange bedroom belongs to Jill because there are photos of her and Denver all over the place, in addition to photos of what look like her and her family. There is one photo of her and a man that looks greasy, with jet-black hair and dark eyes. Her hand is on his chest in the photo. I go through all of the drawers in the room and the closet but find little, barely anything other than old clothes. It looks like Jill hasn’t been here in a while.

  In the white and teal rooms, it’s pretty much the same. Mae Lin doesn’t really have photos, but just a lot of stuff pertaining to work for Paerotech—a whiteboard, a corkboard, markers, and three computers. Gloria’s room is just sleek and comfortable, straightforward. Will I get a room? I don’t see any empty ones. I’ll be damned if they get a room and I don’t. Hell, I’d better get a whole house. And to be honest, I’m ready to evict these women from his life. He doesn’t need them with me around. I’m more than enough to do everything he needs. Work, drive, clean, cook. I was raised to be a good woman. It’s in my blood.

  I’m on the ground level snooping around the kitchen when I hear a loud BANG at the door. It comes in threes thereafter.

  BANG BANG BANG.

  BANG BANG BANG.

  Someone is at the door, only Denver won’t hear it because he’s fast asleep. The only way I can get back upstairs is to pass by the front door to the stairs—is it possible that they can see through the curtains? I’m still naked, wrapped in a sheet, and when I turn the corner to scope out the caliber of the sheers the sheet nearly pulls down from a chip in the wood doorframe.

  Curling it back around me, I stumble and knock my elbow on the wall.

  “Shit,” I screech, and jump back behind the wall.

  BANG BANG BANG.

  BANG BANG BANG.

  Whoever they are, they’re trying to convey their urgency. Those aren’t light taps. I bet they know the damn car is outside, I think. I put my back against the refrigerator and, looking across the kitchen, see a figure crossing outside of the window.

  BANG BANG BANG.

  Are there two of them? The figure out back goes for the door and jiggles the handle. I’m trapped here, naked, and I need to get upstairs. Just run, Tara, I tell myself. If I book it, at least I can throw Denver in front of me.

  I take a deep inhale and then turn the corner, aiming for the stairs. I make sure not to slide across the floor or miss a step, causing a face plant. The last thing I need is injury right now. I get up the stairs quickly, and the person at the front door bangs another three times. Rushing over to Denver’s room, the knocking reverberates even louder up here. How can he sleep through that? With someone at either door I’m starting to worry if we’re safe in here.

  Entering the purple room, I shout, “Denver! Wake up!” He doesn’t budge. I go over to the bed and tap him on the face a few times. “Denver!” I scream it this time, and his eyes bulge.

  “What’s wrong? Is everything okay?” He rises up and looks around the room, raising his arms like he’s ready to go fisticuffs with somebody.

  “Someone’s banging on the front door, and someone else is trying to enter through the back,” I stammer.

  “What? Who?” He stands up, gets his clothes on, and rushes down the stairs.

  BANG BANG BANG.

  “Is it the police?” I ask. I expect to see the officers from Malibu saying they tracked the car to this location.

  “No,” he answers. “The police wouldn’t hammer on the door like that without stating who they were.” How does he know that? “Just stay upstairs and wait for me, my love.” His words leave no room for me to intervene. Casually, he goes to the door as I watch from the top of the stairs, peaking around the corner.

  First, he looks through the curtain. He doesn’t like what he sees and clears his throat before opening the door. “Marty, this is crazy, what are you doing here?” Marty? Is it the guy he referred to earlier, the one who stole from Paerotech, Martin O’Leary?

  “Den, I’m sorry to drop in on you like this, bud,” Martin says, his voice slick sounding.

  “Yeah, it’s strange because this address isn’t listed anywhere in the company and is in fact private information,” Denver says. I can tell by his tone that he’s trying to get the legal jargon out of the way before getting serious with him.

  “Well, I just saw the car and figured you were near by. Also,” he holds up his phone, “I was able to hack in and see where your location was. I was just worried about you, Den. But it’s good to see that you’re okay. Mind if I come in?”

  “Actually now really isn’t a good time,” Denver says. “I’ll catch you at the office tomorrow, Martin. Oh, and if you come banging on my door again I’m calling the police. Have a wonderful day.”

  He shuts the door in his face and locks every bolt. Pouncing up the stairs, he takes my hand and guides me back to the bedroom. “What was that about?” I inquire.

  “That was a message telling me that I might be in trouble,” he says. My paranoia kicks in and I swat my hands to my face. “If you tell me that the omelet was poisoned I might kill you, if I don’t die first.”

  He smiles, but luckily that’s not the case. “Martin O’Leary showing up here is not a good sign,” Denver says. “We should get out of here as soon as possible.”

  “Did you check the back door or not?” I remind him.

  “Oh no,” he says, looking to the bedroom door. “Okay, stay here. Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

  “No, I’m coming with you this time,” I say, more because I’m afraid of being alone.

  “If you insist,” he says, nodding his head in the direction of the door. We go down the stairs together and I’m wishing I would have thrown some clothes on, but all I have is the sheet. So stupid. Although the banging has stopped, I’m more on edge than before. I wait in the kitchen doorway as Denver goes to the door. His approach is slow, cautious, and before opening it he flips the shades to get a peak.

  “Nothing,” he says. One by one he undoes the locks on this door, and I’m so scared something is going to jump out once he opens it, and then I have to hurry up and look behind me to make sure no one is there. It’s clear, and I exhale. When I turn back around, Denver has the door open but he’s not standing in the kitchen anymore. The door is just wide open.

  “Denver?” I call out. Did he seriously leave the door open with me standing in a sheet? “Denver, please come back.”

  I’m not about to go any closer to the open door than I already am. I’d rather run back upstairs and lock myself in the bedroom. Right then Denver pops his head into the kitchen. “There’s nobody out here, either,” he says. “I wonder if it was just Martin? He’s got some nerve to try to open the door.”

  “No way, the knocking at the door was definitely at the same time as the door was tried here,” I say. It’s vivid in my mind, there’s no mistaking it.

  “Are you sure?” he asks.

  “Positive.”

  He closes the door and locks it up again. “Well, perhaps he had someone with him. I don’t know who it could have been. Maybe someone from the office. I wouldn’t be alarmed.” Walking back over to me, he wraps his arm around me and we walk to the stairwell.

  “Is it always this crazy around you?” I ask.

  “Not always,” he says, smiling. “Sometimes, but not always.”

  *****

  “Denver, I don’t know if we should stay here,” I say, “you said all that stuff about shields, well, where are they now? Shouldn’t you have some guards on duty or something?”

  “If you’re ready for me to bring on the heavy protection jus
t say the word,” he says. “All I have to do is make one phone call and the place will be swarming with cops, upon which we can leave in the Benz and go wherever you’d like.”

  “I think that might sound like a good idea, but do we really have to get the cops involved? I’m like, kind of tripping enough as it is. Let’s just go. Let’s drive. It’s safe to just go outside, right?”

  His hesitation is daunting. “I’ll leave it up to you, Tara,” he says. “I trust you and your instincts.”

  “Let me get and dressed and we’ll hit the road,” I say. I gather my clothes and get myself together as Denver waits for me in the doorway.

  “Where do you want to go?” he asks. “We can go anywhere, remember that.”

  “I don’t care, Denver,” I say. “I don’t have a job. I don’t really have anything I’m attached to. I told Dominic goodbye this morning.”

  “Good, I’m the only man in your life from now on,” he says.

  “But Dominic is a friend, I still might talk to him,” I say, knowing its not true but wanting to hold on to my power.

  “No, Dominic is not a friend. Dominic is a dude you used to sleep with who got you a job once. You’re never talking to him again.”

  “Well then can I say the same for Jill, Gloria, and Mae Lin?” I ask, getting my shoes on. Now that I’m ready, I head for him and we both go back downstairs.

  “Do you want to stay in the state? In the country?” He holds the door for me to exit first.

  “Denver, I don’t care, wherever you think I’d like,” I say, and as I turn into the lawn I see Jill standing there holding a gun up.

  “I’d get back in the house if I were you,” she says, and I back up, almost falling into Denver’s arms.

  “Jill, this is crazy, don’t do this,” Denver says, walking around me—he would take the bullet if she fires. He really does love me. “Put the gun down, Jill. Is Martin with you? Are you together, the two of you?”

  He’s putting things together awfully quick—something must already be in motion here. Now that I can get a closer look at Jill, I see her eyes are soaked with tears, smeared with mascara. “You don’t know the half of it, Denver,” she says, her hands shaking. “Get back in the house.” I look around the yard and there is nobody in sight—nobody to witness this invasion.