by Mj Fields
“Jesus, Momma.” Xavier laughs as he grabs my elbow to steady me. “You smell like a brewery.”
“Was that Thomas?” Zandor asks as he bends and begins to untie my other boot.
“I am perfectly capable of taking off my shoes,” I snap and drop the boot on the floor.
“Momma, are you lit?” Cyrus laughs.
“No!” I say too defensively.
“Sure as hell are.” I look up at Jase’s scowling face.
“Momma, let me help you,” Zandor chuckles.
“I wiped all four of your asses, so I think I can remove my own boots,” I tell them, hopping to the rocking chair that I used to read to them or rock them in. Cyrus salvaged it from the old restaurant after Hurricane Sandy before we turned it into Forever Steel.
They are all staring at me as I take off my other boot. I feel the weight of their eyes. I stand then lift my chin as I shrug off my leather jacket and hang it on the coat hooks attached to the hanging driftwood Xavier found after Jonathon died.
I place my hand on my hips and look at them, each one of them. “Is everything all right?”
“Aside from the fact that you didn’t answer your phone?” Jase snaps.
“I am a grown woman, Jovanni Steel.”
“Who has a family who gives a damn and wants to know she’s not dead in a ditch,” Cyrus grumbles.
“Or raped,” Zandor says, shaking his head.
“Or just pissed off ’cause her family wants her to take some time for herself for once in her life and not exhaust the hell out of herself,” Xavier says, looking at his brothers like they are crazy. “Just answer your phone, Momma, okay?”
“I’m tired, so unless there is a problem, I am going to bed.”
“Momma Joe,” Zandor says, standing in front of me. “You know we adore you and want you with us all the time; unless we are—” I don’t know what comes over me, but I put my hand over his face to stop him from talking. He laughs. “Yep, Momma Joe is fucked up.”
“We are so disappointed in you,” Jase says, trying not to laugh.
“It’s a good thing you had enough sense not to drive, young lady,” Cyrus chuckles.
“This better have been an isolated incident. We didn’t raise our momma to act like this,” Xavier laughs.
“Raise your momma, pft.” I look at all four of my boys, all beautiful, all smiling, and all … mine.
“That’s right,” Cyrus beams. “We raised you up Steel-style, young lady.”
“Raising Steel.” Zandor wags his eyebrows, and I shake my head.
“Go home to your families,” I say, still trying to suppress the urge to smile.
“We love you, Momma Joe,” Jase says as he grabs the back of my neck and pulls me into an obnoxious hug, and the others join in.
“I love you all, too. Now get out of my house.” I laugh as they plant big, wet kisses to my face.
“You sure?” Cyrus asks after they are finished showering me with affection.
“Yes, your wives need you.” I step back away from them. “Your children need you, and someday you’ll wish—”
“Don’t even lay on the guilt, Momma. Trust me when I say this: I am not looking forward to studying spelling words with Little Bell to avoid a breakdown if she gets below a one hundred on her test tomorrow,” Jase scolds playfully. “Don’t you think you may have set the bar a little high?”
“Just raising Steel the only way I know how,” I answer.
“Go hard or go home.” Xavier chuckles, giving me a kiss then walking to the door.
“If you can’t hang with the big dogs, get your ass on the porch.” Cyrus plants a kiss on my cheek then joins Xavier at the door.
“Failure is not an option, and neither is giving up.” Jase hugs me tightly and whispers, “Love you, Momma,” in my ear.
“Balls deep, Momma Joe.” Zandor winks then plants a kiss on my lips. “Make it count, you beautiful woman you.”
“Good night,” I say as they open the door and begin walking out.
“You think it’s okay to leave her?” Jase asks his brothers.
Cyrus slaps him in the back of the head. “She’s not that fucked up.”
“Touch me again, and I will throw you the fuck down,” Jase warns him.
“She’s fine, ass-hats. She’s fucking tired and shit.” Xavier looks back at me and smiles.
“Doesn’t look all that tired to me.” Zandor winks as he shuts the door.
My heart swells with pride as I think about the worrying I always did over them. Jonathon eased every one of those worries with a laugh and a smile, saying, “Boys will be boys, Josephina. We did good. We did real good.”
And he was right, so very right.
I walk in the kitchen, grab a glass from the cabinet, and fill it with water before grabbing the Motrin from the counter.
After taking a couple of pills, I decide to run upstairs and take a shower. I am still very tipsy and admittedly tired. Maybe the boys are right, although there is no way in hell I will ever admit that to them, I think to myself, laughing.
I let the bathroom fill with steam as I grab a nightshirt from the drawer of pajamas. Half of the drawer is filled with Jonathon’s T-shirts. Letting go is something I refuse to do. He was my forever love, my forever Steel.
The reality of it hits like the storm he came into my life as and the storm that took him away. I stand, undressing, pondering the discriminatory way in which any other man would be judged who has come or may come into my life.
How can I do that to someone? How could I do that to Thomas?
It’s not fair.
I grab the T-shirt Zandor tried to wear to school when he was twelve that quickly became a nightshirt and place it on the bed. ‘I’m sexy and I know it.’
Still buzzing from the insane amount of alcohol I consumed and naked, I walk into the bathroom and look in the mirror.
So much in my life has changed since Jonathon has gone. Hell, even my body has. I cup my breasts and lift them back to where they once were before children, before Jonathon, before I turned forty-five. They’re not bad, but definitely not perfect. I was never ashamed with my husband. I wonder if I would be self-conscious with another.
I turn and look at my ass. Apparently, even though you don’t often look at your ass naked, it doesn’t make it stay unchanged. I immediately think of all the times Jonathon fucked me from behind, the way he would grip my cheeks and the one time he spanked me. I remember whipping my head around, and his eyes danced mischievously, very much a Zandor look. “My bad baby,” was all he said. He never did it again. I bet I would have liked it.
Turning back around, I grab a hair clip from the counter and twist my hair up before clipping it in place. This makes my third shower today, so I think I can hold off on the shampoo again until morning.
*.*.*.*
I walk down the stairs to grab my phone, upset with myself for leaving it. I never do that. I am constantly connected, constantly available—well, unless I am proving a point to my sons like this afternoon; but I also know, if there was a major problem, a 911 text would have appeared.
I grab my purse and look inside, nothing.
“Shit,” I say as the doorbell chimes.
I open the door without considering looking through the peephole. Thomas’s eyebrows shoot up as he holds my phone in one hand and a bottle of wine in his other.
“Josephina.” His voice is thick and rich.
“Thomas,” I say as I watch his eyes travel down my body appreciatively and unapologetically.
I don’t move when he steps toward me, wraps his arm around my waist, lifts me, and walks me in.
“I don’t know if this is a good idea,” I say, knowing by the way my body responds to his touch that it’s a lie.
“You say the words, but they aren’t what you mean.” With that, his lips cover mine.
He kicks the door shut as my toes reach to find the floor, but he holds me up. I hear the glass of the wine bottle click against the table, and t
hen his other arm drapes around my waist.
“Legs around me,” he says between kisses against my neck.
I give in, and he carries me, kissing me, holding me up by my ass, as I grab his shoulders.
“Jesus,” I whisper when I feel his muscles flex beneath my hands.
“Mmm,” he moans as he kneads his fingers into the flesh of my ass. “Bedroom or right here?”
“Here.” I am panting as my body comes from its winter into the spring.
He lays me down on the chaise lounge, and his T-shirt comes off.
“Shit.” I bite my fist when I see Thomas in a whole new and dimly lit light.
He smiles as he works the button fly of his jeans while kicking his shoes off.
Thomas—Dr. Thomas, the scientist whose analytical brain works daily, researching cures for disease in the lab specifically created to bring Carly home to Jase at Steel Inc.—not only has an amazing, lean, muscular build, but he has ink.
I don’t give a damn how old you are. I don’t care if you are a married woman, single, or a lesbian. When you see a body like that inked, flood gates open, burnt out flames miraculously ignite, and if you are wearing panties, they don’t just melt … They disintegrate.
“Fuck,” I groan as he sheds his black boxer briefs that are trying their damnedest to cover the straining erection of a man who should not be embarrassed of a damn thing … Do you know what that does to a woman?
SEE ABOVE!
He bends down, and I see his ass is fine—fine, fine, fine— as he grabs a condom. He tears it open with his teeth, and it makes me … well…SEE ABOVE !
“Joe,” he groans my name as he sheaths his thick, long length and … Dear God in heaven SEE ABOVE! “You’re gonna hurt yourself,” he says in an arrogant manner as he pulls my fist from between my teeth.
My mouth waters as he quickly pulls my panties down and tosses them aside.
The ache between my legs is agonizing. The throbbing of my clit is painful. The fire igniting inside of me is undeniable. There is no turning back now. Not even the strongest, most loyal widow could change her mind or utter the words to stop a man who, in my mind, is Clark Kent.
CHAPTER SIX
Thomas
Slow and easy, I say to myself over and over in my head as I look down at Josephina Steel’s swollen lips.
She is more beautiful than I imagined, more sensual and sexy than the images of her in my head that I have gotten myself off to for the year.
I do not want to fuck this up. I will not fuck this up.
I look up to her beautiful face— full, lush lips; chocolate brown eyes; olive skin; and the sexy, black mane of hair piled on her head—as she looks me over favorably.
Thank the stars.
I take her petite ankle in my hands and kiss the inside softly, slowly working my way up. I had a whole plan of what I would say to her, yet the words fail me now.
I need to find them.
“You are more beautiful than I can even comprehend,” I finally mutter as I lick the flesh of her inner thigh and she tenses up. “Relax, Josephina. I am going to make you feel as beautiful as you are.”
And, God willing, it’ll last longer than five minutes.
“I’m gonna be really honest with you here,” I say as my hand travels up her soft belly, under her T-shirt where I grip her breast.
“Please,” she whimpers.
“First of all, you are sexy, and we both know it,” I say, resting her ankle on my shoulder as I push the T-shirt up farther, exposing her to me. “Second, I am a little nervous I am gonna blow it before I even get there. You make me so fucking hard and hungry I don’t know whether I want to lick your pussy and chance coming from just that or fuck you because I want to be buried inside you so damn badly.”
“Either way, I will be joining you,” she says as I rub the wet, hot flesh between her legs. “Oh, God.”
I lean down and lick her, tasting her, and it’s better than I imagined. I slowly push a finger into her as I continue licking while I watch her face.
“Don’t hold back,” I say then lick her harder as she grips the sides of the chaise and scrunches her eyes shut. “Give me what you have and then give it to me again.”
She lets out a slow, mumbled moan, and her hips buck up slightly against my face. I suck, lick, and push my tongue into her as I curl my finger and hit her g-spot as if I knew exactly where it was. She comes quickly, and I love it.
I stand and pull her to the end of the chaise, rest my knees against the edge, and lift her ass in one hand as I stroke myself against her quivering sex with the other.
“Ready?”
“Yes,” she says, trying to catch her breath.
I lock eyes with her, not wanting to miss her reaction the first time I enter her. I push just the tip inside, and she is like a vise grip. Her eyes open wide as her mouth takes the O formation, and I still.
Anticipation. She hungers for what is next, and I will be damned if I don’t give it to her in droves.
I push in farther, trying not to lose the thread of control I have. Her back arches, her breasts push up, and I need them in my hands. I push in fully, and she cries out. I am on my knees, pumping into her as I grip her breasts and tweak the tan skin of her nipples. Her hips thrust forward, and I pound into her again and again as she cries out the sweetest rendition of my name I have ever heard.
My fucking name.
I need it again, want it again, so I continue pumping in and out, in and out.
Needing her lips, wanting her lips, I sit on the edge of the chaise and I pull her up until she is sitting on my cock, impaling her, thrusting savagely as I take her mouth relentlessly, almost violently. Her taste, her scent, the feeling of her skin, and the vise grip her pussy has on my cock are driving me to a place I have never visited.
But I need more. I want more.
I push her back against the chaise, and stand holding her ankles behind my back as I fuck her. I fuck Josephina Steel hard and long. It’s intense, savage, and it could not have been planned or calculated. It is two people in a moment of ecstasy. This feeling, I am damn sure, will have a lifelong effect on me. There will be no cure, and there will be no end.
I don’t want to stop, but she is lost in her head. Her eyes roll as she takes in the sensations, not me. If I want more of this, I need to bring her back to the here and now. I need to bring her back to me.
I groan out her name, and she looks at me. Then I thrust twice more, and her eyes are locked with mine.
“I’m gonna come for you, Josephina. I am gonna come so fucking hard.”
And I do.
I hover over her, unable to take my eyes off her.
“What did we just do?” she whispers.
I wait for more, wait for her to say something, anything. The silence and the fact that she looks so beautiful is causing further excitement.
“It’s going to happen again as soon as I take care of this.” I pull out slowly and stand from the chaise lounge then turn and head to the bathroom,
“Thomas.”
I don’t stop. I don’t want to hear objections. I just want to hear her moan my name again.
When I clean up and walk out, she is sitting up cross-legged on the chaise lounge. Her hair is down, the clip lying on the floor. Her skin is shining, slick with sweat, and she has the shirt back on, but it’s inside out.
“Josephina, it may be inside out, but you and I still know that doesn’t change anything.” I smile adoringly at the woman who is normally full of confidence.
She looks down at the shirt and hugs it tightly against her body. “Zandor was twelve when he tried to wear this to school.”
I grab my boxers and pull them on before kneeling in front of her. “You didn’t allow that, did you?”
“No.” She smiles. “I scolded him, made him change, kicked them out of the light blue minivan at school, and laughed the entire way home.”
“I cannot imagine raising one, let alone four boys.”
“It was the most trying, beautiful, chaotic time.”
“And you miss it,” I say as my hand rests on her knee.
“Every day,” she says before looking down at my hand. “Thomas, I’m sorry.”
“Never be sorry for thinking of them, Joe. Naked, half naked, or otherwise. The woman I am wildly attracted to is a mother of four young men. I knew that coming in. That’s why we’re doing this right. Nothing changes; nothing has changed.”
“We just …” She pauses.
“We did, and it was amazing.” I look at her, and she blushes. “Admit it. Say it out loud and watch what happens, Joe.”
She looks at me curiously, and I can’t help laughing.
“Nothing, not a damn thing. The sky is still in place; the stars didn’t fall; and to be honest, I am hard again.”
“Again?”
“Again.”
Before she can object, I stand, pick her up in my arms, and carry her up the stairs to her room. I drop her on the bed and lift her shirt.
“And again.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
We both lie there, looking at the ceiling after another intense sexual experience. He is holding my hand to his rapidly beating chest, and I am gloriously sore.
“What happens tomorrow?” I ask.
“God willing, more of what happened tonight,” he says in a sexy, post-sex rasp.
I turn and look at him.
“You better just stare at the ceiling, woman,” he says in a more playful tone than I have heard him use before. “I swear to God, I will be back at you again if you don’t.”
I try not to laugh, but I do, and he chuckles low and deep.
“Tomorrow is Wednesday. Little Bell has ballet, and it’s still on my schedule.”
He lifts my hand and kisses it. “Until what time?” His voice vibrates against my hand.
“Well, then I hope Kiki and I get some snuggle time in,” I whisper.
“I’m sure you will, Joe.” He sighs then pulls me toward him and wraps his arm around me, gently pushing my head against his chest. “Go ahead and sleep. When I have enough energy, I will see myself out.”
