by Deena Bright
“Go? Where are we going?” I asked, following her back out the door. I supposed it was a good idea for us to leave the room. I had no idea how I was going to spend all night with her without ripping her clothes off and making love to her. Being close to her all day, inhaling her sent, kissing her in line, and holding her hand were definitely taking their toll on me. No matter how much I promised myself that I wouldn’t have sex with her as long as she was still fucking Alexander, I couldn’t help but think that my resistance and reserve were running low, extremely low, bright fucking, blue-balled low.
“Walk along the beach… duh,” she said, almost running to the elevator.
“Beach? We live in Ohio, Janelle,” I said, getting into the elevator. “Lake Erie certainly isn’t an ocean.”
“Nobody ever said that a beach had to surround an ocean, Einstein. What? You don’t want to walk along the sand, holding my handing, and kissing me under the stars?” she asked, batting her eyelashes at me. If only I could “Christian Grey” her right now in this elevator… But I was certainly no Christian Grey.
“I would like nothing more than to do all of those things with you… especially on the beach… near a real ocean,” I replied. I grabbed her hand and kissed it. I certainly came across as gentlemanly and chaste, but man, the thoughts I was having about her were positively more Red Room of Pain than innocently pure. Changing the subject, I said, “So what’d you do all week.”
“Nothing really,” she said, shrugging her shoulders.
“See Briggs a lot?” I asked, wishing I hadn’t.
“Uhhh no!” she said, with venom in her voice. “He’s been blowing me off.”
“Nuh-uh, shut up,” I couldn’t mask my excitement at that fact.
“Uh-huh. I was supposed to see him the day I had my first divorce hearing, but he went to Columbus,” she explained. “Then out of the blue, without telling me anything, he left for Connecticut. Said it was a surprise and he’d tell me more, later. I think I’ve only seen him once since Connecticut. I’ve asked him about it, but he still hasn’t said anything.”
“What do you think it is?” I asked, getting curious myself.
“No idea,” she said, looking disappointed, a little too disappointed for my taste, actually.
“Well fuck him then,” I said, smiling. “If Briggs Alexander wants to screw this up, then I welcome any slip up he may have.” I pulled her close to me. Her smile was enough to make me forget all of my worries. “Man, that smile…”
“What about it?” she asked, smiling even bigger.
“It’s the best distraction I could ever ask for,” I confessed.
“Is that all I am to you, Mr. Cling, a distraction?” she teased.
“Yeah, that’s it… one little distraction.” I shot back. “Why? Did you want to be something else?”
“Nah, I’m good with that title,” she replied, kicking and splashing water at me.
I picked her up and walked deeper into the water. “So you want to get wet, Janelle? I can see to that.” I held her close to me as I walked into the water up to my waist. I needed a quick cool down, just being around her made it necessary for a cold shower or a jump in a frigid lake.
“Leo, I want to get wet… very wet,” she said, with an intense look in her eyes. “I’m only going to say this once. I miss you. I really miss you. I want you to make love to me right here… right now.”
Now, I realized I made a pact with myself, but Christ, I was a man for God’s sake. I’d challenge any man to hear the woman he was in love with to talk to him like that and refuse her. It was virtually impossible—at least for me it was. I walked out of the water, still cradling her in my arms. I never took my gaze from hers. I laid her down on the sand, lying down next to her. I kissed her softly, but she pulled me into her, forcing me to increase the intensity, igniting my hunger and desire for her. There was no turning back. I had to have her, couldn’t deny her—or myself.
“Leo?” she said, begging me again.
I answered her by trailing my tongue down her neck, while I unbuttoned her shorts. She shook her head and reached for the button on my shorts. I lifted up, allowing her access to me, to the very core of my soul that I was fighting so hard against giving her. Who was I kidding? She’d owned me for as along as I could remember.
Rising up onto her knees, Janelle took the lead, lifting my shirt and kissing my stomach and chest as she took off my shirt. “You’re flawless, Leo.” Her compliments sent a surge of passion and electricity to my stomach and heart. Janelle’s tongue darted out, tapping at my chest. “Your heart’s beating so fast, Leo.”
“You do that to me—have always done that to me, Janelle,” I said, pinning her hand against my chest, interlocking our fingers. She kissed my hand softly, sweetly, before she moved higher and licked my neck.
A throaty purr escaped her lips, making me strain in my boxers. Voraciously, she claimed my mouth, running her hands through my hair as a charge of intensified heat burned through my groin. Every part of my body that she touched burned in an agonizing want.
I lifted the hem of her shirt, not wanting to waste one more second without her bare chest against mine. When her shirt came off, she reached around, unhooking her bra, letting it fall loosely down before me. I threw it in the sand before palming her breasts. The moan that rewarded me lured me to knead the flesh harder, dragging my calloused hands over her hardened nipples. Arching back, Janelle invited me to devour her breasts, feasting on them like a starving, dying man.
“God, you make me feel so alive,” she panted against my cheek as my hands massaged and teased her tits. Sitting astride me, she held my hands in her hers and ran them over her chest and down her stomach. “Leo, I have to taste you… now…”
No way I could argue against that. I helped her take my shorts and boxers the rest of the way off. A part of me wished we had a blanket, so the sand wouldn’t get up my ass and around my ball sac, but the fucking guy in me would fuck her in a rose bush with thorns in my crack. However, the second her mouth enclosed around the head of my dick, my heads got together and thanked fuck that my willpower blew ass.
“Mmm Cling, you’re delectable,” she moaned against my shaft.
The rhythm of her motion and the vibration of her words pulled at my center as strain and want encompassed me. Janelle wrapped her hands around my length, stroking me, following the lead and tempo of her mouth. Then, she changed the pressure and direction. Her hands pumped one way, while her mouth moved the other. Hands down. Mouth up. Mouth down. Hands up—meeting her lips, pounding against her mouth, sending a ricochet against my dick. I was torn, beaten, knew there was nothing I could do. She had me, controlled me. I belonged to her. Only her.
But she wasn’t mine.
Would never be.
“Baby, I’m going to…” I said, fisting my hands in her hair, pulling her back.
“I know, I want it. I need to taste you,” she groaned, taking me further down her throat, lightly fondling my balls.
“No… no… I want to be inside you,” I begged, dragging my hips back, retracting from her mouth.
Whining, she sat back, “I wanted to pleasure you, Leo—make you feel good.”
“Mission accomplished,” I said, nodding toward my raging hard on, standing alert and ready for action.
Giggling, she stroked me again, and asked, “Do you have protection?”
I nodded, not wanting to wear one, not caring what happened—just wanting to be buried inside of her, skin on skin, flesh on flesh, and heat on heat. Reluctantly, I reached for my shorts; Janelle grabbed them before I could.
“Wallet?” she asked impatiently, reaching into the pockets. I loved watching her take over—take control. She used her teeth to rip open the wrapper. I wanted to tell her that she’s not supposed to do that, but I liked how ravenous and animalistic she looked—so determined and ready.
“So beautiful,” she cooed as she slid the rubber down over my dick, staring at my length and biting h
er bottom lip. Standing, she slid out of her shorts and shimmied out of her thong. Staring at her in the moonlight as she stood naked on the beach with the Lake behind her, I couldn’t catch my breath. She took it away—captured it—along with my heart.
Slowly, Janelle knelt down, holding my penis at her opening. Easing herself down on me, I heard a small catch of her breath, loving that I could steal hers away too—even just for moment. Janelle lifted her body, readjusting herself on me as I marveled at her beauty, her femininity.
When she rocked a little faster, my eyes closed in pleasure. I had to will them and force them open. The pleasure was intense and mind-numbing—the connection powerful. Her eyes met mine. Damn it, this was Heaven and hell, torture and pleasure, beauty and ugly. I was hers. She wasn’t mine—not mine at all.
Her pace quickened. I placed my hands on her hips, rocking up to meet each of her gyrations and downward trusts. I used my feet to brace myself to lift upward and inward, filling her completely.
“Leo… there…” she murmured, placing her hands on top of mine, interlocking our fingers again. I rolled my pelvis forward, hitting the center of her desire faster as I thrust harder into her.
“Look at me,” I begged. “Please look at me, Janelle.” I needed to watch her. I wanted to see her eyes, see the exact moment she gave into me and gave herself over to her own pleasure and joy, in turn giving me mine. I sat up, holding her hands tight against her hips. Our fingers grasped together, holding on until the end.
Leo,” she said, “I… I… yes… I…” I felt her stiffen as her mouth opened, and her eyes fluttered closed. The ministrations and spasms sent me over the edge. I let go of her hands and braced her hard against my body, feeling her heart pound against my chest as I released all I had—giving her all I was.
LYING IN THE bed, drinking wine from the hotel bar, I’d never felt more guilty in my life. “Janelle, we shouldn’t have done that,” I said again, remorse clouding my thoughts and penetrating my heart.
“Leo… stop saying that!” she yelled, taking another sip of her wine. “You’ve been a million miles away. It was wonderful. You’re wonderful. Stop analyzing everything so much. You’re like I was last month,” she joked, kissing my cheek.
Sitting up and putting my glass down, I said, “No. I’m serious. I have to tell you something. I feel like I’ve been lying to you all day.”
I noticed her face fall, a flicker of fear cross her face. “Okay, you’re scaring me… what… what… did you lie about?”
“I came back this week to quit,” I admitted.
“To quit seeing me?” she asked, turning toward me, but hugging a pillow closer to her. Janelle always reached for pillows or blankets to hide behind.
“No Janelle. I came back to work another week at my job and then quit,” I explained.
“But… but you just got that job. I don’t get it,” she questioned.
“I’m going move to Arizona. I want to be there when Megan… Damn it… when Megan dies. But I’m going to stay for a while. I want to help Cliff with the kids until he’s back on track and used to being a… a… single dad,” I confessed.
“Leo… are you sure? But… but… what about…” She didn’t finish her statement; she just looked at me, hurt and confused.
“I’m sure. We all think it’s for the best. Meg was the only one who didn’t want me to quit my job and put my life on hold,” I said. I leaned back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone… six months… maybe a year. My dad is going to take over my house payments until I get back.”
“I don’t know what to say,” Janelle said. “I hate that you’re going. It kills me, destroys me actually. But… but… I understand… I guess. If anything were ever to happen to Jocelyn or Jasper—” Her voice trailed off as she laid down next to me, snuggling into the crook of my arm.
“Thanks for everything today, Janelle. I’ve never met anyone like you. These past six weeks have been… have been… what I’ve been waiting for my entire life,” I admitted, openly.
“Leo, you make it seem like this is ‘goodbye,’ like we’ll never see each other again,” Janelle said, sitting up to look at me.
“Janelle… I think… it… it probably is,” I choked, feeling the tears well in my eyes. I knew that as soon as I left, as soon as I packed up and skipped town, Janelle would be right back in Briggs’ bed—for good.
Janelle nodded, wiping the tears from her cheeks as well. I took her hand and kissed the tears from the backs of her hands. I hated that I was the reason she was crying, hated that anything I did hurt her. I just knew that I had to be there for my family. Janelle and I had an incredible six weeks together, but we both knew that anything beyond this summer wasn’t going to happen. As much as I dreamed that I could hold her like this forever, I knew it wasn’t meant to be. If Janelle loved me like I wanted her to, then there’d be no choice, no decision for her to make, she’d just know… know like I did. It was silly to continue to prolong the inevitable, especially when so many other things were going on too. Things that neither one of us could control—or change.
I HADN’T TALKED to Leo since the morning after our trip to Sandusky. I was a mess. I hated saying “goodbye” to him, and I didn’t understand why we even had to. I could accept that he was leaving. I could accept that he didn’t want me in that way anymore. But what I couldn’t accept was that he didn’t want to be a part of my life, didn’t want me to be a part of his. We’d grown so close, but now we were as distant as two people could be, strangers truthfully. I hated being someone he used to know. Someone from his past. Someone he’d have to remember with a smile—or worse—with regret.
Briggs was in Columbus with his brother again. I had no idea what he was up to or what he was doing. He’d kept me completely in the dark and quite frankly, I was getting pissed. I’d spent the week, pretty much pissed off at the fucking world. Briggs wasn’t around. Char had been blowing me off all week for work. Jasper was in Chicago on business. Even Jocelyn was so wrapped up with Vacation Bible School that she didn’t even have time for me. Vacation Bible School? What the fuck? My supportive friends and family were sucking at their roles, making me doubt their overall loyalty.
I’d really gotten into writing my musical too. I’d spent nearly every spare moment I had for the past four weeks writing the dialogue, action, and stage direction of my Madonna musical, only to realize that I had no fucking idea how to write a musical. I hated it so much that I actually deleted the entire document from my laptop. I mean, who in the fuck can write a musical? Seriously, there are like, what, 15 really well-known musicals. Did I really think I was going to write the next big hit? Fuck that shit. I’m no writer. I’m a reader and a viewer.
Actually, lately, I couldn’t even read. Every time I started a new book, began reading something I enjoyed, I kept thinking how I wanted Leo to read it too, wanted to talk about it with him. So, I stopped reading, too. What had I been doing? Watching TV and eating ice cream, waiting on Briggs to resurface and hoping Leo would call to tell me that he’d made a mistake. I thought about dropping by Leo’s parents’ house to see if he needed anything, needed help with any packing or wanted to talk, but then I decided that I’d just let him move on like he wanted—without me.
I decided that I needed some retail therapy, so I went shoe shopping, knowing that Char was never giving me back my favorite black shoes. I went shopping and bought three pairs of black shoes and two pairs of gold shoes. I’d been wearing my bracelet a lot lately, so I justified in buying more gold clothing and accessories.
I knew my funk was something serious when I didn’t feel the least bit happier or better. I had to call in the big guns and go to Nordstrom’s. I bought a Kate Spade iPhone case and Kate Spade summer canvas bag. Kate Spade was always a good friend when Char dropped the ball, not that she dropped the ball too often. But this week was the ultimate fumble. I even texted her and said that I needed her badly with “Armageddon” in all capi
tal letters. Would you believe she responded with “sorry, can’t this week?” I’d never known her to deny the Armageddon SOS code.
When I was putting my shoes in my closet, there was a knock at the pool house door. Not bothering with the peep-hole or looking out the side window, I flung the door open quickly, welcoming any distraction from my crappy, mopey self.
Except for this particular distraction.
“Marcus, what the fuck? Get out,” I said, closing the door.
“Janelle, wait… can I come in?” he asked, putting his foot in the door when I tried to slam it shut, which only made me slam it harder the second time around.
“Owww fuck. Janelle wait.” Marcus did the little jump around thing, shaking his foot.
“Marcus, I’ve got nothing to say to you,” I said, blocking him from entering my house.
“Good, because I’ve got a lot to say to you,” he replied, still trying to get inside.
“Tell it to my lawyer, because you’re not fucking coming inside my house,” I yelled, finally slamming the door on him.
Marcus knocked harder, yelling from the other side of the door. “Janelle please, I just want to apologize. I’m sorry… for everything. I was wrong. Way wrong.”
I stood on the other side of the door in utter disbelief, full out astonished. Marcus had never, I mean never, apologized to me for anything. Anything. I put my hand on the door handle, tempted to open it, to hear him out.
“Listen to me,” he said, pounding on the door. “I fucked up. I really fucked up. Will you just talk to me? Please!”
Marcus Flowers was begging me, saying “please” even, to get me to talk to him. I certainly didn’t get the mother-fucking memo that Hell had frozen over. I decided to text Char. I needed her input.
JANELLE: Holy shit. Did Hell freeze over? Marcus is on the porch begging to get inside. He’s apologizing like it’s his job. Advice please.
