Always Box Set

by Ward, Susan

  Jack shakes his head. “That was off too. I felt like something was missing.” For a moment he’s perplexed. “I don’t know what… maybe…” and then his eyes start to glow. In a fast move, he’s rummaging around on my body, tickling me as his fingers move from my sides to my stomach to my thigh. “I was missing my Linda. Where is she?”

  Gasping and laughing, I try to evade his hands as I fall back onto the blanket. “Stop that. Stop tickling me or your Linda is going to...”

  His fingers move up from my thigh, his eyes round, and there’s a flutter across the opening of my sex. His face lowers into me and he trails kisses up my neck, whispering, “Oh, and Yolanda missed me and is happy to see me. Not even wearing panties. I definitely missed Yolanda.”

  I laugh. “You are such a weird man. Why do you call my vagina Yolanda?”

  He nibbles my ear and then balances on an arm to stare down at me. “I don’t know. You just make me happy. And Yolanda definitely makes me happy.”

  I relax into his touch. There’s a pleasant, heavy kind of seriousness between us now in spite of the silliness of our talk. “How’s Pedro?” I touch the front of his jeans.

  “Better now that he’s with Yolanda.”

  “How’s Jack?”

  “Better now that I’m with you.”

  I place a hand on his cheek, fingers spread wide. “Why don’t we go to bed. You’re not hungry. I can tell. It was pretty lame for me to do this tonight, wasn’t it?”

  Jack slowly shakes his head. “Hell no. I want my picnic. I want all of it.”

  Without warning, I’m flattened onto the pillow behind my head and surrounded by his body. I moan into his mouth, my lips parting and his tongue instantly scatters my senses. He gently teases his lower body against mine, making me ache and grind in return into what is definitely a fully aroused male. Jack continues to move against me, his breathing harsh, his hands and lips in an endless stirring assault. My body is on overdrive, quickening to each contact. My hands stray to his pants. He eases back from me.

  “Oh, Linda. We’ve forgotten your picnic,” he groans, and my name on his husky voice nearly makes me come. The tie to my sarong is tugged open and the sides fall to the floor. Jack nuzzles my breast and his mouth closes over the shirt covering my hardened nipple.

  “We should eat,” he says softly as a finger plunges into me and his thumb titillates my clit. My insides shudder as he sucks harder at my breast and I arch upward into him.

  I feel something again my lips. My eyes must have drifted closed and I open them. It’s a wedge of cantaloupe brushing me and the slightly chilled smooth texture feels…indescribably sensual. He teases my mouth with it and pushes in just the tip, while his finger goes deeper into me.

  “Eat,” he whispers.

  Slowly, tantalizingly, inch by inch, he feeds it to me, his fingers unrelenting in their enticing play on my inner nerves and clit. My muscles are clenching and pulsing, bathed in wetness. I’ve had men do a lot of things to me… I groan as his tongue follows the last of the fruit into my mouth...but who would have thought being fed while being finger fucked to be such a turn-on?

  He kisses the juice from my chin, and lifts his face while his glorious fingers retreat from me.

  “So wet. So ready,” he whispers and I hear the raspy passion in his voice. “This is not going to be quick. I want to savor every minute, every bite…”

  His words stop as I arch up and moan. Something has slipped inside of me, cool and juicy and molding to my pulsing inner lining. It slips out. It slips in. Around my clit and then back again as his lips makes a slow descent from my breasts to my abdomen.

  The melon is at my mouth. His finger go back inside me as he glides the tip of the wedge between my lips. I can smell me, taste me on the cantaloupe. I begin to pulse even stronger. He puts the remainder in his mouth, his finger going deep, his palm cupping my sex.

  I grip the blanket, panting and quaking as he continues his merciless onslaught of fingers and fruit, tastes of me, and nips and kisses along upper body. My arms are shaking. My legs are shaking. My scalp is hot and prickly. To the edge and then back, and even in his retreat it continues gathering deep inside me. Oh please… the orgasm coming is so strong, stirred to ferocity.

  Jack puts a piece of melon in my hand and then guides me there. He starts to remove his jeans, breathing heavily.

  “Come on, Linda. Make it perfect for me,” he groans, and I plunge it inside of me. My eyes widen. It feels so glorious sliding in and out, warmed by flesh, juicy and softly teasing. The wedge is surprisingly firm and surprisingly pleasurable. I didn’t expect this. How deliciously it rubs my inner self. He grabs my wrist and bring it to his lips. As he takes it in his mouth, his fully engorged cock jerks and I reach out to fill my hand with him, but he stops me.

  “Don’t touch me,” he says softly. “If you touch me I will cum too soon. I owe you a memorable orgasm after the shower. I can make you come really hard. But you have to trust me and be patient.”

  He is on his knees above me and my body is aching for him to plunge that magnificent erection into me. Instead, he bends down, kissing me along my stomach. His mouth closes over my cunt, his breath heating me as he licks at the blend of sticky juice and me there, his fingers closing on my nipple, tugging on it gently.

  The quaking intensifies.

  “I’m so hard for you, baby. Do you want to come so intensely it will be unlike any time you’ve ever come before?” His tongue moves inside me, stirring that spot just beyond my entry, and my legs quake stronger.

  I want him so badly I am not even conscious of what he’s doing to my body, that he’s flipped me over onto all fours. My breathing catches as he slams his flesh into me. He grabs my hips, plunging into me. I feel his lips on my back. My nipples are painfully hard. The feel of him exudes through my limbs, my arousal so intense that I’m there on the edge, frenzied and hovering, without relief.

  My need for release is blinding. His breathing is hard, matching mine, his pelvis driving a rhythm… I feel like I’m about to collapse and I haven’t even come yet. My head starts to sway, side to side, with the motions of his body slamming into me.

  I roll my hips, stroking my insides with his cock, knowing how to take him inside myself to get quickly to my orgasm, but he stills my hips and stop the race.

  “No, lovely Linda.” He eases back until only the tip of him is in me and his withdraw is painful and glorious at once. Even that makes the shaking of my muscles intensified.

  “We can make this so good for you,” he whispers. He plunges deeply within me. He stills. “Do you trust me, Linda? There are ways to do some of the things you don’t like to make them good for you. It can be gentle and erotic if it’s done with just the right touch. In just the right way.”

  Things I don’t like? I feel his thumb teasing the skin and nerves around my ass. I shudder, even while a distant voice is my head protests and wants to stop him, but I am consumed by need of him, the need of relief to my body, the blood pulsing in my veins and the heat running my flesh.

  I don’t care what he does. My head sways around. I want this raging need in me satisfied. Panting I try to move on him, but he takes control and stops me again.

  Then I feel something teasing my other orifice. It’s not his finger. It’s not his tongue. It’s not his cock. His cock is pulsing within my vagina. Whatever it is goes slowly, barely into me, and my wall there tightens, surprising me in pleasure not pain. It’s velvety smooth and giving to the sensitive tightness of my body there. Just slightly in. Out. Then in again. I groan and he starts slamming his penis into me again, altering the flow, moving side to side, then back deep within me. Fucking me in both ends. Hard in my cunt. Gentle in my ass with whatever he’s slipped into my backside.

  The wall of my vagina seems to melt and cling desperately to his erection in a way I’ve never known before. I tighten so overwhelmingly that it rends my center. I’m so close, so weak and alive s
imultaneously from the buildup. I can’t take much more.

  “Oh, Linda, you are so wet and tight,” he breathes and I become nothing but a collection of tissue and sensation, completely mindless and trapped in a stormy eruption of a violent chain reaction.

  Every cell in my body explodes in heat and shudders, and the insides of my vagina tighten in a pulsing vice grip around him. I’m plunging to earth, but there is no ground. The second it starts to ebb he penetrates me faster in the ass with the enticing probe he’s put within me, as his cock continues to pound in my cunt. My body is bursting with heat, so hot and prickly, running in currents along my flesh, and he continues. I can’t calm my body. I can’t calm my breathing. All strength is dripping from my limbs with the bludgeoning climax taking over my body.

  My arms are so shaky I can’t support my own weight and I sink to the floor, my lower body still in the air, his hand holding me up and his body still raging inside of him.

  “Linda,” he moans and I am huddled on the floor, trembling and absorbing the gush of his own orgasm.

  When my senses return, I’m still curled in a ball on my arms and knees on the floor, fighting to just to breathe. Jack is still behind me, but his body has slipped from mine, and he is kissing his way up my back, his hands moving in comfort instead of stirring.

  He gently lifts me from the floor and turns me in his arms to cuddle me against his chest. I wish I was in control of myself enough to say something, to say anything. I’ve never been consumed by pleasure so intensely before. I’ve never loved or trusted a man enough to let him take me anyway he chooses. To lie pliant in his hands while he consumes me. I’ve never known a man before Jack who I could trust not to take from my body what I don’t want to give.

  He sets me on the bed and eases my tank top over my head, then tucks me beneath the sheets. I laugh silently in my head. He’s still got his shirt on. I haven’t the strength to laugh out loud.

  He slips into bed, turning me on my side and easing me into the spoon of his body. I am exhausted and, yet, my body so alert I’m not ready to sleep. There is an unreal wakefulness about me, an unreal contentment in my languid limbs.

  He kisses me gently on the back of my neck, in that spot I love. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

  I turn in his arms and stare up at him. “No, you didn’t hurt me. Not for a second. It was unbelievable. I’d always heard the combination of penetration could make your orgasm intense, but I never knew how intense,” I whisper in wonder. Eyes sparkly, I can’t switch off the part of my personality that needs to do this and gently I mock, “You took my ass’s virginity with a piece of fruit. God, you are a strange man at times.”

  Jack laughs, his chest shimming playfully beneath me. “I know it’s a no-go zone, and with how sensitive you are there, it would take something extraordinary for it to work. Oh god.” He groans. “You tightened so hard around me you nearly broke me in two.”

  “Where did you learn the cantaloupe thing? At your farmer’s market growing co-op?”

  Jack rolls his eyes as if heavily exasperated. “No, Playboy. An article on alternate uses of melons.”

  I shake my head. “Playboy would definitely be the place to learn about melons. I would have never guessed after all this time you have an inner freak.”

  He frowns, but his eyes are still bright with humor. “I don’t have an inner freak. I just love giving you pleasure however I can. I’m pretty basic all the way. What you see is what you get, Linda.”

  I smile, bringing my mouth to his. I touch his lips lightly and then make a nip with my teeth on his lower lip. “What I see is just perfect for me.”

  He settles me more snugly against him. Into my hair, he whispers, “I’m sorry, Linda. About earlier. I’m lucky you were still here when I got back. Don’t think I don’t know that and what an ass I was before. I would have walked out on me. Almost everything I said I wanted to kick the shit out of myself the moment I said it.”

  I slip my arms around him at his biceps, holding him as I ease my face up. “Let’s just chalk it up to road fatigue and sexual tension from long denial. That works for me.”

  Jack laughs. “Definitely sexual tension from long denial. Six weeks is too long.” His humor fades and he sighs. “I’ve just got a lot of stuff going on all at once right now. I don’t want to bore you with my shit.”

  Ah, so my instincts aren’t off. There is something going on with Jack that he hasn’t told me about.

  I kiss his chin. “When you’re ready to talk I’m ready to listen,” I whisper.

  He gives me a lazy, content smile. “That goes both ways, sweetheart. We’ve both got a lot of stuff running around inside our heads. Hopefully some of it is the same stuff.”

  What the hell does that mean? I debate whether to probe that one. I curl into him, holding him with my arms as his fingertips gently stroke my back. We feel good again.

  He kisses the top of my head. “Now sleep.”

  And before I’ve decided which way to go, if I should find out what’s happening with him that he hasn’t shared with me, he’s asleep.

  Six

  I wake first. Jack is sound asleep beside me. It surprises me to find him still in bed in spite of the lateness of the hour we went to bed. Jack usually is up at the crack of dawn. He loves to watch the sunrise. He gets this faraway look and I know sunrise is a ritual with some kind of inner significance to him. I don’t understand it and I’ve not asked. Life has taught me that sometimes it’s better not to know everything, to let a man have a secret or two, and not to try to understand him completely.

  Warm from his body and still wondrously lush in the aftermath of his passion, I cautiously slip from Jack’s arms and out of the covers. I pause beside the bed, staring down at him. He’s such a beautiful man. His golden waves are a little longer than the last time I saw him and his strongly molded features hold an endearing softening in sleep. His affection for spending as much time outdoors as possible shows in the firm line of his muscles and the golden tan of his long limbs. Everything on him is deliciously made: the sculptured chest, the narrow hips, even that morning wood after a night of sex, tempting me to return to bed.

  I grab, from the floor, the shirt he wore to perform in last night and walk into the living room, tugging it over my head. I sink down onto the chair in front of the desk and start to rummage through all the advertisements until I find the room service menu. What to order for breakfast? I’m scanning the options and my eyes stray to the leather stationary binder on the desk in front of me.

  Oh my, I’m supposed to call Sandy Harris today. How could I have forgotten that? It’s the first real line on a job I’ve had in the four weeks since I graduated college. I look at the clock. It’s early. 9 a.m. Saturday. Too early? Sandy Harris is probably not even working, though he did ask me to call him today. I should at least call and try. I don’t know if I’ll have a moment after Jack wakes.

  I spring from the chair and hurry to the bedroom door. Carefully and quietly, I close it. I plop heavily onto the sofa and reach for the phone. The butterflies in my stomach go into overdrive as I dial in the number. It would be nice to have one problem, the job thing, fixed. I curl the phone cord around my arm, pinching myself with it to keep me calm while I listen to the ring.

  Four. Five. How many times should I let it ring before I hang up?

  “Hello.” The voice is low, male, and familiar. Sandy Harris. I’d recognize his voice anywhere. An image of him—blond haired, green eyes, deep California tan, sloppily dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, wearing UGG boots with a Rolex watch—flashes in my mind. An Orange County rich beach bum through and through. He wasn’t at all what I expected an industry mogul to look like. It made it so much less intimidating during the interview, that he looked so unthreatening.

  My entire body straightens and tenses. “Hello, Mr. Harris. It’s Linda Cray. I hope I’m not calling too early, but I thought…”

  “Linda,” he exclaims e
xuberantly, cutting me off. “No, no, no. It’s fine. I’ve been wondering if you’d call since I was expecting a call yesterday.”

  My cheeks burn. Oh shit. I never asked Doris when she took the message. Have I blown my only lead on employment? “I’m sorry I’m calling you a day late. You see…” What to say that doesn’t sound too lame? “…I’ve been traveling. Only got back to LA late last night.”

  Sandy’s genial laughter floats through the receiver. “Working the job thing, huh?”

  I bite my lip, uncomfortable in the lie. “You could say that. Or you could say it’s working me.”

  I tense. Damn, a wisecrack. Sandy’s laughter floods the line again. I shake my head, warning myself not to be too lame, too anxious or, worse of all, too desperate.

  “So, what can I do for you, Mr. Harris.” I’m pleased. My voice sounded calm, in control that time.

  A long pause. Then, “I wanted to discuss a potential employment opportunity.”

  Potential? What the hell does that mean? That he hasn’t decided?

  “It’s not really the job you applied for,” he continues.

  I applied for an entry level administrative position. Shit, am I not even qualified for that after four years at USC. Crap!

  “No?” I say, trying not to sound disappointed.

  “No.” More silence as if he’s deciding how to present his opportunity. “You have a unique background and I have a bit of a problem. I think you might be the perfect fix.”

  Oh no. Unique background? What the devil does Sandy Harris know about my background that he would call it unique. We’d never crossed paths before the interview, and exactly what kind of problem does he need help from me for?

  An ugly suspicion of where this call is going makes the strongest impulse inside me to slam down the phone. Kicking my temper into submission, I ask coolly, “I can’t imagine what kind of problem I’d be the perfect fix for.”

  Sandy laughs good humouredly. “That’s probably because you haven’t met Alan Manzone before.”