by Love Belvin
I was immediately enraptured by his scent as I chewed.
I garbled, “’Scuse me?”
He chuckled casually. “Elle, I think you heard me loud and clear, but for the record: I want to forego condoms.”
“That needs to be planned—”
“It needs to be agreed upon,” his tone dripping with adamancy.
“Jackson,” I sighed, collapsing my neck, “you’re moving too fast. Last night was a huge leap for me. I’m still questioning my sanity.”
“You’re wearing pants,” he noted, glancing down to my leather clad thighs.
“And?”
“And that’s a huge sign of your comfort level with me. Each time I’ve had you, you’ve worn a dress. A few of those times were unplanned, but I think you’d agree some of those times you purposely wore something with easy access.”
Too soused for a rebuttal, my head dropped again. I couldn’t believe his divisive designing.
Again!
I was totally flummoxed. “How does one go about something like this?”
I couldn’t even look at him.
“Easily. Are you on birth control?”
That question almost sent me into a fit of laughter. Pregnancy was the least of my worries.
“I’ve got that covered.”
“Okay. And I’ve been tested recently since our first time together and have my results here in my office. And I know you’ve recently had a series of tests done and should know your status, too.”
“Jackson”—this time my eyes did meet his—“how do you know I’ve been tested?”
“Because Jamie finally told me about sleeping with Clarice and when I asked him about playing it safe—because he’s a wild cat—he told me he’d been tested and so had Clarice.
I rolled my eyes, sensing the factoid coming.
Jackson dipped in stance, found my eyes and aligned his. “With you.”
Yup. And there it was.
Goddamn Clarice!
My mind sped with the prospects of taking this leap with Jackson. We’d already been moving at a rate too advanced for my comfort level. I would have never expected a 26-year-old to make an articulate proposal out of asking to screw without condoms. Condoms maintained a level of formality in this thing. Going without, for me, was reserved for a permanent set up, not casual, passion-driven fuck buddies.
I’d only gone a few times without a condom outside of Henry, and not of my own wisdom. It was because, likely, my partners knew my reputation in our small town. I hadn’t imagined the day I’d be at a place of comfort with a man so much that I’d go without. Once again, I felt forced to make a call on whether or not to guard my parameters.
When Jackson’s mouth hit my neck, once again, the decision was made for me. It didn’t matter that he’d used the same tactic he had the night before. I could get pass how he’d take to my neck in lieu of my mouth because that was his boundary. None of those things mattered once he lit my flame because he knew just as well as I that it would be a matter of minutes before the fuse would scorch and I would blow.
Before I could recognize it, I was in the air, feeling the wind of movements behind and around me. We entered a dim room, softly lit by the ceiling recessed lights where I was placed on my feet. Jackson and I undressed each other with wild feverish pulls and tugs. He showed no restraint or need to go slow, unlike last night. His sneakers we’re kicked off, shirt yanked over his head and pants and boxers snatched down to his ankles where he shimmed out of them with wind speed. Now that we were done with him, my thin t-shirt was torn somewhere when Jackson jerked my body into his hard chest trying to rid me of it. In impassioned frenzy, I unbuttoned my pants then dipped to unbuckle my booties. Jackson demonstrated even less patience as he took me at the waist, sliding his heated palms beneath the leather material and peeled them from my thighs.
I stood, turned to face him, simultaneously kicking off my shoes, snatching off my big bracelets and kicking off my panties and pants. My bra still remained as did Jackson’s socks when I pushed Jackson down onto the tufted base of the bed that right away reminded me of the one at Gild Hall when we met, only this one was immense, eccentric and lavishly detailed. I swung my legs astride his muscular thighs. His abs were bubbled and carved with intricate design and at the apex of that swollen V of his pelvis, his appendage bounced in the air, appearing painfully swollen. Eager anticipation poured from his eyes as he implored me to make the next move. And it came.
With an impatient gust, I sank down onto him, not taking into account his powerful girth.
“Ooooo!” I cried all the way down the pole.
“Goddamn, baby! You’re gonna hurt yourself!” he howled unconvincingly.
I knew I’d moved in haste, but my inebriated float wouldn’t yield for patience. Jackson’s expression was one of pain. I felt his reverberating pulse deep within, melting my walls. I was too wet to believe he experienced any discomfit, was too wound up to take heed.
I started my grind, tightening and expanding my thighs to rise and fall as my pelvis rolled over his. Jackson was deep…deeper than I could take him in the absence of alcohol coursing my veins. But his presence against several tender areas spurred my hip thrusts. I rolled and rocked, rose and dropped. Dipped low and grounded on him, hearing the swish of my plunges. The erotic sound turned me on, increased my arousal tenfold. This was my first time on top. It was my first opportunity to show this young man I wasn’t new to the rodeo. I paid a moment to demonstrate my ability to fuck him proper.
Only the opportunity fleeted as soon as it presented.
“Oh!” he shrieked unabashed. “Slow…do…down…”
But before I could process his request, Jackson’s hips began bucking, sending zings of pleasure to my core. I felt him thickening in me, but couldn’t imagine he’d be ready…already. I plunged down against them, striking nerve endings I wasn’t privy to before tonight. I felt the quickening, was propelled by the burst of pleasure stirring in my core. But it all stopped and Jackson whimpered like an injured dog.
His hips suspended in the air and his face screwed, horror stricken. Jackson had rocketed helplessly before me. A first. His grip on my hips was sure to leave bruises, yet somehow, I couldn’t be disappointed. I’d unmanned the manipulator. I made sure to ride out his release, not halting my strokes until he went silent. I’d even stayed on top, in place for moments after.
Panting out of control, he grated, “And another ingredient for your pot of adolescent jokes soup.”
The proper follow up would have been a pubescent joke, but those had halted way back when I couldn’t deny my attraction to him, in spite of his age. No kid fucked like Jackson did. I’d never crossed paths with one that used the level of discretion that he did, nor wielded the same corporate power as him. Of course, he didn’t know this, neither was I prepared to tell him.
“You can’t help that I’m just that good,” I purred. I could still feel Jackson pulsating inside of me. It reminded me of my missed opportunity.
“I wouldn’t argue that. You’re incredible at everything else. I underestimated your greatness here,” Jackson muttered, gazing into the distance as his breathing slowed.
I lay on his chest, suddenly feeling uncharacteristically…needy.
“Have you ever done that before?”
“Quincy Hunter would never let his legacy run up in anything unsheathed. I may have once or twice when I was a teenager, but never as an adult.” Things got quiet then Jackson spoke again. “The women I got involved with early on would have been too difficult to explain a pregnancy with to my moms.”
I snorted, yet felt no amusement in that statement. “I bet.”
“I would ask you about your experience, but that would be rude, and I have no intentions of being an asshole.”
I felt no offensive at the prospect of him posing the question. That was odd, too. In that moment, I felt incredibly relaxed.
I shifted to lift. “My experience has pretty much mirrored yo
urs,” I informed briskly. “I need to use the bathroom. I’m leaking.”
Jackson flipped me onto my back. “Hold up. I can finally make good on that city vista from my tub.”
He stood and tugged off his socks then padded toward the right of me. I couldn’t help my ogle of his perfectly round sinewy ass. That masculine dip in his lower back reminded me of his youth. Jackson’s body was beautiful, artistically carved from all muscle. I knew he worked out, but I was also sure that much of his fit nature came from his tender age. Ten years from now, when bogged down with traditional life stressors such as work, children, a marriage, and good ole fashion weight gain, Jackson would have to work a hell of a lot harder for those cut shoulders. I knew this. I killed myself in the gym—perhaps fanatically, but I couldn’t keep toned thighs and a tight belly without rigorous workouts.
I collapsed on my back.
What the hell are you doing with him, Elle?
I could hear the sound of a tub filling. Then I glanced around and finally took in my environment. It was dark out so the glow from the lights was soft against those outside of the floor-to-ceiling windows reflecting those of the city.
“Ready?” I heard from the other side of the room.
It was Jackson, stark naked, teasing me with the ripples of his chiseled frame. I carefully lifted from the platform and padded on my toes over to his bathroom. When I entered, I was blown away. Jackson downplayed his metropolitan vista. From the door I faced his porcelain tub just in front of a picture window. The walls and floors where all white marble. To the left was a colossal walk-in shower with glass doors and walls and to right was the double vanity. But the main event was the view from his tub.
Jackson held out his hand for me to take and assisted me in the tepid water. He shuffled in behind me and pulled me onto his chest, arranging my hair away from the water. Before I knew it, I found myself sighing. This was exactly what my body called for earlier in the day.
My eyes were glued to the view. People bustling below on the ground, resembling little ants.
“Amazing, right?”
I nodded my awe. Who knew such beauty could be found on the 31st floor of Trump International. We sat and soaked for a while, Jackson grazed my skin with his fingers, meditatively. It was peaceful for a few minutes until I felt the need to laugh. So, I did.
“What the hell is so funny?”
“The last time I saw you this afternoon, I thought you were leaving the office for a midday quickie, and here you are, blasting off in less than two minutes.”
I heard him snort. “If I’m anything, I’m a man of my word, Elle. If I said it’s just going to be us, it’s just going to be us.”
“Nah…” I waved him off with my hand. “In all honesty, I do trust your word.” I hesitated. “It’s just weird seeing you with another woman whom you’ve clearly slept with.”
“You aren’t jealous, are you?”
I scoffed. “No! I don’t get jealous. I don’t think I was born with that gene. It just looks weird is all.”
“Bernadette’s a friend of min—”
“Former lover.”
“Former lover—”
“Who still wants to be a lover.”
“Who still wants to be a lover, BUT,” he asserted to preempt any more interruptions, “she recently had a hysterectomy and I haven’t exactly been around to check in on her. So, I finally relented to spending some time with her to make sure she’s okay. And then I had to shake her and run home because I had to make someone a white chocolate raspberry cheesecake. But, Elle, tell me you’re not catching feelings.”
“Someone kissed me today,” I blurted, unplanned.
Jackson went rigid behind me.
I sighed and sank lower into the tub, rolling my eyes.
“Now, you’re catching feelings.”
“No,” he declared throatily. “It just sounds weird as you said earlier. Doesn’t feel good to hear.”
“That’s the thing, Jackson, it didn’t feel good either.” I found air escaping my lungs again in a deep sigh. “It hasn’t been that long and I don’t know what we’re doing here. Last night I agreed to no clothes. I just consented to going without protection.” I swiveled around to face him. “As much as I try to keep this thing confined and controlled, I just find myself doing the opposite with you. I’m sinking further and further into a place where neither one of us belongs or should think to be. So, I have to ask again, Jackson: this is us just having fun, right?”
Jackson regarded me closely. “Yes. I care enough about you and I would hope that I would if I’m taking your body the way that I have been. But it’s just for recreation.”
I turned back, resting against his chest.
Good!
I could live with that. He was doing it again. Jackson was making it easy for me, laying the parameters, enticingly articulating our game. All I had to do was decide. And I’d decided on recreation…on fun. I needed that outlet with him. I didn’t want to let go of Anthony because soon I would have to decide if I wanted to settle down again and seek companionship. Love? Not so much. I didn’t deserve that deep of a commitment. I’d lived without romantic love all my life and could die without it, so long as I had a decent companion…a loyal one next time. Right now, all I wanted to do was have fun. I just needed to feel a connection to another being and that’s what Jackson provided me.
Sloshing the water, I turned back around to face Jackson, sporting my conspirator’s smile.
“You ready for another round?”
A lazy smile crested upon his face, giving me the clear answer I wanted. Less than five minutes later, we were back on Jackson’s bed. I was bent on all fours on his mattress while he stood on his knees behind me on the lower tufted lounge. I was revved up…so wet that somehow Jackson’s head shifted into the wrong opening. I sprung forward, not wanting to chance that venture. That was a place I had no desire to go no matter how good of a persuader Jackson was.
“That act should be reserve for the “more than friends” role,” I jeered.
“I’m sorry,” I heard him whisper before he tried again. “It’s just that you’re so fucking wet, Elle.” His voice was thick and strained as this time he entered me properly. It took no time for him to begin plowing into me with wild abandon. I enjoyed every thrust he served. Was enthralled by the animalistic grunts he produced each time our bodies smacked. And I noticed another thing: Jackson was in control again. I enjoyed being on top, navigating the speed of our grinding.
Before I knew it, I felt him thickening again. This quickly, I’d become that conversant with his body to know when he was ready to rocket. I still hadn’t found my release and was okay with taking my time with it because Jackson’s plunges were something to savor. But he was ready to climax already?
“Are you ready?” I tossed breathlessly over my shoulder.
Jackson face was tight, brows knitted. “You haven’t come yet,” he grunted.
“Are you ready?” My tone higher, course that time.
“Nuh…I…yea…”
That was my cue. I lunged forward, pulled from him, scurried around on my knees and took him into my mouth.
“What the fuck!” Jackson helplessly shouted his bemusement, but quickly caught on as I bobbed in his pelvis, used my palms to jerk him smoothly, beckoning his impending release. “Oh, my god… Oh, Elle… My fucking god…” he couldn’t speak a coherent word as he bucked into my head and hit a note I’d never heard from a man.
When his essence hit the back of my mouth, I hummed my relief of his participation. It was a close call and almost bad timing. But it worked. Jackson met his release in my mouth.
“Uhhhhh…” he groaned to my delight as his hip thrust halted, but my fisting continued until he couldn’t take it anymore.
We stayed in that position for seconds long. I was recounting how Jackson’s cries were so untamed, I began to feel as though I was impeding on his privacy. I didn’t know what would be the next move. I’d never do
ne that before. I’d been propositioned, but never had the desire to perform with needed speed or urgency. It was my hasty thought to try it out with Jackson, and now I was left feeling awkward. I didn’t regret it at all, just hope I didn’t do anything stupid. I felt stupid. My big-ass-thirty-five year-old self felt shame for what she did during the heat of passion.
“Elle…” he croaked out.
“Yeah?” I couldn’t move. Wouldn’t dare face him.
“I think that act should be reserve for the “more than friends” role.”
“O-okay…” I squeaked as my eyes squeezed shut in shame and my heart raced in my chest.
The car was swaying out of control, jumping from lane to lane. The sounds of wailing babies in the rear seat punctured my eardrums and speared my heart. I was quivering in my seat, knees up fetal style trying to cover my ears and shut my eyes from the dizzying spinning.
“Samantha, baby, just hold on, okay?” I shouted.
Then I looked to the driver’s seat to beg to slow down, but there was no one there. The steering wheel moved of its own accord, rotating left then right then jerking to the left again. This went on and on.
I looked to the back of the car again. “Just hang on okay? It’ll stop.”
Horns were howling and tires screeched all around us. When I straightened in my seat, I saw the blinding lights. I tried covering my eyes, but that didn’t help the babies in the back. And when the alarming horn of the 18-wheeler facing us sounded its warning, in frantic speed I reached over and grabbed the wheel. It wouldn’t yield to my control. The steering wheel had locked and I felt the skin of my palms rip as I tried with all of my might to pull it to the right. I had to save the babies this time. I couldn’t let them down again.
It was too late. The sound grew and I felt the first of glass shattering, shooting over me and I knew what would come next.
I jumped into a sitting position in one swift movement. My heart pummeled in my chest to the point of pain. My body was drenched in sweat. Strands of my golden mane matted to my face. I glanced down to my naked frame feeling chilled all of a sudden. That’s when it hit me. It was another nightmare. I didn’t recognize it sooner because I wasn’t in familiar quarters. I wasn’t home.
