by Love Belvin
There was deafening silence ringing in the air. It was so glaring, my heart started racing, telling of my anxiety.
“But don’t get me wrong; it’ll all remain under control,” he assured. Then Jackson was turning to mount me.
My legs parted instinctively for him. I didn’t understand the magnetic draw to him. Sex wasn’t a passing thought, especially having had three rounds of it since he arrived at my place. However, my body was revved up all over again, lubricating by the second as he lowered himself onto me.
“Baby, you can’t have all of me, ‘cause I’m not totally free. I can’t tell you everything that’s going ooooon…”
It took me a few seconds to recognize the lyrics because I was utterly shocked and completely stoked at the sound of Jackson singing. I broke out into a fit of uncontrolled giggles.
“What in the hell do you know about Guy?”
“Instead of posing that question, you need to adjust yourself to the agenda of the song. This is all for fun, Elle. I’m not trying to change your game or mine in the 9th inning.”
I gasped, feigning being appalled. “It’s my 9th, Jax, and your 4th—well, considering your sexual grooming, perhaps your 7th.”
Then I gasped for real when I felt him enter me.
“Well, let me finally put your ass to sleep with my 7th inning sleep-inducing skillset,” he murmured before pushing into me, filling me to the hilt.
Jackson stroked me so deeply, penetrating far more than my groin. He worked me over into a realm never considered.
thirteen
The fumes of food filled my olfactory, stirring me from a heavy sleep. I crack my lids, unable to move from the fog at first. Then the aroma was so strong, I found my head shifting to the right of me. And there it was. Jackson must’ve really worn my ass out in that last round, because not only did I sleep, and hard, but he apparently managed to cook in my kitchen.
I reached for the small piece of paper next to the plate of eggs and toast and saw Jackson wrote a letter.
Elle,
I have to go. I know you didn’t want to but thanks for letting me stay. I’m not one to wear out my welcome, so I hit the streets as soon as I woke up. I’m also no free-loader. You didn’t have much in the fridge so I made do with what was there. I guess that goes with the lifestyle of a minimalist.
J.Q. Hunter
I glanced down at the plate again. This time, I noticed the butter pats on my toast were cut in the shape of hearts. He came to see about me after my emotional slip last night when I sang my heart out, screwed me into a deep sleep and then made me breakfast. Even after I was so cold to him, he showed kindness. This was really messing with my head.
I grabbed the phone from the nightstand and dialed. While waiting, I forked the eggs that were now room temperature, but tasted like fluffy heaven.
Mmmmmmm…
“Hello?” he answered.
I quickly grabbed a sliced tangerine from the plate and bit into it.
“Mmmm… You hear that?”
“Nah.”
“That was the sound of juices bursting in my mouth. Thanks for breakfast. Had you told me this was the way you’d pay me for enduring a night with you, I would’ve been less resistant.”
“If I knew your hospitality could be negotiated, I would’ve woken you up with your juices bursting in my mouth.”
My mouth went slack.
“Jackson…”
“You’re fidgeting.” His murmur was so cool, completely centered.
“No, I’m not!” I grated then continued with flattening out my pants with my palms.
I’d hoped I’d chosen an ensemble that was sedate enough not to make a topic of conversation for my stepfather. Just as I was about to ring the doorbell again, the door clicked. Hurriedly, it opened to my mother’s beam. God, she was still beautiful. Smooth butterscotch skin, an even size six with contoured hips, shoulders squared, bringing her breasts to the perfect angle that wasn’t lewd, but certainly alerting of her femininity. Her hair was cut into the same bob and bent at the ends with precision. Her eyes were illuminating and smile even brighter as she assessed me and pulled me into her arms.
“Ellen, baby, you’re late,” she cried at my shoulder. “I thought you two were going to cancel.”
However, when we withdrew and it was time for her to observe my guest, she steeled in place, but her eyes roved over Jackson from head to toe at least twice. When she was done, my mother clasped her neck.
“You-you’re Jack… Jack…” she sputtered all over her delicate self.
“Yes, I’m Jackson. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Eleanor.” Jackson’s heavy tenor was just as smooth as his artful smile.
He opened his arms and my mother melted right into them as she wrapped her small ones around him. As she drew in, her eyelids collapsed and lips parted. Shit! I knew that was the moment she’d caught a gust of his cologne. They kept it relatively brief and released each other. She immediately went for her collarbone again as her bashful eyes diverted and cheeks heated. I noticed the way his eyes crinkled at the corners and his nostrils expanded as he regarded my mother’s embarrassment for her reaction to him.
Jackson was flirting with my mother.
“Mr. Hunter,” I heard from behind me. It was our driver, holding a gargantuan bouquet of exotic flowers that must have been in the front seat, out of my view.
“Oh, and these are for you, Eleanor. I appreciate you having me.” Jackson handed her the vase then angled his head as his eyes shrunk while he observed her reception to his gesture. “And of course, every exquisitely fully blossomed woman deserves an exotic bouquet.”
Holy shit! This is the Jackson the older women see!
Even I couldn’t ignore his charm and mild and strategic coquettish undertones.
“You didn’t have to, Jackson.” My mother batted her lashes, no longer fighting her deep blush. “Please, you two, come in. Everyone’s waiting.”
Everyone? Who in the hell was everyone?
But before I could ask, we were being led into the dining room, just feet away from the front door. Something felt strange. Eerily off. Instead of me basking in my mother’s aura after not having seen her in over a year, or snickering at her odd cougar conduct, my heart began to pound and palms misted. I felt set up.
When the door of the dining room opened and I could easily perceive a full table of four bodies and three empty chairs, my joints tightened to the point of pain.
What the fuck…
“They’re here!” my mother sang cheerfully.
I cast an eye over the table and first noted my stepsister, Elyssa, and her husband, Craig. Craig’s blatant and appreciative once over of me was undoubtedly lecherous. I’d never liked him. Ever since he propositioned me at their engagement party, my senses to keep away had been heightened. He must have gotten wind of my reputation from my stepsister and tried his hand. Of course, she had no clue. If I was the cold blooded whore everyone accused me to be, I would’ve fucked him just to spite her. But I would never. Elyssa may have never respected me, but she was a good girl who didn’t deserve that type of betrayal. I could still remember the stupor I left him in when I walked off after laughing in his face at his scheme and rejoined the party.
My stepsister’s regard was stapled to me, too. And Elyssa was…big. I mean, she’d grown an extra chin…possibly two. She was at least thirty pounds heavier and just…bloated. Elyssa was never considered a pretty girl, but to me she was everything; smart, bold, and ambitious. She went on to college right after high school, unlike me. I’d gone off to real life, thanks to my foolish ways.
Then my eyes landed on him. The ugly monster who tortured me, even in his wake, once away at school. He at least had the decency to cut his heavy gaping to a minimum. This was too soon. I swore if I didn’t see him until my funeral, it would be too soon. He’d been the one person in this world I loathed. Eugene the third had also swelled up since the last time I’d seen him at Henry’s funeral when he whi
spered in my ear as I sat in the front pew, “He finally gets to rest in peace from the hell you sent him to when you opened those magical legs,” and gaited off slickly with ease.
“Ellen,” I heard. “Your father is trying to greet you, dear.” I turned to my mother who nodded, gesturing me to acknowledge someone. “The Bishop is waiting, honey.”
I rotated to my right and saw my stepfather standing expectedly. With heavy arms, I encircled his shoulders and patted lightly. He pretty much did the same then stood back and gleamed in earnest, I think. I attempted reciprocity.
“So, who’s this man you bring to my table, Ellen?” My stepfather asked as he took back to his seat.
My mother requested our coats and directed Jackson and me to our seats across from one another. At first, I couldn’t move, still jarred by this damning reunion. Jackson nudged me gently and that brief yet electrifying contact snapped me into action. I released a long breath and found my eyes blinking my alertness. Then my mouth began to move and I swallowed hard.
“Ummmm… Everyone, this is Jackson Hunter, the CEO of my firm. We have business in the area and I asked him to join me for dinner.”
Then my eyes arrived at Jackson, who nodded his confidence in me. He must have sensed my discomfit. Jackson. And for the first time, his countenance glowed celestially. I’ll be damned if my eyes didn’t cast me into delirium when I recognized a heavenly fluorescence around every inch of him. Jackson looked like an…angel.
In that very moment, he seemed familiar to me. He felt like home.
“Dear, we need to eat,” my stepfather warned.
That snapped me out of a trance.
“My family,” I muttered then cleared my throat. “Jackson, this is my family…Elyssa, Craig, Bishop Greene the second, and Eugene,” rolled out quickly then I shuffled to my seat and planted myself there.
Jackson greeted the table, I caught a bit of that before going into another reverie, trying to figure out what had just taken place. I’d never experienced entrancement of that sort. Ever.
Jackson, ethereal? Familiar?
Before I knew it, grace was recited by the Bishop, serving bowls were being passed around, and we were all eating.
“So, Jackson is your boss?” My stepfather asked apparently astounded. “You seem to be two days from preschool, son!”
I couldn’t help my snort at that one.
Okay, maybe bringing Jackson was a genius move!
“I see that observation runs keen in this family,” Jackson murmured not so much to the table, but I caught it as he straightened in his seat. “Yes, sir,” He faced my stepfather. “I prefer viewing it as me making the most of my time in my youth. The Lord instructed all of those over twenty to go to war in Israel, and so did my father, Quincy Hunter.”
Shit.
My stepfather regarded Jackson suspiciously. I cringed. You don’t quote scripture at the great Bishop Greene’s table and think it’s going to float into the air like all other mealtime banter.
He leaned into the table with the tightest moue. “Do you know who the Lord, our God, instructed to arrange that war, son?”
Jackson snorted confidently while I was shitting bricks.
He applied his easy smile, “Yes, sir. He instructed Moses in the Sinai. And all six hundred thousand and three thousand and five hundred or so—”
“Six hundred thousand and three thousand and five hundred and fifty,” my stepfather corrected.
“All but the tribe of Levi, sir,” Jackson amended.
And that intrigued the Bishop, as he sat back pensively in his chair and continued to study my boss.
What the fuck does Jackson know about The Word?
“Ellen, you look good, girl. You dating anybody up there in that big city?” I heard the dryness in Elyssa’s inquisition.
I also understood the undertone of it. ‘Elle, we know who you used to be. Are you still a whore?’ As much as I wanted to denounce that reputation in any form, I also had to dispel the assumption of Jackson being one of my random lovers…although that’s who he was… Or was he? Yeah, he was the man I was sleeping with, minus the moral title of boyfriend, fiancé or husband. Nonetheless, Jackson certainly felt like more. I had to play this smart.
“Ummmm…” I cleared my throat. “Yes, actually. Nice, respectable corporate attorney from Queens.”
I chanced a glance at Jackson across from me to find his eyelids stretched. It was odd speaking about Anthony in this capacity around him, but he knew there was an Anthony.
“Oh, wow!” My mother shrieked, dropping her fork onto her plate in utter shock. “I’m sorry… I just assumed.” Her eyes shot over to rigid Jackson.
“Oh,” I sighed on a shriek. “Jackson?” I laughed convincingly. “Jackson is engaged.”
“Engaged?” Jackson’s brows were high.
“Well, practically.” He wasn’t going with my lie. “You and Stephanie have known each other since you were babies. You were practically groomed to marry.”
“Oh, nice, Jackson!” My mother shrilled excitedly. “Are you planning to propose soon?”
“Apparently not soon enough for Elle, here.” Jackson attempted civility in his tone.
“Are you thinking about settling down with this lawyer from Queens, Ellen?” My stepfather asked.
“You mean settle down again, Pops.” Eugene corrected. “And this time, for the right reasons.”
My eyes skirted to Jackson. He didn’t react, but damn sure caught the undercurrent.
Not this shit!
All eyes landed on me.
“Speaking of which, I saw Virginia yesterday when we arrived in town,” Elyssa noted. “She said you don’t keep in touch that often. You don’t send them any money either.”
“Excuse me, Elyssa and Eugene,” my mother spoke up, weakly, per usual. “This is not why I reunited our children. We also have a guest.”
So this was a set up.
“Nothing out of term has been said, Eleanor.” Elyssa couldn’t even look up as she referred to my mother by her first name, something that was sure to get underneath the Bishop’s skin.
Just as he began, “Now, you listen here, young lady—”
I pushed my chair from the table. “Excuse me.” My heels clicked against the floor until I was in the carpeted living room, trying to catch my breath.
I couldn’t believe Elyssa would bring up my former in-laws so casually as if she spent more than ten seconds of attention on me coming up. She never gave me the time of day! And the mention of me sending The Dickens’ money was a low blow. Before I left West Virginia, there was a public debate about Henry’s family being compensated via the insurance policy that was paid out to me after his death. A policy I initiated, selected, and paid on monthly. I’d paid to have him buried properly. It was no one’s business, but I shared it with one friend and she opened her big fucking mouth. This town is so small that everyone knew within two days. Gratefully, I’d only told her about one; the smallest of them all. I’d had several policies on Henry because of his high-risk occupation of mining. The one the town knew of was only sixty grand. The summation of all the policies surpassed seven digits.
My mother did a bad thing, coordinating this visit. Eugene and Elyssa lived out of town, but still in West Virginia. She could’ve easily had them over without my presence to torture. I couldn’t believe that I’d actually considered staying overnight just to appease her longing for me. I’d already arranged transportation with Jackson. His driver was to pick me up tomorrow before noon. Now, I had to think how I would get Jackson and get the hell out of here.
There’s no way I’d be staying in this hell—
“You almost had me fooled,” the hint of cheese from my mother’s potatoes heated my ear.
I jumped a 180 degree angle. “Please don’t sneak up on me like that.”
I could also smell a layer of whiskey now. I’d heard from Clarice that Eugene had lost his job teaching high school math and coaching football because of show
ing up at work intoxicated, but never mustered enough guts to inquire with my mother. She said he lost his girlfriend, had his car repossessed, and had trouble keeping enough small gigs to stay afloat. I could see that rumor wasn’t so farfetched under his sweaty, wheezing presence.
I wonder did the Bishop smell the alcohol.
“Awwww, c’mon. Don’t act like you don’t like sneaking around anymore. You used to get off on that shit.”
I recoiled, and prayed he didn’t catch it.
“Eugene, I don’t know what impression you may have had of me, but I can assure you of one thing, you have no idea of who I am.”
His lumped lips curved into a grin. “Naw, honey. The only thing I don’t know about you is how your pussy feels around my dick. I can’t lie, the way you strutted in here with that kid made me hard enough to forget the fake brother and sister title.” Eugene sidled up close again. “Now I’m regretting letting my boys have a taste without me sampling it first. They always raved about your cunt, though.”
Then I felt his big damp hand encircling my waist. I couldn’t believe what was happening. After all these years since meeting Eugene, not once had he violated me. He used to take long appreciative ogles and I was mature enough to know what they meant, but never allowed my imagination to push beyond what was fact. The fact was he was my brother and could not touch me. He could have his boys do it all he wanted—and he did—but he could not touch me.
I slapped his hand and went to push him away at his beefy chest, but he caught my small wrists and squeezed them painfully as he yanked me into his frame.
“Don’t you even try it, you little bitch—”
After that, all I heard were whips of his loss of breath. I turned to see Eugene in the air and his feet collide with the corner of my mother’s coveted glass coffee table, bringing it up in the air as he hit the floor with an earthquake of a reverberation.
Jackson was bent next to him, in Eugene’s face, “Had I come a second later and your hand would have been an inch closer, touching her crotch I would’ve killed you.”
Eugene wailed like an injured wild animal. I heard peddling from feet pounding against the floor in our direction. I pulled Jackson’s solid body up and jumped in front of him protectively, anticipating the onslaught of questions and responses to the prince of the castle being laid out on the great Bishop’s living room floor.
