Love's Inconvenient Truth

by Love Belvin

  “Magreen, honey, we did that two years ago. I think Christmas in Greece sounds divine,” Valerie replied to her friend on a slur.

  Magreen shrugged. “What do you kids think?”

  Stephanie, Candice and Jackson all looked up from their plates with empty faces.

  “When we have it here at home everyone is present. But when you two go away, not all are available.”

  “You mean Jackson, Stephanie?” Valerie asked with a wrinkled forehead.

  Stephanie couldn’t respond before Candice blurted, “Yeah, and now that we have Elle, we should do something more family-like here at home. It’ll be cool having a big sister around.”

  “Don’t be rude, Candy. You have a big sister here.” Magreen patted Stephanie’s shoulder, all for her daughter to roll her eyes in her plate.

  “And this isn’t open to any outsiders. Just family,” Valerie quantified then gulped from her tumbler.

  “And when you two escape to some place tropical, drinking away your life, you’re including us?” Candice blew out a puff of air. “Let’s not go there again. We can use some flavor around here.”

  Jackson has sampled my flavor.

  That private thought caused me to snicker out loud. All eyes landed on me and mine raked over to Jackson whose lips twitched into a rare knowing grin.

  I just wished he would later tonight. I’d been invited over again to see Candice off to her first date with Trevor—well, pseudo first date as she asked him to an art exhibition she was required to attend for class. Some fancy high school. Candice took the initiative to go onto the JAGMisha website to piece together a few ensembles and I gave my feedback via text until we decided on something modest yet chic. When she asked if I could come by to dress her, I jumped at the opportunity, once again wanting to be with Jackson.

  It was a week after our return from West Virginia and I hadn’t seen him since we parted ways at the airport. Jackson drove down to Philly the following Monday to consult with Stenton Rogers on a retirement layout. He stayed down there for two days before flying out to L.A. to meet with Azmir Jacobs and was out there until yesterday. I’d heard from him minimally other than the floral gift box awaiting me on my desk that Monday morning concealing the “Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland” fairy tale with the same dismal illustrations as the two previous ones that appealed to me. That small gesture propelled my longing for him and I…missed him—well, like the sex…the passion that I found myself craving in its absence. The need was so potent I’d even arrived at the agreed upon dinner time that Candice pushed for. Helen didn’t have to offer me a glass of wine: I politely asked for one almost as soon as I hit the door, feeling unusually familiar.

  “Since you find something so amusing here,” Valerie hissed over to Jackson with a swayed neck. “Why don’t you offer a suggestion?”

  Taking a fortifying breath as he straightened in his seat, he offered, “I’m perfectly fine with whatever my girls want to do.”

  Magreen and Stephanie smiled contently, completely taken by Jackson’s charm. I felt a bite of envy, knowing I was not a part of that group of his ‘girls’ and resented myself for caring. Candice was unaffected, tossing spring mix over in her plate.

  “Yeah. That’s what I thought.” Valerie spewed nastily, unable to hide her imbibe if she wanted to. She was on her second round of neat vodka since we sat for dinner. I doubted if her drinking excursion began in here. “Just send you the bill, right?” She rolled her eyes. “Just like your damn father. I bet that’s all you do down at that firm, too. Just defer everything to John and James while you take equal pay. Now, that was never Quincy. His ass was more about his work than his family.”

  “And Jackson has no family, so one can only imagine his dedication to the firm.” I had no idea where the gall was coming from, but I was boiling with anger at this woman. It didn’t help that I too had been drinking, though not as much as Valerie. “I can attest to his impeccable leadership qualities as an employee. And judging by his presence here every Sunday, he clearly has a devotion to his family. So maybe”—I shrugged my sarcasm—“I don’t know… He isn’t Quincy Hunter? Perhaps he’s Jackson Hunter?”

  With a shaky hand I brought my glass to my lips. “Candice, it’s getting late,” I called over to her. Then I backed away from the table, exiting the room.

  Over an hour later, I was at the front door, seeing Candice and Trevor off. Against her request of not alerting Jackson, and the mention that her mother didn’t care, I implored her to have him come get her from her home. It showed respect. And I was happy that I did. It afforded me a closer glimpse at him to read him.

  “So, art gallery, huhn?” I teased, unable to fight the ridiculous adolescent cheeriness bubbling deep down within.

  Candice’s eyes flew over to Trevor whose anxious smile mirrored her own. I caught him checking her out when she landed down in the foyer after he arrived.

  “Yeah, and maybe dinner. I missed it, helping my dad out after church.” Clearly struck with a thought he proposed, “I heard about this bomb burger joint just two blocks from the warehouse. Maybe we can check it out.”

  Candice’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. “Su-sure.” She wet her lips to calm herself. “I didn’t eat much at dinner…suppose I’ll be getting hungry around that time.” She beamed.

  You suppose you’ll be getting hungry at that time? Get your shit together, Candice!

  Trevor giggled oblivious to her zeal. “I think we should get going.”

  “Yeah,” Candice snorted like a goofy teen.

  I fought not to shake my head while following them to the door. I waited in the brisk of December for them to pull out of the horseshoe circle driveway. A thought struck. I’d never done that. I’d never been out on a genuine date, taken out like a lady as a teenager. Instead, I constantly plotted on my next prey to manipulate, never acquainting myself with the art of being courted. I sighed, reminding myself of my grandmother’s admonition: I’m the sole contributor to my misfortunes and I must own them.

  I shook my head as I backed away to close the door.

  “You trust him?”

  That voice startled me. I don’t know why. Maybe because I knew Valerie had left with Magreen and Stephanie. Stephanie was sure to come up and provide Candice and me with one of her eerie goodbyes while Candice got ready for her date. Helen was still there, but her voice wasn’t so masculine and controlled as it flowed in the air. I found Jackson at the top of the steps, hands in his pockets, gracefully poised with equanimity.

  “He’s a seventeen-year-old kid. Of course, I don’t trust him.”

  I’d quickly regretted that admission. I didn’t want to give off the impression that I had something to entrust Trevor with. I didn’t want that type of attachment to Candice, no matter how difficult it was becoming to separate logic from feelings when it concerned her.

  Jackson nodded thoughtfully. He didn’t talk much about Candice and especially not endearingly, but I knew he cared. He just didn’t know how to deal with her. I understood that emotional handicap.

  “Hope your plans for the remainder of the evening include you in my bedroom.”

  My neck snapped up to the top of the stairwell at that. I caught Jackson sauntering off. My pulse raced and sex clenched. We were of the same mind. It had been too long and a very rational part of me wondered if my exposure back at home deterred his interest in me.

  I was soon to find out. On my way to the master suite, I stopped off at Candice’s room to collect my things so she would believe I’d gone home had she returned before I left. My breathing accelerated each second I drew closer to Jackson’s room, my blood rushing to sexual organs. Nipples hardening, sex throbbing.

  I quietly twisted the knob and immediately heard Dave Hollister’s “Spend the Night” flow in the massive room. I froze, spellbound by the soft illuminating glow from the tealights aligning a path into the room. Aside them were black rose petals. The sight of them had tiny explosives detonating within me.r />
  “Shoes off first,” his strong tenor roved over me like brushed silk.

  He appeared magically over my right shoulder. I didn’t glance up, just dutifully obeyed and bent to remove my boots.

  “Socks, too,” he urged and I obeyed.

  Jackson took me at the hand, leading me to the center of the room where I could hardly register a chair in front of a full body mirror from the distraction of his solid frame, bare from his neck to his waist that hung low in black jeans. His feet were nude, too, trumping my agenda of seducing him. The masculine curve of Jackson’s spine always captivated me, reminding me of the benefit of his youth.

  Delicate petals of soft silk yielded underneath my feet, teasing my senses as I followed him. When we stopped at the chair I noticed it was one from the dining room. I recognize the tall back and print in the upholstery. Jackson studied it against the mirror a few feet away, stationing it directly in front.

  While regarding the mirror he uttered “Strip.” His voice strong, commanding, snapping me right into action.

  What had me so submissive to my adolescent boss and lover, hadn’t quite settled in my mind, but the reality still remained: I yielded to his every carnal desire.

  A few minutes of hesitance was paid on my part. Being naked in front of Jackson was something I’d conquered relatively easily. However, stripping down to nothing in front of him was a different feat. He must have sensed it.

  “Elle, we’re not regressing here. I haven’t touched you since West Virginia, partly because of my schedule, partly because I wanted to give your mind time to recover. But it’s been almost two weeks and I’ve already explained my cycle for you to know I’m filled to the point of bursting.” I saw it. The predatory need in his eyes. That expression that reconciled in my mind that Jackson was no kid in spite of his delicate age. That he was indeed a mature man capable of setting my body afire, wielding a torch like no man I’d ever encountered. “I want to feel your tight pussy wrapped around my dick, jerking me into orbit. And of course, you’ll go first—I may even give you two before I go.” I sucked in an audible breath, unabashedly turned on. Jackson recognized the sudden hike in my arousal and murmured, “Now strip,” his enunciation husky.

  With less reluctance, I began peeling out of my clothes, unable to train my eyes from him. Jackson studied me with rapt interest as each particle of my ensemble hit the floor. It caused a surge of power in my femininity. I could even see the bob of his Adam’s apple underneath his thick beard. While his eyes were still stapled to my frame, Jackson began undoing his jeans and then pulled them off along with his underwear, his thick columnar appendage jutting out. Goddamn. He was beautiful. I found myself swallowing hard. He waved me over to him when I was done.

  When I arrived at his knees, Jackson pulled me between his legs, wrapping his big hands around my waist. He kissed my navel reverentially and my lids collapsed. After a tight squeeze he rested his head on my bare belly. I was reasonably certain that he was trying to pace himself. I, myself, was hanging on by a thread, totally out of my comfort level with the nudity, but bearing it.

  Jackson’s head shot up. “Your arousal…I can smell it.”

  I sucked in a breath, then quickly gave myself a mental scolding for being so transparent to him.

  “Turn around, Elle,” he strained.

  I shifted and then felt his fingertips guiding me in a full circle.

  And that’s when I was hit with it.

  Jackson wanted to fuck and watch at the same time. I saw me…and him. I saw our living color reflected in the mirror. Just when a sense of fear gripped me at the neck, threatening to strangle me, I felt soft moisture on my rear cheeks. My frame jolted at that. Looking around myself in the mirror, I could make out the posture of Jackson’s body and realized his mouth caressed my skin. His hand came around my hip, dipped at the apex of my legs and swiped against my clit, eliciting a guttural moan.

  “Open your eyes, baby!”

  Reflexively, my eyes widened.

  “Look how beautiful you are. Shit,” he breathed. “You’re flushed all over. You’re swollen here,”—he pinched my left nipple—“and engorged and slick here.” He now used his fingers to thrum my tightened nub.

  I couldn’t help my moans, struggled with heavy lids to keep them open. I was so ready to extinguish this growing flame in my groin. Trying to rub it off, I thrust down onto his hand and back toward his face, suddenly enjoying the image. Jackson snorted his amusement. Then I could feel his tongue ascend to my spine as his hands at my waist urged me down onto his lap. My athleticism allowed me to go at the tantalizing pace he insisted.

  When I was down in the perfect squat position, Jackson informed, “I’m going to take you like this.” That’s when I felt his bulbous head at my quivering entrance, eager to swallow him in—pleasure and pain, I wanted him inside of me. “You have to keep your eyes open and watch or we stop. If you don’t appreciate the sight of this glorious frame, see it in action and I swear that’ll change your mind.”

  I noticed the rise and fall of my breasts as I heaved in need, anxious and revved in the same moment. When Jackson hadn’t budged, I realized he was awaiting a response. I nodded with gusto, desperate to feel him again.

  He then took himself into his hand and began to feed into me. I watched with rapt fascination as I felt every inch of him slowly disappear into me. Every ridge of his member, each nerve ending activated from the tight rub of his dick pushing through my eager cavity…I felt it all. Here was when he melded my thorny veneer, it was when he forced me to yield to his passion. This was a time where there was no discrepancy in age or corporate positions. This was a private, adoring venture made for and by just the two of us.

  I’d never been naked during sex with Henry. Even before we were married, our excursions were made in stealth, leaving no time to dispose of our clothes. And after we were married… Let’s just say neither Henry nor I had the desire to see my exposed scars. But this…

  Gyrating on Jackson’s lap was not only terribly pleasurable, but liberating. Despite myself, I couldn’t keep my eyes away from the image of us rocking together. My creamy bisque stained skin bouncing rhythmically on and off of his muscular copper frame, gliding up and down on his thick steely appendage. I felt every inch of his pleasure from descending fully down, my cheeks crowding the thick root of its trunk. And when I ascended… Damn. I could see the evidence of my arousal slickened all around thick pulsing veins of him, providing eroticism I never knew. And he knew it. Jackson’s eyes would go from mine to my mouth to my breasts to my crotch stroking his with aplomb regard.

  I continued my lifts and dips onto him, pushing myself to the cliff of bliss.

  I’m on the edge of the abyss. I can feel my cresting.

  “You’re about to come,” Jackson breathed sensually in my ear. “Look at the parting of your lips, the way you’re straining to keep up with your strokes. Fucking exquisite!” He whispered then grabbed me at the waist again, sat back and began bucking into me.

  Shiiii…

  Jackson was upping the ante with his controlled yet powerful hip thrusts.

  “Come, Elle!” he barked from behind me.

  And I did.

  Within seconds, I could no longer hold my own gaze and exploded all over Jackson’s pelvis, rocketing into space. My hips now gyrated without the command of my brain, and my fingertips digging into the hard muscle of his thighs, trying to ride out the violent quakes of my orgasm as Jackson’s piston intensified my ascension.

  When my tremors abated, he took me at the waist, lifted me like a ragdoll. I was absolutely, blissfully boneless as he trekked over to the bed and tossed me onto it, sans the gentle nature he’d been known to take on with me. When he nudged my thighs open with his knees and descended on me, cuffing my wrists with one hand and using the other to hold himself up. Then he lunged into me without warning, gliding into me with ease. Unlike any other time with him, he didn’t start off slow. No. Jackson’s patience and tact ha
d egressed, he unleashed his uncontrolled passion and I decided quickly that I enjoyed it just as much as the gentle side. He pounded me into another earth-shattering orgasm and not too long after his back arched as though in pain alerting me to his ascension that I enhanced by throwing myself into him even when he slowed to blast off. For those few seconds, Jackson was vulnerable, raw and it scared me as much as it empowered me.

  He collapsed on top of me and I took him into my arms, wishing so badly I could be afforded with his mouth and tongue in mine to smooth our landings. It was a gift and curse pushing him to do it back in West Virginia because it made me feel it was possibly available to me when needed. And when Jackson embraced me orally it was so cleansing—mending—that I could no longer separate my needs from my wants. I simply suffered through the torture of not having the gall to ask as we lay quietly in the tranquil glow of the room.

  Later…much later, after my mind traveled from not being able to kiss my lover to other things concerning him, I could no longer delay my curiosities.

  “Jax…” Even through my whisper I realized how comfortable I was getting shortening his name with familiarity. I felt him chuckle behind me, his arms feeling like protective shields around me.

  “Yeah, baby,” his baritone comfortingly low, matching the parody of being safely coddled in his arms like a cherished lover.

  I licked my dry lips and swallowed. “Question exchange?”

  He went motionless for long seconds behind me.

  “Sure.”

  “Is Valerie the reason you don’t drink?” I dove right in.

  With a smidge of hesitation, he answered, “Yes.”

  “You said our answers have to be thorou—”

  “She’s an alcoholic. She wasn’t always. I believe a failed marriage, lack of personal support and a handsome amount of resources with no accountability drove her there.”

  “Did you ever drink…like when you were a kid?”

  “Yeah. I experimented like any normal kid.” He grew quiet. “But when my dad died, a lot of shit was uncovered and the rosy shades I wore for him came flying off. Alcohol became a repellant to my need to grow the fuck up and fight like hell to keep my damaged family together. Seeing my mother die, day by day, drinking that shit made the easy decision for me.”