by Love Belvin
I skulked downstairs and found Jackson busying himself in the kitchen, one of many places he governed sexily. He sensed me right away and glanced over his shoulder. Within seconds he turned and stalked toward me, taking me at the sides of my face. My heavy eyes didn’t ascend over his full beard he’d been growing. His face was set into a usual moue as he observed me.
“You’re flushed and hot, and I caused it, pushing you too hard out on the slopes. You sick, baby?”
Slowly I nodded, drawing in his soothingly delicious body odor.
“Just a slight fever,” I murmured, regretfully leaving his hold. I unnecessarily brushed against his hard pecs down to his bubbled abs to breakaway. “What’s for dinner?”
“Are you hungry? You didn’t eat much lunch.”
“I will be once I start. Are you ready to feed me,” I attempted to flutter my eyes, trying to flirt.
Jackson caught on and snorted. “Let me call in an order for over-the-counter meds.” He headed to the wall phone.
“Fine.” I headed into the living room for the bar. “While you do that, I’ll go peruse for whiskey to help with the symptoms.”
I found a decanter of brown juice and poured a two finger tumbler before padding back into the kitchen and planting myself on a bar stool at the island. Jackson was just hanging up the phone.
“It’ll be about an hour.” He couldn’t help his gape as I took my first swig.
The first one burned terribly. I gave myself a minute to rebound. As I did, I studied Jackson’s appearance while he stood across the room with his palm on his hip, observing me. He wore a fitted thermal shirt. It was by no means tight, but did reveal the mounds of his sinewy chest. Below he wore navy blue sweats that hung just below his tapered waist. I threw back the last of the whiskey to distract the spikes of arousal that I felt at imagining the resting size of his dick.
Shit, I want him!
To façade my lewd thoughts that I was too fatigued to carry out, I issued Jackson a nasty look, challenging his staring at me. He caught it and scoffed again. Shaking his head, he turned and went to pull open the oven.
I sat and watched him while feeling the warm liquid course my veins. It mollified the ache of my bones, applying a soothing coat over them, but I knew the relief was only temporary. As I began to slip into my awaiting tipsy state, I plotted just how I would conquer Jackson before my condition worsened.
The cold relief medications were delivered thirty minutes later. An hour after, Jackson and I sat under the fireplace with our legs crossed underneath us, eating red snapper. I could hardly taste it, slowly losing the sense of my taste buds.
Yeah, I’ll be full blown sick tomorrow.
When we were done, Jackson cleared our plates, taking them into the kitchen.
“Now that you have something on your belly, you can take meds,” he noted as he gaited out of the room. And like the horny teen he reduced me to, I ogled the small of his back and ass all the way until he was out of sight. I sighed, reclining back onto the lush pillows he laid out for us.
Jackson returned with pills and water that I took right away. He pushed the logs around in the fire place before sitting himself. I began to feel chills although directly in front of crackling flames. I turned to my side, facing Jackson to study the glow from the blaze.
“You’re really coming down with something,” Jackson murmured as he went for my forehead.
“Yeah,” I hummed, my gaze hypnotic in the raging flames. “I’m starting to feel like I weigh six hundred pounds.” I cracked a grin, stark opposite of my condition.
“What can I do?” He sat back. “Should we pack up and head back to the city?”
“You can make love to me.” My eyes slowly rolled over to meet his.
His face wrinkled. “Elle, I can’t do that.” He scoffed, eyeing me with incredulity. “You’re sick.”
I fought his gaze with my own. Then I glanced down in his lap where I located his conflict. Jackson followed my line of sight.
Our eyes met at the same time.
“He wasn’t awake before my request.”
“Elle—”
I interrupted his croaky rebuke. “You won’t catch my bug. It won’t take long,” I argued, my tone low. “It’s not like we’ll kiss, so you don’t have to worry about catching—”
My words were halted by Jackson lunging at me. His head against mine, lips danced against mine and his long and agile tongue deep in my mouth teasing sensitive areas I didn’t know existed. A feral squeal leaped from my belly and my hands found his head, refusing to let him up until I couldn’t go without breathing any longer.
Before I knew it, Jackson released the belt of the terry cloth robe I wore and it opened, falling to the floor around me. My black lace was exposed and I lifted my weary body in need of his body heat. While suspended, Jackson peeled my panties down as far as he could under my locked arms. I kicked them off once at my legs then moved to the waist of his pants and pushed at them with a little caress. I needed Jackson more than the cold relief medicine now kicking in.
I didn’t know which drove me more, the faltering lucid state of my mind from my illness or the magic balm-like coating I felt in each corner of my frame whenever Jackson kissed me. I was delirious, already floating in ecstasy.
Until he withdrew.
I panted uncontrollably, suddenly realizing I needed to breathe. But that didn’t help my angry glare at him from leaving me feeling bereft from the absence of his mouth. Jackson pulled his shirt over his head then returned to me, resuming what I perceived as manna for my soul. Now that he was fully bare, I pulled him into me, needing to feel all over his hardness over me…in me. Fluidly, Jackson rolled us over so I was on top. He released my bra. That release alone increased my surging sensations. Gone was any discomfort from my illness and present was…Jackson.
His kneading the sides of my breasts had me involuntarily jumping with a sharp arching of my back. That’s how electrifying his touch was. Immediately, Jackson’s mouth found my nipple and pulled it into his mouth, sparring with the taut apex. His thumb mirrored the action for the other taut peak. I was going out of my mind with pleasure, moaning my nearing blissful oblivion as I rubbed my sex on the ridge of his hardness.
My god, I miss this.
Needed it. I enjoyed every inch of Jackson’s frame to admire in sight and physically indulge. My moans grew uncontrollably as he reached between us to position himself at my lips below. With fiery zeal, I lifted and impelled down on him.
“Hold up, Elle,” he grunted, face strained, lips ajar.
But I couldn’t. I rocked down until he was a few inches in and then greedily swallowed in the rest of the way.
“My, have we come a long way from Gild Hall,” he jeered on a stressed breath.
I found no amusement in my sickening need that ran deeper than what I was pursuing physically in that moment. I felt more than I should when I peered into his amber eyes. It was painful not to be able to articulate or share. I had to stop this.
“You’re my angel, Jax.” I whispered. “You know that? You soothe so much within.” I rolled my eyes at myself with that admittance. I felt damn it sappy. But I wanted him to know.
“Com’ere,” he whispered while taking me at the base of my head and gently pulling me into him. I was ready this time when his mouth reached mine. “You just relax. I’ll do the work, okay?” He thrust up, filling me to the hilt.
I gasped at the flash of pain in my core. Pain I relished. His subsequent lunges weren’t as severe as he held me to his chest. He pulled his hips upward, milking himself of me. I lay helplessly taking the intoxicating spiraling of his tongue and dizzying drives of his powerful hips. This went on and on and on until I felt a delicious coiling in my core, the walls of my groin growing atwitter, violent pushes and pulls of air from my nostrils telling of the edging of bliss…until I broke.
“Ohhhhhhh!” flew from my lungs as I cried out my release, the tips of my fingers digging into the flesh of h
is shoulders, my sex slamming onto him in crazed pelts.
Jackson pushed me even deeper into his chest as he took off right behind me, thrusting twice more before his pelvis suspended in the air.
I was completely spent, couldn’t move if I wanted to. Apparently Jackson was in no hurry because we lay there for a while gaining our lungs. My mind grew fuzzy once the endorphins evaporated. Carefully, Jackson rolled me onto my side, telling me not to move. My skin now dewy, our mixed perspiration felt awkward against the blanket. My eyes danced in the blaze of the fire as I came down from my ascension. I felt woozy and grieved his absence at the same time.
What the hell are you doing?
“I don’t want to hear any adolescent jokes. You only get this V.I.P. care because you’re sick.” I peered over my shoulder and found Jackson carrying a basin of water and two wash cloths. “What’s fucked up is when I’m sick in a few days, I won’t have you to care for me.”
I rolled onto my back and released a disturbingly high trill of laughter. It was so gut felt that I grabbed my bare belly. My drained body trembled in my fit.
Jackson sat on his knees and eyed me dubiously. “What the hell is so funny?”
It took some time to get my cackles under control. When I did marginally, I managed, “The mention of you being anything close to an adolescent.” I tried catching my breath. I couldn’t help another round of laughter. I was a bit delusional from the whiskey, meds and remaining oxytocin from my orgasm.
Jackson ignored my outburst and went about soaping me with one of the wash cloths, being sure to use caution.
“First of all, I haven’t labeled you with such a name in months,” I corrected. “Jackson, do you know why I called you those childish names?”
“No idea,” he murmured as he began to use another cloth to rinse me.
“Because you were everything but. Since the first time I hurled that slur, I was only resorting to the obvious dig to score against you.” I sighed. “And then the more I learned about you…got to know you, I knew I couldn’t be more wrong.”
Jackson rinsed the wash cloth in the basin and rinsed me again as he eyed me suspiciously. But he didn’t speak. He didn’t have to; that fleeting oxytocin wasn’t leaving my system at all. I’d turned loquacious in no time as I gazed into the distance. “You’re every bit of a man, Jax. Far more than I could ever imagine.”
“Turn over.”
I obeyed, rolling over and tenting my hands beneath my chin. “You know what you exude, Jax?”
I felt his warm hands kneading into my calf muscles. “What’s that?”
“Devotion. I don’t know a lot about it and it’s something that can be felt as well as described, but can’t be earned. You give it to those of us who don’t deserve it without asking for much, if anything at all, in return.” I felt his hands working up my legs. “I had the opportunity to give it one time, you know.” I smiled desolately at the memory. “Their names were Samantha and Samuel, my babies.” Jackson’s hands halted. And my breath caught in my throat. The wavering lucidity of my brain kept me going, and I wanted to. I wanted to release this thing to him, explain why I couldn’t be much to him. “They were twins…and unexpected.”
Taking a deep breath I zoned out and told my story.
“Henry was one of my last promiscuous fuck ups. I met him at a local bonfire party days after graduating high school. He was a decent looking guy and clearly wanted me as he studied me from across the fire. My friend whispered to me he was from a high school in a nearby district and was on his way to WVU on a full scholarship. That’s all it took for me to entertain his stares. He eventually came over with a beer to talk to me. He said nothing of particular interest but that he knew my brother, Eugene and he’d given Henry his blessings. Eugene was an alumni at that time and there was the connection. That sick connection to my stepbrother had me feeling it was okay to sleep with Henry that night in the woods, away from the party. I’m not sure if he used a condom because we were so wasted. But I’m sure the next time we slept together, a week later we used none.”
I chuckled at my bland attraction to Henry. “He was nice and knew Eugene. Back then I had the false sense of security that if a guy knew Eugene and Eugene gave the green light, I could let down my guard because my stepbrother would protect me. What a joke that was. Well, while fighting with my parents about me attending Howard or going to the local community college my stepfather insisted on saying I wasn’t yet responsible to live so far away, indirectly referring to my promiscuous ways, I learned I was pregnant. Of course, I was devastated. I never thought I’d have kids so soon. But it also caused me to believe my grace had run out. I couldn’t fathom an abortion. No. I had to finally do the responsible thing, so I decided to keep ‘the’ baby.
My parents didn’t give the explosive reaction I’d contemplated. They were indeed disappointed, but for some reason, they didn’t fly off the handle. I knew it was because that type of slip up was expected of me. Sad, but true. Ellen loved running with boys.
Telling Henry was an exercise of futility, I thought. He was on his way to college for crying out loud. He wouldn’t lose that opportunity and help me with this baby, right? Wrong. After discussing it with his family—a devout Christian family like mine—Henry decided to give up his scholarship and find a job. That decision stunned me and propelled my respect for him to astronomical heights. When the day came when we learned I was carrying twins, Henry charged out of the room in tears. I knew it frightened him. He’d acquiesced to being a father prematurely with a known harlot he didn’t know well at all, and then to learn he’d be a father to two in just a few months… I cried there on the table for the both of us.
Then came the bullshit: Henry proposed during my second trimester. At the time I was thrilled by the prospect of someone wanting to align themselves with me while the whole town kicked my back in about ruining Henry’s promising future. I accepted his proposal and we were married three weeks later. Before my marriage, my stepfather assigned me to the shed out back that my stepbrother turned into his living quarters minus a kitchen. Now as Henry’s wife, I had a better place to take my babies. His parents arranged for us to live in an old cottage way in the country that once belonged to Henry’s deceased grandparents. We cleaned it up and that was where we brought our babies.
The first year or so was hard. I suffered from postpartum depression, which I believe was triggered by all the stress surrounding the pregnancy. On top of the fact that I was a healthy girl up until that point, hadn’t spent a night in the hospital since my own birth, I was now healing from a caesarian surgery I prayed against. I took care of my babies, but grew despondent toward everyone else, including my husband for months. When I was able to come out of it, it was just in the nick of time because I needed to find a job. Our parents did what they could, but Henry and I were on our own. He’d had two jobs and we were barely staying afloat. So, I went out and took a job at a commercial daycare center in the city. It was my best choice, seeing I had no formal education and could get a discount on childcare for my babies while there.
For a while things were at least stable. Henry and I weren’t exactly happy together, but we made it happen. Our babies forced us into adulthood and a sound partnership. Sex was irregular. I’d put on sixty pounds from the babies and couldn’t exactly afford the dormant diva inside. When we did indulge, it was only doggie style and very much obligatory…but I was okay with that. I had a husband who made the ultimate sacrifice, keeping me from a shameful life of single-parenting under my stepfather’s heavy hand of condemnation. My children, aside from Samuel’s chronic ear infections, were healthy and growing. I wasn’t exactly miserable, just surviving the weight of it all from day to day.
That was until one day, after work, I went grocery shopping closer in town than normal to save time. We were expecting treacherous weather that evening that I needed to beat. I ran into Jen Waffer, a girl my age from our town. She was with her friend, eyeing me down. I tried to ignore the
m and do what I needed to do to get home to my babies. They were home this particular day because Samuel had been running a fever the day before. Henry wasn’t feeling too hot himself, so he agreed to stay home with them both. I was relieved, needing to preserve my limited paid time off.
I turned down an aisle and heard snickering at an even higher volume. I turned to find Jenn pointing at my tennis shoes—you guys refer to them as sneakers, I know—and laughing. After a few minutes of this I turned to confront them. Why did I do that? That gave Jenn the opportunity to let go of strife she’d been holding on to for years. Apparently, she and Henry were high school sweethearts that broke up when he told her he was expecting a baby with Bishop Wilson’s daughter, the whore. Jenn screamed her hatred of me from the top of her lungs in the middle of the grocery store.
But that was nothing compared to the bomb she dropped. She told me Henry had been sleeping with her the whole time we’d been married. She yelled his disdain for my overweight body, forcing him to only fuck me from the back so he wouldn’t have to see my face and remember his misery, how she’d been to my home several times and even fucked him in my bed, shared the contents of my underwear drawer, the motif of my babies’ room—all the things that couldn’t be fabricated. She even told me she knew I’d be there at the store that day because he’d told her. Even her friend was shell shocked by her fit and stood as frozen as me.
That was the blow that hurled me into a place I’d never been. I actually felt betrayed and not because I had any delusions about being in a fairy tale romance with my husband because, like him, I didn’t relish sex. But it was because I made myself believe that for the first time in my life, someone was on my side. We may not have been happy, but we were surviving in spite of the town whispering about us and predicting our doom. He may not have loved me, but I thought he was…committed to me.
