"Jake come on, I never said-..."
"I don't want no backing down, you hear!? When I'm done, you'll have so much stuff you won't know what to do with it all. You'll see, Benjamin will see, Shawn will see... and my father, he'll see." He swore so passionately it worried Vivian. His eyes had a look in them that shook her to the core, as if they saw through her. Suddenly he looked up into her eyes, focusing on her. He reached up, palmed the back of her head and pulled her down to him, opening his mouth below hers he ground out the command, "You're gonna have my babies and I damn sure not waiting." He forced her mouth to his, kissing her deep and strong, his hips flexing upward, in a blink he was welding a mighty erection. Vivian was in the wrong position.
With pounding hearts of passion and yes, madness. His hand went under the dress and tugging at her panties as he held her mouth to his, ignoring her moans, pleas, "Jake, wait..."
"No way." He panted, working his pants open, grinding up against her. Touching her, holding her, kissing her.
Vivian felt panicked, shaky, yet due to all that was happening to him, she could not for the life of her, deny him. His heart was slamming in his chest as he freed himself, next tugging at the center crotch piece as he urged her up high.
"Jake..." She whimpered his name urgently, worried.
He was not hearing her, he had one objective, that was to get inside of her.
"Ah!" Vivian cried out, whimpering as his large head pressed to pierce, then pushed to penetrate her.
Vivian cried out, she wasn't as wet as she needed to be, he kept moving back and forth trying to enter her, finally enough moisture to push deeper. She shook her head, trying to keep from sitting down just yet, it was already hurting, uncomfortable. That didn't stop him, he kept his hips moving up and down until he could work deeper with each withdrawal and then re-entry, finally - he was able to push all the way.
"Owww! Jake!" Vivian panted.
He pulled her head back down to him to kiss her, pressing deep within her body. He slowed himself down, trying to give her time to expand around him, to adjust to being filled to max by him. His kisses were maddening, seeking, desperate, hungry, needy. His long strong arms wrapped around her body, imprisoning her there as he kissed her mouth and then, began pumping upward into her, rolling his hips, his large hand, cupping one round, firm dark cheek pressing her against each thrusts.
Vivian's heart was beating out of sequence, even with such discomfort it wasn't enough to block the growing pleasure. It was the way he moved against her, aware that he must make contact with her clit, grinding against it as his rod moved within her. Vivian was trying to breathe, she snatched her mouth from his, threw her head back, guttural moans forcing their way up from her throat out of her wide open mouth, sucking in much needed oxygen.
His mouth was kissing down the column of her throat, over the knobs of her chest plate, further still, pulling at the top of her dress to free a breast to suckle and suck it he did. Vivian's cries, pants, squeals grew more honed, urgent, he could hear it, she was going to be coming real soon. He wanted to come with her, knew to pull back from stimulating her so much so he could catch up. She whimpered her disappointment and needn't have; she should have known that he knew what he was doing. Five minutes later, her urgency was even stronger than before and he was now ready. Jake eased up against her and rolled himself into her just enough and they both erupted at once, together, as if their bodies were caught in an electrical current that would release neither of them, making them cry out as if in pain. Right then, there was no pain, just an orgasm that was fuelled by their passion, love and need, it wouldn't let go. It was the most powerful between them yet.
When finally they came down, they were both weak.
Vivian collapsed against his chest, quiet all but her breathing.
Jake wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her to him once again, he whispered in her ear, "You will never leave me. Not ever. You will always, always be mine, no matter what, you hear me? No matter what."
Vivian's head shifted back to look up at him. He was waiting on her to confirm it. His arms, like bands of steel held her and she wondered, had she traded Laek Chan, her freedom, for the very devil himself. Something in his eyes, told her - this man, would never let her go.
Chapter 211
L. A....
Oscar T. felt that he'd been touched by a spell of insanity, or he'd been cursed, or worse, the souls of wronged dead could not rest in peace until the guilty had been made to suffer. They linger silent and watchful in the background, patiently waiting, waiting as long as it takes; why hurry when you're dead? This is what Oscar T. figured. Yes, he'd concluded that was more true than anything, Bea Rose had come for him now, or so he felt. She had fooled him. Made him think that he'd killed her that day. It had all been an act, because now - she spoke to him, she laughed at him, she touched him, taunting him, reminding him, where, once upon a time, he'd been able to find that special place that made him feel, human. In her arms. In her bed. Buried deep within her warm, small body. All this time, she'd been waiting he'd figured, for the perfect opportunity to come back with retribution in mind for him.
Nights were now spent restlessly tossing and turning. It had taken years following her death to find a peaceful nights rest, all of sudden, he'd been catapulted right back to that time, back to those old feelings of regret and horror. He wondered how many times had he looked at his hands wondering how they could have betrayed him as they had? How could they have dared to grab her tiny neck and squeeze it so until her life was extinguished? How could they have done such a thing his mind had agonized. He'd suffered in silence in that chamber of hell, knowing what crime he was guilty of, what invisible blood soiled his palms. It had taken years to go away. Then some years of mental denial had afforded him a period of peace.
Thanks to his big plan, thanks to Georgiana driving him to it with her endless whoring, he was right back in the thick of it. His actions, so it seemed, had brought Bea Rose out of hiding.
He had his own room, just as Georgiana had hers. The ghost of Bea Rose knew this and came to him now, in his room, in fact, lately, there she remained, whispering things to him that turned a grown man into one who grovels and pleads for rest. Because he didn't believe in ghost, he kept reminding himself that it was all in his mind. His fight was with his guilt. A conscience he thought long seared, dead, forever calloused beyond feeling had flowered to the surface at her command. Perhaps the ingredient that made it possible was in strangling the one person in your life you'd ever loved; it could very well be that he figured. Having to live without that person due to your own actions made everyone else valueless. Every other life, worth nothing compared to the one taken.
In his own office, he'd sat thinking about Deidre, her words before departing. In his car, he'd thought about it. After his conversation with his connection, he'd thought about it. Until touching him, Bea Rose had laughed and asked him, "What are you thinking?" This she'd whispered for his ears only, as usual.
"Maxwell, Maxwell Franklin." He'd muttered softly in return.
"Ah, my son." She taunted as if in that too, she held all control. Laughter, soft, tinkling like crystals blown by a gentle breeze, she'd gone once again. At his office, he'd made a simple phone call, told what he wanted and within a few hours, had what he needed.
Now, he sat watching for him, waiting for him to appear. When he finally did, alongside another black male, he hadn't been able to look away. Oh the years, the years ... since the pictures of him on the wall, the last that he'd seen of him, this young man, his young man, his son ... how he had grown. Once he'd summoned up enough courage to approach his limo, Oscar T. had braced himself.
"He's coming over Mr. Wherrington, what would you have me do?"
"Nothing. My privacy please."
Accompanied by a soft, motorized hum, the middle window slid back into place.
He watched him wait for cars going by to cross, but soon, he was at the window, tapping on it. "Hey, m'man,
something we can do for you?"
Oscar T. watched him up close for a moment as he bent down, put his hand up against the window to look in, Oscar T. smiled, he saw himself in his dusky dark skin, skin the color of rich honey. Only sign of Bea Rose were her lips and other racial contributions, making him black. Oscar T. hit the auto window switch, it opened to let in a day that was bright and clear, offering an un-obstructed view of a young man that was, as far as Oscar T. was concerned, perfect.
A young black, handsome male, of his loins - yes, willing to admit it to no one, he was proud.
He, Maxwell was about to ask again, if he could be of service, when he realized who he was staring at. Oscar T. could see the moment he recognized who he was, at least that's what he thought. They practically had the same eyes, staring back and forth. His son had long eye lashes, blonde tipped. His appearance there had taken him completely by surprise.
"Do you know who I am?" Oscar T.'s rich voice finally came from the dark of the limo.
Maxwell was stunned, not for long, "Do you know who I am?" He retaliated.
Oscar T. nodded gently, "Of course I do, I'm here aren't I? I must know, get in."
Maxwell chuckled, "Yeah, right. Naaaw m'man, I don't think so."
"You afraid? Big strong guy like you?"
"Yeah well uh, that don't mean shit - depending on what you got in mind. Besides, mama said, don't climb into cars with strangers."
Just the mention of his mother stirred Oscar T. from within. "Good advice, that. She was always so smart, your mama. Even so, I'm the reason you live - does that mean nothing?"
"Not to me. Look, it's been nice, shootin' the shit with you Mr. Wherrington, I have to get back to work. Ciao!" Max stood straight to turn and leave.
"Wait!"
Max turned once more, leaning back into the window.
"What time are you done here?"
"Man, what the hell you wanna know for?"
"Why do you think? I'm - I'm your father. I'd like to spen-..."
*Pshuh* "You not my goddamn father. You may be the sperm donor - but that don't mean shit! Not to me, later." He stood, turned and walked off back across the road with the same swaggering dap he'd used coming.
"My god." Oscar T. murmured softly in disbelief, "I did that - I did. That man came from me, from me ... look at him." Oscar T. smiled.
"He beautiful ain't he?" A soft voice asked him. He turned to look beside him, she was leaning past him, looking at their retreating son. Oscar T. smiled down at her, "He is, strong as a bull, made of good sturdy stuff." He bragged.
"Yeah, that he is." She smiled, he looked away from her back to his son, "How can I get him to talk to me?" He asked, turning back to her for the answer. No one there. No one had ever been there. He stared at the spot where seconds ago, Bea Rose had sat, knowing that slowly, gradually, he was losing his grasp on reality. She haunted him. Oscar T. leaned back in is seat, hit the auto window button closing it. Wishing she would come back, he was lonely. He didn't mind that she haunted him. Maybe that was part of the punishment. She gave him just enough to show him what he'd been missing all this time.
"Why... why Oscar, you wanna talk to my boy, hm? You leave'em be, you hear me?" He didn't see her, but he heard her this time. He reached out his hand, searching the space around him, for something to take hold of, "Bea Rose? ... Bea? Come back - please... Bea ... come back."
His phone rang.
Oscar T. snapped out of it. He cleared his throat of the lump that lodged there. He sat up straight, his face burning red with embarrassment. He looked through the dividing window, his driver was reading the paper, paying him no mind. He answered his phone.
"Yeah?"
"It's done. The cancellations, well all except - well - you know how greedy some people are. Just so you know it, in every team, there is bound to be a rebel or, rebels. Just the way it is. Hot heads, they have their own ideas, plans. What can I say, they see dollar signs, that's all they see, is dollar signs."
"I paid you - I paid you well!"
"What am I supposed to do? I've done my best. Not my fault if they know there's more where that came from, lots more. Now is it? Something happens, won't be my doing, just wanted you to know that."
"Something happens? Like what? Nothing had better happen! I told you I want it stopped."
"All through me, that I arranged, is - stopped. Now, if someone else were to start something up, well then, that's nothing to do with me, like I said, some people have their own ideas. No scruples, right? It's all about the, how does that song go? Money, money money mon-nay."
"Damn you! I won't stand for this! You've been paid enough! Think I'm stupid! Think I don't know what you're doing-..."
"Got nothing to do with me, Oscar T. Got noting to do with me."
{{Click}}
Oscar T. sat feeling the world was out to get him.
Right then, right there - he felt himself a tired old man. His pursuits in life, in truth, had all been in vain, counted for nil. He sat with a vision of all that his life had been, it literally played before him. Not a flash before his eyes. No. This was slow, careful, precise. Each frame or frames taken in various stages of his years. As a very young man, discontented with his family and the life he lived with them. His days in school, college where he met Georgiana and saw her as his ticket to a better life, a better world. Riches, wealth, prestige. Yes, he'd gained entry to the good life. Money, a nice home, position and fancy cars. A member of the most elite clubs. Political connections and ties. He'd been riding high. He wore tailor made suits; while he may not have been the most handsome man on earth, he had been dashing, charming, appealing and yes, attractive. He had a certain something, a je ne sais quoi, so indefinable, yet women over the years liked, adored him, and yes, the money helped as well. In bed, he was a good lover, knew how to please and get what he wanted in return. Like so many of his ilk, he'd had his affairs. He knew how to dress, he was in good shape because he had always been athletic. He'd come from a good, sound, solid physical stock. The men of his family had always been strong, sturdy... just poor as hell. Something he'd been determined not to be. As he progressed in knowledge, he developed an insight into the various games found to be played among the wealthy; this led to greater need, or in truth, greed. For all that he had, he wanted more, much more. On one particular afternoon, he'd done what so many have done, he'd spotted something that he hadn't had, hadn't tried. A little delicate something that caught his eye. Something about her, Bea Rose that attracted him upon first laying eyes on her. With all that he already had, he'd needed to add her to his collection of things. What he hadn't been prepared for, was the effect she would have on him. Possibly due to her being so, right, good, clean, decent, without a trace of greed. All bad men, wanted something sound, good in their collection of things, people. She was it, for him. What he knew and didn't fully realize back then, was that she - who had nothing, but integrity, self-respect, dignity and honor, was more powerful than he had ever been. She, Bea Rose, was more powerful than he would ever be. He knew this was true, because more than twenty some odd years later, she still had a hold on him.
Oscar T. sat realizing, he wanted nothing more of the things he possessed, he wanted - Bea Rose Franklin - back.
She was dead.
He had killed her.
Oscar T. sat feeling like he was slowly, tortured, forced to endure the worst sort of agony, yes - he was resigned to it, fully aware, that he was day by day, year by year ... going mad. Everything he was secretly doing to help it, wasn't - because everything he secretly did, proved how bad and deep he was into his madness.
"Bea Rose? Please ... please come back. I'm lonely Bea, I'm so lonely - without you." He groaned the prayer, his body racked with misery.
* * *
Madison...
Kathy Ann pulled into her brother's driveway. By the looks of things, someone was home and they were busy. She sat at the end of the drive in her vehicle for a spell trying to make up her mind if she
was going to stay there with him or not. She couldn't go home, she didn't want to face her mother, or her father for that matter. To Shanna's was out of the question, Jake was living there with her and she was too close to Shawn. As for Shawn, he wasn't speaking to her anymore, thanks to her mother. Her girlfriend was getting on her nerves. While she had certainly experimented with lesbianism, she wasn't really a lesbian. It had been drinking that made her venture in that direction; it wasn't one she had any intention of taking up. She'd gone by Connie's, who was a lesbian, had always been one - and yes she knew that Connie had a little thing for her. Even so, full blown sober, she'd never carried on in that act with her, nor had they spoken as if she might at some point change her mind and consider it. She talked with her a while, needed to get some sleep; only to be awakened by her climbing into bed with her, pulling up close behind her.
Pissed, Kathy Ann had thrown her arm off of her, put her shoes on, all the while Connie pleaded, questioning her, "What's wrong Kathy Ann? What'd I do? Come on, you don't have to leave. Okay I'm sorry! I just thought, well, you coming here meant... well, what was I supposed to think? Come on Kathy Ann, don't go!"
She'd slammed the door on the way out, climbed into her vehicle and left with not a word spoken, deciding she wouldn't be going back.
Therefore, as in places to go, that left only Derrick.
She climbed out of the palomino and slowly made her way towards her brother's back yard, where there was a lot of activity going on. When she walked up, it was like a flashback of times long ago. The boys were building. Hammering, sawing, measuring, bracing, constructing and Derrick was supervising.
"Luis, make sure you've correctly marked that board before you cut it, use the leveler to check first before you put that saw to it. Wasted wood comes out of the cutters pocket!"
BOMAW 7-9 Page 124
