“Preacher, teacher, I don’t give a fuck. You wanna watch artsy-fartsy here work, you come Thursday night during regular business hours like everyone else. And you–” he turned his attention to Donna – “make it brief. I’m not paying you to chit-chat.”
Irv strutted away like he was cock of the walk and, when they were alone, Donna downed her Coke for courage, then turned to Jake. “What are you doing here?”
With some effort, he pulled his gaze away from the orgy on the ceiling. “The plumber says there’s some work that needs to be done. He needs your permission. I couldn’t get you on your cell phone, so I came here. I’d really like to shower without fear of a flood.”
By the time she called the plumber, Jake was already long gone, and he wasn’t at home that evening when she got back.
That night she awoke with moonlight flooding her room. She shoved back the blanket and let the gossamer light bathe her breasts and stomach. Her mother always said bathing in moonlight would inspire creativity. She might have drifted back to sleep if she hadn’t heard something. She rose from the bed and slid into her robe. For a second she wondered if she was dreaming, but she followed the sound that seemed to be coming from her studio.
She tiptoed into the hallway over the threadbare carpet her mother had laid when she was a child. The sound grew louder as she drew nearer. Slowly, carefully, holding her breath, she peeked around the cracked door. There in a shower of moonlight sat Jake draped over the model’s chair. The open blue robe cascaded on to the floor around him exposing the slope of his belly. The carved planes of his chest rose and fell like bellows. One hand clenched a volume of Bullfinch’s Mythology. The other stroked the substantial length of a heavy erection. His gaze was locked on her mother’s painting. For a brief second she felt anger that he had invaded her private domain, but he seemed so vulnerable, so lost in his own need. She stood frozen at the door watching him.
The artist longed to memorize the symmetry of his body; the woman longed to go to him, to open herself to him, as Leda had done for the swan. The sound of his breath, heavy and quick, filled the silent room. The muscles of his stomach tightened as he arched upwards until the curves of his buttocks and the straining elongations of his thighs were visible off the chair. His lips parted, his fingers curved and tightened around his penis. His pubic curls glinted in the moonlight. She could imagine their softness as they grazed his stroking hand.
He was too far gone to notice anything but his need to come. The chair creaked beneath his undulating weight, and he could no longer hold back the soft groans and grunts of his pleasure. The book fell to the floor with a muted thud, freeing his other hand to caress the distended bulge of his balls while he pumped harder. His body looked brittle, as though the strength of his need would shatter him. His back arched as though it were breaking. A strangled cry escaped his throat and he came in heavy viscous spurts on to the bare floorboards.
She caught her breath, flooded with a confused sense of tender longing at seeing him so exposed. She fled back to her bed. There she writhed in the hungry caress of moonlight, not certain what was dream and what was real, touching and fondling until she came, burying her face in her pillow stifling cries as rip-tide waves of pleasure broke over her, pulling her downwards into sleep.
Three
In the week that followed she saw little of Jake, and when she did, he was always fleeing off to some church function, grading papers, or locking himself in his room to work on the imminent sermon. It was just as well. The less they saw of each other the better.
Saturday morning they found themselves making breakfast at the same time, moving cautiously around each other, speaking in nervous short sentences about the weather or the much improved drainage in the bath. She had just finished toast when he dropped a cup of coffee, shattering the mug and nearly scalding his leg.
As they knelt to pick up the shards of ceramic, she noticed his hands were trembling. He forced an embarrassed laugh. “Guess I should lay off the coffee.”
“Are you all right?’
“Just nerves.” He avoided her gaze. “Sermon’s tomorrow. I’m not as ready as I’d like to be.”
She wiped the spill with a sponge, and he tossed the shards in the trash, then moved to the window, looking out at the grey brick of the school and church building glinting in the morning sun. “Uncle Ed doesn’t like me living here. He says it’s a dangerous situation.”
Before she could do more than bristle, Jake continued, “I don’t want to be isolated. I think it’s important to be in the world but not of the world, like the Bible says.”
“Is that why you came to Sirens? My cell phone wasn’t off. You could have reached me at any time. Besides, the plumber had my permission to do what he needed.”
He blushed hard and offered only a helpless shrug.
She thought about Jake masturbating in front of the painting of Leda and the Swan and couldn’t fight back the sense of déjà vu. Reverend Tandy knew what he was talking about. In this case, he just might be right. Then she quickly pushed the thought out of her mind. She wasn’t her mother, after all. She wouldn’t make the same mistakes.
* * *
Sunday morning Jake was gone before Donna woke up. He had planned to go to Golgotha early so he could practise his sermon in the auditorium. As much as she disliked Golgotha Church, she hoped everything went well for him.
She painted for an hour before breakfast, trying to convince herself that her Apollo wasn’t looking too much like Jake, then she padded off to the shower. With the drain fixed, she was looking forward to lingering in the hot spray. But she had barely gotten wet when she heard the door slam downstairs. Jake surely wasn’t back. She dripped across the bathroom floor and peeked out the window. The church parking lot was still filling up. It must be almost time for the main service.
A knot tightened in her stomach. With Jake about to give his sermon, whoever had just stumbled into her kitchen certainly didn’t belong there. She slipped the silk robe around her wet body and yanked the sash tight, willing her hands not to tremble. As she stepped out into the hallway she definitely heard movement in the kitchen downstairs. Leaving wet footprints on the landing, she grabbed the baseball bat she kept at the top of the stairs.
An elongated human-shaped shadow snaked across the kitchen floor, moving towards her. Flattening herself against the door of the spare room out of the intruder’s view, she held her breath, baseball bat cocked against her shoulder. The shadow moved up the stairs, making no attempt to be quiet. Whoever it was must think no one was home. She drew back for the strike, then let out a little yelp, pulling the bat just before she bashed her tenant’s forehead.
“God, Jake, what are you doing here? I nearly brained you. You’re supposed to be preaching.”
His face was white, but not from the bat,hich now hung limp in her hand. “Jake? What’s the matter?”
He jerked his head towards the church. “I don’t think I can do this. There are so many of them. I was up half the night working on the sermon, and Uncle Ed is expecting me to …” His voice trailed off.
“You’ve got to do it. They’re counting on you.”
He grabbed her hand in a vice grip. “Donna,” his eyes were locked on hers, “you don’t understand. I couldn’t get inspired. The sermon’s crap.”
“It’ll be OK, I promise.” She reached out and gave his shoulder a squeeze, and the sash on her robe slipped open revealing her breasts and the humid path down her belly. With a little gasp, everything shifted into slow motion. Almost as though his hands were on autopilot, he reached out and slid the robe off her shoulders.
She didn’t push him away, she couldn’t. Suddenly she wanted nothing so badly as his admiring glances caressing her body, as they had in her dreams, in her fantasies.
“They’ll be singing the opening hymn soon.” He cupped her breasts and moved his thumbs across her nipples. Instinctively, she arched against his touch, feeling it in places far removed from her breasts. He
continued, “Then Uncle Ed will read the announcements. Then …” He took her hand and laid it against the fly of his black trousers and moved against her palm, at first timidly, almost as though he hoped she wouldn’t notice. But he quickly abandoned caution and rocked against the pressure of her touch. His eyelids fluttered shut and he moaned softly.
Intrigued, she moved in closer to the heat rising off his body, to the scent of nerves and maleness she could almost taste. “What do you want to say to them?” The words trembled off her lips.
He undid the button at the waist of his trousers and guided her hand inside, manoeuvring it into his shorts. She was surprised to feel silk boxers rather than practical white cotton.
“I want to talk to them about love.” He lowered his mouth to hers, while shoving at his trousers with the hand that wasn’t cupping her. “I want them to know that nothing else matters, not really. The rest is just ambiguous doctrine and politics.” He spoke against her mouth, words fading as he made an awkward attempt at a tongue kiss, pressing too hard, his breath hot and suffocating as he pushed her against the wall.
She shoved him back enough to catch her breath. “You can’t tell them anything if you don’t get back over there, and you certainly can’t go like this.” She ran a hand down the length of his erection, figuring she had about five minutes to get him back in shape and back to the pulpit. Anger blazed at the thought that he had suddenly become her responsibility, but as his hand slid down the flat of her stomach and insinuated itself between her legs, she forgot all about being angry. The world around them slipped out of focus and all that existed were their hands pleasuring each other – Apollo coaxing Daphne, who was more than a little tempted to yield.
But this Apollo was awkward, nervous.
There was almost no movement. They both stood with their backs braced against the door frame shifting and rocking against each other’s hands in tight little thrustings that would have been barely noticeable if they had been clothed, if their hands hadn’t been in each other’s crotch. And yet the pleasure of it was electric.
She took his mouth, using her other hand against his chest to regulate the pressure, teaching him by example the pleasure of the tongue on the hard palate. He was a quick study. Too quick. Fantasy was one thing, but this shouldn’t be happening, and yet his mouth now made all the right responses, and she needed this, just this little bit. And the way he stroked her pussy felt so wonderfully nae that she just couldn’t pull away. She wondered if this is what her mother had felt all those years before.
The movement of his hips intensified until he was pumping hard against her encircling hand. The stretch of his cock felt feverish and tetchy against the curve of her fingers, and his body felt as though the very muscles beneath his trousers were spring-loaded. It only took a couple of thrusts before he came. With a groan he tried to suppress, his penis convulsed against her hand, and she felt the sticky heat of him on her palm.
She figured he’d been taught it was wrong to masturbate. If so, then what they had just done would only add to the guilt he must be feeling for the other night’s episode in front of Leda and the Swan. Just another reminder of why they shouldn’t be doing this. But somehow the reminder of how naughty their behaviour would be perceived in Jake’s world was enough to send her over the edge, and she clenched and shuddered against his stroking fingers.
At last he came to himself. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” His face turned crimson, and he pulled away gasping. “Oh God, Donna, I’m so sorry!”
She ignored him, quickly wiping her fingers as best she could on the inside of his boxers. Then she grabbed him by the hand and hurried him to his room, nabbing a towel from the bathroom on the way. “Quick! Get cleaned up. You can still make it, and don’t worry. Everything’ll be just fine.”
He stood almost as though he were in shock, unresponsive to her commands. She tugged off his trousers, practically forcing him back on to the bed in order to get them off over his shoes. Then she rummaged through his drawers until she found his underwear, completely oblivious to the fact that she was still naked.
He simply sat on the bed watching as she knelt in front of him and hurriedly cleaned him. As she slipped the fresh boxers up over his thighs, he reached down and stroked her breasts. “Did you come?” The words sounded so strange from his mouth, and he blushed again and lowered his eyes.
“I did, I came.” In fact, she could have come just thinking about what they had done. She couldn’t tell by the pained smile on his lips if what she said had pleased him or caused him more internal suffering. No doubt there would be a battle with his conscience and plenty of guilt, but she couldn’t be blamed entirely for that.
Once she had him tucked and zipped and inspected for any telltale signs of the morning’s escapades, she sent him back over to the church, a bit shell-shocked, but just in time to give the sermon. As for her part, she said a little prayer to Apollo and kept her fingers crossed. She hoped he regained his nerve, and his inspiration.
It was almost ten that night when he came to her studio still dressed in his preacher suit, but looking much calmer. She was adding the final touches on the feathers of the swan’s wing where it caressed Leda’s breast. “How’d it go?”
“Good.” He came to her side. “It wasn’t at all the sermon I intended. The words were just there, and it felt right.” He nodded to the canvas. “Working on your mother’s painting?” This time there was no judgment in his voice.
“Almost finished actually.”
“Guess you were inspired too.” He watched her for a few minutes as she painted, then heaved a sigh. “About this morning. Nothing like that’s ever happened to me before.”
She braced herself for the guilt-riddled breast beating and apologizing she figured he was about to unleash upon her, all of which was exactly the reason she had wanted to stay away from him. She was already mentally preparing her response to his guilt when the total silence got her attention.
Jake stood slack-jawed in the middle of the room, gaze locked on the sketch of Apollo and Daphnthat she had finally gotten on to canvas. He craned his neck for a closer inspection. The muscles along his cheeks tightened then relaxed, and he squinted closer. There was no disguising the resemblance. Donna had become brazen in her surreptitious use of him as a model. The jig was up.
Four
“You’re using me as your Apollo?” The muscles along his cheekbones twitched. For a second she thought he was angry.
“It had nothing to do with this morning.” She lay the brush down and wiped her hands on her cut-offs. “I’ve thought you’d be the perfect Apollo ever since you walked in the door, I swear.”
His laughter surprised her as it erupted from deep in his chest. He couldn’t stop laughing. He fell uncontrollably into the chair and wiped tears from the corners of his eyes. Then he doubled over, grabbing his sides. “Me as Apollo? That’s hysterical.”
“Why? Why’s that funny, because you want to be a preacher?”
“You think I want to be a preacher?” He practically exploded in another fit of laughter, nearly falling off the chair before he regained control. “Apollo’s the god of wisdom, the sun god, who has quite a way with the ladies.” He nodded. “Yes, I’ve been reading up, and I’ve read enough to know that I’m definitely no Apollo. I’m naive, short-sighted, opinionated, ignorant and, as far as women are concerned, well, how pathetic is it that I had to come in your hand?” Suddenly he was blushing fiercely, unable to meet her gaze.
“You inspire me,” she said.
“What?” He blinked hard, and looked up at her.
“I said you inspire me.”
For a long moment they held each other’s gaze. Donna could swear she heard both their hearts drumming in the stretched silence.
With a movement so sudden that it startled her, he jerked his tie from around his neck, then clawed at the buttons of his shirt and shrugged out of it. She could hear his accelerated breathing. She could see his fingers fumbling as he undi
d his trousers and slipped them down over his hips.
His voice was a harsh whisper, rasping at the still air. “I’ll be your Apollo, or at least I’ll try.” As he stepped out of his trousers, he paused only briefly before slipping out of the boxer shorts as well. A quick glance at his crotch, and his face reddened again. There was no disguising the erection popping up between his legs. He offered a sheepish grin. “I don’t suppose you’ve got a toga?”
Donna moved on unsteady legs and fumbled through the pile of fabrics folded on a nearby table. She chose a soft white cotton. As she unfolded it, she was reminded of the swan’s powerful wings. The room felt tight and airless. She was surprised at her own nerves. She had drawn hundreds of nudes with a practised, professional eye, so why was Jake any different?
She eased him down into the chair and knelt in front of him, trying to see him through artist’s eyes, but she felt like the supplicant kneeling at the feet of Apollo. As she leaned over him to drape his groin, his hand came to rest on her head. He curled his fingers in her hair. Then he caressed the nape of her neck, looking down at her through lowered lids, making everything in her skittish and quivery.
Carefully, as though not to startle the preacher or anger the god, she planted a kiss low on his belly, just above the base of his cock, and felt him shudder. The sight of his heavy penis so close to her mouth was more than she could resist. She cupped his balls gently in one hand and with the other guided him into her mouth, running her tongue in feather flicks along the underside of his cock.
“Oh God,” he groaned, thrusting so hard he nearly gagged until she lay a controlling palm against his hip. “How can anything feel so good?” Then his hands came to rest on her shoulders. “Wait. Stop. I want it to last.”
He half lowered himself, half fell on to the floor next to her, taking her face in his hands, taking her mouth. Then he pulled away and searched her face. “If you had been Daphne, what would you have done?”
The Mammoth Book of Hot Romance Page 60
