Tonight

by Nana Malone

  A wicker sofa was on its side, with cushions tossed about. Deja clicked off the flashlight and tried to right everything. There wasn’t a fireplace and it felt cool inside. She did notice a table and two chairs so there might be a kitchen. The wood floor was covered in so much dust they had left footprints. The walls were wood-paneled and a faded portrait of an island scene was hung on one of them.

  As she put the last of the cushions on the sofa she turned to see him go through a side door. Curious, she picked up one of the lanterns and went after him. Deja stopped in surprise. There was a bed. It was a canopy with sheer draping around it. A room fit for an island stay.

  “Some of the islands have these bungalows as rentals, for honeymooners. There’s a kitchen, too,” he told her.

  “It’s nice. Do we have running water?”

  He walked over to the bathroom and checked. “Yes!” He called out. “Most of the water reserves are from rainwater that is collected on the roof and fills the tanks for showering and using the toilet.”

  “That’s quite economical,” she said.

  He came over to her. When he touched her face she stepped back. “You’re hurt, sweetheart.”

  “Huh? I am?” she asked.

  He touched just at her hairline and then showed her his fingers. The spot of blood made her brow crease with worry. “You must have hit your head in the accident, maybe on the reef. Does it hurt?” he asked.

  “No. I, ah, I feel fine.”

  He took her hand and kissed it. He then led her from the bedroom to the front of the cabin. She sat on the sofa and watched a he dragged over the coffee table and opened the first-aid kit.

  “So you’re a doctor now?” she asked.

  “I was an Eagle Scout,” he said.

  The timbre in his voice, the soft lighting and her exhaustion diluted her emotions. She couldn’t believe her night. It was something out of a romance novel. Stranded on an island with her superhero.

  “Do you know who you look like?” she asked.

  He continued to dab at her cut with peroxide and a cotton ball. “Who?”

  “The guy who runs into a phone booth and changes into a cape. You know who I mean. Not the old one, the new one. What’s the actor’s name who plays him? Colin Farrell?”

  He chuckled. “Henry Cavill.”

  “Yes! That’s him,” she giggled.

  “Do you know who you look like?” he asked.

  She arched a brow and winced immediately.

  “Hurts, doesn’t it?”

  “Stings, but I’m okay. Who do I look like?” she asked.

  “Sanaa Lathan,” he said, smiling.

  She laughed. “I take it she’s your favorite black actress?”

  “Nope. She’s your twin. Thought it the first time I laid eyes on you.”

  “Wanna make a movie?” she asked. “You be my superhero and I’ll be your damsel in distress.”

  “Where is a man’s camera phone when he needs it?” he chuckled.

  “Ow!” she winced.

  “Forgive me, love. Almost done.” He finished tending to her wound and kissed her brow.

  “Mmm. The kiss,” she breathed.

  “What did you say,” he whispered against her ear.

  “The kiss. It always starts with a kiss between you and me. First the elevator—” she opened her eyes and looked over at him “—and then the boat, now this. Kiss me and it goes down. We go down.”

  “But I didn’t kiss you, beautiful,” he whispered again.

  “Oh, yes, you did. The definition of a kiss is lips upon skin. And your lips, sir, just touched my skin.”

  “So that means it doesn’t have to be lips on lips?” he asked with his hand now gently caressing her thigh.

  “Mmm...” She closed her eyes as the weight of the day began to crush her.

  “Then let me kiss you again,” he replied.

  “Go for it...”

  She puckered her lips and tried to suppress a smile. She was open to a sweet kiss from him before they went to sleep. To be honest she was open to many things with him now. His hand slowly eased over her tummy. It wasn’t as flat as she wished, but thanks to her missed dinner she didn’t have that little bulge she often got after a meal. She smiled. And then his fingers reached the tie to her bikini on her hip. Deja’s lids flipped open and her eyes stretched. Jon untied the knot and freed the thin fabric. She closed her hands into fists to keep from stopping him.

  Should I stop him?

  Should I say something?

  I thought he said a kiss.

  Jon eased off the sofa. He was now between her thighs, which he parted with his hands. He removed her bikini bottom and tossed it aside. They both were grimy from the sand and water. She didn’t feel at her best, but one look into his eyes and she knew he could care less.

  “This is the kiss I’ve been wanting to give you.”

  He pulled her down on the sofa and she gasped. He pushed one leg up and apart by the ankle and in doing so spread the lips of her sex for his perusal. Deja felt the unyielding coolness of the room’s temperature wash over her. His face lowered and so did her lids. The swipe of his tongue was tantalizing and sweet. It gave a lazy roll over her clitoris and then delved down to her opening. Every lick and glide of his tongue stoked the heat inside of her higher. Her thighs quivered. She bucked her hips and smashed her sex into his face causing his mouth and nose to bury deep. She gripped his head to keep him there. “Oh, baby, it feels good” she heard herself cry.

  He was far from done. He licked her from top to bottom. He plunged his tongue deep and licked his way back up and delivered jolt after yummy jolt of pleasure through her body. Her toes curled as she pulsed with greed. She wanted more. Lots more. She wanted him. She gripped his hair with both hands. He pushed both her feet up to rest on the sofa cushion and her knees dropped further apart. She was his. Her sex now fully possessed by his wonderful mouth. She rolled her ass in timing with his sweeping tongue and bit down on her bottom lip to stifle the groans. And then it became too much. Repeated gyrations up against his mouth with his hands on her inner thighs pressing them down to keep her in place unleashed something primal in them both. He fed on her and she heard herself howling in pleasure. Screams and whimpers that could be heard all the way to the beach.

  Chapter 4

  Paradise

  Deja didn’t feel very sensible. And considering what had transpired between them both she knew that was reasonable. He stood before her with an erection. Deja shivered below the waist with aftershocks. It had been months, close to years since a man had made her purr like a kitten.

  “Still want to be my damsel in distress?” he asked.

  “Anything for you,” she sighed. He took hold of both her arms and brought her to her feet. The mere act of standing stilled the warm tingling below her waist and eased the tightness in her chest. But her legs felt weak. When she pushed at his chest, a bit light-headed, he took the gesture as rejection. He swept her up into his arms.

  “Hey, slow down, lover-boy,” she gasped and half chuckled.

  “Too late for that, beautiful,” he muttered. “We’ve already gone too far.”

  She couldn’t believe he carried her. Did men actually still carry women to the bed? Where did he think she’d run off to? Deja gave a small, involuntary gasp when he tossed her on top. She was quick to undo her top. He dropped his slack shorts in a wet heap to the floor. Deja extended her hand to him.

  “Don’t tell me you don’t want this as much as I do. Don’t give me any excuses tonight.” His voice had a gravel texture to it. But his eyes held a plea that she clearly understood.

  “I’m out of excuses,” she said to him. Her hand lifted from the bed. “I don’t need them anymore.”

  He took her hand. She br
aced herself with a stilted breath as he crawled in between her legs. His large hands went underneath and his grip was uncomfortably tight. But she refused to complain. He lifted and she tilted her pelvis so she could feel the rub of her slick center across his hard length. Jon slowly trailed his tongue up the valley of her breasts. She gripped his strong arms and soon she realized the rest of her was shaking with anticipation. His mouth found hers again and his tongue sweetly slipped in between her teeth.

  It was difficult to breathe. Not from the pressure of his chest pinning her to the bed. Not from the firm grip he had on her ass until his hands and knuckles were stark white. It was the anticipation.

  “I want you,” he said with his lips only a centimeter away from hers. “I don’t have any protection.”

  She nodded that it did pose a problem. She not only didn’t know his sexual history but she didn’t take any kind of birth control because of her nonexistent sex life. So her problem was even more complex.

  “Can I?” he looked down at her heaving chest. His gaze flashed up quick and snared her. “Have you?” he said.

  She nodded that she wanted the same.

  His hips lifted. The blunt head of his erection nudged her core. And with a single thrust he sank halfway in. She sucked in a strained breath through her clenched teeth. Hard and long she felt herself stretch and adjust to the invasion. Jon pulled out and thrust forward, rocking against her body. She knew she was tight. She could tell by the way he put an arch to his back and pumped his hips repeatedly. Delivering rapid strikes that had her clawing for mercy.

  “Faster, Jon!”

  The lovemaking stopped. Jon withdrew and she sighed over his retreat. He turned her. She crawled to an upright position on her elbows and knees. Jon forced her legs apart slipping into her once more from behind. Her vagina constricted and her nails scored the bedsheets and mattress. She felt him completely. The tap of his scrotum against her throbbing clitoris as he tunneled in and out of her left her biting into her pillow. Deja squeezed her eyes tightly shut. He thrust into her harder, and harder. He rode her and stroked her like a man possessed. She wheezed and rolled her hips and pelvis to ease the torment.

  It was when he dropped on her and kissed her slick back while delivering several methodical thrusts that she lifted her face and cried out with happiness. Together they climaxed. But he kept moving. In and out, and over and over she felt him. His hand eased beneath her mound and he pinched her clit as he sucked the back of her neck. Deja shuddered, accepting the inevitable.

  The ripples of her climax were so strong and overwhelming she felt his dick seizures deep within her. Jon gripped her by the shoulder with one hand and the hip with the other forcing her to her knees again. And this time delivered strike after glorious strike to her sex until every drop of his own was spent. They collapsed together.

  * * *

  Deja opened her eyes. It was dark and she was warm and content in her lover’s arms. His face rested on her breast, his thigh was thrown across her legs. She stared up at the ceiling and tried to make sense of passion with a man that couldn’t compare to anything she’d ever felt with another person.

  They had made love.

  It was true some women could have sex and think it meant love right after. She wasn’t one of those women. Night after night she had submerged herself in his life. She read the gossip blogs. She’d searched his name on Google when bored. She’d even watched the red-carpet event at the ESPY award ceremony to see him and his date arrive. One kiss in an elevator had made her dismiss all her suitors afterward. If she were really honest this was more than a fantasy. She was in love with the mystery of Jon Hendrix and now she was falling hard for the reality.

  He groaned. Kissed her breast. And then he rolled over to his side of the bed. Deja reached under the covers and touched her sex. She was sticky between the thighs and tender everywhere below. Sex without protection was a foolish thing to do.

  She slowly eased from under the covers and walked on her toes to the bathroom. Without the lantern the small space was dark and unbearably cramped. But moonlight poured in from the ceiling windows to give her some light. She didn’t need much.

  * * *

  Jon was drowning. He sat up in bed gagging on the air trapped in his throat. He blinked several times until the feverish nightmare abated. The rush of water in his dream came from the shower, not the dark memory of the boat crashing on the rocks. The accident was still fresh on his mind. He touched his chest and waited for his heartbeat to stabilize. And then his mind rushed to deliver a vivid recall of every minute he’d shared with Deja. He glanced to the shower. He heard her, the soft melody of her humming. Kicking his feet loose of the sheets he sprung from bed and marched over to the bathroom.

  There was no shower curtain. He found her as she tried to cleanse her skin of the sand and passionate encounter they’d shared. She stepped right under the showerhead. The voyeur in him couldn’t deny himself the pleasure of watching. Rivulets of water cascaded down her back and over the swell of her ass. She was lush. The woman had curves in all the right places. Not like the unnaturally thin women with fake asses and tits that he had bedded before.

  To his delight his dick agreed with him. He touched it and found it rising to the occasion once more. Deja glanced back at him. She paused and then smiled. Jon walked over to her. “Let me do that,” he said.

  She nodded and handed over the soap.

  “Where did you find soap?” he asked.

  “Guess the other tenants left it behind,” she replied. He rubbed the bar between his hands and worked up a sudsy lather. He set it aside. He began to caress the lather over her breasts, flat tummy and wide hips. She rose on her toes and captured his mouth. The kiss was a swirl of emotional reflexes with his tongue darting over hers and her tongue reaching and sweeping over his.

  Deja wrapped her arms around his neck and he stepped with her back under the spray of water. His erection was angled up and he positioned her over it before bringing her down. Thanks to her elevated position with her legs fastened around his waist he could feel himself go deep and deeper. He aided in the way she rode him. He worked her ass up and down on his penis and was careful to keep them steady. Deja dropped her head back and the shower rained over her face. The woman had the darkest nipples he’d ever seen. He loved black women. Their skin, the smell of them when sexually aroused and these sweet thick nipples he could suckle to sleep.

  Jon turned her to the wall and pinned her there. He stroked her hard. He knew his body would probably deny him the pleasure of a repeat performance tonight. So he held back. Forced his groin to contain the rush and demand of a release. His scrotum drew tighter and the muscles in his thighs coiled with restraint.

  “Yeah, babe, yeah,” he said and licked her neck up to her ear.

  She held to him and grinned. He was certain she had enjoyed him as much as he had enjoyed her. Someday soon he’d seduce her and take his time, giving her the pleasure she deserved. But his desire for her mounted with each passing minute. He had to be selfish with their lovemaking this time. Too much pressure crushed in his manhood and spine. He grabbed one of her hands and pinned it flat to the wall, and held her up with his other squeezing her ass tight. Jon exploded inside of her. Gave her every drop of his essence. First woman in six years he’d sexed without a condom. Deja Jones was the woman of his dreams.

  * * *

  “Look what I found!” she squealed.

  They had located old robes to cover themselves with in the cottage. She went in search of glasses while he opened two bottles of beer. He glanced back over his shoulder and she stood there smiling. In her hands she held a box of saltines and a can.

  “What is it? Thursday mystery meat?” he chuckled.

  “Nope. It’s tuna and it has a good expiration date. You know, I don’t think this place is abandoned.” She looked down at the mono
grammed robe. “Maybe it’s a holiday spot for the owners.”

  “Come here, beautiful,” he said.

  She walked around the sofa and sat next to him. She handed over the can. And he eyed it while she opened the box of crackers.

  “And exactly how am I supposed to open this?” he asked.

  She blinked at him and paused. “Oh? I forgot to look for a can opener.”

  He chuckled and tossed the can aside. Deja fed him a saltine and then ate one herself. They were stale. Still, she savored the taste.

  He let his fingers sink in to the wet spongy strands of her hair. She chewed and stared straight ahead. He didn’t read any playful flirtiness in her manner now.

  “Something wrong?” he asked.

  She cast her gaze over to him. “Why don’t we have a real conversation for once?”

  “Real, huh?”

  She nodded and swallowed. “Have you ever been married, Jon?”

  The woman went straight for his balls. The one thing he never did with anyone was discuss his personal life or past. Women claimed to want to know more about a man but they attached too much meaning to things that had nothing to do with them. If he shared with her that he was once engaged and cheated on his fiancée, what would she think? He had made big mistakes in the past. He’d atoned for most of them. Why dig up all the bones now for the sake of conversation?

  Deja wanted a response. Hell, he’d slept with her twice with no protection. He owed her a list of all his sexual partners. The problem was after Carrie Anne, he couldn’t name but two or three of his regulars out of hundreds. He was seen with many celebrities but their publicists mostly arranged those liaisons and he filled the role of stand-in.

  “Cat got your tongue?” she asked and bit into another cracker.

  Jon inhaled, then exhaled. “Her name was Carrie Anne. And no, we weren’t married. Engaged. She was a corporate attorney. Lived in Brisbane, Australia.” The words rushed from him in a single breath.