by Fields, MJ
When I gasp, he slowly but firmly caresses my tongue with his own. I wrap my lips around it and suck, eliciting a groan comes from deep down inside of him.
My nipples ache and my pussy clenches as I wrap my legs around his statuesque body.
“Babe,” he moans. “That’s starting something on a much different level than I was going for tonight.”
When I rub my body against his chest, it vibrates as a growl escapes.
“You’re asking for something you say you don’t want. And if you keep asking like that, you’re going to get it, and then you’re gonna get it all night, every night until you leave. Then, when you come back, you’re gonna get it in the morning, too.”
I can’t think when I’m this close to him; therefore, I can’t worry or wonder either.
“Kiss me.”
Hands now firmly on my ass, he steps with purpose, and my back hits the wall. I reach down and pull my long-sleeved tee-shirt dress over my head and toss it.
With his lips and tongue, he caresses the swell of one breast then the next as I reach between us and moan as I rub his erection through his jeans.
When I start to unbutton him, he pulls me away from the wall. “Not yet.” Then he lowers me to the ground and kisses down my body.
I close my eyes, arch my back, and then I hear the strings on the sides of my panties rip, just before he licks me.
“Missed you so much,” he says as he spreads my legs. “Fucking beautiful pussy.” He runs his finger up the seam. “I’m gonna make you come so hard and for so long that you’re gonna feel the aftershocks on our fiftieth anniversary.”
“Oh my God,” I groan as his tongue does only what his tongue can do.
* * *
Waking up with him in my bed is the best worst decision I’ve made in my life.
“How are you feeling?” he asks, pushing my hair from my face.
“Totally fucked.”
He gives me a slow smile. “Can’t wait to hear that from you and know it’s not double-edged.”
I don’t want him to feel that way.
“It’s a me issue, so please take it as a figurative applause to your outstanding performance.”
“Good enough to receive a request for an encore?” he asks, not waiting for an answer as he pins me to the bed.
I moan as I feel his fingers rubbing my pussy. “Morning wood is now my favorite breakfast brand.”
* * *
When we walk out of the house, I look up and see the billboard is now gone.
“I guess they knew part of you needed me around, and now that we’ve sorted a few things, it’s time for it to go.”
“Do you still work—”
“No. Contract voided.”
“You have another year of school, right?”
He nods.
“Do you need money or—”
“I’m not him, Autumn. If I needed money, I’d get three fucking jobs so that I didn’t have to ask you for a penny.”
“So, things are good?”
“Are you kidding me?” He laughs. “Things are fucking perfect.”
He opens the passenger door. “I know you said you wanted to walk but let me give you a lift. I’ll drop you off a block away so no one sees you getting out of my vehicle. But when you have your feet firmly planted in the fact that this is happening, that ends.”
“Okay.”
“Look, I’m all for going slow, but Jesus, babe …” He stops. “Wait. What?”
“I said okay.”
He kisses me.
* * *
Sitting at my desk, I look out over the city and consider the millions of souls who yearn for just one moment, one real moment, when they could feel loved, adored … safe. A moment they could look in someone’s eyes and allow them to see the truth in its reflection, and for that one moment, they see everything they could ever wish for. A moment when all past soul-crushing, heartbreaking, and paralyzing memories evaporate into thin air and all the pain is gone.
My past decisions, and not just those that caused me pain, but the ones that caused others pain, are gone when I’m with him. I know I’ve been forgiven. I know I’ve made amends. I know my ex doesn’t define me. And I know I deserve to be loved like I love.
I want this—I want us—but what would become of me if it was all romanticized in my mind? Or worse, if a man like Eric someday looked at me the way my ex did? I know it seems like an odd question, but to my soul, I want what’s best for others. I gain joy from people’s happiness and can continue doing so knowing I will never go through what I have in my past. I will never be called names that validate my self-loathing feelings, the ones I fight to ignore every day.
I will pick through discarded items just so I can make them beautiful again, so they can make others feel the same. It’s so very telling of me. Shrinks one through ten confirmed, but also brought to light that it’s also a weakness and detrimental to my happiness if it’s the only way I gain self-approval.
Eric is everything I would ever want and so much more. He deserves all the joys life has to offer. But life is full of change and circumstances arise that are out of our control. In contrary to that way of thinking, tomorrow is not a guarantee.
Fuck you, anxiety!
Fuck you, depression!
And fuck you, insecurities!
Feeling impowered, I pick up my phone to send him a message when one pops up from him. I laugh as I open it.
Eric: Call me when you get a minute, gorgeous.
“That was quick,” he says as he answers.
“I had a moment,” I say as happiness blooms inside my chest.
“You have a tenant.”
“Claudia is going to move in?”
“Is moved in.”
“What?”
“I’m at your place. Hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all. As a matter of fact, I was thinking, when I leave and your lease is up, you should stay there.”
Silence.
Insecurity.
Fuck …
“I mean, just until I get back, then you get the boot.”
“You sure about this?” he asks cautiously.
I give the finger to all the worries and laugh as I answer, “Yes.”
Thirty-Two
Eric
Five Months Later…
In the four months she was in Europe, I visited four times. Whenever she got distant, I would simply show up and remind her of why she shouldn’t.
Her apprehensive smile is a huge turn on. I could do a self-evaluation and add to the list of why that makes me fucked up, but it’s honestly because it is the most amazing thing to look at the woman you love and ask yourself everyday how you found the one person out of over seven and a half billion people on the planet who was undoubtedly meant to be yours.
Her eyes tell the story that her heart longs to be a part of. Those beautiful, light brown eyes, with hues of honey and flecks of pumpkin and mustard told me from the moment I looked into them that she was it. She was my person.
Most scoff at the belief that there is one person for each of us. I believe it’s more common than people think. The difference is how hard you work at it so that that person never questions it again. And once they believe it, too, that’s when all the stars will align.
I’ve been there from the go. She will get there. If I have to be the one holding it all together until she accepts it, I will, because I know we—she and I—are worth it.
Us.
Until then …
Wrap ’em around.
Three words that make her gorgeous eyes even more beautiful. Too bad the words I love you make her look at me like I’m going to fuck up the life she has literally taken the unbroken parts of and sewn them into a magnificent pattern.
Her fear of those words is a natural reaction to the woman who has been emotionally battered for years. And when she cut out the abuser, she abused herself. Emotional cutting needs to be added to all the books I have studied.
All wounds take time to heal, but these kinds can in fact heal.
I’m going to marry her someday, but I’ve yet to give her a ring, even though I want to so badly it almost hurts me emotionally. What gets me through is my eye is on the prize.
Us.
We’ve yet to make it public. She needs to get to a healthier place, and I’m patiently waiting for that to happen. If I have to wait a lifetime to attach a label, I will.
Looking out the window of Autumn’s place in SOHO, I wish I had said fuck it to the new modeling contract I signed. I’ll be gone when she gets back, but only for a week. If I waited, I would be away from her for two weeks.
There’s a lot of things she and I need to discuss, and I have a lot I want to discuss with her. Things that I’ve kept from her, and not because I did shit wrong, but because I know it will fuck with her head. Not something I care to do while we are apart.
She told me that Stella, her Natasha’s best friend, was back from her school in Europe and set to begin at de la Porte, so she’d be busy with her. She also knows how lucrative this contract is and, as we discussed in Europe, I have dreams just like her, and I will make them happen, just like her. Then I nailed her ass to the bed for offering me money to begin my next phase of building my mother’s legacy up even more.
* * *
“This is Autumn,” she says in a clipped tone.
“Hey, babe, everything okay?”
“No. No, it’s not. And …” She pauses.
“And what?”
“Your baby momma messaged me two and a half months ago, and I just got the message from my other box, so leave me the hell alone!”
Click.
I call back three times and get sent to voicemail. Then I text and am blocked. I call back just to be sure and, yep, I’m blocked.
How the fuck does she not know to check the other box yet figured out how to block me?
“Fucking Kylie,” I hiss.
Three days after Autumn left for Paris, I was served papers at Autumn’s home, mandating that I take part in a paternity test to determine if I was the father of the child she was carrying. I knew damn well I wasn’t. It was a sick game she was playing.
When I told my father, he insisted on hiring counsel and the test be done after the child was born at a lab of my counsel’s choosing. Basically, they wanted to make damn sure it wasn’t tampered with. I agreed.
Upon meeting with the lawyer, I got the impression that Dad had been in the situation himself.
I was not the father, which I knew, unless women could now get pregnant from sucking dick.
After several messages and irate phone calls from Kylie, after I was proven not to be the father, Dad and I talked to Phillip, who was a damn good man but folded to his daughter’s every whim, and demanded she be stopped.
I thought it was over. I thought it was something I could tell Autumn about when we were in the same country, but clearly, that was a piss-poor idea.
I hit Claudia’s contact information, and she answers.
“Hey, girl. I was wondering if you could run up to Autumn’s. Just tried to call and lost connection.”
“I’m not getting in the middle of this.”
She doesn’t officially know about Autumn and me. The whole dating thing probably made the few times she caught me sneaking out of her place look like a friends with benefit situation, but again, no official label.
“Of what?”
“I’m a feminist.”
“Awesome. Me, too. I just need—”
“She’s with Natasha and Stella. They’ve been drinking, and she has a date tonight.”
“A what?”
“When the police were here—”
I gasp. “The police were there?”
“A boy named Aaron.”
“Wait. Was he the freak who believed aliens lived at The Rock?”
“No, the move here stopped that.”
“Okay, well, I really need to speak to Autumn or you need to fill in some blanks, girl.”
“She saw the picture of you and the girl and she got angry.”
“The picture?”
“The billboard across the street.”
“Excuse me?”
“Hold please.”
“Claudia, wait.”
Nothing.
“Claudia,” I say again.
“You should be getting a picture soon. It’s pretty self-explanatory.”
You’ve got to be kidding me.
“Claudia, you tell Autumn I’m good with her going on a date with the cop.”
“You two are so strange.”
“You also tell her I love her and, if she lets him taste those lips, I’m going to fuck her ass sideways.”
“You have very serious issues.”
“No, but the girl in that picture has issues, and if Autumn thinks for one minute that I’ve had anything to do with her since her and I—”
“I’m not deft. Autumn’s the woman you’re in love with.”
“And the girl in the picture was a rebound piece of ass who put her hands on Autumn, so you see her around, you tell that cop, the one who better not taste my girl’s lips.”
“So, you’re concerned with her safety?”
“I’m concerned with everything about her.”
“Slightly obsessive as well as deviant.”
“Owned.”
Thirty-Three
Autumn
I wake up with a killer headache … thank you wine and the sound of an angry man.
I know the voice. I’ve heard it angry, but not to this level. And then I remember I’m done with him … again. Plus, he’s here three days before schedule.
“With all due respect, Phillip, I don’t give a flying fuck how much money it’s going to take to get rid of that billboard. Get it done. I’ve had it. First, I get served at my girlfriend’s home, so clearly, Kylie’s been creeping around the woman I love. Then, when she lied about it even being humanly possible, you indulged her by allowing her to file a paternity suit against me. I indulged you by taking the damn thing, and when it was supported by the results of the DNA test, I didn’t go all Jerry fucking Springer on you by celebrating the fact that I wasn’t that child’s father. When she borderline stalked me, I gave you the respect a man should give a man and didn’t slap a restraining order on her ass. Now this? Get it gone.
“That picture wasn’t used, because it was wrong to use that pose to begin with. It had already been done. Bottom line, I didn’t approve it. You have twenty-four hours before I file a restraining order on your daughter who, by the way, drove past the house not ten minutes ago.”
I wanna bitch-slap the crazy, I think.
“Postpartum depression?” He laughs maniacally. “Phillip, has she been diagnosed?”
I hate that he cares, hate it, but love that about him, too.
“Stalking is a behavior, not a mental illness.” He’s quiet. “I agree. Postpartum depression is a real thing, as is postpartum psychosis, but this shit started happening before she got pregnant when she attacked Autumn.” Pause. “I realize she was drunk, however—” He stops. “Not the fucking point! She comes near me or Autumn and she’s getting slapped with a restraining order. And if that fucking billboard isn’t taken down, I’ll be filing a lawsuit. Twenty-four hours.”
When I hear feet coming up the stairs, I roll onto my belly and cover back up. When I then hear him enter, I try my best not to move.
“Your feet give it away. You rub them together when you’re trying to fall asleep.”
He sits on the end and not beside me. “I’m pissed at you.”
“Can you be pissed at me after I sleep this off?” I ask into the duvet that smells like him.
“You went
on a fucking date, Autumn.”
“We’ve both—”
“I love you, and you—”
I turn and look at him. “I love you, and I’m sorry.”
“I didn’t tell you about it because it was bullshit. I didn’t tell you because I knew damn well I needed to be beside you to make sure you didn’t freak out and …” He stops. “What did you just say?”
I sit up and smile as I blink away tears. “I said, I love you, and I’m—”
He grabs the back of my head and pulls me into a firm, hard kiss. Against my lips, he tells me, “Don’t fuck with me. Don’t say it because you—”
“I love you. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t you ever be sorry you love me.”
“I’m sorry.” I hug him. “I’m so sorry.” I pull back and hold his face. Those striking blue eyes are misted over as he pushes my hair back.
“You ever pull shit like that again—”
“You’ll fuck me in the ass?”
“Only because you like it.”
I smile as I rub the soft stubble of his face. “Kiss me.”
He moves in as I close my eyes, ready for the kiss, but when it doesn’t come, I open my eyes, and he steps off the bed.
“Are you gonna kiss me or not?”
“Get dressed. Let’s go to breakfast.”
“Get naked. Let’s eat at home.”
He shakes his head. “No, you and I are going on a date.”
* * *
As soon as I walk down the stairs, I see him standing by the open door.
“Can we talk?”
“We can talk out here.” He steps back.
“I need to tell you—”
“All I’ve been thinking about is breakfast, so come on, gorgeous.”
I shove my feet in a pair of flats and walk out to meet him on the stoop.
