Mutual Release

by Liz Crowe

  He yanked her shorts off with his other hand, dropped to his knees at her feet and pressed his lips to her clit that was now erect and pulsed when he sucked it into his mouth. He let go, gripped her ass with his other hand. “Now, Julie, I need you to try this for me. I’m gonna keep moving, keep my finger right here.”

  She nodded, gripping his hair with both hands, her legs spread and face a mask of pleasure.

  “But you can’t come. Do you understand? If you do, I’m going home and not coming back until you promise to obey me.”

  His cock throbbed and leaked against his belly, but he had a better grip on himself today. Today was going to blow her mind.

  “Julie. Use words.”

  Her hips moved, thrust against him. He froze, keeping his finger just hovering at her internal G-spot. “Yes, Sir. Yes. I understand. Oh… shit.” He pressed it again, teasing as he flicked his tongue around her clit, sucked it, then let go just as he could smell her orgasm hovering, ready to explode.

  Pulling his finger out slowly, he rose to his feet and put that finger to her lips. She took it, sucked it, her hips still moving against him. “That’s it. That’s my girl. Now,” he said, “on your knees.”

  She dropped immediately, yanking down his underwear. He put a hand on her shoulder and pressed hard. “Did I tell you to touch me, Julie? Did I say you were allowed to do anything but be on your knees?”

  She gasped and dropped back, looking down. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled.

  Evan smiled as her lusty energy swirled around them, nearly making him let go and toss her up on the table so he could fuck her, hard, like he’d done last night. “That’s right.” He stroked her hair, pulling it out of its ponytail holder. “I always want your hair down when you’re around me. I love putting my hands in it.” He threaded his fingers through it, tugging gently at first, then harder, making her gasp and forcing her face up. “How does your sweet pussy feel right now, Julie, hmm?”

  “Like it needs to come, Sir,” she said, clenching her teeth. He frowned, let go of her hair and walked a few feet away. Her personality was so strong, he knew this whole thing would be harder for her than most. Struggling with his more base urges, he turned and smiled.

  “That’s not what I asked you, Julie. Let’s try again. How does your sweet pussy feel right now?” He leaned against a chair back, tugged his underwear down and fisted his cock.

  She licked her lips. “It feels… good, Sir. Very good. Thank you.”

  “Really,” he said, running his hand up and down his shaft while she watched, mesmerized. “You have a lot to learn. But I can teach you.” He moved his hand faster, loving the way her eyes darkened and her hand moved down her body, reaching for her own sex. “Stop. Do not touch yourself.”

  She bit her lip, anger crossed her face. He smiled.

  “Crawl over to me on your hands and knees, slowly, so I can watch and enjoy the show.”

  She started to lift her shirt up.

  “Stop,” he said again. “Did I tell you to take your clothes off? No, I did not. You are a very bad listener, aren’t you?” He kept his hand moving, bringing himself to the ragged edge of a monster orgasm. “Crawl now. I wanna come all over your face.”

  She scrambled over to him, reached up to grab him, but he yanked her up to her feet, pinning the offending hand behind her back. Nearly making himself gag by holding back his orgasm, he knew it was good for him and her both.

  “Now see what you made me do? I didn’t come.” He shook his head at her, still holding her tight to his body, his throbbing cock pressed between them. He would blow, he knew it, if she moved a muscle, gave him even the slightest hint of friction.

  But she met his stare and didn’t flinch or move, and the climax retreated, unhappy and promising to pay him back later. He released her without another word, touch, or kiss, and walked to her bathroom, turned on the shower and stepped under it. He had met his match, his mate, his heart. His whole body tingled, picturing her still standing in the living room, hanging onto that chair and trying to calm her brain and tantalized body. He hummed, washed his hair, gave himself a nice long scrub, and stepped out.

  She handed him a towel, her blue eyes neutral. “I’m sorry, Sir,” she said. And he was pleased to sense the calm had returned.

  He smiled at her, cupped her chin and kissed her lightly. “Get a shower and throw on some clothes. I hope you don’t mind taking a ride into Ann Arbor with me. I need to see my mom. It’s Christmas Day, in case you forgot.”

  She blinked, then smiled and ducked under the shower he’d left on.

  They held hands on the drive west across Interstate 94, in companionable silence. She dozed a little, but woke when her stomach rumbled, reminding him he hadn’t eaten in almost twenty-four hours.

  He put her knuckles to his lips. “I’m picking up the dinner I ordered from Zingerman’s on the way to her facility.”

  “That was the most fun I’ve had sober in… well… ever,” she said, her voice low.

  “Me too,” he said as he took the Jackson Road exit and pulled into the Zingerman’s Roadhouse parking lot. He jumped out, disappeared inside the restaurant for a few minutes, then returned bearing two huge bags with mouthwatering aromas.

  “You sure she’ll be okay with me… you know, being with you?” Julie was nervous all of a sudden, and he was startled to realize he could see it around her like a shimmering silver aura. He put his hand on hers, which were clenched together in her lap. “I’m no good with mothers, you know.”

  “It’s fine. She hardly knows who I am anymore. It will be like a nice holiday dinner with a new friend.”

  They got out at the Memory Care Center, the outrageously expensive facility where his mother would spend her last days knitting, playing cards, and wondering why her daughter never visited. He took a breath, wondered for a half second why he was subjecting Julie to this.

  She walked around to his side of the car and slid her arms around his waist as she put a soft kiss to his cheek. “Thanks for inviting me.”

  Her simple words and touch soothed him, and then he realized why he’d brought her. He smiled, handed her a bag, and they walked arm-in-arm into the building.

  Unsure what to expect, Julie was shocked at how lucid Evan’s mother was during their dinner. She was delightful really, friendly, young-looking, and happy to have visitors. It wasn’t until they’d used up all the polite small talk and started eating together in one of the gathering rooms when it became painfully obvious she had no idea who they were.

  “Thanks for visiting me.” Amanda Adams beamed at them over the feast that included smoked turkey, rich corn pudding, and spinach. “Do you know my daughter, Olivia?” Julie nearly choked on her first bite when Amanda turned to her, her green eyes wide and earnest. “I haven’t seen her in a while. She and her boyfriend used to visit me, you know.”

  Evan made an odd sound, somewhere between a snort and a sigh. Julie looked at him, trying to send him soothing vibes. She touched his leg under the table, but he jumped and stared at her, so she moved away, taken aback by his response.

  “You should meet my son, dear.” Amanda patted Julie’s hand. “He is very handsome and successful – a lawyer.” She nodded and took a small bite of the food.

  “Mom,” Evan said, his voice tight, “you’re getting awfully thin.” He had his fork in a death grip. Julie eased her hand back to his leg, letting it rest there. He clenched his jaw but she didn’t move. “I brought your favorite food. Eat some more.” He picked up a bite, shoveled it into his mouth and chewed. Julie did the same.

  Amanda’s bright smile never faded. “You should see my daughter dance. She got into the New York Ballet Academy, you know. We’re so proud of her.” She stared out the window, as food slid off her fork back onto the plate.

  Julie touched her other hand, hoping she didn’t startle the poor woman. “Mrs. Adams, I have met your son. He is very handsome and successful. You should be proud.”

  “Oh, sweetie,
I am.” Amanda’s eyes cleared and she started eating again. “But my other son, Damian, he visits me… or he did once. He was so sweet. Brought me my favorite chocolates and some papers to sign.”

  “Mom?” Evan’s fork clattered to the floor. “What papers did you sign? Shit.” He rose, his face getting an alarming shade of red before he stomped out, yelling for the nurse manager.

  Julie gulped. But Amanda kept eating and making comments about how yummy the food was and how pretty the decorations were and how much fun she’d had on her last outing to the mall. Finally Evan returned, his whole body tense. Julie tried to send him a “calm down” vibe, but she encountered the wall he’d thrown up around himself and decided to just focus on his mother. She was in the middle of a story about Evan, actually, as a little boy, using a marker to decorate the walls of her newly wallpapered bathroom. She giggled, then tears appeared in her large green eyes. “I miss him so much,” she whispered, looking down. “My son. He hates me.”

  “Mom…,” Evan stood, looking out the window. “This is… I can’t…”

  Julie interrupted him. “He doesn’t hate you, Mrs. Adams. Remember I told you I met him? Well, he told me about you and wanted me to tell you something.”

  Amanda leaned in, with a childlike, eager expression. Julie glanced at Evan, who was studying her with an odd look on his face. She turned back to his mother.

  “He said that he loves you very much and hopes they are taking good care of you here. He also wants you to let the nurse know to tell him if Damian comes back, okay? He needs to talk to him and can’t seem to find him anywhere.”

  Amanda wiped her eyes and nodded, then picked up her fork. “This is so delicious!”

  “Yes, it is. Evan brought it. Come on, Evan, join us.” She looked over at him and held out her hand. He blinked, then took it, threading his fingers through hers. Amanda watched them, frowning as if trying hard to remember something. Julie’s whole body flushed with heat, but it was a warmth that centered in her chest. Her throat tightened as he sat, keeping his eyes on hers, and put her hand to his lips for a brief kiss.

  “Evan Francis Adams.” They both snapped their eyes to Amanda when she spoke. “You had better be nice to this girl. She loves you.”

  “Oh, no, I…” Julie stuttered and looked down.

  Evan patted his mother’s frail-looking hand. “I will, Mom, I promise.” He winked at her, and her blush deepened.

  Then, just like a switch had been flipped, Amanda’s eyes clouded over and she stared out the window a few seconds.

  “You’ve been lovely to me. Thanks for coming. But… I miss my children,” she said, then wiped her eyes and cleaned her plate.

  Chapter Nine

  “Whew, I need a beer,” Julie said as she slid into the passenger’s seat. “Too bad it’s Christmas and everything’s closed.”

  The last few moments of their visit had been tough. Evan’s mother had cried like a baby, sobbing really, without wiping her eyes or nose, and asking all the nurses who came running where her husband was and why no one visited her on Christmas. Evan had stared at her, his face set, eyes shining, while they soothed her, gave her medicine, and told her to thank Evan and Julie for bringing her dinner. She had glared at the two of them a minute. But Evan finally held onto her and let her cry and blubber about Olivia, Damian, her late husband. It was as if she knew who he was but couldn’t acknowledge it somehow. Evan kept his hands shoved in his pockets as they walked out.

  He got behind the wheel, gripped it tight for a few seconds, then looked at her. “Thank you,” he said, his face a mask of agonized frustration.

  “Oh, you know me, I’m an expert with moms – kids, too,” she said waving a hand and ignoring the tight feeling in her chest. “Julie the Nurturer, that’s me.”

  “I meant thank you for being there for me. She’s… a hopeless, empty shell of what she used to be.”

  “How often do you see her?” Julie asked as they pulled into the nearly nonexistent traffic.

  “Once a week, usually on Sunday. And about that beer, you may be in luck. I happen to have a set of keys to a place…” He glanced over at her, his face starting to lose some of its tension.

  “You are a nice guy, aren’t you… Francis?”

  He winced. “Yeah. I suppose so.”

  Within a few turns they were at Big House Brewing. The Tap Room parking lot was empty, but there was a car by the brewery entrance. He frowned as he climbed out and came around to open her door. Julie marveled at herself for waiting for him. She had never been the type of woman who waited for men to open doors for her. But now, somehow, she expected him to do it. He handed her out.

  “Who’s here?” She pointed to the late-model BMW.

  He sighed. “Looks like my marketing manager’s car. It’s a soap opera. Tell you about it sometime.” He unlocked the heavy metal door and held it open for her. Sights and sounds she recalled from her last visit here and all the breweries she’d toured before, hit her senses. Warm maltiness combined with cardboard and cleaning products – typical for a non-brewing day – wrapped around them. The place seemed empty but for a light up above, in the three offices Evan had constructed above the brewery floor.

  He looked up at it, shook his head, then guided her through the towering fermentation vessels and through a glass door to the dark Tap Room. “Have a seat. I’ll pour us something from the back after I go up and check on Suzanne.” He flipped on the lights, and she pulled a couple of tall chairs off the bar for them to use.

  After about ten minutes he returned, bearing two full glasses and a smile. “False alarm. No one is up there. Who knows why her car is here.”

  She sipped, and made happy noises. “God, that is good. I swear, you should… well, we should talk about,” she made a circling motion with her finger, “us. As opposed to us. If you get me.”

  He nodded, took a drink, and set the glass down on the bar. “I officially withdraw my request to have Dawson Associates represent Big House Brewing in any way, shape, or form.”

  She frowned and shook her head. “No, you need Dawson. This beer is fucking amazing, but there isn’t a single other distributor who knows how to market it.”

  “Wow – full of ourselves much?” His eyes twinkled. But her brain was on full business mode now.

  “No, my company is the best when it comes to craft beer. You know it; otherwise, you wouldn’t have bothered to show up that day.”

  He put a hand on her knee, setting her skin under her jeans alight. “Yeah. Lucky me I bothered.”

  “Well, let’s see if you still sing that tune after you really get to know me.” She tossed her hair back, shifted, realizing she’d already started obeying him by forgoing anything between her skin and her jeans.

  “Oh, I really know you,” he said, his voice low. “Move closer.” He grabbed the back of her bar seat and jumped the entire thing nearly a foot nearer, making her yelp and grab the bar’s edge. “I need a kiss,” he muttered, cupping her neck and slanting his lips over hers, transporting her once again into a zone where she would do anything to keep him doing exactly that forever. She gripped his thigh as he got serious with her, threading his hands in her hair and sweeping into her mouth with his tongue. He broke away with a light nip to her lower lip. “Okay, I’m better now.” He smiled and put his forehead to hers.

  “So, is this us, dating?” she said, her voice a little wobbly and her brain still unwilling to accept it.

  He leaned on one elbow, holding her gaze while brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “No. Not exactly.”

  “Oh?” She sipped, ordering herself to remain casual.

  “It’s a little more intense than that.”

  “Ah, well, yes, I suppose it is.”

  “However, we will go out on dates. Lots of them.” He smiled, setting her mind at ease. “I mean, if I feel like taking you out in public. I get a little possessive sometimes… want to keep you to myself.” He looked down at his phone and frowned. “Hang on, so
rry.”

  She watched him, admiring his broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist. The dress pants he’d had on when he arrived at her place the night before still looked fresh, cupping his butt in a way she wished her hands were doing right now as he walked away and took the call. She sighed, continuing to admire him – her… what? Boyfriend? No. Her man. Her… Dom.

  A shiver shot down her spine and settled nicely between her legs. Where this would go she had no idea, but she did know one thing: Evan Adams was one amazing specimen, and although he’d only given her a taste of what was to come, including the little orgasm-denial stunt he’d pulled for them both earlier today, she could not wait for more. The tiny voice that tickled her, reminding her that he brought out good but also bad, as if opening some kind of weird Julie-memory-repression floodgates by his very presence, she tamped out, firmly, with the longest, sharpest mental stiletto she could muster.

  Evan stood staring out into the empty parking lot of his beer bar and listened as his friend Jack filled his ear with loud, worried ranting about Suzanne.

  “Calm down, Gordon. Listen, her car is here for some reason.” He listened a minute, shocked by his friend’s words. He paced, taking quick looks back at Julie who sat fiddling with her phone and sipping beer.

  He was still reeling from the visit with his mother. On many levels it had been one of their best yet; she’d even remembered him for a split-second, long enough to say his whole name, anyway. But the fact that she said Damian had been by with papers for her to sign made him a nervous wreck. He had to find that fucker. Releasing his clenched fist, he leaned his forehead against the glass front door and kept listening.