I ran my foot up his leg, leisurely, taking mischievous pleasure in his shortness of breath and increasingly red face and neck. I meant to slide up to his lap, but I was met shortly after his knee by his swollen manhood. Pleased that I had inspired such hardness and in such an impressive package, I felt a current of electricity run from his groin to mine, as though my leg were the conduit. Goosebumps ran over my legs and arms as my toes explored his substantial length, and judging from the pleasurable contortions on James’s face, I was sure he felt his hair stand up too.
When the waitress came to deliver and pick up the check, I delighted in stroking James pulsing bulge, in his inability to keep a straight face or speak clearly. I hoped she knew what was going on, and I hoped she touched herself later to the thought of us.
This was all so new to me. It was unlike me to be so bold with a man, and especially in public. My inhibitions were dissolving. I wanted him, and I wanted him to want me.
Wordlessly, we stumbled out of the restaurant, weak with sexual hunger. Even the movement of my legs against one another, in my tight dress, served to heighten my arousal. I tightened my pelvic muscles rhythmically.
James struggled to keep his eyes on the road as he drove us to my house. I had one foot on the dash board and one on his crotch while I played with myself for both of our pleasures. My panties were pulled to the side, and my skirt was up. He had a perfect view of my pussy, slick and desirous. Two of my fingers parted my lips and cradled my clit. I moved my hand in circles, rubbing the ache that had been building ever since I first got in his car.
At a red light, our faces moved like opposing magnets, drawn powerfully to one another. I finally found my lips against his. He sucked on my lips, and I explored his mouth with my tongue until the car behind us honked, notifying us that the light had changed. We found ourselves in the same embrace at every red light, feverish as we were with urges, and every time, we needed reminding from annoyed cars to turn our attention back to the road.
Dizzied by desire, I didn’t bother feeling self-conscious about the smallness or the messiness of my house. He couldn’t have seen much anyway, involved as he was in sucking gently on my neck and earlobes. His hands palmed my ass, and I walked backward to the bedroom, where I fell on to the bed.
No sooner had I laid down than he lowered himself to the bedside so he could bury his face in my lap, pressing his tongue against the thin cotton of my underwear. His hands, strong and sure, moved my skirt up to my waist. His fingers hooked my panties on the way down. His kisses charted the landscape of my thighs as he lowered my panties and pulled them over my feet.
Melting waves of pleasure ran over me as he lapped thirstily against my pussy lips. Already wet, my slit was dripping as soon as his tongue probed its way between my folds. He licked in circles before sucking my lips gently between his, the pulling teasing my yearning clit, and making me moan.
I moved my hands through his wavy brown hair as he pressed his tongue against my hole, urging it to want him more, as if that were possible. Gasping with sensitivity, I almost kicked him off when he slurped my clit into his mouth. He pulled it in and out of his lips, causing my hips to churn against the bed. Tapping his tongue against my swollen clit made me hum. It was all I could do keep from releasing all that I’d been holding into his welcoming mouth, but I wanted him to share in my pleasure.
Trembling from a withheld climax, I urged him onto the bed. We removed each other’s clothes, kissing and sucking all the while. I held my palms against his muscular chest and hardening nipples as he licked and sucked on mine. His nibbles sent chills from my head to my pelvis as I unbuckled his belt and pulled his handsome cock from his zipper. Had it not been rigid, I could tell that it would be heavy in my hand. It was, simply put, handsome, and large enough that I couldn’t fully grip my fingers around it. He smirked at my inspection, but his smile dissolved as soon as I ran my fingers along his shaft. I kissed him, and he panted as I explored his throbbing head with my fingertips.
It felt good to have power over a powerful man, and I took joy in watching him squirm with pleasure at my hand. Lowering myself to the side of the bed, I pressed my lips against the bottom of his head and sucked against his tender spot. He cooed and stretched his legs. I could feel his shaft grow harder as I ran my tongue along its base and up its length. James pushed his fingers into my hair and pulled it when I finally opened my lips around his head, sucking gently. Wrapping my fingers around his impressive girth, I massaged his tensest muscle, running my tongue under his foreskin and around the crown of his head. His precum left my lips sticky, and in a moment where I was lost in the sensation of rubbing my slick lips together, he pulled my hips over his face.
At first I wanted to protest, and my thighs tensed slightly. He kneaded my thighs and ass, relaxing them, and he continued clutching my ass as he moved his dexterous tongue against my winking asshole. I had never experienced any anal attention from myself, let alone from a man. After a few moments of his licking, though, I found I loved the sensation.
Running my hands like pistons along his length, I returned to sucking his handsome dick as he licked my ass and pussy. My pleasure was multiplied when combined with his, and the pulse I felt in my pussy grew quicker with his cock in my mouth. The rhythmic movements of our hips increased, as did our panting breaths. We both moaned and pressed our hips into one another’s face as we neared mutual climax.
We pressed hard once more, smothering one another with our sex, before explosive waves of pleasure shot through us, rocking us and causing our hips to buck. With the little willpower I still had, I held onto his pulsing shaft as it sent burst after burst of his warm juices over my lips and throat. He too continued to lick as my convulsions weakened, licking my tender clit until the sensitivity grew to be too much.
When we both gained enough power and breath, he turned me so we could kiss each other, our lips still wet with love. After minutes of tender, exhausted kisses, I laid my head on his chest, and it rose and fell with his breath as we both fell into deep sleep.
Chapter 6
“You are such a slut!” cried Lucy at our coffee date.
“Shhhh! God, Lucy, people can hear you!”
“What! You’re suddenly a private person? You suddenly want to live a quiet, unassuming life after you spent all of last night swapping fluids with some guy you just met?”
She was teasing, mostly. Lucy had always given me a hard time for being a prude, so I knew her criticism was just masking approval.
“C’mon,” I said. “For years you’re telling me I need to get laid, and when I finally do, you’re suddenly the morality police?”
“No way. I’m proud of you girl. I just wish I met the guy first. Anyway, I mean ‘slut’ in a good way. You do have to tell me all the dirty details though.”
“Well, he just came into the shop to look around. I thought he was a cop because, you know, well-dressed white guy in the hood.”
“White guy, huh?” she said, clearly holding her tongue.
“Yeah, why?”
“Oh, no reason.” She always made me work to get her to talk straight. “It’s just that white guys only have a few reasons to be going after black girls, especially if this guy is wealthy. How much money would you say this guy has?”
“I really have no idea. He had a really nice car and took us to a nice restaurant, that’s all.”
“Alison, come on. I know you’ve thought about it. How much money do you think he has, considering the car, the clothes, the restaurant, whatever. Ballpark it.”
I was almost ashamed to admit that I had thought about it. I hated to be looked at as a gold-digger, but a well-off man was attractive. “I guess, maybe a million? He carried himself like a millionaire, not that I’ve met many.”
“No, you said this guy was well-dressed, right? Does that mean suit and tie?”
“More like shirt and slacks,” I said.
“See? I think this guy has more. The really wealthy guys don’t adv
ertise. They don’t have to. What kind of car?”
“You know I don’t know anything about cars, Lucy. I know it was a Rolls, though.”
“A-ha. Fancy but not too fancy. This guy must be loaded. A millionaire shows off, but a billionaire? They know they got money. They are more understated. It’s confusing, I know.” Lucy loved playing expert. “Anyway, as I was saying, white guys go for black girls for only a few reasons.”
“He said he liked me because I was a book-lover like him. And Lucy, I’m plenty attractive. Can’t that be enough?”
“Don’t get me wrong,” she said. “You’re smoking hot. I mean psychologically, though. On a deeper level, he wants something else.”
“And what is that?” I was getting annoyed. And despite myself, I was also beginning to worry that she might be on to something.
“Number one is least troubling. He might be a fetishist. He might be into the idea of a sister as an exotic beauty from a far-away land, ready to teach him all of her interesting sexual ways. He might love nappy hair and a fat ass. He might, in short, have a taste for chocolate. Do you know if he’s ever dated black before?”
“I don’t know,” I said, feeling a little disheartened. “We didn’t talk about that stuff.”
“That’s right. I forgot, he couldn’t talk with you sticking your pussy in his mouth all night.”
“Hey!”
“Hey yourself, you insatiable sex-monger,” she said, laughing. “Anyway, on to number two. Number two is white guilt. This one makes me roll my eyes. He thinks that he can prove he’s not racist by fucking a black chick. He can walk with you on his arm, showing all the other sisters that he’s not a bad guy. Maybe his ancestors owned slaves, but he is doing his part to make reparations.”
“I really don’t think that’s it,” I said, not knowing if I believed myself.
“Who knows? Not me. Number three!” she continued. “He has a savior complex. This rich, white motherfucker sees you as a poor, black woman, damaged by the system, and he sees his opportunity to play Good Samaritan. He can save you from yourself. He can save you from the cycle of oppression, since you can’t save yourself.”
I didn’t even know how to reply to that one. I felt hurt, and her confidence made me worried that she might know what she’s talking about.
“Finally, and worst-of-all, this guy might have a master-slave complex. Instead of trying to erase a history of slavery like the white-guilt guy, he’s trying to bring it back, mostly in the bedroom. It’s kind of like those guys who are only into Asian women. They like those girls because someone taught them that Asian women are naturally subservient to men, that their culture tells them to bow to men and meet their every need. Master-slave guys are like that. The big difference is that they know black women are strong and resilient, often moreso than the white guy himself, and he is intimidated and wants to make her subservient.”
“Where did you learn all this? It sounds a little farfetched.” I was trying to convince myself as much as her.
“I learned from life, sister. You think I’ve never fucked a white dude?”
“Yeah, but haven’t all of your white guys been johns? Haven’t they been paying you?”
“What difference does that make?” she said, offended and more convinced than ever. “Johns aren’t like guys you date. They’re honest. They don’t have to be polite or worry that you’ll dump them. They’ll tell you what’s really going on, and I’m telling you, they all fall into those categories. Every one of them.”
I tried to tell myself she didn’t know what she was talking about, but I couldn’t focus for the rest of our girl-date. She was laughing and talking about her life, but it was all distant noise to me. I couldn’t bear to think that this wonderful man could have ulterior motives.
Chapter 7
James picked me up for another date two nights after my conversation with Lucy. Despite my attempts to act natural, I knew that I seemed distant and cold.
“Is everything OK?” he asked. “You’ve been looking at that menu for a long time. We can go somewhere else if you don’t see anything you like.”
“No,” I said. “I’m fine.” I hated that kind of response. I didn’t want to be the type of woman a man had to grill for information, but I was still figuring out what exactly my thoughts and feelings were. “Have you ever had a black girlfriend before?” I finally asked.
He seemed to relax, which surprised me since I felt like I was asking an uncomfortable question. “Is that it?” he asked, smiling. “Is that what’s bothering you? I thought you were worried about the other night.”
“No,” I said. “The other night was great. Amazing, really.”
“I agree,” he said, with joy in his voice. “I was just worried you thought we were moving too fast. Instead, you’re worried that I’m only dating you because you’re black, right?”
“The thought crossed my mind,” I said, a little embarrassed.
“No, I’ve never had a black girlfriend before. I have dated black women before, but I’ve dated women from a lot of backgrounds. I know all about fetishism and the problems it causes. I’m attracted to you. Very attracted to you. But it’s not only because you’re black. I would have left the store without asking you out if I wasn’t attracted to your intelligence.”
“And you would have fantasized about me later?” I said, with a mischievous grin replacing my hurt frown.
“That’s a strong possibility!” He laughed.
“What about white guilt, savior complexes, and master-slave fixations? You got any of those?”
“I sure hope not!” he said. “Who’s been getting into your head?”
“A girlfriend. I don’t know why I let her get to me. She has horrible taste in men. I mean really bad taste in guys. She’s just trying to help, but her help can sometimes keep me from taking valuable, wonderful risks.”
“To be honest,” he said. “I had a friend caution me against you too.”
“Was it a race thing? Was it your parents?”
“No,” he said. “But I did tell them about you. Early as it might seem, I was excited enough about you to sing your praises to them, and they hope to meet you some day. I’m probably getting ahead of myself though.”
I was flattered at how happy he was to be with me. It was adorable to see a powerful, self-assured man act like a schoolboy with a crush, especially over me.
“It was a friend of mine. He’s more of a business partner, really, but we have coffee or brunch now and then. He was worried you were only interested in me for my money. That’s not the case . . . right?” He asked as though he were joking, but I could tell he was genuinely curious about the answer.
“No. I’ve thought about it, and Lucy asked about it, but I am happy with my life. I don’t need a lot of money.”
“Lucy’s the friend, huh? What did she say about the money?”
“She wanted to know how much you had,” I said, feeling guilty that I’d talked about it at all, but knowing honesty was important here.
“What did you say?”
“I said you might be a millionaire based on your car and clothes and all that. She said that you were more likely a billionaire because you weren’t a showoff about your money.”
“Lucy sounds like a smart woman, even if she was trying to scare you away from me.”
I was finding it hard to look him in the eyes, even though I knew that his eyes brought me a lot of comfort.
“Alison,” he said hesitantly. “I do have a confession to make to you.”
My heart jumped to my throat. I had felt such relief when he denied all of Lucy’s allegations, but my tension was renewed and intensified.
“When I came into your store,” he continued, “I wasn’t just browsing. I was scouting for a new location. You see, I own the largest chain of bookstores in the United States. I knew about your bookstore, and I wanted to see if you were competition. I also wanted to see if a bookstore could thrive in that area.”
; I waited for more. This didn’t seem like enough to constitute a confession, but he was still hesitant.
“I asked you out,” he said finally, “to see if you would be willing to sell me your store or the land so that I could build my own store there.”
He could see the hurt on my face, and I wanted him to see it. My heart was sinking. All I could think about was the lecture Lucy would give me on whites gentrifying black neighborhoods and closing black businesses, taking black jobs. That was how all those white-only suburbs near my hood came to be anyway.
“But,” he said, “my attraction to you was real. I never brought up the store because I was so caught up in getting to know you. In fact, I forgot all about it that night. I knew there was chemistry between us, real and rare chemistry, and my priority switched to exploring that. By the next morning, the only thing I was interested in building was a relationship. That’s still what I want to build with you, a relationship. Something meaningful and true. Something honest.”
I could feel my tough exterior cracking, and my vision blurred as hot tears filled my resistant eyes.
“If you don’t want to see me again, I will understand. I will understand, but I will be heartbroken. My heart will break because I’m giving it to you. I’m falling for you, fast, and I want us to be together. I’m in love with you.”
I finally broke down and bent down, weeping, in front of James. He moved to my side and rubbed my back and hair, patiently waiting for me to regain my composure. “I love you too,” I said between sobs. “I’m in love with you too.” My tears, I could feel, were not from sadness or anger, but from years and years of repressed feelings. My family, my neighborhood had forced me to build a tough shell in order to survive, and James’s love had worn a hole in my armor. With the dissolution of my toughened hide came a backlog of emotions that was overwhelming. Before I had enough time to feel ashamed of crying in front of him or in front of the other restaurant patrons, my tears turned to laughter.
MILITARY ROMANCE: The War Within Himself (Alpha Bad Boy Marine Army Seal) (Contemporary Military Suspense & Thriller Romance) Page 120
