by J. D. Glass
“So…you’re Tori,” a voice with a sensual drawl similar to Jean’s said. “Or is it Scotty?” she continued as I rounded the bottom of the stairs.
My first impression was of a woman almost, if not exactly, as tall as Jean, with shaggy gold hair that skirted her shoulders. Her face resembled Jean’s as well, though her eyes, light brown and somehow sharp, held the same humor but not the same warmth.
“Shannon, when did you fly in?” Jean asked from a step behind me.
“Hey, you! Yesterday, cuz, yesterday. Sorry I missed your official day of assignment, but I doubt you missed me much,” she said with a smile that lightened her expression considerably.
“Hate to tell you, but you’re right,” Jean answered as she joined me on the landing and took my hand lightly within hers. “I haven’t been missing much of anyone.”
Shannon laughed. “So this is Tori, then?”
“I guess I am,” I interjected and held out my free hand.
She tossed her chin at me as she attempted to crush my fingers.
I relaxed my grip, something Nina had taught me a long time ago and something Samantha repeated during sparring sessions: the truly strong never, ever, had to show it. I had no idea what Shannon’s beef was, but I had no desire to get into a contest with her over it.
Her eyes widened a bit at my lack of defensive posture.
“Nice to meet you,” I said with a smile. “Good to have a face to go with the name. Hey, Jean?” I turned to her and asked, “Didn’t your mom specifically say she needed us a few minutes ago?”
“Oh yeah, she did.”
“See you later,” I said to Shannon and we went to find Jean’s mom.
*
Dusty settled contentedly and quite literally under our feet when we joined everyone in the main room for the American version of traditional Irish food, which included the requisite corned beef and cabbage, as well as Mrs. Scanlon’s fabulous mashed potatoes.
Chatter was lively throughout the room, and Shannon studiously ignored us, or at least I ignored her. When one of Jean’s aunts suggested we live in her parents’ house so we could save for a place of our own, Mrs. Scanlon gracefully steered her into the kitchen and threw us an amusedly exasperated smile.
Jean shrugged. “I did tell you they’d make plans,” she whispered and gave me a half-embarrassed grin.
“It’s worth thinking about,” I mused aloud.
“What, living here?” Jean’s eyebrows almost disappeared under her hair where it fell over her brow.
“No…living together. That’s worth thinking about.”
Jean took my hands and stood abruptly. “Come with me,” she asked simply, her eyes spiced-cider hot on me as she waited.
With all the people, kids, pseudo-kids, and Dusty flying in, out, and about the room, no one would notice if we left, not for a little while anyway, especially since everyone was going out to the yard to witness Pat’s first bagpipe performance, so I rose and followed her. “What’s up?” I was slightly concerned as we went to the front hallway by the stairs.
Jean stopped at the bottom of the steps, then dropped my hands, only to catch me up in her arms and kiss me so thoroughly I thought I might either come right then or fuck her against the wall. “We’re going upstairs. I want you so badly I’ll beg if you want me to,” she whispered heatedly as she gripped my hips. “I want you in me, on me, around me, any way you want to be,” she told me as she pulled me up the steps after her. “I love you, I want you, and I want you now.”
I knew two things as we tripped up the stairs, then wrestled just inside the room with the door closed while Jean pulled at my zipper. I loved Jean, and that love was heavily intertwined with desire, a want so deep that I couldn’t tell the difference between the love and the lust because both thrummed through me, the one setting my chest on fire, the other spurting through my veins, taking the fire with it, spreading it bodily.
I had to touch her, all the time. It didn’t matter where, when, or how, just so long as the contact was there, and I almost tripped out of my pants when she slipped her fingers between my folds, then pulled me down on top of her.
As I kicked off my boots and the remnants of my pants, I couldn’t help but reach for her, fastening my lips to first one gorgeous breast, then the other. God, she had the most fucking beautiful tits, and I was so lucky that they were so sensitive…
For one hot moment, I wished I had my dick on so I could give her tits the attention they deserved, so I could fill her, fuck her, feel her move beneath me while my hands, my mouth, stirred her further so that when she came, when her clit bounced against my cock jammed deep in her cunt, she’d feel it—everywhere. When I thought of coming inside her like that—
“God…you’re so wet,” Jean whispered throatily as we shifted on the bed. She stroked my clit slowly, firmly, driving me wild, making me burn. “That for me, baby?”
“Just for you,” I assured her, and her mouth pressed against my neck, a hungry suck on skin that drove any other thought out of my head as I teased her pussy lips apart with my fingers.
“Mine?” I asked, loving the creamy feel of her cunt as I slicked along her folds, tweaking her hard-on, playing, ready, waiting.
“Yours,” she murmured, a hot affirmation in my ear, “so take me.”
God, how that one little phrase, the affirmation of belonging, of possession, seared through me: I wanted to, I needed to. I did.
“I love you,” I whispered as I eased my fingers into the slick warmth of her cunt’s embrace, “and I love fucking you.”
Jean wrapped her leg over my hip, pulling me even closer, deeper. “Love you,” she returned, her words choked into my mouth between breaths as I groaned out a welcome to her when she drove into me, “love fucking you.”
We slipped in and against each other, the intensity heightened that much more by the sweat-smooth pressure of her body against mine, the frenetic expression of ardor through carnality.
The feel of her, thorough and full, the beautiful fuck-heavy ache in my cunt because she loved me, loved me and fucked me with a purity of intention that spoke to me in a way no words ever could as I loved her, loved her in heavy wet rhythm, my heart in my hands, and my hands sliding and gripping her skin, buried in the pulse of her gorgeous pussy, the constant push into the endless pull, and it was…all…just…so—
“Oh…I love that,” she sighed when the flood of sensation made me surge against her, gently shove her onto her back, increasing the pressure for both of us as her long legs pressed against mine, then encircled me. Her free hand skated along my spine to rest into the curve just above my ass in a none-too-subtle urging that made me throb around her.
“Fuckin’ nice!” she gasped when I eased another finger inside her. “So…fuckin’…yeah…”
I kissed her neck, an open-mouthed brush of my lips against the straining muscle before I rubbed my face against it, glazed in lust and love as she drove so hard, so fucking good inside me, the beat of her heart wild under mine, breath short and hot, and when she eased her hand down and around my ass to slide another finger into my cunt, I was so fucking full and it was so much, too fucking much as the pressure built and drove through me, through her.
“Baby…” I managed to choke out as the feeling magnified, swelled through and rippled under my skin, “that’s so fucking…mmph.” I bit my lip, unable to speak as the tremor ran through me, the first hint of the explosion that would rip me apart.
“You gonna come?”
“Uh-huh.” I sucked on the soft, sweet, skin of her throat.
“Tori, let me see you, baby, let me see your eyes.”
It took effort, but somehow I managed it—to lift my head, to look into those radiant eyes that dazzled me with their clarity, the unquestioning love and primal need that shone in them.
“Come deep,” she told me, “deep and hard inside me.”
I could barely breathe as I felt my body tighten around her just before the blast hit. “With m
e, baby…please,” I begged those eyes that shone at me while I did as she asked, body pushing harder when her pussy clutched at my fingers, in the thrust and the pull and the burning, burning light and the “love-you…” breath that tore out of me, almost soundless.
Nothing could be more miraculous or magnificent than this, her soul that beamed at me in all its naked glory, embracing my totality—my body, my heart, and my mind—the blaze that raced outward from her touch, the simmering acceptance of mine. This was love, and I knew that I was in it as I lay myself on its pyre.
“Tori…you’re so…fuckin’…beautiful…” she gasped out between lips that I wanted to devour as she shook under me, making me come harder as she came, blasted by the intensity and the stunning sensation of the hot, wet gush against my hand.
“Stay?” I asked quietly as we shifted again, because my body still pulsed, a strong, repeated contraction that flared deliciously through my belly, and I couldn’t bear the thought of not having her in me.
“Of course.” Her lips brushed my chin before she tucked her head under it, and I reveled in the feel of her in me, her skin softer, smoother, as she rested on top of me, beloved and safe for now, in the circle of my arms.
It was this time, all sleepy and easy, that I cherished most, the traded soft kisses, caresses, the murmured endearments even more important now, after such raw proclamation, as we lay together in the warm afternoon sun that filtered in through the curtain. Dust motes glimmered like tiny diamonds in the beam.
“You’re…like an angel,” I murmured, surprising myself with that word as it came out, unbidden but perfect, that word from me, who didn’t really believe in God or any of the representations of heaven.
Yet Jean, in her humor, in her love, in the complete giving of herself with an unalloyed, honest blade-sharpness that sliced past my logic and my doubts, knifed into my very sense of self, leaving me open without hurting, without bleeding, led me to not only consider, but to see, really see for just those eternal moments, that this…this between us…was immortal. She brought me face-to-face with the flesh-bound divine.
“And you’re my heart,” she whispered back, her breath a scatter across my throat, down my chest.
“So…it’s not a myth,” Jean commented finally after we were resettled under the blanket and snuggled up against the headboard.
“What?”
“Female ejaculation. Not a myth.”
I stroked the line of her neck and kissed her head as she again rested on my shoulder. “What was it like?”
“Oh…my God.” Jean rolled her eyes at me. She flipped over and climbed up me, a sexy, playful smirk on her lips. “Want to find out?”
I slid beneath her as she parted my thighs. “I’m willing to try,” I said and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, drawing her down for the incendiary caress of her lips on mine.
“Your family…might…hmm…miss us,” I got out in between choking heartbeats as she tasted her way down my body, lips and hands, teeth and tongue, all conspiring to rob me of my voice. The blatant hunger on her face as her lips moved on me lifted me, thrilled me, made the hardened end of her tit playing against my hard-on an exquisite torture.
Jean stopped for one agonizing second to glance up, her gaze as heated as her touch upon me. “We’re in love,” she said gently, reverently, then kissed the spot right below my navel. “They won’t mind.”
“Then bring your hips up here, baby,” I told her in the same tone. “I want to taste you…feel you on my lips.”
We were in complete agreement as she balanced on the tip of my tongue and she took me with her mouth.
*
I learned Jean’s ring size after dinner and, with that knowledge, decided to take the good lieutenant up on his offer and use one of my comp days the next day. After I got back to Staten Island I went immediately to the Claddagh Shop on Forest Avenue. If they didn’t have what I wanted, they’d know where I could find it.
I lucked out: it would be ready in an hour, so I had time to wander about, then pick up something to eat before I went back to the house. Besides, Samantha had just left and I wanted to spend a little time with Nina, maybe talk with her about what I had in mind over lunch. I’d speak with my mother later.
“So…how are you gonna do it?” Nina asked, her eyes sparkling at me as we sat down at the table in the kitchen over a huge meatball hero that we split and Cokes—normal for me, caffeine-free for her. “This…tastes really awful,” Nina commented as she pushed her can away.
“Hey, your kid bounces around enough in there,” I joked. “Doesn’t need any help.”
“I know, I know, believe me, I know.” She smiled back. “Now spill.”
I stared down at my food, momentarily self-conscious. “I was just gonna ask, I guess, and then, you know, give it to her.”
“Simple, straightforward,” Nina answered, nodding thoughtfully. “Sounds fine.”
“You think?”
“Yes,” she said emphatically, then covered my hand with hers. “You’ll be fine.”
I blew out my breath. “I have to tell Elena…tell my mom.” That had me nervous.
Nina’s fingers squeezed sympathetically. “Just remember that she loves you, and it’ll all work out, I promise.”
I was puzzled by that statement and cocked my head. “What, my mom? I know that.”
“No, I meant Jean.”
She got up from the table and came over to give me a hug, then kissed the top of my head. “Don’t let your mom rattle your cage too much, tough guy. You’re going for the prize here, you know?”
I leaned my head against her. That’s when the baby kicked, a solid little thump against my cheek.
“I guess that’s my second opinion,” I said, and gave the bump a little rub.
Nina ruffled my hair as I stood. “Yup. Go get ’em, tiger.”
I decided there was no time like the present, as the saying goes, and as soon as I picked up my order from the shop, I went to see my mother.
“You’re kidding. The ambulance driver?” My mother stared at me with unmistakable incredulity as we faced each other across her living room.
“Paramedic, Mom. She’s a paramedic.”
“Hmph.” Her face clouded, and she gave me her inscrutable look. “When are you going to ask her?”
“I don’t know. Soon, probably in the next few days.”
“And if she agrees, where do you plan on doing this?”
“We’ll figure that out together.”
She glanced down at the floor and took a deep breath. When she fixed her attention on me again, I realized I should have known that this discussion couldn’t have happened without the usual interrogation. She folded her arms across her chest. “Where will you live?”
“I don’t know.”
“You have obligations, family obligations.”
“I know, Mom. I’m not forgetting them. I’ve been coming by, taking care of things. I’ll still do that.”
“You are going to legally bind yourself in ways that are more difficult to take apart just to get four rights, two of which are valid only in this city.”
I knew that. I swallowed the anger that rose in my throat. “I’m aware.”
She nodded. “Good. School?”
“What about it?”
“When are you going back?”
I glanced at the ground before I faced her again. “I don’t know. I want to become a paramedic. We’ll see where it goes from there.”
Her breath huffed out harshly. “What are you doing? You’re destroying your life—for what? A pretty face? I can understand that she might please you, I’m sure the sex—”
“Don’t even say it.” My voice felt thick as I waved my hand and cut her off. I loved my mother and respected her, but I wasn’t going to let her speak about Jean like that. “I love you, I won’t argue with you, but I will not listen to you talk about her like that.”
“My apologies,” she said, coldly, “but Victoria, you’r
e still a child. You don’t know what you’re doing. At least Kerry had a very bright future, wanted more out of life and you—”
“No.” I shook my head vehemently. “Kerry would have never—”
“You’re talking about sex, hija. Why can’t you just wait and see? Why do you have to do this…this drastic thing?”
I’d reached the limits of my temper. “Would you just listen to me? I love her, Mami. I love her. I don’t want to spend another extra minute that I don’t have to without her.”
Her eyes were almost ice light, and I realized they had tears in them. I gentled my voice and took her hand, then sat on the sofa and she followed.
“Mami, she loves me. She put herself in harm’s way for me. Kerry would never have done that.”
“Ah, querida,” she said, and this time, her tears fell. She brushed the hair away from my face with her free hand. “You put yourself in harm’s way every day. I don’t want you to get hurt. Don’t you understand?”
“Look.” I took my hand from hers and reached into my pocket for a tissue. Beneath it was the little box I had safely tucked there. “This city…it trusts me, me, Mami, with the life of its citizens. Don’t you think you can trust me with mine?”
I wiped her eyes and she took the tissue from my hand. “This,” I said, and took the box out of my pocket, “this is what I’m giving her.”
She sniffed and took it from my hand, staring at the black leather cover. Finally, she opened it, then nodded.
“It is beautiful,” she said quietly after considering it from different angles. “You respect her and her heritage—I’ve managed to teach you that much, at least. Does her family know?”
“You taught me a lot more than that, Mami. And yes, they know we love each other.” I smiled, because the memory was so very fresh. “They don’t know about this. I…I did speak with Nina, though.”
My mom closed the box, gently placed it in my hand, and gave me a surprised glance.
