Lunchtime Chronicles: Whipped

by London, S.

  “Maybe,” he said.

  “But, we just,” she stammered, “you just-,”

  He interrupted. “There’s two options, Ty,” he said, holding out his hand. “Wear it.” Then he thought to clarify, “And I mean on the finger I put it on, no thumb ring bullshit, or return it.”

  Shock registered in her wide eyes. Now, he waited, heart pounding in his chest. He remained firm in his stance. No more being left at the altar. Either she was all in or all the way out, but something told him there were two hearts being whipped in this high-speed blender. Was his heart destined for a smooth finish? Or like a mixer gone wild, would he be pulverized and splattered with no hope for recovery?

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Ty was thankful to be back in Truxton’s arms. Aware of how his piercing blue eyes could disarm her, she averted her gaze. She couldn’t afford for him to see how vulnerable she was in this moment. How long would he allow her to play this game of who breaks first? To have him hold her and not be angry was an unexpected windfall she had no intention of squandering. This time the intensity of their attraction made her want to cling to him. She knew down to her bones that she wasn’t going anywhere until she had Truxton back in her life.

  Honestly, after not showing for her own wedding she had no idea how to approach him. That day, walking the beach in a white dress caked with thick globs of wet sand, she’d felt like a wave crushed against the rocks, battered, broken, and then snapped up by a current forcing her to repeat the emotional punishment. Later that night she’d sat outside his house waiting to explain.

  He hadn’t come home.

  Two days after the ceremony she’d learned he’d invited the entire wedding party to the honeymoon suite for a huge Dodged-A-Dud party. Ty had gone home, climbed in the shower, only to crumple to the floor in a sobbing heap.

  Her mother had left a message calling her the worst person in the world. Tynisha agreed one hundred and fifty percent. There were a barrage of similar messages from close friends and some she’d thought to be saved and sanctified with words like crazy bitch, nasty bitch, McStupid bitch, and...messy bitch. The last two were from Mandy...and they’d made Ty laugh.

  The truth was... Ty had loved Truxton Jacobs since back in the day when teenaged girls glamorized Desperate Housewives©. But just like television was a fictional representation of reality, beneath that sacred love she shared with Truxton lay a thick sludge of growing terror that she’d ruined his life. She could hear that first introduction as Mrs. Tynisha Jacobs. Of course, the opener would start with the simple stuff: “Meet my new wife.”

  Sounded good so far. But then, the devil lived in the freaking details.

  And Ty’s went a little something like this, ready to clear that throat, she thought. Truxton being the more social of the two would curl his top lip to flash that hint of a smile handsome men seemed to be born with to butter up the crowd. Then it would begin, the romance turned Greek yogurt tragedy. The bride is a former Marine with a scarred leg, nightmares she can’t control, a mental health case study worthy of a Pulitzer, and she might pull a gun and blow your head off. And queue the chorus along with DJ Wren saying, “Got damn.”

  Her therapist, Dr. Gideon Rice, had helped a lot in that department. She learned how to cope with the mental trauma, to not allow the past to consume the future she wanted. Control was a learned behavior; one she’d mastered during her time away from Truxton. When she’d come to her senses the first person she wanted to tell was Truxton, but it was too late. His parents, her parents, his sisters, no one wanted to talk to her. Truxton had to know the isolation she felt. It dawned on her much later, that he wanted her to hurt... like she’d hurt him.

  When the Double Decker opened, she resorted to riding by his place of business. And because she didn’t want to look desperate, she dusted off the Schwinn, ignored Mandy’s advice and dug up some totally wrong-for-her N2U guy. How many times had she rode past his office hoping Truxton would open that door? That the man she loved would look at her, talk to her? But that never happened—until today. She was here with him touching him and he wasn’t pulling away.

  “Ty, the ring,” he said, stroking the hollow at her throat.

  Her body responded of its own volition, her pulse quickening.

  She parted her lips. “I told you it’s the only thing I have left.”

  With his other hand, he threaded his fingers through her loose tresses. He glared down at her, his impeccably sculpted chest in her face. Moisture dampened her panties. Did men posture just to drive women crazy with random sexual thoughts? As if he knew the affect his touch was having on her, he tightened his grip, tugging until she surrendered and lifted her face up to his. Yep, he did it on purpose.

  “Why would you want anything to do with me after everything that’s happened?”

  After the shit she pulled at the wedding, Ty waited for him to come to her. When he didn’t, she told herself to let him go. But then, memories of his soothing voice easing her fears, his strong body wrapping around hers, his thick cock splaying her wide, reeling her back in him.

  His whispered words fanned across her lips. “I told you that too.”

  Would he kiss her? Slowly she licked her lips. With his eyes, he tracked the motion.

  “You could’ve had everything. I served myself up on a platter, skipping down the damn altar, that cheesy ass grin on my face, my whole damn battalion there to see me marry my girl.”

  “Truxton, I’m sorry.”

  “About which part, accepting my proposal or rejecting my love?”

  Truxton said he didn’t care about the nightmares. That she woke up at night, screaming, clawing at the bedding for a weapon. The way he looked at her, that grim set to his jaw, that stark helpless stare, tore at her heart. He needed to be a hero and she wasn’t sure that she could be rescued from the demons trapped in her skull. So, when time came for her to say, “I do” the only words that came to mind were: I can’t.

  She couldn’t saddle him with a damaged woman. Love equaled sacrifice, and she loved him too much to see him hurting because of her. That’s why she signed up for these stupid N2U dates. Needing to see that Truxton was okay, she resorted to trolling the Double Decker Café at least twice a month. And maybe if he knew that she was better, he could be okay, move on, and be happy.

  Why couldn’t she be different?

  Normal.

  Plenty of people went to war. Sailors, soldiers, and Marines lost body parts. She came home physically whole enough, but, fractured into pieces on the inside. She couldn’t make it his responsibility to glue her back together.

  “I was terrified that I would mess you up,” she said exasperated. “You were so happy. I couldn’t believe you were so happy to be marrying me.” In answer, he pressed his hard muscles into her full curves. “After everything that happened, my injury, the repeat surgeries, the struggle with the prescription drugs. Who the hell would choose an ex-Marine with a scarred leg, drug withdrawal, PTSD with a side order of night terrors, and a loaded gun?”

  “A man who understands every damn thing she’s gone through. Who saw her strength and appreciates how hard she fought to overcome her fears, walk without a limp, outrun a fucking drug addiction forced on her by an injury she sustained serving our country. A woman who fought like hell to win because she loved me. An old soldier who had nothing but a fighting spirit until she came into his life.”

  Her eyes watered. “Damn, Truxton, why you dropping poetry like Shakespeare?” She sniffled.

  He chuckled. “Shakespeare didn’t write sonnets.”

  “Whatever, Nikki Giovanni.”

  He frowned, and she laughed out loud. “You know you just compared me to a black woman.”

  “I know,” she defended. “It’s a compliment. Have you read, A Good Cry?”

  With his thumb and forehead, he lifted her chin. “You don’t have to cry over me, Ty.” He wiped away the tear she didn’t realize had fallen. “Tell me.” His eyes darkened as his voice turned hu
sky, “Are you still scared?”

  Yeah, she was terrified. When he moved, she grabbed his forearm and held on tight. “Scared that you don’t want me anymore.”

  “That’s never been a problem.” He released the hand in her hair. “Give me the ring, Tynisha.”

  Slowly, she reached behind her neck, released the clasp, and deposited the warm metal into his big palm. Of its own volition her fingers trailed a shaky trek across her throat missing the familiar weight.

  Without taking his eyes from hers, Truxton pulled at her trembling left hand, lifted her ring finger, and then slid the smooth gold into place.

  “Say, I do,” he whispered.

  She licked her lips sure her next move was the right one. “I do.”

  Leaning forward she snaked her arms around his neck and pulled him in closer. Without saying a word, she brushed her lips against his. The touch was ever so slight, but it still drew a moan from deep in her throat. Truxton's solid weight pressed her into the couch, their couch, and coiled springs squeaked with the shift in distribution. Long and thick, his erection pushed at her entrance and she wanted him. She wanted the man she’d loved since childhood more than she wanted to hold on to the fear that she might destroy them both. The hunger in his eyes pleaded with her not to hide, to fight for their love. And just like that, the wall she’d erected between them fell. Before she understood the pitfalls of love, this man had belonged to her and... she to him.

  Ty met his gaze. “If you take off your shirt, I’ll take off mine.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Fuck the shirt.

  In sixty seconds flat, Truxton stripped off his button down. He even wiped the sweat from his forehead before tossing the garment in the corner. The shoes and shorts followed next. At the sight of his thick cut cock, Ty smiled, sinking her teeth into that bottom lip again. Obvious appreciation shone in her lustful gaze. Never had he been more thankful that he rolled commando. Boxers he reserved for church and visits to his parents’ house. No self-respecting man showed up at his mom’s house sporting a free willy.

  He drank in his woman, anticipating how good she’d taste on his tongue. Shit, his mouth watered just thinking about where he’d suck. “I can’t wait to suck your clit between my teeth and drink you dry,” he growled.

  “Sure your tongue isn’t rusty,” she lifted a brow, “from disuse.”

  He reared back, insulted. “Hell no. I taste test everything in my restaurant. Trust, my tongue game is strong.”

  Uncurling his hand, he reached for Ty, who still had on entirely too much fabric for what he had in mind, but she did a semi-crab walk up the couch. That wonder leg of hers moving just as fluid as the other. He caught her ankle.

  “Here pussy, pussy.” Using his thumb he made languid circles up her leg skimming the hem of her shorts before sliding his fingers along her inner thigh. Her skin was damp; the heat from her moist slit warmed his fingertips. A soft gasp escaped Ty’s luscious mouth, a sign she wanted him as desperately as he needed her. He motioned for her to come closer.

  “Hold on, soldier, she breathed, voice raspy. “Mr. Johnson,” she tilted her head in the direction of his shaft, “needs his coat.”

  Truxton regarded Ty with narrowed eyes. A barrage of emotions, mostly irrational slammed into him. Why the fuck would he need a condom?

  “No other man has been inside this tight pussy,” he began, “and things are straight between—“

  Ty interrupted. “Yes and yes, but no.”

  “I’m clean.” He wanted them fully naked, laid bare, nothing left unsaid between them.

  “So is my ass, but I ain’t serving your food on it.”

  “I’d eat it.” He grinned.

  “You’d better.” Her gaze bore into his as if she had uncovered a connection he hadn’t made. “Call me selfish; but I don’t want to share you for the next one, or three years.”

  Yeah, his mouth gaped open in shock. Would this beautiful wounded creature ever stop amazing him?

  Truxton released a shout of triumph. “You get eighteen months, then I’m dropping buns in your oven like basket balls in a free throw contest.”

  “Whew, but yes,” she laughed. “I want a house full of moody ass kids who’ll be as tenacious as their father.”

  “The first year starts now,” he growled.

  “Whatever you say, baby,” she crooned.

  She didn’t move fast enough. The tease, the interplay of take and give could start once he entered her. Now, he wanted to see skin. Hooking two fingers in her shorts, he tugged them and her panties down. Effortlessly, he lifted her, pulled the material free and laid her back against the couch.

  “Truxton.”

  He knew what she wanted. Remembered how much she liked him to guide their lovemaking.

  “Open your legs. Show me you’re ready.”

  Ty obeyed. Her knees parted. The sweet musk of aroused woman met his nose, and damn if his cock didn’t bob its head in anticipation. Damn, he loved a body confident woman. She was beautiful inside and out. And she’s mine.

  Licking his lips, Truxton's mouth watered ready to dive into the feast spread before him. He shifted forward using the couch arm for leverage.

  “Lose the shirt.”

  With her hands she grabbed the shirt lapels, then one by one she worked what was left of the buttons, until a black bra with lace cups appeared. She didn’t make him wait. Instead she discarded the slinky bondage, using both hands to cups the swells of her breast.

  “This what you want, baby?”

  Then she lowered her head, parted those fuckable lips, and suck one nipple into her mouth.

  “Don’t touch,” he warned.

  Ty released the pebbled flesh with a wet popping sound, the nipple glistening with her saliva.

  “Sorry,” she whispered, a wicked gleam of defiance twinkling in her eyes.

  “Those tits, this pussy, that tight little ass is mine to pleasure.”

  “Couldn’t wait.”

  “Wait’s over.” Without preamble, he pushed her thighs farther apart, bent his head, and latched onto her pretty shaved pussy. Parting the wavy slit, he buried his tongue in her pink moist heat. Controlling his thrusts, he penetrated slow and deep. Ty cried out. He withdrew briefly, but she threaded her fingers through his sweat soaked mane, pressing his nose, mouth, and chin into her juicy snatch.

  “Umm,” she moaned, bucking her hips “damn, you know how to eat some pussy.”

  True statement. She needed to be primed and wet because once he got his cock inside her, he planned to ride till they were down like four flat tires, unable to move.

  He grunted in response. No way would he release his favorite meal. Ty’s unique flavor burst on his tongue—a personal gourmet caramel sauce—sweet, salty, and sticky.

  She tasted like home. Truxton’s home began and ended with this woman.

  He ate, licked, sucked, and tongue fucked Ty’s tender flesh till she mewled like a cat in heat. Their combined grunts sounded if as two insanely horny people had been locked in a cage match. It was raw, wild, and animalistic.

  “Truxton...oh damn...I’m coming, I’m coming for you, baby.”

  Fuck, talk about a magic word. Truxton almost shot his load. He twisted off the urge to release. His woman’s pleasure was his priority. And the half-dazed expression on her face told him he’d done his job.

  Ty’s climax ripped through her, a series of rhythmic jerks and contractions. Her thighs clamped around his head, and her pussy clenched his tongue in a tight hold. Damn, the sexual suction damn near stole his breath, but he’d die a happy mofo.

  She released him on a winded sigh. “Your tongue is legit. I don’t think I can take anymore.”

  “We ain’t done, baby. Dig deep.”

  He scooped her up, he could feel the muscles quiver in her legs, and dropped onto the couch.

  “Hey,” she whined, allowing him to position her flaccid limbs.

  Upright, he centered her on his spread thighs, her s
lit hovering above his hard shaft. Circling his palm around her nape, he angled her head up.

  In one swift motion he breeched her entrance with two fingers. So fucking tight.

  She gasped out a breath. “Ah, shit,” she rasped, rocking her curves against him.

  Yeah, they weren’t done by a long shot.

  “Ride until you’re ready to come,” he commanded.

  Working his fingers into her soaked snatch, he stroked the pulsing flesh coaxing her floodgates to open.

  “Don’t stop, Truxton.”

  And wasn’t that the way with them? He’d never been able to stop loving her. And deep in his soul he knew he’d never have given up on their love. Her slick walls squeezed, milking his knuckles, readying for another release.

  “Don’t come,” he barked.

  She was unraveling beneath his touch. He could feel her insides begin to quiver, feel the tight rhythmic pulls of her slick heat increasing. Sweat started to coat her flesh as she bucked her hips faster, sucking his fingers in deeper into her hungry pussy.

  “Easy for you to say.”

  Not hardly. His cock, though not inside her, was slamming against his stomach. It hurt to the point of pain, her juices still plentiful, coated his shaft mixing with his own seepage. They both were close to peaking, and he for one, was ready to ride the wave of ecstasy.

  With a flex of his wrist, Truxton plowed her sex harder. The color in her cheeks heightened, her breaths timed in rhythm to his thrusts. She screamed and he groaned at the sound. Hell yeah, she was on the stairway to heaven, about to take flight.

  “You think it’s easy not burying my cock in your beautiful pussy?”

  Damn, it felt good to talk dirty to her.

  Eyes heavy-lidded with lust, fell to his. “I hope not,” she panted, “because I’m ready to soak you in my cum.”

  Fuck, yeah. Watching his woman, the rapid pulse at her neck, the flutter of her lids, pulled him deep. Moving his hand back he gave her clit a slow squeeze, keeping the pressure steady and constant. Her thighs shuddered and her fingers curled like talons scoring his the caps of his shoulders.