Monty

by Tina Martin

  He’s winning.

  I feel like I’m going to swallow his whole face with how deeply he’s kissing me.

  He breaks the kiss, wraps those large hands around my wrists and says, “I want you to tell me when you’re ready.”

  “When I’m…when I’m ready?” I pant. “When I’m ready for what?”

  “To feel me inside of you. I want you to be sure. I want you to tell me when.”

  “I’m ready now, Monty,” I tell him sounding desperate. In a way, I am. I don’t know how that thing will fit and I don’t care. I just want it, and him. I’m certain he has the skills to make it work and even if it doesn’t work, at least I’ll die happy.

  Without hesitation, he plunges inside of me. Goes deep, plowing through the tightness.

  A soft scream escapes after the initial pain of his manhood stretches me – seemed like the stretching would never end – but now that he’s embedded like a log that’s fallen in the forest, I think I can handle it.

  I think I can, I think I can.

  I squeeze my eyes to assist me to that end. I can feel every movement he makes. His member solidifies in me like it’s found a new home. Like it’s never leaving.

  He gives me smooth, deep strokes – giving me so much pressure, I feel like a pipe that’s about to burst.

  Oh the way he expertly moves his body…

  I was ready for this, but then again, I wasn’t ready. This man, lawd this man….

  He withdraws in a way that makes me pull him back. I don’t know how I’m handling him, but I’m not ready for him to leave.

  Turns out he wasn’t leaving.

  He was resetting himself to go deeper – deeper than he was before. All this while his tongue is inside of my mouth. His kisses match the intensity of his strokes. They’re deep and direct. His strokes are deep and direct. When he releases my lips, he increases the speed of his strokes then slows down again.

  He speeds up, then slows down again.

  He drives me close to my end, denies me pleasure – drawing out my desire and prolonging his own.

  “Monty,” I whisper, my face flushed with sweat. I feel the warmth of his sweat dripping on me, mingling with mine. I want more of it. This noise our sweaty bodies make sounds like music to my ears.

  “Yes, baby,” he finally answers me, twenty strokes later. He stops moving, giving me his full attention. “I love you, sweetheart.”

  “I love you, too.”

  “I will never forget what you’ve done for me. You saved me, baby. You mean the world to me. Thank you for trusting me with your body. With your life.”

  Tears come to my eyes. Emotions overtake me.

  Monty hits me with those excruciatingly slow strokes again, driving me to the edge only this time, he doesn’t pull back. I dig into his back. He strokes and strokes, retreats and drives deeper more potent strokes into me until the pressure becomes too much. He grunts, groans, arches his back and says, “I know you’re here with me, baby.”

  “Oh, Monty!” I cry out when I feel my muscles contracting. Feel him swelling. He groans. Releases himself. Relieves his body of the pressure. He’s steadily stroking like he can’t stop. Like he doesn’t want to stop.

  And he doesn’t.

  He repositions himself and thrusts his tongue into my mouth. Our connection deepens on both ends. All I can do is moan, dig my nails into his shoulders and handle it. It’s overwhelming to be loved like this. It’s so good because it’s him. My crush. My lover. My protector. My husband.

  He has endless stamina, endurance and determination. And those soft groans of his tells me he likes making love to me. The way his mouth captures my lips tells me the same.

  “Monty,” I whisper against his lips.

  “Yes, baby?”

  “What are you doing to me?”

  “Showing you how much I love you. Isn’t this what you asked for?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s what you’re getting. Me. All of me. Mind, body and soul. I love you, girl. Look at me.”

  I stare up into his sparkling green eyes, feel him heavy and thick inside of me.

  He moves. I whimper.

  He drives his body. I cry out his name. He likes that. Likes to hear his name oozing out of my screams.

  I pinch my eyes closed when he increases this pace. I want to scream and cry, maybe a combination of both. The pleasure is so great, my mind is confused in the way it should react.

  I gasp.

  “Aw…Cherish.”

  I hear him whisper my name.

  I open my eyes again. Our eyes lock. I see his soul. He’s lost in mine. He utters a groan that peaks my desire. Over and over again he’s doing it until he meets my mouth with his sweet, damp lips and whispers, “Let go.”

  “Oh, Monty.”

  “Let go, baby. It’ll feel so good when you let go,” he says.

  I let go and descend into an abyss of pleasure. And he’s there with me.

  Falling.

  “You okay?” he asks as I’m panting.

  Still catching my breath, I’m unable to speak at the moment.

  “Cherish, are you okay?”

  “Yes, Monty. I’m more than okay.”

  “Good.”

  He goes to the bathroom, comes back still naked and pulls me into his arms.

  “I didn’t expect this would happen so soon,” he confesses. “I thought I could resist you long enough until you were moved in with me.”

  I position myself to rest on this thick, muscular chest. With my index finger, I follow the healed scar that remains there after the accident. I kiss him there.

  “Why did you want to do that? Why did you want to wait?”

  “I didn’t want to rush you, but you get to me, girl. All that talking you were doing in the restaurant, asking me why I wanted you, telling me you never thought anybody would love you and all that—I wanted to throw you up on that table then and there. As much as I love you, I can’t stand to hear you talk that way.”

  “I know that now.”

  “Do you?”

  “Yes,” I say feeling his curly hair beneath my fingers.

  “I love making love to you, Cherish.”

  “I love making love to you, too, Monty.”

  “That’s good to know since I plan on having you every time the opportunity presents itself.”

  “Every time?” I ask.

  “Yes.”

  I press my lips to his and close my eyes. My heart is full, flooded with love.

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Monty

  We sleep until noon. Actually, I’m up at noon. She’s still sleeping soundly. I take a moment to look at her again. I love watching her when she’s not aware of it. When I can focus on her beauty and think of the many things she means to me. I think of all the days she worked for me, all the time she spent making sure I had everything I needed to start my day when what I needed all along was her. Now that I have her, I intend on showing her how much she means to me. It’s my turn to serve her. To love her like she needs to be loved. To love her so deeply, she forgets about her past and looks forward to a future of us living together in peace and happiness.

  While she sleeps, I arrange for lunch to be delivered. It’s a beautiful day. The temperature is around eighty-two degrees. The sky is a perfect hue of blue. Lunch by the pool is something she’d like.

  Before it arrives, I go to my mother’s residence just to see her. To speak. She opens the door and says, “Hello, son.”

  “Good afternoon, Mother.”

  “Come on in. How are you doing?”

  “I’ve never been better.”

  She smiles. “Glad to hear it. How’s my daughter-in-law?”

  “She’s perfect,” I say as a smile grows on my face.

  “You’re in love,” she says. “I can see it.”

  “I am in love. I’m still amazed at how you knew Cherish would be my one. She’s everything I need.”

  “I know.”

  �
��Is that why you hired her?”

  “No. I didn’t hand pick her for you. In the beginning, I hired her because she had the qualifications for the job. I didn’t know she would fall for you. Shoot, I didn’t think anyone would fall for you. You were so mean to everybody. Paige tried hard to get your attention, but you ain’t give that girl a second look. And, honestly, she’s probably more interested in your money and lifestyle than anything else. But Cherish—”

  She smiles.

  “She loves you for you.”

  “I know.” I sit next to mother on the sofa and say, “Life is crazy. This is crazy.”

  “What is?”

  “All this time I thought you were against me. At one point, I thought you hated me.”

  She takes my hand, interlocks our fingers. “I’ve always loved you as my own. I couldn’t have children, but as far as I’m concerned, we’re blood. You and your brother were always my priority. I love you dearly, son.”

  “I love you, too, Mother.” After a few passing moments of quietness, I say, “I want to have a wedding. Here. I want Cherish to have her day. I want to see her in a gown walking down the aisle toward me. I want pictures. I want the world to know I’m taken. Want them to know how much I love her.”

  “That would be wonderful.”

  “I was thinking it could be here.”

  “Absolutely! Have you told her about it yet?”

  “No. Not yet. I want to propose first.” I chuckle. “I’m doing everything backward, but I want us to have those moments. I’m meeting with a jeweler on Monday.”

  “Backward or not, I think it’s a great idea. I can hire a wedding planner to take care of everything.”

  “That would be good.”

  “Then I’ll get right on it.”

  * * *

  Lunch arrives. I have the caterers set it up in the back while I run up to see if Cherish is out of bed. It’s close to two o’clock.

  I walk into the bedroom and she’s sitting on the bed in a white lace bra and panties set, rubbing lotion on her legs. Up and down she goes. Her body looks moisturized and ripe for the plucking. Arousal stops me in my tracks. I want her again, can already picture her legs up in the air at the foot of the bed. Can hear my name screaming off of her lips.

  “Monty.”

  I slide my hands in the pockets of my slacks and quietly chastise myself for wanting her this much. I have no control. What’s wrong with me?

  She looks up at me. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes.”

  “I was just talking to you—you didn’t say anything.”

  “Put your dress on and let’s go eat,” I tell her.

  She laughs. “Well, good afternoon to you, too.”

  My eyes narrow.

  “Are you in a bad mood this morning?” she asks.

  “No.”

  “Then why are you not talking to me?”

  “It’s not intentional. I—”

  “You what?”

  “I’m standing here imagining you naked where you’re sitting. Me on top of you. Inside of you. Making love to you. I can hear your screams. Can feel your fingernails in my back. Can feel your body tremble when you—” I pause. “Put your dress on, sweetheart. I have caterers delivering our lunch.”

  “Okay.”

  She stands. It’s when I see her panties are thongs that fit her hourglass shape so well. The green dress pairs well with the rich, chocolate tone of her skin.

  The dress glides down her body, falls to her knees. She gathers her hair into a ponytail, then walks over to me. Her arms encircle me. She squeezes. I embrace her. I try not to pull her close because I already want her. If our bodies stay close for too long, we won’t make it downstairs.

  “Let’s go eat,” I say. Maybe sitting down to lunch to talk will be the break I need to tame my desire.

  “It’s beautiful out here,” she says but all I can see are her lips wrapped around a strawberry. She smiles.

  I’m jealous of that strawberry…

  I take a sip of water hoping to smolder the fire that burns within me. It doesn’t help. Maybe an afternoon swim will.

  “Monty, what do you do for fun besides swim?”

  “Swim in you,” I tell her.

  She gnaws on her lip, then takes a sip of lemonade. “Answer my question,” she says.

  “I did answer your question,” I say, hiding my amusement.

  “But you’re you. You’re a billionaire. Don’t you want to travel? Go to exotic places? Make new experiences?”

  “I do, more so now that I have someone to share it all with. And I have traveled. I have vacation homes in the Caribbean, The Bahamas, Mexico, Hawaii, Australia, the African coast – I’ve also been to all those places but only once when I inspected the vacation homes for purchase.”

  “And you’ve never been back?”

  “No. What about you, Cherry? Do you want to travel?”

  “I think so.”

  “You think? You’re not sure?”

  She mulls it over and says, “I do want to travel.”

  “And what about children? Do you want children?”

  “Umm—”

  “You don’t want children,” I say with a straight face when I’m worried that she doesn’t. I want children. I need her to want them, too, but at the same time, I know if she doesn’t, it’s not a deal breaker. I’m willing to make whatever compromises I need to make to keep her, even if that means sacrificing what I want.

  “I do. I’m just worried I won’t be so good at it. I didn’t have a great example.”

  “But you’re not her. You’re a nurturer. You care about people. And you’re passionate. That’s what stimulates me—your passion and who you are as a person. I’ve never met a woman like you, and yes I do want you to have my children.”

  She takes a sip of juice. “It would be an honor for me to have your children.”

  “An honor.”

  “Yes.”

  I chuckle. “You act like I’m royalty, baby.”

  “You are royalty. You’re my king. You’re the man I never thought I’d have. A man I didn’t think I—”

  She smiles to cover her emotions. “A man I didn’t think I deserved.”

  I slide my chair over to hers and say, “Cherish, don’t let what happened to you devalue you, sweetheart. It doesn’t define you. You are as valuable, as beautiful as sweet as you always were. I’m the one who’s lucky to have you. Remember that.”

  “Thank you, Monty.”

  “You’re welcome, always,” I tell her. Her past, the abuse, her relationship with her mother, the loss of her father runs deep and affects her even now. I know how it is to lose a father. I know how it is to have a strained relationship with my mother. She helped me fix my issues. Now, it’s time for me to return the favor. But how can I do that when every time I see her, I want her? Want to love all the pain out of her? Want to make her forget she has problems?

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Cherish

  It’s a thing a beauty to watch him swim. The way his arms extend forward. The way he stretches his body to lengthen his strokes. His muscles glide through the water. His body is so lean, so fit and strong, he has no issues with swimming stroke after stroke. It’s probably where he gets his endurance. I’ve never seen anyone hold their breath for so long.

  I pull up my dress and sit on the edge with my feet dangling in the water. We’re at the indoor pool since it’s too hot outside to actually enjoy the water. He swims up to me, looking sexy as sin. The water does something special to his eyes. Makes him look like he has super powers. Wait, this is Montgomery St. Claire I’m talking about. He does have superpowers.

  “Where did those bruises on your back come from?”

  “The accident,” he says.

  “No. I know the location of every bruise from your accident. These are new.”

  He smiles. “Oh, you mean the ones near my shoulders?”

  “Yes.”

  “You did that.�
�

  “I did?”

  “Yes, when we made love. You don’t remember?”

  “Oh my gosh, Monty…why didn’t you tell me to stop?”

  He shrugged. “Because I liked it.”

  I narrow my eyes at him. “You liked it?”

  “Yes,” he says then bites his lip. “Are you getting in?” he asks, splashing water on my legs.

  “I don’t have a suit.”

  “You have on a bra and panties beneath that dress, don’t you? There’s no difference between that and a two-piece bikini. Come on,” he says tugging at my feet. “Take off your dress.”

  “Monty, stop,” I say smiling.

  “Come on,” he says, splashing more water.

  “Noo. I can’t swim like you.”

  “You don’t have to swim like me. Just get in the water.”

  I pull my dress up over my head. He does that lip biting thing. I leave the dress on the floor and gather myself to stand.

  “Hey, where are you going?” he asks.

  “I’m going to the steps to get in.”

  “Girl, if you don’t get your butt back over here.”

  “Monty.”

  “Come here.”

  “Monty, I can get in over there.”

  “Don’t make me get out of this water.”

  My laughter echoes in the pool room. “Okay. Fine.”

  I sit down again. Slowly, I inch into the water, into his arms. We’re on the eight-foot side of the pool.

  “Your whole body is tense.”

  “I can’t remember the last time I’ve been in a pool.”

  “The water feels nice, though, right?”

  “Yes. Lukewarm. It’s perfect.”

  We drift. His arms are around me. “Are you going to show me how to stroke?” I ask.

  “I thought I did that last night?”

  I laugh. So does he.

  “You don’t know how to swim?”

  “I can swim a little but only under water. I can’t do the strokes like you.”

  “I’m pretty sure you could stroke it like me, baby.”

  “Are we still talking about swimming?”