Monty

by Tina Martin

  “We are. What did you think we were talking about, Cherish?” he asks, keeping a straight, serious face.

  My smile fades, then slowly reappears. You know how you can know someone yet not really know them, but know that person is your person? Montgomery is my person. My husband. My life partner. I don’t know everything there is to know about him. I desire to know those things, but I know it’ll take time. Years. A lifetime. In the meantime, I go with the flow. With the waves of this pool. I drift with him to the five feet side of the pool where I can actually feel my feet on the bottom.

  “Is that better?” he asks.

  “Yes.”

  He drops below the surface of the water. I feel his teeth chomping at my thigh.

  “Monty!”

  He comes up again, doesn’t shake water away from his face or nothing. He just comes up. Eyes open.

  “Do you swim with your eyes open?”

  “Yes.”

  “The chlorine doesn’t irritate your eyes?”

  “No. I’m used to it.”

  “Oh.”

  “Let me see you swim,” he says.

  “I’m not as good as you.”

  “You don’t have to be. Show me what you got.”

  “Okay. Here goes nothing.” I close my eyes, go under and swim blindly beneath the water with my hands out in front of me. When I touch the wall, I come up and brush water away from my face, more specifically my eyes.

  He’s clapping. “Good job.”

  “Thanks,” I say, feeling refreshed as water drips from my braids. “I haven’t done that in so long. Oh my gosh.”

  He swims toward me, stands and wades the rest of the way. “It feels good, though, doesn’t it?”

  “It does.”

  His hands are resting on the edge, caging me in front of him. He leans down, licks my lips in a quick swipe and looks at me with those eyes.

  He’s fully aware of their power over me.

  Suddenly I grow nervous. I know he wants me. I can feel the heat between us boiling this water.

  “Kiss me,” he says.

  I stare up into his eyes. Glances at his lips. Rising up on my tiptoes, I aim for his lips. He meets me the rest of the way and our lips collide. His lips are strong. Sensual and strong. He bathes my mouth. Sucks on my lips. Pops the clasp of my bra and his hands go to my breasts.

  He looks at me while he’s touching me deciphering my comfortability level with it. I’m anxious, but at the same time, I like his touch. But what if someone catches us?

  “Monty?”

  “Yes?”

  “What if someone walks in?”

  “Nobody’s walking in, baby. This is my residence. The doors are locked. Nobody’s walking in.” He moves his hands and dips his mouth to my breasts. His lips latch onto me. Over and over he torments me with his mouth.

  Oh, the sweet, sensuous torture…

  The water boils.

  He releases me to take off his swim trunks then disappears beneath the water, sliding my panties down the length of my legs, removing them completely, then coming up again with them like they’re his trophy.

  “I want you.”

  I nervously chew on my lip. “Monty…”

  “Right here. Right now.”

  “Right now?”

  “Yes,” he says, lifting me slightly, the water helping – not that he needs any help.

  “Do you want me, Cherry?”

  “Yes,” I say and almost immediately, I feel his girth stretch and tunnel inside of me. Fills me. Completely.

  I grab on tight to him and hold on. My moans bounce off the walls and echoes in this room. His groans chase them. They’re more frequent than before. Than last night. Maybe it’s the water. Or, maybe it’s his need to be connected this way with me again. Whatever the case, he’s audible, grinding into me while he tears down the walls of my reserve. I’m crumbling already. My legs shake.

  With our bodies still locked together in passion, he uses the edge of the pool to drift to the deeper end near a silver ladder. Our heads are barely above the water. The water makes me breathe heavier. The way he’s inside of me is having the same effect.

  He grabs the ladder, still managing to keep me in place with his other hand gripping my butt, still grinding. Still uttering noises. I’m still moaning. My legs are shaking again. I’m about to…

  “Don’t,” he says. “Hold your breath and wrap your legs around my waist.”

  “Monty,” I say, fearing what he’s contemplating. Why he wanted us on the deeper end of the pool.

  “Hold your breath.”

  “I don’t know if I can do that while we’re—”

  “Hold your breath, babygirl,” he says again. “On three we go under. One, two…”

  I pull in a deep breath before he says three and we go under. I don’t know how I’m able to, but I open my eyes and watch him. He’s looking at me, holding his breath while he’s stroking me against the tiled pool wall. He’s so strong, so powerful. So beautiful. This otherworldly connection has me transcending into a portal of unending pleasure where lovers die and are resurrected to experience death all over again.

  He strokes.

  I crumble. My legs tremble then lock around him. I remember to hold my breath when sensations of pleasure burst into me. Rocks me. Makes me want to breathe, but I can’t. I’ll drown. In a way, I already have.

  I watch the distress on his face, see his eyes close. Hot liquid warmer than this water fills me and then he brings us up above the water.

  We gasp for air, refilling our deprived lungs. We breathe and breathe some more.

  We’re both hungry for air, panting, struggling to get breath. The moans I wasn’t able to make below water are now echoing along with his grunts and groans. We’re still connected. He’s still filling me.

  “Aw…Cherish. Aw…that was so good. Tell me you liked it.”

  “I liked it.”

  “Are you okay?” he asks.

  “Yes,” I say, still breathing heavily. My eyes burn a little from the water, but I’ve never experienced anything like that in my life. It scared the life out of me, and I enjoyed every minute of it.

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Monty

  When the jeweler stopped by, it didn’t take me long to pick her ring. I’m not the kind of person to buy a fancy, expensive ring just for the sake of buying an expensive ring – used to be – not anymore. This ring had to mean something and this particular one spoke to me. I wasn’t paying attention to the $175,000 price tag – only to the way it would look on Cherish’s finger. It’s a five-carat cushion cut, halo diamond ring. It’s perfect for her. As a finishing touch, I’m having our initials engraved on the band.

  She was still sleeping when I left for the office this morning. I had every intention of working from my home office today, but I can’t control myself around her. I’d want her again, and after making love in the pool and again last night, she needs a break.

  I left her a note to call me when she was up. She’d probably do so anyway, but she had another one of those dreams last night. The disturbing ones. She didn’t wake up in a cold sweat. She didn’t wake up at all, but I could tell she was struggling. Kept yelling the word, stop. Sounded like she was crying, but she wasn’t. Then she got quiet again. Was back to sleeping peacefully.

  It makes me wonder if making love to her is provoking this. If she correlates our lovemaking to the things her stepfather did to her. I don’t want that for my baby. I don’t want to do anything to hurt her. This issue with her stepfather needs to be addressed immediately.

  * * *

  Around lunchtime, I get a call from Magnus. He tells me Mason wants us to meet at his house Friday night. Says everyone will be there, gives me the address and we hang up. I dial Cherish’s cell but there’s no answer. I call again. Nothing.

  I call Naomi. She answers, “Hello.”

  “Good morning, Naomi.”

  “Good morning, Mr. St. Claire. You coming home for lun
ch today, Sir?”

  “I hadn’t planned on it. I was actually calling you to ask if you talked to Cherish this morning.”

  “Oh, yes, Sir. She came down ‘round ten.”

  “And where is she now?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. She did leave, though. I just don’t know where she went.”

  “Do you know if she had her cell phone with her?”

  “She doesn’t have it, Sir—left it right here on the table after breakfast. I thought she would realize it and turn around but she didn’t come back for it.”

  “So, she’s been gone since eleven o’clock?”

  “Yeah. About that time.”

  “Okay. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, Sir. Is everything okay?”

  “Yes. I apologize if I alarmed you. How are things there?”

  “Everything’s fine.”

  “Good.”

  I hang up with Naomi and Major walks into my office and says, “What’s up, man? I’m surprised to see you in the office today.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “You and wifey are inseparable these days.”

  I smile. “To be in love with one’s wife is a good thing, Major. You remember that when you find yours.”

  “I will.”

  “Hey, I spoke with Magnus this morning. He said Mason wants to have a meet-and-greet at his place on Friday. Is that good?”

  He shrugs. “Yeah. I ain’t doing nothing.”

  “Good, because I already told him we’d be there.”

  “Should we invite mom?” he asks.

  “I don’t know. I mean, she’s not related to any of them. Do you think she’d want to come?”

  “I don’t know. I suppose we could ask. By the way…are you staying all day?”

  “I was, but something came up,” I tell him, purposely leaving Cherish’s name out of the equation.

  “Everything cool?”

  “Yeah—just something I need to handle.” I glance at my watch and say, “I’m out of here around two.”

  “Alright. I’ll see you later.”

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Cherish

  This is the first time I’ve been back at the house since the break-in. The door is repaired, but I notice right away the alarm doesn’t go off. It’s been off since the repairman was there to fix the door. I’ve been so busy with Monty I didn’t think to turn it back on.

  I walk in and feel like a visitor instead of the person who lives here. My home has been violated. I don’t think I’ll ever feel the same here.

  I get more of my clothes. Montgomery hasn’t discussed a timeline for me to move in with him officially but in the meantime, I need a few more pieces of clothing, some shoes and personal items. I grab a plastic bag, toss in a few shirts, pants and a pair of flats. I take a couple of pairs of earrings and then I grab my purse and get ready to leave.

  Until…

  I remember to get my favorite picture of me and my dad from the dresser. I walk back into my bedroom, look at the dresser, but there is no picture. I check the floor, behind the dresser. Under the bed. In the living room. My picture is gone.

  I try not to panic. Maybe I took it earlier and just don’t remember. That night was so nerve-racking, I’m not sure what I did. So I get my stuff and head for the door. I set the alarm, lock the door and on the way to my car, Ms. Kettleworth appears.

  “Well, howdy, Sherrish.”

  “Hey, Ms. Kettleworth. How have you been?”

  “Oh, honey, you know I’m just fine and dandy. What ‘bout you? I ain’t seen you ‘round here. How you doin?”

  “I’m okay.”

  “You been staying with Montgom’ry ain’t cha?”

  “Yes,” I say smiling. I have. “And I should be getting back. I know he’s tried to call me and I left my phone.”

  “Now, listen here, honey—don’t you be no stranger. Done got yourself dat fine, rich man and run off.”

  I chuckle. “I won’t be a stranger, Ms. Kettleworth, but I do have to go. I’ll talk to you later.”

  * * *

  I’m back at the estate. I open the back door of my car to get my bag and as I head up the walkway, I see Montgomery come out of the massive, wooden doors. He’s home early, still in his suit. It’s my first time laying eyes on him today.

  He usually keeps a straight face, but this particular face looks a little too straight. If I’m reading him right, he’s angry.

  “Where have you been?” he asks.

  “I went to get more clothes. I left my phone—”

  “You went to get more clothes? Meaning you went to the house by yourself? Is that what you’re telling me right now? Please don’t let that be what you’re telling me right now, Cherish.”

  “Monty—”

  “I told you not to go there without me.”

  “Monty, it’s not a big deal.”

  “It is a big deal!” He yells, his nostrils flared. “It’s a big deal to me! What I asked of you was not that difficult. I said if you want to go there, ask me to come with you! What’s so hard about that? Huh?”

  “You were working!”

  “So what? Do you think my job is more important to me than you are?”

  He’s heated. I can see figurative steam rising from the top of his curls.

  “What’s the job to me without you!” he snaps, raising his voice the loudest I’ve ever heard it. “You risk your life to go over there for some clothes—”

  “How am I risking my life, Monty?” I ask him.

  He glares at me. “Somebody kicked in your front door! Do you not remember that?”

  “Of course, I remember that!”

  “You don’t know who did it. You assume it’s your stepfather, but you don’t know and the police have not arrested anyone. Yet, you go there alone to get some clothes?”

  “I was in and out. I didn’t think it would be a big deal.”

  “I can buy you clothes. I can buy you all the clothes you want but I can’t buy another you!”

  He retreats, shakes his head and walks back toward the house, leaving me standing in the driveway. I done messed up now.

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Monty

  I’m standing at the window in my office, looking out into the yard at the flowers this woman planted for me. Now, every time I see them, they remind me of her. It’s a reminder of how much she loves me. How much she cares.

  I’m convinced that love is insanity. It’s romantic and fulfilling, but it’s ninety-five percent insanity. Why? Because when you love someone, you give them so much of yourself. So much of your heart. You make yourself vulnerable to everything. You open yourself up to experience their problems more so than your own. You ride their highs and descend with them to their lows. You think about that person constantly. Daydream about them. Think of ways to make them happy. Ways to cure their sadness. You protect them at all costs. You live for them. You’d die for them.

  I’m just understanding this in my mid-thirties since this is the first time I’ve been in love. Cherish has completely infiltrated my life, made me reset my priorities and rethink everything I thought I wanted. While work is important to me, it’s not more important than she is. Apparently, I need to do a better job of convincing her of that.

  I take a moment alone in my office to allow my frustration to subside before I go to look for her. I step into the kitchen. Naomi is in the middle of dinner preparations.

  “Good afternoon, Sir.”

  “Good afternoon, Naomi. Where’s Cherish?”

  “I just saw her walk by with a basket of clothes. She might be in the laundry room.”

  “Okay. Thanks,” I tell her and proceed in that direction. I open the door. I see Cherish pouring laundry detergent in the washer. She turns around, looks at me and continues working.

  She says, “I heard you loud and clear earlier, Monty. You don’t have to yell at me anymore.”

  She closes the washer, presses a button to start the cycle. />
  My fingers ache. I can feel the muscles in my jaw twitching. Talk to her. Explain yourself. No yelling. No frustration. Let the love shine through. The insanity. Give her the assurance she needs. Let her know you love her, how deeply that love runs and how worried you are for her.

  These are all the things I want to say, but now that I’m looking at her, standing in front of her, I decide not to.

  She turns around, appears shocked to see how close I’ve crept up behind her. Before she can say a word, I bury my tongue in her mouth while at the same time hiking up her skirt. Those thin panties she wears rip easily in my fist.

  I’m hungry for her. I need her. Need her to understand how much I care. How deep my love runs. I need to be inside of her. I release my belt, unzip my pants and lower my boxers. I lift her so she’s pressed against the washer and with one smooth stroke, her body receives me. Her muscles contract. Squeezes me over and over again. She’s moaning. Panting. Her legs close around me. Her arms wrap around my neck.

  Insanity.

  I could’ve waited. Taken her upstairs. Taken things slow. But I’m here, in the laundry room, taking it fast while she holds on to me.

  I savor her tongue like a delicacy while grinding to the rhythm of this washer.

  She moans. The anguish on her face is delayed, but it’s coming. I can feel it coming. And then I see it – see the moment she loses it. When the first spasms hit. When her eyes slam close. Her face tightens and flushes. Her body shakes. Her mouth falls open, head goes back. She screams her pleasure to the ceiling and I spill my love inside of her. It seems to take forever – this transference – but she gets it all. Every drop of me. I groan and whisper her name.

  I’m still giving.

  She’s still taking.

  My name drags between her lips. I love it when she moans my name. Love it when I feel her body cave in my arms.

  I fill her mouth with my tongue to silence her moans. When I’ve successfully digested them, I look at her. Our bodies are still connected. Her legs still locked around me. I still have her pressed to the washer.