by Laurie Ames
"It's been a long time for me. I'm scared of trying again. Would you – do you think you'd be willing to kiss me?" She knew it was the bourbon talking but didn’t care.
He gave a soft chuckle, shaking his head, and for a moment, she was sure he would deny her. And then his left hand traced a path up her arm, trailing soft heat through the sleeves of her sweater, and then moved up to cup the back of her neck. She looked up, meeting his eyes, to let him know she approved. That she wanted it more than anything. It had been so long since she'd worn that expression of desire.
He kept his eyes open as he leaned toward her. His lips pressed against hers in a quick, dry brush of softness. Nothing spectacular, nothing dramatic. He was being too careful; as if he thought of her as a sister.
He pulled back a little, and Faith closed her eyes for just a moment. When she opened them, Jackson was watching her. He was still close; he hadn't pulled away, and he hadn't dropped his hand, but his eyebrows were tightly furrowed.
"That wasn't what you wanted, was it?" he said.
She shook her head.
"Tell me what you want, then."
Suddenly her cheeks were red hot. When it came to sex, she'd never learned how to ask for what she wanted. She'd never really bothered to try. But he was watching her carefully, and she dug up some strength she hadn't known she possessed. "I want you to kiss me."
The corner of his mouth quirked up. "I just did."
She could see a sparkle in his eyes, and she made herself laugh, just enough to justify lifting her chest so that her breasts brushed firmly against his chest. His reaction was subtle, a catch in his breath, a slight tightening of his fingers – but it was there. She felt it, and she loved it.
"Don’t kiss me like I'm your sister."
"You’re definitely not my sister," he said. His fingers tightened, then slid up into her hair, teasing at her, and she felt her breath quicken, her breasts tightening into sharp peaks. "You’re a fine lady and a friend who is in pain – one who could put me in danger if she changed her mind later." There was a touch of regret in his eyes. "I know you're saying yes right now. I'm making sure your yes won't change later."
Yes, there was that aspect. Her stomach turned at the realization that Richard could take this away from her, too. And not just Richard. Society. Society still said things about a black man and white woman, even now. Not as they might have in the past – but tongues would wag.
"Okay, I understand," she said. It hurt to say it, but she had to. "If you want to leave, I would understand. Take whatever Richard wanted. I don't care."
His jaw was tight for a moment, and his words…when they came were strained.
"Screw Richard! The only thing I want is you," he said.
Enough, Faith told herself. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and when she saw the yearning in his eyes, she perked up and pressed her lips against his. It had been a long time since she'd initiated a kiss that was about more than saying good night. She felt as awkward as a teenager, trying for a moment to understand how to move her lips against his and show him that she meant it.
"If that's all you want, then take it,” she said. But please, just kiss me."
He made a sound like a whispered groan, and then pulled her tight against him, staring deeply into her eyes before pressing his lips back to hers.
It was nothing like that first passive brush of lips on hers, a kiss between friends. It was something entirely else. She'd always loved romance novels, especially that heated moment when two bodies crash into each other, but that wasn’t real. And this wasn't a moment out of a romance novel. This wasn't two bodies colliding together because of an inevitable attraction. This was two people, getting exactly what they needed from each other. She didn't know what would happen next, but she didn't care. She'd forgotten what it felt like to be held against another body, to be wanted and desired.
For several moments, it was just the kissing. It was his tongue teasing at her lower lip, then tracing her mouth when she parted her lips. It was his fingers pressed into the nape of her neck, and his hand tracing an idle pattern over the small of her back. She didn't feel an insistency from him, an urgent need for more. Well. She could feel his insistence at his thigh, but not in his hands, not in his mouth. It wasn't what she expected. But it was divine. It gave her time for her body to slowly heat, warmth coalescing deep in her cells and coming together in the space between her thighs.
Almost delicately, he brought the kiss to a close and leaned back a little way from her. His pupils were blown wide open, and he was smiling. "Better?"
"Lovely," she said. And then, without letting herself take enough time to think it through, she said, "More, much more."
She expected – maybe even wanted – him to take her like an ocean wave smashing into the beach, but that wasn't what happened. He moved slowly, inexorably, but steadily. He caught her lips again with his mouth, his tongue smoothing its way back into hers. His hand pulled her back in again, but this time slid down to cup the curve of her ass.
She waited for some shame to rise up about the way her body looked. She'd started finding that she was losing muscle over the past few years, clearly moving towards becoming one of those slightly plump MILF’s. Richard had found it delightful to jeer at her, commenting that she’d lost that young hot booty. But if Jackson thought anything of it, he didn't say anything. Yes, she was only 30 years old. Yes, her breasts sagged slightly, and there were places where she'd had extra padding. But she was still herself, and he found her sexy exactly as she was.
It was an exhilarating feeling. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him with a potent intensity. Finally, his control cracked just a little bit. He inhaled sharply, while his hands lifted her up, placing her butt down on the edge of the table. Her thighs spread to make room for him, and he didn't waste a moment moving into the space between them. He exhaled gently against her mouth, kissing her jawline and tracing a heated path up to her earlobe.
"At this moment, do you have an idea how far you might like this to go?"
"All the way, as far as you're willing to take it," she whispered, and he froze for a moment. He then began pressing against her even more firmly. She wore leggings on bottom, and she could feel every line of his hard, rigid body against her.
He pulled back just a little to look her in the eye. "How long has it been for you?"
She felt her cheeks flush. "Too long," she said. There was the shame. She'd known it would make an appearance, sooner or later.
“That’s too bad.” He nodded, his eyes closing for just a moment. Then he cracked a sketchy smile. "It's not like I have a condom in my back pocket anyway. I'm sure that we can come up with something," he said as he took a brief moment to press his hand against her butt, letting her feel his eager heat against her body.
She shifted her hips, and his eyes all but rolled back in his head. "I'm sure we can," she said, and pride followed her words. She was making him feel special. She was making him notice her. It was unbelievable.
He pushed her back until she reclined on the table, her legs splayed open for him. She heard the sound of shattered dishes when he pushed at her and didn't give a damm. There was nothing that couldn’t be replaced, except for this moment.
His mouth followed down her neck to the vee of her sweater. When she nodded, he pulled her sweater up and peppered her belly with kisses. She then pulled her sweater up higher and he began licking the delicious gap between her breasts. Slowly he moved on to kissing her pert nipples through the delicate thin lace bra. She surprised herself when she unexpectedly released a soft cursing whimper.
This was lovely, but it wasn't enough. "Your mouth," she murmured, running her fingers over his soft, close-cut curls. "Can I have your mouth?"
He leaned up and looked down at her, that laughing sparkle back in his eyes. "And where do you want my mouth?"
She blushed furiously. "You know where."
"I'm pretty sure," he said, and his hips rocked aga
inst her, setting up a slow deep burn inside her. "But what if I'm wrong? I could hurt your feelings. Or offend you! I don't want to do that. I need to be sure I'm not making a mistake."
His hand slid down between her legs, brushing along her opening, as she gasped in shock at the flurry of sensations. She hadn't been completely uninterested in sex, and she'd still enjoyed an occasional luxurious bath, followed by a little bit of masturbation. She'd never masturbated as a girl; despite her own mother's insistence that bodies were healthy and exploring them only led to more satisfaction. It was something that had always seemed vaguely dirty.
But she'd forgotten the difference between touching herself and being touched. Even with her panties and her leggings between them, the sensation of another human hand was heady enough on its own.
"My pussy," she gasped out, suddenly not caring how profane she was, "I want your mouth on my pussy."
He moved fast, cupping her with his mouth without wasting time taking off her clothes. The heat of his breath burned through into her crotch and she cried out, her hands gasping for anything, something to anchor her to the present, to keep her from vanishing into some magical other world.
"Like that?" He asked. His tone was conversational, but his breath was strained.
"More," she said. Right now, it was the only word she knew.
He tugged down at the waistband of her leggings, and she lifted her hips. The wood of the table felt cold on her bare ass. It had been a very long time since she'd felt cold air on her body unless she was in a doctor's office. As soon as that thought took hold, she wondered how awkward she looked right now, being splayed across the table like a side of meat. None the less, he came down to her again, his breath leading the way.
When he latched onto her clitoris, the world all but ended. She suddenly drew a breath so grand that she thought she might levitate off the table, into the air, bringing him with her. He was murmuring against her skin, his fingers tracing delicate little patterns over her hips. It was the most amazing thing she'd felt in ages and much more than just a feeling of sexual pleasure. It was the feeling of another body up close and personal paying careful attention to her.
He lapped at her gently, swirling his hot flat tongue over her, focusing on the small bud of nerves for a moment, then touching her more broadly, then circling in again. She'd never had a man touch her this way without feeling like he was just waiting to get his own release. This felt entirely different. Utterly marvelous.
"More," she whispered. She could have sworn he caught fire in that moment as he let out a tortured groan. She felt his fingers shift from holding her lower lips open to pressing delicately at her center. She flinched for a moment, but his motion was so slow, and frankly, she was so wet from his attention, that it was fine. It was better than fine. When he twisted one finger delicately into her, she had to reach for the edge of the table again. He moved slowly, his finger rhythm matching that of his tongue. She felt a heat that she'd almost forgotten, gathering in the cradle of her hips. She began to move faster, her body feeling a little less under her control. He kept pace with her, devouring her, and adding a second finger when she was ready. She heard the noises sliding out of her mouth, soft, eager, needy and almost kittenish. She couldn't form the word "more”, but she said it clearly with her body language. Jackson knew where to take her from here.
When the orgasm came, it came slowly, almost hesitantly, rolling over her body in careless waves that stole her breath and flushed her skin and made her heave and writhe against Jackson. Her mouth was open, her throat tight, and whatever sounds she made were eclipsed by his groans of encouragement against her heated body.
As it passed, she slumped back onto the table. He moved away gently, kissing back up her body until he could press a soft kiss against her mouth. It was odd, but she liked the spicy-sweet taste of her body from his lips.
Faith reached down between the two of them, to grasp the iron bar that she could feel pressing against her thigh. He suddenly backed up, out of her reach.
"This is going to sound unusual," he said, his voice careful, "But if we're going to go further than this, I'd much rather take you out to dinner first."
She lifted an eyebrow and casually observed the disaster they'd made of her dining room. "This doesn't count?"
They laughed as he leaned back and lifted her up to a sitting position. "Yes and no, I suppose," he said. Then he was quiet for a long moment, as he strained to find his next words. "You and Richard – was there ever anyone else for you?"
She tried not to let her lips tighten. "Not intimately, no."
Jackson grinned. "I find you very intriguing, Faith. I have since the first day I saw you. But I'd be a bastard of a man if I slid right into the spot he left. You deserve a chance to explore your sexuality. To see what you might like and what kind of man you fancy. After all, it might not be me in the end."
This was definitely a first for Faith. A man asserting that he might not be the right choice for you while his chin is still damp from gobbling your pussy.
"So, what do we do, then?" She asked, keeping her voice as quiet and neutral as she could. He wasn't rejecting her; she was sure that conversation would have sounded very different. If anything, he was accepting her, exactly as she was, which was thoughtful yet somehow a sad thing.
"You go about your days. Get that dud of a husband out of your life and do whatever you need to do. Maybe I take you out on a date. Maybe we get some dinner. Maybe we come back here, and we – come up with all sorts of ways to enjoy each other. But at the same time, don't tie yourself down to me. Maybe you should explore those dating sites Richard was so fond of. You should try going out to a bar and meeting someone new. Maybe you – god, I don't know how women do it, Faith, but I know you deserve a chance to figure it out. I’m sure you can do so much better than just me."
"So selfless," she said, her voice sounding like a purr, while watching his reaction as she slid her hand down past his waist. He didn't shift away this time, but he didn't lean into her. Just touching him left her feeling light-headed, and just a little bit delirious. She'd never been this kind of woman before, a brave strong courageous person. “Honestly, I think I’m fine with just plain old you,” she chuckled.
"Tell you what," he said, his voice far calmer than she would have thought for a man in his position. "I want to give you a week. A week to see whatever you want to see. After a week, call me. If this is something you still want." He took her hand and brought it up to his mouth, planting soft kisses on each of her fingers, and then on the center of her palm. "Then I'll give you everything I have."
He kissed her once more, delicately, then walked to the door, waved and showed himself out.
She sat where he'd left her, bare ass on the dining room table, pussy still wet from his attentions, and perplexed about what to do next. She glanced at Richard's laptop, and for the first time since she'd opened it, her heart didn't clench at the image of his secret life. It had been his choice, after all. Now it was time for her to make hers.
She pulled her leggings back on, then went to find her phone. Luckily her primary doctor was very tech savvy and had told her that if she had questions that were easier to address through email, to just send a message. For a minute, she thought her cheeks would burst into flame, but then she remembered how good it felt to have Jackson's mouth on her, and how much she wanted more.
I'm ready to talk about the various contraceptives, she typed out. Meredith had brought it up at every appointment for five years; she'd know exactly what Faith was talking about.
Chapter Three
Faith sat at the bar of a nightclub that was on the outskirts of town. This bar she'd chosen was conveniently discreet, and apparently the kind of place a woman in her thirties typically gets picked up. She tried to remember the last time she'd been at a place like this. Everything was slightly dingy, though not dirty. The brass rail at the bar needed to be polished, there were patches on the booth cushions, and the glass tabletop
s had numerous chips and scratches. Through the diamond lead pane windows, trickled the sallow light from the outside streetlamps. There was cigarette smoke twisting in an artistic way, forming curls, that was illuminated by the age-speckled bar lights. Displayed along the bar’s wall was every hue of amber liquid imaginable in their inverted bottles. The bar was full of laughter and conversations in loud voices, all of them competing with the country music that dominated the jukebox. There was a large diverse crowd, many young students from the university, some middle-aged folks and a smattering of older retired type couples.
Oddly, she used to hate these kinds of bars, but today it felt exhilarating. She folded one leg over the other and dangled her high heels, trying to show more leg. From her corner she watched, her neck goosing from side to side, her fingers tapping on the bar. She'd practiced drinking sexily at home in front of the mirror, just water in the glasses. This was slightly nerve wracking and she definitely needed a few stiff drinks.
When she asked the bartender for a bourbon, he gave her a small smile and poured it without glancing pointedly at the wines. She actually wondered if they even had wine, but if they did, it would probably be aged in a bad way. She sat there thinking about how she likely wasn't going back to any of her and Richard’s usual spots. It was becoming painfully clear that when the divorce was eventually settled, she would be keeping the money and Richard would be keeping their friends. Of course, given how many of them had known that he was cheating and hadn't bothered to say anything to her, that was probably for the best. She had to sigh. If he'd told her what was wrong, that he wanted more sex, or any sex at all, she would have obliged him. If he'd told her that he was a typical sexist man who only wanted a younger model with a new pair of firm tits – well, she would have given him her blessing. But the sneaking around, cuckolding her in front of all their "friends" - that was what she couldn't forgive him for. That, and assuming that she was a bloodless ice sculpture, just because her needs had changed.
