by Lacey Black
“Reach down and show me how badly you want to come, Butterfly. Show me what feels good,” I tell her before nipping down with my teeth.
Kate gasps and then groans when I soothe the sting from my teeth with my tongue. “I’m going to suck on your tits, and I want you to come. Reach down, baby,” I tell her, shifting her so her back is braced against the wall. She slowly reaches down, her hand disappearing behind the lavender suit. “Pull that to the side so I can watch.”
She does as instructed, baring her beautiful, wet pussy for me. Kate leans back and tentatively slides her fingers through the wetness. I suck on one nipple, releasing it with a loud pop before turning and showering some attention to the other. I’m torn between watching her hand and wanting to watch her face as she comes. Her eyes close as she moves her fingers over her clit, gently massaging it.
“Your mouth on me feels amazing.” She gasps as I suck hard, her hand moving even faster against her clit.
“Show me how you come, Butterfly.”
My words are like the match, her body the flame. She detonates powerfully, her hips rocking in the rhythm of her release. As soon as she starts to come down from her high, I release her nipple from my mouth and adjust her body so she’s a little higher on my hips. Using one hand, I magically get my wet shorts down past my hips, not caring for a second they’re stuck to my thighs. All I can think about right now is feeling the results of her orgasm around my cock.
“I don’t have a condom,” I tell her, hating I didn’t think to grab one from my shorts back at the house.
“We don’t need one, and I’m clean.”
“Me too, but maybe I should go grab my shorts,” I tell her, hating the idea of stopping this, but knowing it’s probably the right thing to do.
“Don’t you dare. I trust you,” she confesses, her eyes boring into mine with a thousand truths.
“I trust you too,” I state, on the verge of confessing something else too.
“Then make love to me without anything between us, Jensen,” she demands, shimmying a little lower until her wet pussy is against my cock.
There’s no way I can think right now. Not with her warmth and wetness against me. Not with her hands grabbing my shoulders and her nails biting my skin. Not with her eyes on me, full of trust and honesty. Not with the unspoken truth that lies between us.
I’m so in love with her.
Without much of a shift, I’m able to slide right into her warm body. Her muscles are still tight from her orgasm, which only drives me closer to the edge of insanity. I rock up, burying myself to the root before slowly pulling back out and doing it again. It only takes a few seconds before my body starts to move on its own. My legs and arms burn, but there’s no way I’m stopping. With Kate positioned against the wall, I pound into her sweet body, over and over until I can feel her muscles starting to tighten around me.
“You gonna come again, Butterfly?” I pant, not letting up on my swift pace. My strokes are long and fluid, her nipples brush against my chest.
“Oh God, don’t stop,” she begs, resting her elbows on my shoulders and riding me hard and fast.
“I never want to stop this. I could make love to you all day long,” I gasp, trying to hold off my own release that’s barreling down on me. I won’t come until she does.
“Yes, all day,” she groans, her head falling back against the wall.
“Every day.”
Her eyes meet mine in a moment of pure euphoria and verity. She explodes beautifully, her pussy milking my cock for everything it has. My release follows, my hips pumping automatically as I come harder than ever before. Kate’s head falls forward, nestling between my neck and shoulder, and I feel the slight twinge of her teeth on my skin. My hips buck up, burying myself even deeper inside of her and causing her internal muscles to grip even tighter.
“Do that again,” I grunt, ignoring the numbness in my arms and legs.
Her teeth scrape against my flesh once more, causing my cock to jump and her pussy to tighten. “Fuck, that feels amazing,” I whisper, unable to catch my breath. “I can feel everything, Kate.”
“Me too,” she murmurs, resting her head against my throbbing shoulder.
As much as I hate to move, my body is no longer able to hold us both upright. With shaky arms, I start to lower her to the ground, my cock slipping from its warm home inside her body, very happy and very sated.
“I don’t recall you being strong enough to hold me up like that the last time we were in here,” she pants, a fond smile tickling her lips.
“It wasn’t that I couldn’t hold you, it’s the fact I didn’t have the patience to wait even thirty seconds longer before needing to be buried deep inside you,” I tell her, kissing her bare shoulder.
“Hmmm,” she purrs, trying to stand on her own two legs. “My feet are numb.”
I step around her, grab a washcloth off the shelf in the bathroom, and place the dry piece of material between her legs. The moisture is already running down her thighs, and a primal feeling roars in my chest. With a gentle hand, I wipe at her legs, not even caring that I’m covered too.
Instead, I find myself pressing her against the wall and devouring her mouth with my own. She opens instantly, her tongue slipping out and sliding against my own. My hands dive into her soft hair as I hold her still. Her hands grip my shoulder blades, her fingers dancing along my flushed skin. Suddenly, I’m growing hard and thinking about round two.
Until…
“Yoo-hoo!”
Kate and I both go statue-still. There’s no noise inside the pool house with both of us holding our breath. I know who the owner of that holler was, and I’m praying with everything I have that she doesn’t open the door.
For the love of God, please don’t let her open the fucking door.
You know, considering my ass will be on full display the moment someone walks in.
“I know they’re out here, Orvie. I can smell it,” I hear Aunt Emma say just outside the door.
That’s all it takes.
Kate and I are both moving as the knob on the door turns. I can’t even find a second to enjoy watching her adjust those little triangle bikini pieces, while grabbing at the wet shorts molded to my thighs. Have you ever tried to pull up your pants when they’re wet?
“Oh, here they are!” I hear over my shoulder just as I’m wrestling the pants over my ass cheeks. “It appears as though we missed a game of pool, Orvie,” my inappropriate aunt announces, cell phone poised in her hand.
“Pool?” Orval asks just over his wife’s shoulder.
“Two ball, middle pocket,” Emma hollers, making sure we all hear her.
“Christ,” I mumble so only Kate can hear.
“Well, we just wanted to let you know we’re going for a swim. You know, in case you need to cool off,” Aunt Emma says before turning and leaving us alone once again in the pool house. “I hear the water’s an aphrodisiac,” she adds, stepping out the door. “But you two already know that, right?” With a wink, she’s gone.
“I’m pretty sure my aunt just saw my ass.”
Kate giggle-snorts, covering her mouth with her hand. “But it’s such a cute ass,” she replies, batting her eyelashes.
“That may be true, but that doesn’t mean I want my eighty-whatever-year-old aunt seeing it. Knowing her, she snapped a picture and will post on Twitter. You saw her phone, right?”
“Snaptalk!” Emma hollers from the other side of the door, letting us know she isn’t outside earshot.
“Fuck, my ass was just sent to everyone in my family, wasn’t it?” Realization sets in. I’m never going to hear the end of this.
* * *
We’re elbow deep in dust and dirt, but making progress.
Slowly.
After waking up and making omelets, I joined her in the shower, where I helped wash her from head to toe (concentrating on her clit…with my tongue). Then, we made our way to the library and office and started cleaning. I started with the heavy l
ifting, moving all of the furniture pieces she’s keeping along the wall and taking those she wasn’t keeping to the garage for donation. By late morning, we had help. Emma and Orval both joined us, assisting Kate by moving and cleaning books, while she concentrated on going through the piles of files and papers in the desk.
I kept my focus on the job at hand and not on the fact Kate was painting again. She didn’t say anything, but I could tell right away the piece she had started so many years ago had some fresh paint on it. She had been working on the landscape detail, and every time I glanced out the wall of windows at the backyard, I felt a familiar pang of longing where she was concerned. I didn’t voice my thoughts, just stole kisses every chance I got, making sure she knew exactly how badly I want her.
“Lunch is served,” Mom says as she joins us in the office, Max hot on her heels.
“Kate!” he hollers as he runs into the room carrying his baseball.
“Maxim, my little buddy! How are you?” Kate asks, dropping to her knees in front of the desk and hugging my son. My heart slams into my rib cage, and I almost say it. I almost tell her right then I’m in love with her.
Max starts to giggle. “I’m not Maxim, silly pants! It’s just Max!” he exclaims, resting his head against her shoulder.
“Well, Just Max, I’m happy you’re here. I have the perfect job for you,” she says, slowly standing up and taking his hand in hers.
“I can help?” he asks, his eyes wide with excitement and disbelief.
“You sure can. Do you want to help?”
“Yep!”
“Then, I have something I need you to do for me. It’s a very important job, and when you finish it, I’ve got a surprise for you.”
He stops walking and glances up at her, smiling. “A surprise?”
“Yep,” she says, stopping when she reaches her easel and a crate in the corner. “See this bookshelf here?” she asks, pointing to the wall right behind the crate. “I want to put all of my paints and brushes on these shelves. Do you think you can manage to help me with that?”
Max nods furiously. “I can help! I’m good at helping!”
“Perfect. I would love to put all of the paints on these two shelves, and the brushes and palettes on the bottom shelf. Do you think you can manage that?” she asks, pulling the crate closer to where Max stands.
“Yep!” he hollers, reaching down and grabbing two bottles of paint. I watch as he gently sets them down on the top shelf before grabbing two more. Then, when he gets all of the bottles out, he arranges them by color before starting on the tubes of colorful paint.
“She’s amazing with him,” Mom whispers beside me, standing and watching in awe as Kate sits back and allows Max to arrange her painting area. And the best part is she does it with a smile on her face.
“She is,” I reply, not taking my eyes off either of them.
“He couldn’t stop talking about her last night, you know,” she adds, the smile very evident in her words.
“Max does like hanging out with Kate,” I confirm, wiping my dirty hands on my jeans.
I can feel Mom’s eyes on me. “He’s not the only one,” she quips, bringing a smile to my own face.
“True. We’re having fun, getting to know each other again.”
Mom wraps her arm around my waist, my arm immediately going around her shoulder and pulling her into a hug. “I’m happy for you,” she whispers into the side of my chest.
Warmth spreads up my chest as I watch Kate with Max. He’s concentrating on his organizing, moving things around until he has it just right. She doesn’t say a word as he adjusts and readjusts for the tenth time, his little tongue sticking out of his mouth as he focuses. She has him tell her the colors as he moves them, helping him get the similar ones all together. He’s having a ball, and most importantly, feels like he’s a part of the process.
“Come on,” Mom says, pulling my arm toward the kitchen. “I brought some pulled pork for sandwiches and Marissa made Amish pasta salad.”
My stomach growls on cue. Everyone in the room hears the call for lunch and makes their way out of the library and to the kitchen. I watch as the two people I love most in this world join hands and follow the elders. Before they round the corner, Kate glances over her shoulder, a big smile on her face. She throws me a wink, and I practically throw my heart at her feet.
It’s hers anyway.
It’s always been hers.
Chapter Twenty
Kathryn
After Mary Ann takes off to return to the bed and breakfast, I get Max set up with paint and an easel. Jensen helps place the drop cloth down on the floor, knowing the four-year-old won’t be as careful about keeping the paint on the canvas as I am, but do you know what? I couldn’t care less. I hope he gets paint on the floor. My mother always frowned upon paint splatter, insisting she get the floors professionally cleaned every six months. Me? I say let there be paint!
“I can paint this whole big thing?” Max asks of the eleven by seventeen canvas I set in front of him.
“The whole thing. Whatever you want,” I tell him, getting a palette and paint ready on the small table beside him.
“I’m painting a baseball field,” he states decisively.
“What colors do you need?” I ask as his dad adjusts one of my old T-shirts with rubber bands on the excited child. We found a small bag in the desk, which Jensen decided was perfect to tie the paint shirt on the little boy.
“Green for grass. And brown for the dirt. And white for the lines. And some red too for the ball.” Max’s eyes are dancing with excitement as I pull all of his specified colors out and squirt them one-by-one on the pallet. “Oh, and purple.”
“Purple?” I ask, glancing over at the smiling boy.
“Yeah, for the flowers.”
“Flowers?”
“I’m putting them at the back. This way, it can be a girl’s painting and a boy’s. Baseball for me. Flowers for you.”
My eyes fill with tears. “That sounds like a wonderful painting.” This little one has very quickly wormed his way into my heart. The thought of not having him (and yes, his dad) be a part of my life brings an ache to my chest. Losing Jensen all over again would be difficult, but add in Max? I’m not sure I would survive the loss.
“You okay?” Jensen whispers against my ear, pulling me into his chest.
The tears spill over, but I’m able to mask my emotions with the hug. “I’m okay.”
“Look, Daddy! I’m making Kate a painting,” Max states. We both glance over at painting to find lots of green grass already coming to life on the canvas.
“Do you want me to draw it out for you with pencil?” I ask, keeping my cheek against the soft cotton of Jensen’s shirt. The scent of his deodorant, mixed with the soap from my shower is intoxicating.
Max seems to think over my question before nodding his head.
“Okay, I’ll just make a general outline of the ball field and then you can add the details that you want. Does that sound okay?”
He nods feverishly.
While I make a quick outline of a ball field, Jensen presses his lips to my forehead and heads over to where his aunt and uncle are reorganizing the books. We went through them, making a pile of those I wanted to keep and one for those I’ll donate to the used bookstore in town.
“I’m going to run outside and turn on the sprinkler system. The yard is shaded enough to give it some water. Plus, I want to check on the purple wisteria trees out by the gate,” he says before throwing me a wink and slipping out the door.
As soon as I’m finished with Max’s outline, I head back over to the pile of paperwork needing my attention. I’ve gotten through most of it, but there are still two drawers from the filing cabinets left. Most of the papers can be shredded, but I’ve found a few things I’d like to keep. A couple of letters from my dad’s first few house sales, as well as old deeds to properties he’s owned and sold. I don’t know why I’m keeping them, really, but it makes me feel close
r to him nonetheless.
“Oh no,” Emma says, the sound of papers hitting the floor pulling my attention to where she stands. “These pages fell out of this old book.” I get up and head to where she’s by the bookshelf. Emma bends over and quickly starts to gather the fallen pages. “Wait, these aren’t from the book. I think they were stuck inside it,” she says, opening up a handful of old, handwritten pages.
I glance over her shoulder to see what they are. “They look like letters.” Taking the disarray pile in my hands, I look at the one on top, finding a scratchy handwriting in black ink filling the page. Reading the first line, I have a startling realization. “It’s a love letter.”
“Really?” Emma asks, grabbing my hand and pulling the letters closer to inspect. “Are they dirty?”
I move my hands so she can’t grab the pages and skim over the words. “No, I don’t think so. At least, not this one. I think it’s to my mother,” I realize as the writer talks about taking a dip later in the pool. The handwriting doesn’t exactly look like my dad’s, though there are similarities. I’ll have to pull a few of his old contracts and compare the writing.
But then again, who else could they be from?
My heart starts to pound in my chest. When we moved, Mom insinuated a few times that there was infidelity on my dad’s part. I never saw it, but you never know what really goes on behind closed doors. Dad was always the sweetest, most caring man I’d ever met. He was known as a shark in the business world, yet always had a softer side when it came to Mom and me.
I read over the letters, noting they’re all addressed to and end the same way.
To my dearest Pookie.
From your ravishing Honey Bear.
I think I throw up a little in my mouth.
After five or six letters, I realize that these aren’t from my dad, at least not to my mother. They can’t be. They talk about slipping away unknown and about passing each other in town, yet unable to show any sign of knowing the other person. It’s an affair.
My dad’s affair.
It has to be, right?
Why else would these letters be kept in one of my dad’s books in his office? No one ever used this room except me to paint and him to work. My mom wasn’t a reader, so why would she come in here? It’s the perfect place to hide correspondences you don’t want anyone else to find.