by Lucia Franco
Thirteen
For the last two days, the only times James has spoken to me was to ask me for a reason.
He says my reasons aren't legitimate and I need a better one if I'm going to win my case.
He'd ask me before the sun rose when he'd just woken up. His voice groggy, thick with sleep and making my body come alive. The rawness in his tone that comes with age and patience just gets to me, especially when he’s passionate about something. These last few mornings have been torture on me.
I couldn't bring myself to have him the next morning after we’d arrived home. I wanted him desperately, but it felt wrong. Twice I turned over to reach for him, and stopped myself. How was I supposed to have what I wanted with him if I wouldn't give him what he wanted with me?
I knew the moment I touched him I would pounce, so I’d quickly climbed out of bed and made my way into the bathroom.
This is the longest we’ve gone without each other since we got back together, and now we’re in this weird state of limbo. Sex is something we connect with and find reprieve from the real world. It isn't just out of necessity to have sex with our other half, it's part of who we are and what connected us as a couple. We physically and mentally and emotionally need each other. Not having every part is sucking the life from me.
I'm standing in our bathroom wiping off my mascara when James rounds the corner. I freeze, holding my towel tighter to my chest as my gaze drags down the length of his body. I'm in my prime and want sex all the time, I can't not look. There's something about a silver fox in black sweats that makes me question why I ever once loved gray sweats on a man. Gray is for boys who like to play with their pecker and braid their pube hair. Black is for men who like to throw you to the bed and take you from behind, all while holding your hair and fucking you into oblivion.
Masculinity oozes from him as he strides toward me with a swagger that makes my heart race. I finish blotting away the smudge under my eyes and drop the cotton ball on the counter. Our gazes don't waver. I don't turn around to face him, but I hold my breath the closer he gets to me. Placing both hands on the counter to brace myself, James steps up right behind me as if this past weekend didn't happen. He moves my wet hair to one shoulder to press a few kisses to my neck and wraps both arms around my waist. The warmth of his body presses against my back and my eyes roll shut. I'm at home in his arms and never want to leave.
"Stop fighting me," he says against my throat. He gives me a little bite then kisses it. "Give in to me."
My lips twitch. He's persistent.
"Be my wife. Say yes."
"I've missed you, James," I whisper, feeling a little emotional.
"I'm right here, sweetheart, for you to have and to hold."
I chuckle and lean into him. I needed that little moment of humor. His breath strokes the curve of my neck, making goose bumps prickle my arms. I miss the feel of his lips on mine and need them. I hope he needs mine too.
I turn my face up to his and cup the back of his head. I pray he doesn't reject me as our eyes meet.
He towers over me, which isn't easy at my height. James stares down at me as I hold my breath, testing me to make a move. His eyes are shaded by thick black lashes that makes it so easy to get lost in. He laughs when I tell him he has bedroom eyes.
James leans in and I produce a little gasp right before his lips find mine. He doesn't hold back and I'm glad he doesn't. I need him to break this awkwardness between us because I'm not big enough to. Truth be told, I'm scared.
James plunges past my lips. My knees nearly buckle at the stroke of his tongue against mine. I moan into his mouth as I thread his hair through my fingers, giving him a firm tug. I press back just as hard with my lips to show him how much I fucking love him. We devour each other in a fiery kiss that leaves us both breathless when he abruptly breaks it.
James shakes his head and gives me a disappointed frown. "Just fucking marry me already."
Each time he brings it up, it hurts more.
He slips his hand through the opening of my gray towel and glides his palm along the deep sweep of my hip. His touch speaks confidence and it's something I learned I'm attracted to when I first met him. James is a man who knows what he wants, and he isn't afraid to show it.
I spin around and press my chest against his. James doesn't give me any room to breathe. His hands roam over my bare body, loosening the towel. He's stoking the desire I only have for him to a no-return zone. Going without James is like going without water.
I reach between us and palm his cock. My fingers wrap around his erection and I press my forehead to his shoulder looking for support. I dig my nails into his length and he jerks. His hips surge into my hand and my lips part with a not so surprised needy sigh. He's as hard as steel and it turns me on high. Desire wets my pussy and I clench my legs together.
I push the elastic waistband over his hips when James rips the towel off me. I give his ass cheek a good grab and yank him to me. There's a nice roundness that I like. James grabs my face as he lifts one of my thighs. He bends his knees to get down and angles the tip of his shaft at my entrance. He surges into me without hesitation and rises to his full height, forcing me to strain on my toes. I gasp loudly and clench my thighs, my toes curling in response. The pressure, the tightness, the pain and longing, the sensations are overloading my senses and taking over. My mind goes blank. All I can do is focus on us and the moment and what we're doing.
He spreads my thighs wider and dips again to get deeper, grinding up my clit when he stands. My body shakes in response and I can barely hold myself up. My pussy softens for him and leaks on his cock as I pulsate around him. He's going to make sure I don't forget who's inside of me.
The type of connection James and I have can’t be replicated.
I reach for the counter behind me. I'm already weak and my elbow bends. James places a palm on the small of my back then clutches the back of my neck with the other. He pulls out and pushes back in like he needs to be in me. His heavy sack slaps into my ass and he lets out the sexiest groan.
My nails dig into his skin. James is frantic, gripping harder, and I respond like I always do. He pulls me to him and lets out a deep sigh when he buries his face in my neck.
"Say yes…"
I clench my eyes shut and dig my teeth into my bottom lip until I taste blood. I want to say yes. And I think he knows I want to and it's why he keeps asking me.
"At least give me a reason," he begs. "No one is going to love you more than me. I can promise you I'll love you harder than anyone else until my very last breath."
I don't give him a reason. Not even after he makes sweet love to me for the next two hours, making up for what we lost the last few days.
I don’t finish, though. Not once. I can’t. I’m depriving myself because I feel guilty over my decision.
Fourteen
"You better not be fucking my dad!"
Grinning, I sit up higher at the sound of Natalie's voice and feel a spark of excitement burst through me. I’ve missed my bestie. She said she’d be here bright and early the day after we got home, but shit happens.
Natalie steps into the kitchen carrying a brown paper bag and places it on the island. Sounds like a bottle of some sort. My gaze takes in her appearance. She’s wearing the cutest toffee-colored Boho lace-up sandals I might have to borrow from her. It's late summer here in the city, so her tattered ripped shorts and graphic tee aren't going to keep her warm when the temps drop once the sun goes down completely. Always fashionable, though.
I close my laptop. I was taking my time tying up some loose ends before Retreat opens, but I can finish later.
Truthfully, I’ve been avoiding James. He's been in his home office all day and now into the evening. It's uncharacteristic of him and I'm not sure what to think of it. In fact, we haven’t spoken since he made love to me this morning. Granted his office in the basement has a full working kitchen and bathroom allowing room for me to work alongside him, I purposely sat in the
kitchen on the main floor in hopes we'd see each other when he came upstairs. At five o’clock I could count on him to come and make a drink, and that's what I’d banked my plan on. Now that it's after six and he still hasn't shown himself proves to me he's vexed.
I shelve my thoughts and hop off the chair to give Nat a hug. "Hey, girl." I smile.
Natalie places a hand over her heart. "Oh, thank God. I thought I was going to walk into a sex fest or some sketchy shit."
I laugh at her dramatic sense of humor. "I'm pretty sure the last thing he wants to do is fuck me right now."
She puts up a flat hand. "T-fucking-M-I, Ram Jam. That's my pops you're talking about."
Like I didn't know.
Not that I ever talk sex to her about James. That's just too… yeah, no thanks.
Natalie continues. "Sex talk about my dad requires alcohol. Good thing I'm always prepared."
She reaches into her brown bag and retrieves a bottle of Dom Pérignon and a bottle of Espolòn tequila. I like her style. "For real, though, what happened? Is everything okay?" she asks.
"What makes you think something is wrong?"
She gives me a droll stare. "Don't insult me. Just tell me if I gotta kill him." She hitches her thumb over her shoulder. "'Cause you know, chicks before dicks and all. Fuck that he's my dad. I only just started liking him. You're my ride or die."
I bark out a series of laughs and she smiles as she unravels the wire then removes the foil from the champagne bottle. I love my best friend. When Natalie gets heated about something, a stronger accent comes out. She reminds me of a Puerto Rican from the Bronx. That flare can't be replicated.
I grimace as Nat bites down on the cork of the champagne bottle to loosen it. All I see is a row of blinding white teeth she pays top dollar for. "You're going to crack your teeth doing that."
She shrugs. "I'll just buy new ones. Cum wears down the enamel anyway."
My eyes widen and for a split second I'm gullible enough to believe her serious tone.
"Hello to you too." I laugh, and she smiles from ear to ear.
As much as I'd love to talk about it, I really don't want to. It involves her, and the last thing I want is to end up fighting with Natalie too. I’ve hardly been able to focus on my actual work since shit hit the fan with James. If life went south with Natalie too, well, there's always the bottom of a bottle to look forward to.
"What are you doing here? I thought you were coming over tomorrow."
Her face scrunches up like she's been snubbed. "It is tomorrow."
What? My brows furrow only for them to rise to my hair line. I shake my head.
"Thank God you're pretty," she jokes, and I laugh with her. “Now tell me what happened. I could smell your pity cupcakes when I walked through the door.”
I guess I’d been so stressed about James and our future that I got my days mixed up.
My smile fades. “I’d rather not talk about it.”
Blue eyes that resemble the hottest part of a flame glare at me. I give it to her right back. This isn’t something I ever planned to talk to her about anyway. I just wanted to hang out with her.
“What? I’m just not in the mood. When I’m ready, I’ll talk.”
We have a staring match like we’re seven years old. Her firm gaze could make a grown man cower, but she’s my bestie and I know her just like she knows me. This is what we do. I push her to talk, and she pushes me right back. Normally it wouldn’t take long for either of us to give in to the other, but this time I can’t open up, because it could be the end of our friendship.
Natalie props a hand on her hip and shifts to the side, waiting. Her eyes are still boring into mine and I struggle not to laugh as she tries so hard to make me open up. She only has so much patience to give. I mimic her action with a smirk and she rolls her eyes and shakes her head. Her arm falls to her side in forfeit. We've done this before.
"Yeah, this isn't how we work. I'll be right back."
Natalie spins around, her long platinum locks have a tint of strawberry blonde to them this summer. I tried going blonde once. Not a full golden hue, I just wanted some summery sunset tones to add to my darkest brown color.
The stylist fucking ruined my hair to the point it was melting off. I wanted to slash her tires for it. After that, I never dyed my hair again.
"Where are you going?" I ask after her.
She turns around, walking backwards. "James wants to talk to me. He called me a couple of hours ago and said to slide by. I told him I was already coming to see my favorite wannabe stepmama. So when I'm through with him, be ready."
A chill runs through my heart. Instant paranoia pales me. Natalie jokes, but she doesn't realize how close to the truth she is. I shake my head.
As she takes the stairs down to the basement, I wonder when James called her and why. Not that I really care, but after how things have been lately between us—
An exaggerated scream echoes throughout the brownstone, followed by my name. "Aubrey!"
Making my way downstairs, my heart rate increases with each step I take closer to James's office. My palms are damp with nerves. I'm not sure how he's going to react to seeing me. But one thing I do know, I'm dying to see him. My heart misses him. We're both working just steps away from each other and yet it feels like it's miles.
Reaching the bottom step, my pulse is hammering in my neck as I wonder what I'm going to walk into. Natalie is leaning on the doorjamb with her hip cocked to the side and her arms crossed in front of her. Large gold hoops poke through the openings of her hair. She turns her head toward me and drops her arms to stand up straight.
Eyes wide, she lifts her hand. Her words rush out of her mouth.
"Why is he watching this? What happened to the pact we made? Just because you're getting boned on the regular doesn't mean you can forget about our deal."
Puzzled, I turn into the room, avoiding James's gaze and look at the television.
"Really, James?" I turn toward him with my arms crossed in front of my chest and lift my brow. "The Silence of the Lambs?" Nat and I had made a deal to never watch that fucking creepy movie ever again. I’m still traumatized over the John who wore a Hannibal Lector mask and asked me to rub lotion on him or I'd get the cock again.
James is leaning back in his leather chair a little too proudly. Even though he didn't go into the actual office today, he's dressed in a white button-down shirt with sleeves cuffed to his elbows and matched with dark slate gray dress pants. He's barefoot, and his hair looks unbrushed.
My nostrils flare. Why does he always have to look so fucking mouthwateringly delicious? He makes the floozy in me flare to life and want to pounce. Like right now. Just at first glance he made my heart drop and my pussy wet for him. I swear, the older he gets, the hotter he gets.
He's not wearing a full-on grin, but I can sense the one underneath his salt and pepper beard threatening to spill from his skilled lips. James's eyes are fixated on mine, challenging me. I have a feeling he's not going to stop until I say yes, and there's a small part of me that's secretly happy about that. Not because I want to lead him on, but because I have hope that one day I can say yes without the anxiety of losing someone clouding my vision.
My fears may seem irrational to someone else, but Grammy taught me not to judge others until I've walked a mile in their shoes. Having only her to raise me, I learned to keep my family close and do what’s necessary to cherish them. James and Natalie are my family regardless of a piece of paper. The risk of losing them is greater than the risk of marriage.
Fifteen
"Turn it off, James, or you'll be paying for mine and Aubrey's therapy," Natalie demands.
James responds by lifting a shoulder. His lips twitch. "What's wrong with this movie? It's considered a classic to some."
"To who?" I scoff. "Serial killers? Men who like to skin women alive and wear their flesh like a fashion statement? I don't think so."
He waves his hands out, palm side up, and this time he
grins because he can't help it. My heart palpitates and I briefly wonder if he feels what I do.
"You know I don't judge what goes on behind closed doors, sweetheart. My door is always open."
"Don't make me regret telling you about my Johns."
Natalie gasps and winks at me when I glance at her. I had told James I came clean with Nat and told her all about my escort days. He can never know it was really his daughter who introduced me to the lifestyle. It would kill him.
"You told him about all of them?" Natalie chimes in. "Even Ram Jam?"
I offer her a loose shrug and her eyes widen further, then I turn back to look at James. I didn't have anything to hide and he wasn't judgmental.
Leaning on his elbow, his eyes glisten with delight. "The most memorable bedtime stories ever told."
Natalie fakes a gag like she's revolted. "You guys have the weirdest fucking foreplay. Christ Almighty."
My cheeks heat at her words. What Natalie doesn’t know is that when I’d told James about my test Johns and clients, he turned around and recreated a sexual fantasy from each one. I thought it was a sweet gesture. He didn't need to because my past honestly doesn’t bother me, but James had insisted he wanted this with me because what he had planned needed to be experienced.
I told him it sounded like a good deal. I'd be stupid to say no to a hot tumble of passion and guaranteed sublime ecstasy.
And I was right. It was the BEST. SEX. EVER.
James had turned Ram Jam into a lick-a-thon with my pussy. My thighs tremble slightly at the memory of James dominating every nerve in my body with the caress of his tongue. Each orgasm I had that night was more breathtaking than the last. I lost count of how long he’d spent with his face pressed deep in my core.
Each encounter I had with a John, James reenacted all of them, making those moments his.