by J. J. Keller
“Whoa!” Justin’s eyes widened, as bright as silver dollars.
“He’s a determined bird.” Morgan chuckled. “Finish it off. We’ll kick around the ball for a while.”
Justin tore the slice of bread into three sections and tossed the handful of crumbs into the gaggle. Feathers flew. The squawking created a symphony of quacks and honks.
Morgan glanced at the house. Shania stood at the windows, her fingers moved a pencil in quick sharp motions across a sketch pad.
“Okay.” Justin wiped his fingers on his jeans, put the glove on, and picked up the orb.
They kicked the ball around and tossed the now cold rubber in a game of catch. Morgan glanced at his watch. He had half an hour left to eat and get as many kisses from Shania as possible.
As Justin ran past to fetch the ball, Morgan grabbed him and tickled the exposed tender skin between his coat and pants. “Come on, we need to go eat dinner.”
The wiggling stopped. Morgan set him on his feet.
“Okay.” Justin pulled his coat down and picked up the ball. “I love you, Daddy.”
Morgan’s pulse rate ramped as fast as the flapping of the bird’s wings. His throat closed off. His child rammed a fiery blade into his heart. His life was rich and full having Shania and Justin as part of his world. He couldn’t have wished for more. He didn’t try to hide the tears forming in his eyes. “I love you too, son.”
He scooped Justin into his arms and headed toward the house. “Let’s eat, I’m hungry.”
“Me too. We get ice cream for dessert.” Justin licked his lips.
“I like ice cream.” Morgan smiled, enjoying the simple pleasures of life.
Morgan opened the door and shut it with his foot. He placed Justin on the counter top beside the sink, removed his gloves and coat, and turned on the warm water. “Wash your hands.”
Justin stuck his fingers under the liquid and Morgan squirted soap onto a small palm. A quick wash and he handed Justin a towel. Morgan lowered him onto his makeshift seat and glanced around for Shania. The hallway bath door opened. A moment later she stood beside her chair. He pulled out the seat.
She gracefully sat, then Morgan lowered beside her on the sturdy wood.
“Did you get a lot of studying done?”
She shrugged and placed food on Justin’s plate. She cut the pieces into bite-sized portions. “I’ve a lot on my mind and can’t seem to focus.”
“I’ll help you study later.” He took a plate and placed a few scoops of mouth-watering vegetables and beef on it. Morgan set the dish in front of her. Next he loaded his stoneware.
“Sounds great.” She set Justin’s plate in front of him.
“I’d like to say grace before we start.” Morgan slipped his napkin on his lap.
She grabbed the plate from Justin. “Baby doll, we’re going to say a prayer to thank God for providing us with this food.”
Justin looked at her, at the plate and then at Morgan. Obviously prayer wasn’t a ritual for them. She came from a strict, religious family. Was part of her rebellion rejecting the practice of her parents?
“Thank you, Lord, for this meal and for my loved ones being safe and by my side. Amen.” He kept his gaze on Justin, who held his hands in prayer mode. Shania’s hands were hidden under the table.
“Amen,” Justin declared a moment later, and Shania placed the food in front of him.
“What job are you going to after dinner, Morgan?” she asked as she took her fork into hand.
“It’s a construction site on Toad Lane. A few more days and I’ll be finished. It’ll be nice to go back to ten hour days.” He tasted the roast, cooked to perfection.
“Can I have ice cream now?” Justin asked.
“You’ll need to eat some of your vegetables first,” Shania responded, buttered a slice of sweet yeast-scented bread and placed it on the smaller plate.
“This is excellent, Shania. Your cooking skills have certainly improved.” He grinned, referring to the gumbo she’d made one Sunday a couple of years ago, the last time she’d prepared a meal for him. From the glint in her eyes she understood.
“Hey, I followed the directions, it wasn’t my fault they were incorrect. I don’t understand how a recipe for beginner cooks wouldn’t be verified.” She laughed. “The soup did have a stinky foot smell, didn’t it?”
“That’s saying it nicely.” The ping of a fork hitting the tile floor added tempo to his words.
“But we found a new bistro that served excellent tomato-basil, and I’ve had time to hone my craft.” She handed a new fork to Justin.
“I don’t like the green things,” Justin declared.
“Well, you did a great job with the carrots and the potatoes have certainly been plowed, so I can’t determine how much of them you’ve eaten.” She lifted his bread, one set of teeth marks were visible. “What do you think, Morgan?”
Justin looked at him, hope in his eyes.
“I think he should have some ice cream.”
“Yeah.” Justin kicked his chair. Green lights sparkled from his shoes.
Shania stood, walked to the refrigerator and extracted organic ice cream. Vanilla. Morgan’s favorite.
“Cherries?” Justin asked and twisted in his chair to look at her.
“Morgan, do you have cherries?” She scooped a small amount of ice cream into a plastic coffee cup with a John Deere tractor decal on the outside, compliments of Murray Tractor Supply.
“Maybe. Check the cupboard to the left of the refrigerator.” He glanced at his watch. Fifteen minutes.
The door squeaked open. “Oh,” she softly said.
“Cherries?” Justin exuberant voice kept tempo with his heels cracking against the wood.
Morgan glanced at Shania. Damn, he should have looked for the fruit himself.
She held out a bag of orange peanut-shaped candies. “You hate circus peanuts.”
Heat rose to his face as she looked at the tag.
“You kept them, from when we went to the circus three years ago? They’re not going to be good. Why, if you don’t like them, did you keep them?” She held the bag in her palm and studied his face.
“Because…” He placed his napkin on the table and went to her. “I have to leave for work. See you around ten.”
He kissed her; a warm, lusty, joining of lips he hoped would leave her dazed. Anything to take her attention away from his secret mementos of their fun times together. Grabbing the cup of ice cream, he set it in front of Justin. He kissed his son’s forehead and hurried out of the house before she could further witness his embarrassment.
Chapter 14
Morgan stepped into the guest room directly across from the master suite. The pull-out bed had been lined with pillows to prevent Justin from rolling off the sides. His shoes were neatly lined up under the bed--sneakers and then the taller red cowboy boots. He snuggled the blue blanket Morgan had given him as an infant close to his chin. The material becoming ragged at the edges after three years of frequent washings. Quiet breaths of air came from his open mouth.
A soft glow came from the master bedroom. Morgan moved toward it, pressing the door open. Her beauty created a thump inside his chest. His lungs filled to the point they did not fit into the allotted space. Shania had the ability to do that to him--literally stop his breath.
She held a book as thin as a dime in front of her. Her tea-colored eyes narrowed as she focused on the text. A scowl formed on her make-up free face. He closed the door and walked over to his dresser.
“Hi, what’s wrong?” He exhaled. Removing his wallet, he placed it on the dresser top. His fingers unlatched his belt and dropped it to the floor.
“Hi back, how’d the second job go?” She tapped the book against her hand.
“I’m glad I’m done. All night I couldn’t wait to see you and Justin. How’s studying going?”
She shook her head and ran her fingers through the short crop of hairs. “I can’t comprehend all of this marketing crap.�
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“Let me wash off some of this dust, and I’ll take a look.” He winked. “Maybe I can help with the confusion.” He gathered clothing from the antique maple dresser.
“Oh, right, you majored in business and marketing. Sorry about the bad attitude, I’m stressed.” She shoved the covers down, revealing her slim legs and sensual-perfect feet. No hammer toes on his woman.
“You need help in the shower?” She raised an eyebrow. Why was it a simple forehead wrinkle tempted him more than her husky, arousing telephone voice? He glanced to her pixie hair, ruffled from dragging her fingers through the locks. For some odd reason her dishevelment captivated him.
He sucked in his breath.
“Hell, yes, but I know you need to study.” He smiled at her. “Could I take a rain-check for the assistance in the shower?”
His cock threatened to pop over the top of his underwear. She’d dressed in a tank top and another pair of those barely-there panties. Uplifted pointed nipples drew his attention. She coughed, bringing his notice to her bottom lip, red from the pressure of her teeth. He refocused on her eyes sparkling with happiness and desire. She’d had a rough three years. The pleasure of being with her, seeing her carefree, and bantering about having sex with him made his dick ready to split open like a sausage on a hot grill.
Four long years, he’d loved her. He was close to having her become a permanent part of his life. Morgan wanted to dance around the room.
“Sure,” she agreed. She winked at him and smoothed her curls. He decided right then that he liked her short sexy hair.
Morgan alternated between a cold and hot shower. He didn’t want to kill the hard-on. The lesson he had in mind for helping her understand marketing required concentration, not a distraction from his vibrating cock. He dried off and wrapped a towel around his hips. Later he’d put on boxers in case Justin came in, which was unlikely because the kid was a deep sleeper. Morgan wanted to be free and accessible. Despite the chill from the frigid water infusion, he was hanging high underneath the cotton as he walked into the bedroom.
He shoved the covers to the side, plumped the pillows at his back and rested beside Shania. He moved his legs, brushing against hers. “What are we working with here?”
Morgan smiled as she shifted her gaze away from his half-naked form and handed him the slender book. “We’re studying lateral marketing based on Philip Kotler’s process―”
“This isn’t Kotler’s book.” He waved the thin journal.
“I know. Kotler’s book is on the dining room chair. Justin was using it as a booster seat.” Lifting she tucked her legs to sit cross-legged and faced him. Her gaze went south.
“Difficult to study the father of lateral marketing if his words are being used as a riser.” He grinned. She frowned. He stopped his laughter from erupting.
“Yes, well, I think it’s the perfect place for him. Anyway, I understood his social marketing concepts, so I’m able to grasp the idea of products and competitors. The lateral thing is baffling me.” Some strands of hair stood on end as she finger-combed her locks. She sighed and dropped her arm between them. His hand ached to smooth down the ruffled curls.
He grabbed the pieces of paper from the nightstand and glanced over her faultless handwriting. “Reviewing your notes, the hub of lateral marketing is creative technique. The marketer wants to solidify a connection, or make a displacement.” He rubbed her palm, light minute circles through the middle down to her wrist and over the mound under her thumb as he glanced through the pages. “Let’s do direct application.”
“Meaning?”
“Okay, what you’re really referring to is a gap or detachment from the product on the current market and the concept.” He held up her hand, continuing to caress her palm.
“First you’ll want to substitute it, replace the focus.” He moved his thumb from her palm and replaced the digit with his lips.
“I understand that concept very well.” She hummed.
“Change it to be opposite. Currently you are facing me cross-legged. If you were to move, lie down …”
She lay back on the bed, arms loosely joined on her stomach.
He placed her arms snug against her sides and separated her clasped knees. “Opposite.”
“Combine the stimulus.” He moved one of her arms to rest on his shoulder and kissed her slightly open lips. He caressed her taut nipples, rubbed his toes against the inside of her foot, and then broke the connection. “Ah, a sensitive area.”
“Umm, by far my favorite part of displacement,” she murmured.
“Exaggerate the marketing tool by maxing the product out or taking most of it away.” He drew away, leaving only his finger stroking the side of her breast. Another shower would be in order if he continued along this path. His skin was moist, his cock as hard as a steel hammer.
“I believe adding more of the product, your mouth, will work better for me.” She licked her lips. Her eyes blazed with heat and lust. Fingers reached and caressed his skin, creating havoc. Hot desire flooded him.
“The last two concepts are eliminating the product. Think about what the item would look like if the focus wasn’t on it.” He let his finger slide off her body. “You want the consumer to center his or her attention on the merchandise.”
“No,” she breathed and turned her body, connecting her hips to his.
“Then the final concept would be to reorder.” He kissed her lips, consuming her mouth.
She placed her hand at the side of his face and rolled her pelvis against his stiff cock. “I’d like to reorder, please.”
He smiled, praying patience would remain solid. “Changing an aspect of the product, need, target or occasion, according to Kotler, is the easiest way to go about lateral marketing.” He outlined her lips with his tongue. “Change the need--re-target the product to satisfy another need.”
“Throw out some ideas. I’m on board.” She ripped off his towel, exposing his product.
He took small deep breaths. He didn’t want to rush the moment. How could he resist when the air between them heated to the point of inferno level?
“First, start with the bare…ah…item for consumption.” He slid his fingers under her tank and painstakingly drew the material past her breasts, holding it at her neck.
“This little touch of silk must go. If you lift, I’ll slide the material off your body instead of ripping it off with my teeth, which my mind is urging me to do.” He breathed through his nose and out his mouth, as if he were running a marathon again.
“Let me see, lose the garment but have your mouth on my body or save the cloth and no mouth?” She nibbled on his nipple. “You tell me, love, do you like my lips on your body?”
“Yes. Mouth.” He was losing the power. The mentor was becoming the student, and he adored being under her lips’ tutelage. Off came the tank top. She could be the aggressor tonight, create a new method of give and take. Their relationship had indeed grown from a friendship to love.
“I do understand quid pro quo.” She shoved his shoulder.
He rested against the propped pillow, watching her give homage to his body, reversing the lesson he’d taught her. Her artistic fingers stroked his chest, caressed his stomach, and gently kneaded his dick. He lifted his hips when she massaged his balls. Not wishing to rush, needing to slow down his breathing, he used Lamaze breathing. His fingers clutched the sheets underneath him as her mouth latched onto his penis. Her tongue swirled and wrapped around his head. Her teeth nipped the sensitive point.
Oh, shit, this was torture. His breathing became ragged. He closed his eyes and focused on mundane matters, trying to prevent an explosion. The rattle of foil being peeled brought his attention back. She was rolling a condom on his pulsating cock. She straddled his hips. Her lips attacked his, as he guided his penis into the slick warmth of her vagina.
She was hot, tight and gyrated with precision. Her hands braced each side of his head. Eyes closed, she leaned back. Her breasts bobbled as she lifte
d and lowered, rubbing her nubile body against his. His hands massaged her breasts, rolled her nipples. The heat and sweat so intense he hesitated. She wavered. Fearing she’d lose her time, tempo, he moved his hands to her waist and guided her, creating a sync.
They found a rhythm of love and lust. Fulfillment rushed into a blending of them becoming one, until she collapsed onto his chest.
She kissed his sweaty chest. “I think I’m going to enjoy our study sessions.”
“Yes, we should study every night.” His lips touched her forehead.
“How are you with creative dance?”
Chapter 15
Shania stood on an eight-foot stepladder in his living room, a white towel sprinkled with fuzzy bits of gray gripped in her hands. Justin moved toys around in a play area in the middle of the floor, making noises to fit the vehicle.
“Shania, what are you doing?” Morgan cringed as his voice came out louder than he’d intended.
She jerked and the stepladder shifted. “Dusting.”
He ran forward. “Get down,” he demanded.
She glanced at the clock, a couple of inches away from where she stood and swiped a piece of cloth over the edge of the shelf. “What are you doing home so early?”
“I couldn’t concentrate. Thoughts of you clouded my mind.” She’d entered his life in a new and better way. He wanted to capitalize on his luck of having her and Justin in his home. He shifted projects and left. The first time in five years of owning his business he allowed others to take control of ventures. He delayed jobs, and it was a result of the woman teetering on a ladder in his living room.
Shania stared at him. Her tiger eyes glittered with curiosity. “Why?”
She stood at the top, on the Do not stand on this step portion of an eight-foot ladder. A grimy cloth grasped in her hand rested on a shelf another foot above her head.
His panic of her falling ramped his blood pressure pumping to high-speed. He neared the edge of the ladder. “Shania, get down, please.”
She took a step lower and narrowed her eyes. “I didn’t want to study, and I noticed a cobweb.”