Bayou Vows

by Geri Krotow

  “Do you want me to take them off, babe?” She gyrated her hips as she straddled over him on her knees, holding a breast in each hand.

  “Yeah.” The word wasn’t more than a grunt, and she knew he was close, so close. Instead of taking off her underwear, she got on all fours and closed her mouth on him, taking his full, hot length to the hilt.

  “Jesus, Jena.” His hands ran over her head; his fingers tangled in her hair. He gasped and moaned as she sucked, licked, and stroked with the hand that wasn’t propping her up.

  “Shhh. Enjoy this, Jeb.” She continued, using her fingers to gently press just under his scrotum as she sucked on him. His pelvis bucked and he tensed as if his life depended on it, depended on her to get him off. Jena loved how hard he got, how his soft skin moved over the steel length of his erection. He was so, so close. She pressed again in the soft place under his balls, and Jeb’s cry split the room an instant before her mouth filled with his salty release. She savored him, didn’t stop sucking or licking until he was spent.

  “Babe.” He tugged her up and pressed her to him, her breasts between them as she lay atop him. His breathing was slow and steady, his eyes closed. Jena rested her head on his shoulder, her fingers playing with the tufts of dark hair that covered his pecs.

  “It’s your turn to chill, Jeb.”

  “Just don’t put any green goop on my face.”

  She laughed, and it wasn’t just a reaction to his humor—it was the result of the warmth that filled her heart and had to be expressed.

  Joy.

  * * * *

  They lay like that for several minutes.

  “You awake?” His voice vibrated through his rib cage, and she loved the feel of it against her ear as much as the way he was running his fingers up and down her spine.

  “Yes, but if you keep doing your magic on my back, I’ll be asleep.”

  His fingers stilled. He tapped on her shoulders. “Get up.”

  “Really?” But she did, sliding up to sit on the edge of the couch, their naked hip bones touching.

  Jeb stood in front of her, and even after what she knew had to have been an amazing release, his cock appeared far from replete. When she looked up, his gaze held hers and heat hit her cheeks.

  “Caught.”

  “You like what you see?” Instead of his usual cheeky grin, he smiled, the light in his eyes intent. He reached for her hands and pulled her up next to him. “You.” He kissed her deeply. “Are”—another kiss—“amazing.” Then he grabbed her buttocks and hauled her against him, and she thought she’d never been more relaxed and full of anticipation in her life.

  When he finally lifted his mouth from hers, she reached up and caressed his cheekbones, his jaw. “Jeb, how can you be ready to go again? I know you weren’t faking it.” They both laughed.

  “I can’t help myself when I’m around you, Jena. No other woman has ever turned me on like you do.” He leaned in to kiss her again and she put her hand on his chest, stopping him.

  “That sounds like a lot more than friends with benefits.” She damned the tears that blurred his face.

  He cupped her face. “We’ve been more than just friends since that evening at The Refuge, babe.”

  She nodded. “The kitchen.”

  He grinned. “That was epic. But tonight will be, too.” He took her hand and led her to her bedroom. She’d left the lights on, her messy piles of clothes and rumpled bedclothes in full view.

  “Wait, let me straighten this.”

  “The hell with that.” He spun her around so her back was against him, his arm around her waist as he kissed her on the spot between her neck and shoulder that made her knees shake. She gasped, and he didn’t relent as he tweaked a nipple while he sucked on her nape. Tight, sensuous desire coiled deep inside, making her pussy throb with need, want. Her nipples pebbled and she arched her back, undulating her hips in reaction. She turned in his arms and pressed herself up against him, bringing his mouth to hers.

  The kiss was teasing, playful at first, as they prolonged what she wanted so badly. When he reached between her legs and stroked her wet, swollen flesh, she moaned, needing more. Always more.

  “Lie on the bed, babe.” She didn’t hesitate. The sooner Jeb was inside her, the better. Jena had never professed patience as one of her virtues.

  “Hurry, Jeb.”

  “Scoot up. I need some room.”

  “Oh, God, you don’t have to. We can fuck, please.”

  “No way. I want it all, Jena.” He covered her with his body for a long, lingering kiss before he moved down and placed his mouth on her. Her sighs turned to gasps and she clutched at the sheets beneath her, needing a way to push back against the overwhelming rush of sensation. No one ever made her come to her peak so quickly or so slowly, as Jeb. If he wanted to make her come hard and fast, he knew how to use his tongue and fingers to do it. If he preferred a more leisurely pace, or picked up that she needed to take it slow, he used his mouth to bring her to the edge time and time again.

  He looked up at her from between her thighs. “Don’t stop, Jeb, please.”

  “Then stop thinking. Go with it.”

  His eyes wouldn’t let her look away and dismiss him. Her heart soaked up his words, their intent. This was no longer a game between them, a means to an end. She didn’t have to analyze his techniques for keeping up a wall.

  She lay back and let herself savor every touch of his tongue and fingers, thrilling as everything took on a heightened pleasure. When he circled her clit with his tongue, she felt the pressure rise. She was entirely focused on what his mouth was doing to her sex, how he worked and played her pussy to places she’d only imagined. Time stood still, and all she felt, smelled, and breathed was Jeb. His scent, their scent, as she did as he’d asked and let go.

  He shoved one, two fingers into her while he sucked on her clit, and her orgasm exploded from the center out, obliterating logic, catapulting her into pure sensation. Her screams bounced off the carriage house walls, and somewhere in the midst of it she felt him leave her, the coolness of the air moving over her sex-slicked skin. She heard the crinkle of a foil packet as he got a condom, and before she’d completely come down from her climax he was over her, his hands finding hers, moving her arms over her head as he thrust into her without preamble.

  “Sweet. So sweet.” His words made her pussy clench around him, small waves already building, as if she hadn’t just had the orgasm of her life.

  “That’s it, babe. Don’t hold back.” She kissed his throat, bit into his shoulder as her nails dug into his back, holding on to him as he rode her. She dug her feet into the bed, moving her pelvis to meet him thrust for thrust, before wrapping her legs around him. They were on a journey and nothing was going to stop them as they came together again and again. Gasps, moans, and grunts were all they exchanged as their bodies moved in unison.

  Jena held on as long as she could, waiting for Jeb, but it was impossible to stop the climax that rolled through her. As the cries ripped out of her throat, the primal waves of pleasure gripping her, Jeb shouted her name and collapsed on top of her.

  Once their breathing calmed, he slid off and to her side, pulling her up against him in spoon fashion. The thought that they’d never done this, never fallen asleep together afterward, flickered across her mind before she drifted off.

  * * * *

  Jeb stretched and reached for Jena, but only came up with a handful of rumpled comforter. He opened an eye, remembered where he was, where he wasn’t. They’d always gone back to their respective places after they’d had sex. Even after the kitchen they’d gone home solo.

  Judging from the angle of the sunlight pushing through the wooden shutters, it was Sunday morning. They’d spent the night together.

  Jena.

  The woman mystified him. She was all about environmental consciousness except,
apparently, when she wanted to take a hot bath. Which he’d never given her the chance to do last night. Hopefully she wasn’t upset about it.

  The scents of bacon and what he strongly suspected—and hoped—was grits crept into the light blue bedroom. Jeb stood up and stretched, shoved on his boxers and cargo shorts, and walked out into the kitchen. Jena stood at the stove, stirring and singing softly to herself. The fuzzy robe looked sexy on her.

  “Do you always cook a full breakfast?”

  She looked over her shoulder, her long locks spilling over her back, before she turned to him. “Only on special occasions.”

  He placed his hands on her shoulders and kissed her. “It smells like heaven in here.” And she tasted like it.

  She turned her attention back to the stove while he massaged her back. “I hope you like eggs, bacon, and grits.”

  “It’d be a sin not to, when you’re making them for me. God, they smell so good.”

  “Thanks. I didn’t make as much as usual, because you said we’d be eating at your grandma’s.” She shut off the burners and turned to face him. “Are you still sure you want to take me there?”

  “Certain.”

  “I made coffee—yours is on the table. I don’t have a regular coffeepot, so you’ll have to settle for a cappuccino.”

  “Perfect.” He walked over to the table and took a sip. “Delicious.”

  She brought two plates over. “I’m glad you like it.” Her smile was genuine, her face devoid of not only makeup, but the usual mask she wore, except on the rarest occasions when she revealed her true self. “What’s wrong?”

  “I can’t believe it’s taken this long to find out you don’t have a real coffee maker.”

  She eased herself into one of the chairs and motioned for him to take the other. “We have had a rather different path, that’s for sure. I mean, our relationship.” She blushed. “Whatever this is between us. And, Jeb—I’m not going to ask you to stay.”

  He reached over the table and grasped her hand. “Atlanta is not going to change. But we’re allowed to end what we have on a more positive note, aren’t we? At the end of the day, what we have, what we’ve always had, is a solid friendship that’s lasted years.”

  She contemplated him, and he wanted to take away the sorrow and doubt he saw in her blue eyes. “That’s part of the problem, though, isn’t it? We’ve taken it for granted, not done the work it deserves.”

  “We’re giving it a good start today.” He didn’t want to tell her what he thought, what he’d begun to hope for. That he’d lied about Atlanta being set in stone. It was too soon, and, based on their history, improbable. “You’ll finally meet my family.”

  Chapter 13

  “This is your grandmother’s place?” Jena soaked up the bayou beauty that surrounded the small subdivision in the immediate outskirts of NOLA. “I’m surprised it made it through Katrina.”

  “We were, too. Come on, we never use the front door.” He grabbed her hand and took her along a path that ran next to the house, which was stately yet sprawling, the blooming vines and overgrown flowerbeds softening the edges of what otherwise was a very solid structure. It was red brick with freshly painted white trim, and the front door appeared formal and imposing. As the backyard came into view, so did the water.

  “Amazing.” She stopped in her tracks and breathed in the scent, watched a heron gingerly wade along the grassy bank just beyond a retaining wall. “We’re all of what, five feet above the river?”

  “That’s not the river. It’s a tributary, but a big one.” He stood beside her, and with the morning sun blistering their backs and the very slight, muggy breeze wafting off the water, Jena felt at one with nature. With Jeb. She looked at his profile, dark against the bright blue sky. He met her gaze and her heart fluttered like the swamp grass, the desire between them a comfortable buzz. A palm-sized dragonfly hovered next to them and Jena laughed.

  “What’s so funny about a dragonfly?” He held his hand up and the insect zoomed in for a closer inspection before zipping off to skim the water’s surface.

  “That noise, the low buzz they make? That’s how I feel whenever I’m with you.” It was the kind of thought she’d usually keep to herself, buried deep. But after last night, acknowledging that Jeb would soon be gone yet still wanted to leave on good terms, she had a sense of freedom. It wasn’t just relief that she was free to speak her mind, but more of a letting-go of her former coping mechanism. Around Jeb, she’d always taken the conservative route and kept her emotions to herself, on the back burner of her conscience. But she couldn’t do that anymore.

  “You mean you think that, like a dragonfly, I’m going to disappear at any moment?” He gave her a puzzled frown, laced with what could only be defined as hurt. She reached up and smoothed the furrow between his brows with her finger.

  “Not at all. It’s more like an I-want-to-fuck-you-senseless hum.”

  His concern evaporated when he flashed her a bright smile. “That’s a buzz I can handle.” He tugged on her hand and she walked with him up to the large screened porch, where they climbed solid wood steps to the door, which he threw open and held for her to precede him.

  The porch, true to its southern roots, was a room unto itself. Two large ceiling fans circled, moving the air around enough that she felt she’d stepped into an air-conditioned space. Bright white wicker furniture that matched the house’s pristine trim was padded with festive floral print cushions. The chatter of women beyond the second screen door caught her ear.

  “Is that your family?”

  “Sounds like Grandma and my mother.”

  Within a couple of heartbeats, she heard footsteps, followed by a loud “Jeb’s here, Mother!” A woman of Jena’s height stepped through the door, carrying a large tray with a pitcher of iced tea, sugar, lemons, and several tall glasses.

  “Mom, let me take that.”

  “I’m good, just let me set it down.” Camellia DeVillier McDaniels bent her knees and slid the cumbersome tray onto a small dining table that was pushed up against one wall of the screened porch. Only then did Jena notice the piles of food on trays and platters of various sizes, including a huge bowl of steamed crawdads. There was enough to feed a ship’s crew.

  “Come here, son.” Camellia opened her arms, stretching her wing-style sleeves open, and enveloped Jeb into a warm hug. She kissed his cheek and Jena bit back a giggle. Jeb had turned into the eldest son of this strong woman in a blink.

  “Hey, Mom.” He straightened but didn’t break eye contact with his mother. “Where is everyone?”

  “Ron’s in the kitchen with your grandmother, and your brothers are on their way. Your sister is still sleeping—she stayed over with Grandma and helped make all the food last night.” Bright eyes moved from Jeb to Jena, and Jena fought to not wiggle her toes like she would have as a child. She was wearing sandals, and she had a feeling Camellia wouldn’t miss the nervous reaction.

  “Hi, Jena. Nice to see you again! It’s been at least—what, ten years?” Camellia focused her exuberance onto Jena, and stepped forward to give her a hug, too. Her spiky platinum hair and bright gray eyes were in direct contrast to Jeb’s dark looks.

  “Hi, Mrs. DeVillier. Good to see you again, too.” Jena hugged her back, noticing that, while she was on the more slender side, Camellia’s muscles and bones were pure steel.

  Camellia kept her hands on Jena’s shoulders as she looked her over. “It’s Camellia, dear. You were a pretty girl when you were younger, but you’ve really become a knockout.” Camellia aimed a glance at Jeb, who looked like he might be holding his breath. Jena smiled reflexively, needing to let him know she was okay with whatever Camellia said. “Don’t let this one go.”

  Jeb’s mom dropped her hands and waved to the tea. “Help yourselves.”

  “Can we do anything?” Jena wasn’t ready to plop down on the furniture
yet, and caffeine was the last thing she needed as she met Jeb’s family.

  “No, but if you want to come inside and meet my mother, she’s in the kitchen.” Camellia looked at Jeb with a raised brow. “You know how she gets before these things.”

  “I do.” Jeb pressed his hand into the small of Jena’s back, urging her inside behind his mother. “Grandma Cormier’s nerves fire on all pistons when she entertains. It’s why my mom doesn’t let her do this as often as she used to. She does great through the event, but then later collapses with exhaustion.”

  “Wow.” Jena had to cut her reply short as they entered the old fashioned yet completely modernized kitchen. A tiny woman with white hair like a bristle brush stood at the counter, putting together what looked like tea sandwiches. Jena noted the tuna salad and the egg salad, and how his grandmother was alternating layers between white and rye bread cut into perfect triangles.

  “Jeb!” Gertrude “Gertie” Cormier put down her spoon and wiped her hands on a dish towel before she reached her thin, veined hands to his face and kissed him soundly on each cheek. “My boy. Did you bring your friend?” Her eyes, dark brown like Jeb’s, alighted on Jena. “There you are!”

  “Hi, Mrs. Cormier.” Jena bent to get kissed on her cheeks, too, and marveled at the strength still in Gertie’s hands. “We met years ago, when Jeb and I graduated high school.” Jena wouldn’t forget this woman, ever. Clearly the matriarch of the family, and loved by them.

  Grandma Cormier grasped her hands tightly, willing Jena to look into her eyes. “You are special.”

  “Wha—”

  “No, no reply is necessary. My grandsons all bring home their girls, my granddaughter brings home her man. But this one here,”—she jerked her head toward Jeb—“he never says anything about his dating life. Never brings home a photograph or tells me that he’s met the one. Now he’s brought you here, and that’s all I need to know.”