Pride & Joie_The Continuation

by M. E. Carter

  A laugh bursts out of me and I put the wine down on the counter, taking two steps toward her to cup her face in my hands. “And I am so, so blessed they did because I couldn’t imagine not being here with you right now.”

  Leaning down, I cover her lips with mine, kissing her softly. Her hands reach around my neck and her fingers wrap around the hair at my nape. I love kissing her. It’s slow and gentle. A few sweeps of the tongue. It’s unhurried. It’s passionate. It’s restrained because . . . well, because we haven’t gone there yet, and we don’t want to get all riled up.

  That’s another thing I like about Joie. She’s in no rush for this relationship to get to the next level. She’s content with us taking our time, getting to know each other. Getting to trust each other. Making sure we really are a good fit, personality-wise, not just because we’re attracted to each other. It’s meant a lot of cold showers for me, but I prefer that to the messiness of getting too attached too quickly. This way is so much better.

  Plus, there’s something to be said for anticipation.

  All too soon, the kiss winds down. I open my eyes in time to see Joie lick her lips and clear her throat. “Um . . . wow. Um . . .” I can’t help how my ego inflates knowing I’ve kissed her silly. “Stop looking at me like that. I know I’m a little incoherent right now.”

  I chuckle and pull her into a hug. “Sorry. It’s a giant stroke to my ego when I kiss you senseless.”

  “Please,” she jokes back. “I’m not senseless. My brain was just resting for a minute.”

  “Okay, well now that it’s working again, what do you need me to do?” I rub my hands up and down her back and kiss her head. She’s so short, but I like it.

  Pushing me away, she turns to the cabinet to grab a couple plates and hand them to me. “You can set the table. Napkins are on the counter over there and silverware is in that drawer. I’m gonna start cleaning the kitchen while we wait for dinner to finish up.”

  “Yes, ma’am. You wanna sit outside?”

  “Yeah, that would be great.” She beams. “I love this time of year, when it’s cool enough to take advantage of my patio furniture.”

  A small eating area is just off the kitchen, a few steps away. Right through the room is a side door that goes to a patio overlooking the yard. The wrought-iron table is covered with a blue tablecloth, and the chairs have matching blue cushions. It doesn’t take but a few minutes to set everything two people need, so I have time to head back in and really look around the house.

  A large living area connects to the eating area. For such a small home, the space is massive. She has two good-sized couches, an overstuffed chair, and a giant television situated around the fireplace. And yet, it doesn’t feel cramped at all. Over the mantel is a large framed photo of Joie and her family. She and Isaac are the darkest ones in the picture. A tall, blond man with a beard holds a little girl with brown ringlets. I’m assuming it’s her brother and niece she is so fond of. Her parents look older, but she’s right when she says they are whiter than white bread, which makes me chuckle to myself. They’re all sporting wide grins. Just one big happy family.

  Moving over to a bookshelf, I take in pictures of Stevens as a baby and a very young Joie smiling with pride as she holds him up to the camera. There are a few of his elementary school pictures. One in his high school football uniform, in the obligatory one-knee on the ground pose. And finally, an action shot during a game in his Vikings uniform, probably a color copy of a newspaper photo. It’s clear how much Joie loves her son and how involved she is in his life.

  The one thing that concerns me is how clean her home is. There’s no clutter. There’s no crap sitting around. Everything is put away. Placing my hands on my hips, I make a mental note never to take her to my apartment. I don’t think she’d enjoy what a slob I am. I may need to finally splurge for that maid I keep talking about. If my apartment could look anywhere close to like this, it would be worth it.

  The sound of a timer going off has me heading back to the kitchen. “Was that dinner I heard?” I joke when I hear the slam of the oven door.

  “It was.” I find Joie scooping out a very cheesy enchilada and placing it on a plate.

  “Holy shit, that looks good,” I exclaim, putting my arms around her waist and leaning over her shoulder to get a good look. “How much cheese did you use?”

  “Uh . . . two pounds, maybe?”

  “For just the two of us?”

  She shrugs. “You can never have too much cheese. It’s so bad for you, but I don’t care. You only live once, and I plan to live it up! Cheese is my version of partying.”

  Once everything is dished out, I grab the plates and she grabs the wine. “Why did I already set plates out if you’re going to dish everything out inside?”

  As she slides the door open, a sheepish grin crosses her face. “Because I forgot. I do that every time, so I always end up using double plates.”

  That little tidbit of information actually endears me to her. In the time I’ve known her, she seems to do excel in most everything she does. I like knowing she has little quirks, too.

  “More wine?” she asks as she pours.

  I gesture toward my glass. “Since you’re already topping me off, sure.”

  She flashes me a flirty smirk, and we dig into our very, very cheesy and delicious dinner.

  “Well? What did you think?” I ask as we work together to wash what few dishes are still dirty.

  After eating, Jack and I sat outside, finishing the bottle of wine and enjoying the cooler temperatures. I love this time of year. It’s warm enough to wear short sleeves, but cool enough that you can wear jeans without having a heat stroke. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not chilly. But when it’s been in the upper nineties for months, eighty feels like a cold front. This mild weather is why people move to Texas and suffer through the summer. Every other season is amazing. If only summer wasn’t about six months’ long.

  “I think I’ve been selling myself short.” Jack wipes the hand towel over a plate I just gave him. With only two of us, there’s no reason to use the dishwasher. “If I had known it was so easy to make a decent meal, I wouldn’t have been surviving off fast food all these years.”

  “You’re telling me you’ve never googled anything about easy-to-make recipes?” I chide playfully, handing him some clean silverware to dry.

  He thinks for a minute. “No. Can’t say that I ever have. I guess I just assumed it would be too much work for me to figure out.”

  I giggle. “Oh, Jack. I know you’re set in your ways and all. But the internet really is your friend.

  He scoffs. “I know that.” I raise one eyebrow at him. “Okay, fine. I only use it when I’m at work. Who needs the distraction when I get home?”

  “You mean the distraction from ESPN?”

  “Exactly,” he says with a grin. “I knew you would understand.”

  We continue with our lighthearted banter as we finish the dishes. Once my hands are dried off, I lean against the counter to brace myself. “What time do you have to leave tonight?”

  He crinkles his brow. “What do you mean?”

  “Don’t you have an early morning or something?”

  He shakes his head and licks his bottom lip. I notice, because I’ve noticed every time he’s licked his bottom lip tonight.

  While we were eating.

  After drinking his wine.

  Just now.

  I’m kind of jealous of his bottom lip.

  His eyes seem to darken, and I know his thoughts are venturing the same direction as mine, and I wonder if he’s as nervous as I am. “Are you wanting me to leave?”

  Suddenly, the air seems to get thick in the room. It’s sexual tension. I haven’t felt it in years, but I’d recognize it anywhere. It’s not something you forget because it’s been so long. In fact, I’d say the feeling is magnified because it’s been so long.

  I clear my throat and try to remember how to breathe when I whisper out a “No. I don’t
want you to leave.”

  He stalks two steps my direction. “You want me to stay?”

  I nod and lick my own lip in anticipation.

  “How long do you want me to stay?”

  This is where it gets sticky for me. I’m battling myself. I want Jack to stay all night. I really want Jack to stay all night. But I need to know where we stand first. I need to address that before anything else. “That depends,” I finally admit.

  “On what?” He runs his hands over my hair, pulling the bandana off my head and dropping it on the counter. I completely forgot I was wearing it and for a split second, I hope I don’t have hat head. Especially in this moment.

  “It’s been a long time since I’ve been with a man, Jack.”

  He wraps a lock of my dark hair around my finger. “How long is a long time?” he says quietly as his eyes roam over my face, taking in each of my features.

  “Um . . . I think Isaac was in middle school the last time I had sex.”

  Jack freezes and looks me straight in the eye, the moment gone. “Middle school?”

  I nod.

  “He’s a junior in college now.”

  I nod again.

  “So, you haven’t been with a man in almost a decade?”

  I quirk an eyebrow and purse my lips. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

  “No, no,” he defends quickly. “It’s not a bad thing. It’s just . . . Wow, Joie. That’s a long time. Did you not date or something?”

  I shrug. “I dated, but I don’t get how people can just drop their pants for anyone. This third date rule people do now? That’s such crap. I’m not embarrassed or a prude or anything. I’m just not interested in giving the milk away. This cow is worth more than that.”

  His head bobbles slightly as he considers my thoughts. “I can see that. So then why are we having this conversation now? We haven’t been dating that long.”

  I take a deep breath, sucking in nerve along with air. “I guess I like you more than I’ve liked anyone before, maybe ever.” His eyes soften, and a shy smile crosses his face. “So I’d like to take you to bed with me. But before I do, I wanna know where your head is at. When it comes to us.”

  He scratches his jaw while he thinks. “I tend to be old school, ya know? Not as proper as my parents were, or anything. But like you, I don’t see how people can get physical with someone they don’t know and never see them again. There’s so much more to sex than only getting off.” He begins twirling that lock of my hair again. “It’s intimacy. It’s sharing mutual pleasure. It’s connecting on a spiritual level.”

  Oh boy. I’m getting hot just hearing him describe the emotional part of intimacy. I’m a goner if he starts talking dirty. Which makes me wonder, does he talk dirty? I kind of hope he does.

  “And I like milk. But I don’t want free milk. I want the cow, too. For as long as she’ll let me have her.”

  My brain screeches to a halt. “Wait . . . did you just . . . did you call me a cow?”

  “You started it. But yeah, that sounded way better in my head than it did coming out of my mouth.”

  I lean my forehead on his chest as the giggles overtake me. He wraps his arms around me and we laugh. It’s wonderful, and intimate, and perfect. Finally, he pulls away and kisses me on the lips. It’s slow and sensual. And over all too soon when he continues our conversation.

  “In all seriousness, though,” he says, as I continue kissing him. Only this time, my lips are moving down his neck as he rubs his hands up and down my back. “I’m okay with not pushing that part of our relationship until you feel comfortable. I’m not in this to bag you and get out.”

  “I don’t think that.” I continue my trek behind his ear and his breath begins to hitch as he tries to keep talking.

  “Well, good. But let’s be honest . . . we’re in our forties. We’re tired. There won’t be an all-night sex marathon, and the anticipation isn’t going to kill either one of us. Plus, there are preparations to consider.”

  “Preparations? What kind of preparation?”

  “You know. Birth control and stuff.”

  This time I pull away and look him in the eye. “Jack, my tubes are tied.”

  He pauses. “Really?”

  I shrug. “Yeah. I had it done several years ago. I was having some serious bleeding issues so my doctor took out half of my uterus, and I had my tubes tied at the same time.”

  “Wait. Bleeding issues? Like heavy periods or something?”

  I wrap my arms around his neck as we talk. “Way worse than that. I ended up in the hospital a couple times because my iron count was so low. I was literally bleeding out. Even had a couple transfusions.”

  His jaw drops open. “Joie! That’s terrible!”

  “That’s why they finally did it. Haven’t had any problems since.” I kiss him gently on the lips. “It also means, there is no chance I’ll accidentally get pregnant.”

  He freezes for a moment and then moves at lightning speed, bending down and scooping me up by the thighs.

  “Jack!” I squeal. “You’re going to throw your back out!”

  He wraps my legs around him and carries me down the hall. “Jesus, woman! How old do you think I am? I’m not decrepit!”

  I laugh as he struts straight through my bedroom door and squeal again as he tosses me on the bed. Before I can make another sound, he’s on me, kissing his way down my neck, gently moving my shirt to the side so he can kiss my shoulder. I haven’t felt lips on my skin in so long, it makes me tingle all over.

  “This is going to sound really bad,” I sigh, “but you better take your shoes off before you get dirt on my bedspread.”

  The rumble of his laugh reverberates through my whole body. “You’re worried about dirt on your bed at a time like this?”

  “You don’t want that dirt anywhere near our bodies once we’re naked.”

  “The woman has a good point.” He practically launches himself off me and all the sudden is stripping out of all of his clothes, not just his shoes. Those go first, followed by his socks, but then his shirt comes off and . . .

  Holy moly.

  He’s fit. Not quite a six pack, but darn close. A smattering of dark hair sprinkled on his chest. His biceps—oh my. They flex and stretch as he removes all of his clothes except his boxers. Those arms might be my favorite part of his naked body.

  I bite back a grin as I realize how much of a farmer’s tan he has. I should have figured the color of his torso doesn’t match the rest of him. I think it’s cute. And it reminds me of what a hard worker he is.

  Once he’s naked, except for his tented boxers and the wolfish grin on his face, he narrows his eyes at me. “How come I’m the only one taking my clothes off?”

  I laugh at this unexpected question. “Sorry. I was enjoying watching you so much, I forgot.” Kicking off my flip-flops so they drop on the floor, I hold eye contact and reach down to unbutton my shorts. His breath hitches at the sound of the zipper going down. It makes me feel sexy and shameless. And gives me confidence as I shimmy my shorts over my hips and down my legs and then flick them at him when they get to the end of my toe.

  He snatches them out of the air. “You trying to end this before it even begins? Because I’m feeling remarkably like a first-timer again, watching you do that.”

  “Oh . . . I’m sorry.” I stop my movements and widen my eyes innocently. “Should I stop?”

  His eyes roll in the back of his head. “Hell, woman. You’re gonna kill me, aren’t you?”

  “I’ll try to be gentle when I do it.” Slowly, I sit up and peel my shirt over my head. Jack groans as my lacy blue bra and matching panties are bared to him.

  It’s been a long time since I’ve been naked in front of a man. You’d think it would make me shy or even embarrassed, but I’m not. Jack knows I’m not young, tight, and toned. He knows I’m going to be soft in certain places, and I’m sure he figured out long ago my breasts aren’t larger than a handful. But if the way he’s l
ooking at me now is any indication, all he’s seeing right now is me.

  And possibly enjoying the anticipation of a really good orgasm.

  I watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows, before he finally speaks again. “Take off your bra,” he demands, and I know I’m going to like this side of him. This is that Viking I was looking for. The one who can command in the bedroom while being respectful of my needs. Even if those needs are as quirky as keeping his shoes off the bed.

  Reaching around my back, I unhook the clasps. As I slowly slide the straps down my shoulders, preparing to bare myself to him, Jack’s patience runs thin.

  “That’s it,” he bellows as he pounces on top of me, tossing the bra aside, “playtime is over.” He latches onto my nipple, making me squeak.

  But he’s wrong.

  Playtime has just begun.

  I wake with a start. Why? What woke me up? And where the fuck am I?

  It takes a few seconds for my brain to pull out of the early morning muddle, but when it does, I remember everything.

  The way Joie’s soft, dark skin feels when I run my hands over it. The way her breath tickles my ear when she heaves with passion. The soft sounds she makes when I thrust deep inside her. I never thought I’d have that connection with someone again. But here it is. Here she is. Everything about her, about us, seems magical to me.

  Or maybe I’m only a man who hasn’t been with a woman in a very long time. Either way, my brain has barely woken up, but my dick is wide awake and ready for more of her.

  Joie begins to stretch and, by the way her ass is squirming up against me, I think she might have the same idea.

  “Good morning,” I mumble, my voice still gravelly with sleep. “Did you sleep well with me here? I didn’t take up too much room, did I?”

  “Mmm,” she responds and snuggles back down under the covers, and closer into me. “I haven’t slept so well in forever.” I can hear the contentment in her voice, and I swear it makes my dick twitch. Or that could just be morning wood. Either way, I move her hair out of the way and begin kissing a path down her neck. She smells faintly of sweat and sleep and leftover sex. “Did we stay tangled up like this all night?”