Meet Me

by Azure Boone

  His head went back with a growl while his cock throbbed several times deep inside me. He finally brought his gaze back to mine and I whimpered at the sight there. Get ready to scream a lot more. I swallowed, holding on tight to his neck, never more ready for anything.

  He gave me exactly what I asked for. Fast. And hard.

  My cries filled the bathroom as Morgan pounded into me. Soon that place inside me seemed to fill up, like it would burst. “Oh God, oh God oh God,” I cried, feeling it coming.

  Morgan’s raspy breathing turned to strained groans right as my strange orgasm broke all over him.

  His own climax came and he roared, his head thrashing, those delicious muscles straining. I pulled his face to mine and kissed him, tasted the orgasm right on lips and tongue. His hand wrapped tight in my hair as he strained through the waves still overwhelming him, kissing me back with just as much hunger.

  “God, I’m not done with you,” he whispered in my mouth.

  I held his head as he dropped to his knees and began sucking my pussy, his hand shoving my leg on the tub up as high as he could. Plastered in the corner, I held on to the walls. “Oh God yes.” My muscles quivered under the intense assault of his tongue all over my clit, flicking like little strobes of electricity. Oh my God. His mouth pressed tight against me and sucked the sensitive bud and I cried out when he flicked the tip with his tongue.

  “Morgan, oh!” I pressed his head to me and pumped all over his mouth, losing all inhibitions to the fast approaching heat wave.

  He began plunging his finger in and out while rotating between sucking and licking my clit. He released my leg and swirled another finger over the tight skin of my exit.

  “Oh my God,” I gasped, excitement tickling through me.

  He pressed the tip of his finger inside my butt while fucking my pussy with his finger. I raked nails over his scalp, letting the orgasm surge forward. His finger wiggled just inside my ass and I squealed and cried out, bucking my pussy against his mouth as I came. My climax quaked through my limbs, his name a constant moan on my lips for an entire minute.

  I looked down and watched him kiss my pussy with a delicate tenderness as though sealing the wonderful pleasure he’d just given me.

  Soberness settled in and I realized my gut would be the first thing he saw if he looked up at that second. I sucked it in.

  He slowly kissed his way up my body, fat gut and all, acting as though it weren’t even there. Was I wrong about my gut too? Was it an optical illusion from the top view that made me think I appeared four months preggers? No, cause I thought the same thing looking from the side in a mirror. But watching him…kiss up my body that way. He paused at my breasts and sucked like he’d discovered some long lost delicacy. I couldn’t help but smile at how good that idea felt, while rubbing my hands in his hair.

  When he made it to my lips, I was full out grinning. He kissed the edge of my mouth. “What?” He pressed his lips into mine, sliding his tongue in my mouth at first opportunity.

  “You make me feel…”

  He stopped kissing and pulled away like he was interested in hearing.

  I bit my lower lip and flushed. “Really special.” I gave a little shrug and nod as the emotions overwhelmed and tears clouded my vision. “Shit, sorry,” I squealed, fanning my face, straining back a sob.

  His large hands held my head as he kissed my lips over and over. “You’re husband is a monster for not loving you like you deserve. Let me Tasha, please. Let me give you what you deserve.”

  His tone bordered a beg.

  I closed my eyes. “The kids—”

  “I love your kids. Like they were my own.”

  I looked at him. “But they don’t love you. You’re not their father.”

  “They’ll grow to, please Tasha, I want to marry you.”

  I froze. My heart froze. Marry? Marry? Not just fuck for fun occasionally? Marry?

  He dropped his hands. “Sorry, I…I didn’t mean to say that so soon.”

  “Do you mean it?” I asked. The agonizing need that took over his face stole my breath. “Oh my God. You do.”

  “Yes. I do.”

  Chapter Seven

  I suddenly needed air. I opened the shower curtain, grabbed the towel off the bar and wrapped in it. I felt much better once covered. Specially after the passion was gone and reality set in.

  “I’m not going to apologize for how I feel.” He climbed out after me and I stared at him in the wall length mirror before us.

  “I…I don’t know what to say.”

  “Say you will of course.”

  I continued to gawk, dumbfounded. “Just…divorce my husband and marry you?”

  His expression said, Yes. Exactly.

  “And then just move my herd into…into what? Do you have a home? Mr. Stranger?”

  “Fine, not right away. But you leave your husband, I’ll get you your own place and we’ll date and the kids will slowly learn to like me. You’ll see. I’m not there to take the place of their father, I would never do that. He’ll still be their father, of course. But you…” he came and stood behind me and placed a kiss on my shoulder. “You’ll be my wife.” He kissed up my neck. “And I will honor…” he pressed a soft kiss to my ear. “…and cherish…” a soft kiss to my cheek. “…and adore you.” He turned me and stared into my stupid tear filled eyes. He slid the backs of his fingers over my face then leaned and kissed me with that damn heart wrenching tenderness.

  I wrapped my arms around his neck, wanting him. Wanting him so much, wanting what he offered, wanting it to be okay and right. He moaned and wrapped his arms around me and lifted me in his embrace.

  Then the thought of my kids made it hurt in my chest. Oh God. How would I ever do it? I wanted to, but…

  And now Morgan…another heart in the mix. The idea of him hurting already had me wanting to make it all better. I held his face and kissed the precious man passionately, wishing I could make it so this was enough. For both of us. But already, the deep ache in my bones told me. All or nothing with him. He was not a halfway kind of man. And neither was I. It’s why I barely hung on to my sanity in my marriage now. How would I, now that Morgan was begging me to be loved, and cherished, and adored, and…sexually…mmm, sexually complete. Just the thought sparked that fire in my belly and I was suddenly lost in kissing him, feeling the rough rasp of his tongue against mine, the hard muscles along his broad shoulders.

  Morgan followed the cue, his own desire driving him to a breathless eagerness. He yanked my towel off and lifted me onto his waist. I gasped at the position, thrilled. He broke the kiss briefly, maneuvering me as I grasped either side of his neck, keeping his lips close as the head of his shaft pressed at my entrance.

  Hands clamped on my waist, he resumed kissing me before plunging me onto his cock. He moaned while devouring the cry I gave in his mouth. My back hit the wall and I was suddenly being bounced with each rapid thrust of his hips. God he was going to make me come like before, I could feel it already building in that place. He stopped abruptly, throwing his head back and panting, holding my waist in a death grip.

  Breathing ragged, he brought his lust sedated gaze down to mine. “Play with your pretty clit.”

  I wasted no time. He looked down and whispered another curse, watching my fingers wiggle between my lips.

  He pulled his cock slowly out with a groan then slowly slid it back in. The heat in my clit finally caught up to the moment, getting hotter.

  He watched my face as the pleasure built, leaning in and placing soft kisses next to my mouth, open with incessant moaning from the slow stroke of his cock in and out of me as I masturbated.

  When my moans became louder, his movements sped up, but remained shallow. Felt so damn good like that while I rubbed my clit.

  He pulled away to watch again. “Fuck, you look good baby,” he groaned.

  I looked down, moaning at the sight. Okay, yes, it did look good. I was not a looker. What I barely remembered of sex with John
was done with eyes closed or lights off.

  Morgan’s speed picked up when my cries peaked. He knew.

  Oh my God, I came double again. My clit and my G thing, I guessed. During the traumatic pleasure, I lost hold of reality. Was that my voice crying out like a sex crazed lunatic? Oh yes, it was. Now I understood why in some movies, they’d portray a nirvana when a person had their first orgasm. I was there, in that other place that wasn’t earth. Now, but not here.

  I vaguely remembered it ending, all I knew was the taste of his sweat on my lips as my head lay on his shoulder, panting in the aftermath. He moved with me, supporting my limp body in his possessively tight embrace. Never removing his softened cock from inside me, he sat on the bed and stroked my back.

  Oh my God, would I cry every damn time we had sex? I fought the tears back, but those consuming emotions of a life so long without this kind of love, and affection, and adoration, refused to be suppressed.

  Stupid sob escaped. He was going to think I was nuts.

  But instead he continued to stroke me, adding soothing sounds.

  “I’m…so sorry, I don’t mean to cry every time, it’s just…” Another sob surged and I held my breath to stave it off, all while Morgan cooed to me. The more sweet he was, the more I wanted to cry.

  The phone rang and I jumped in his arms. He tightened his embrace. “Don’t panic.”

  I moved to get off and he protested with a begrudging moan.

  “Don’t you need to answer it? Who can it be?” I asked.

  “Maybe it’s my wife.”

  I jerked my gaze to him. “Wife!”

  He chuckled and shook his head a little. “I’m kidding.”

  I eyed him, skeptical. “Kidding about having a wife or that being her?”

  Morgan walked to the phone, mumbling, “I’m not married Tasha. Except to you, if you say yes.” He picked up the phone. “Hello?” He looked at me. “Yes, hold on.”

  He held the phone toward me, nodding his head at the room next to us. Oh, Sheri!

  I hurried to the phone, remembering to cover my breasts at least. Would take a little more than two compliments to undo a lifetime complex. I yanked the blanket off the bed and covered my front while taking the phone from his outstretched hand. I ignored his eye roll over my modesty, but I sure couldn’t ignore his ass as he walked away. Mmm-mm that man was mouthwatering. “Hello?”

  Sheri snickered on the other line and I waited patiently for her to catch her breath. “Do you have any idea how loud you were?”

  Oh shit. Heat filled my cheeks as I stole a glance at Morgan who stood like some god, wiping me off his cock with a towel. “Sorry,” I whispered, turning my back to a grinning Morgan.

  “Listen, don’t panic, but your mom called.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Something about one of the kids crying for you.”

  Panic and guilt consumed me. “I’m coming.” I hung up, cutting off Sheri’s words, not caring what they were at that point.

  I turned to Morgan sitting on the bed next to me in only his jeans. Before I could say a word he pulled me onto his lap. He kissed my cheek. “What’s up beautiful?”

  “I…I have to go.”

  He nuzzled me with his nose and lips. “Why?”

  God, how could that feel so good? I didn’t want to leave him. “My baby needs me. She’s crying for me.” I hadn’t been told that, but I felt it in my gut. Made it true enough.

  “When can I see you again?” He kneaded my calf.

  “I don’t know.”

  He kissed my shoulder softly. “When does your bastard husband come back?”

  I slapped his leg. “Don’t say that.”

  “Why not?” He nibbled now. “I should kill him for hurting you all these years.”

  “Don’t say that!” This with another slap.

  “Why do you defend him?”

  I fought off guilt with a slight shrug. “Just…he’s…well he’s the father of my kids and…and he provides for us…”

  “For them. Not you. You. He neglects.”

  “Well, I don’t think it’s altogether intentional.”

  “How can you even say that? Please don’t defend him, it sickens me.”

  It was adorable how offended he was. I regarded him thoughtfully for a second. “I know I’ve seen you before, but I can’t place where. Please tell me you haven’t seen me before looking like a dishrag.”

  “Mmm.” He leaned and angled his soft lips over mine. “You’re definitely a dish, but not a rag.”

  He eased me down on the bed with his kiss. “Marry me.”

  Chapter Eight

  “Joe is coming over. Why don’t you get ready for company, he’s bringing his wife and kids.”

  I turned from the dishes at the sink. “What? Why didn’t you ask me if I wanted company?” Anger hardened my jaw. That’s how it was with him. Everything for his charity projects and nothing for me and my friends and family. The rare occasions my friends or family came, he’d be scarce till they left. Rude asshole. He even did it with my daughter’s fiancé. Every time he came, he was suddenly absent. Guess he thought: my daughter, my friends, my family, my problem. Well, same to you bub.

  Not to mention his so called friend was a real weirdo. He had crotch issues. The man would stand there talking to you while he pressed his wrist in little jerky tics against his pubic area. It was really difficult to pretend like he wasn’t doing it, nodding and smiling pleasantly while he openly bragged about how he liberated his twenty-two year old wife from her prison of stupidity in religious matters. The woman he forced to live in a camper prison with two kids, insisting it was just perfectly fine and yet complaining about how she didn’t keep the shoebox clean.

  What a hypocrite. Wonder if that’s why my husband got along so well with him. And to hear the two of them get together with his brainwashed wife while their two kids ran wild during their “visit” was jaw grinding. Not to mention our kids hated when they came over because not only did they have to entertain them, they had to clean after the little bastards.

  God forgive me, but I hated other people’s ill-behaved kids.

  I hurried to the room to “get ready”, locked the door, and grabbed my lap top. It’d been a week since I’d met with Morgan and my friends knew all the dirty little details. Lois was proud, Gloria was…I think torn between proud and convicted. Her and I both. I was having one hell of a time with my conscience. And Sheri was all you better be careful, he’ll likely show up at your house. Lord, like I needed to worry about that. But he swore he’d never do that when I confronted him.

  My insides jolted when Morgan’s box popped up.

  Morgan: Is it wrong that I can’t get the memory of your clit off my tongue?

  Oh my God. The pleasure member between my legs twitched at his words.

  Morgan: When can I see you again? I can’t stop thinking about you. I’ve jacked off three times today, fantasizing what I want to do to you.

  I rolled my eyes as heat filled me. They’d had cyber sexting via PM. And it always started like that, with me asking questions and him telling me what he’d do while I masturbated. It was so amazing because I could easily imagine his words now that we’d been together. And always after my orgasm he finished with I love you.

  Of course I cried every time.

  A knock sounded on the door. “They’re here. What are you doing?”

  I shut the laptop, feeling like John could see. “Getting dressed.” Dumb ass. I hurried to change. Shit, I hated this. I shouldn’t cater to his bullshit ways like this. This had to stop.

  “I made coffee.”

  Of course he did. Cause ole Joe loved his coffee. Everything John did had other people attached to it. Never just us, always somebody else and we got the fringe benefit of whatever that was. After all, ministering was priority. Funny how what I did on the computer was considered neglect to the family, while what he did was considered God’s will.

  I fixed my coffee after pleasa
nt hellos.

  “Would you like to sit?” my husband asked. Such a gentleman in front of company.

  “No, I’d rather stand.”

  “Are you sure? I can get another chair.”

  “No, I’m fine.” I sipped my coffee, hiding behind my cup. John had so much concern for everybody else’s “things” when we didn’t have enough chairs to sit at the table. Nor did we have cabinet doors on much of the lower cabinets. Hot water leaked in the kitchen sink, so, he turned it off not wanting to waste water instead of picking up a fifty motherfucking cent washer and fixing the damn thing. Well, it wasn’t him that had to do shit in the sink with cold water.

  “I’ll be right back.” I set my coffee on the counter.

  “Where you going?” John asked.

  Really? “To the bathroom.”

  I went to the second bathroom, looked at myself in the mirror then walked out and detoured to my bedroom. Opening the laptop, I let the girls in on what the hell I was suffering.

  Morgan wasn’t online. Shit.

  Not wanting to be hunted out, I closed the laptop and went back to the torture visit with smiles.

  “Ah, there’s my beautiful wife.”

  “Had some trouble in the bathroom. Constipation.” I picked up my coffee and hid my smile with a sip.

  “That’s not good,” Joe said.

  I pointed to his son. “Can you tell him not to throw toys in the fish tank?”

  He turned around in his chair. “Op. Son. Get down right now.”

  What a joke to pretend like talking ever worked. His three year old never listened. Surprisingly, Joe got up and actually went over there to take care of it. “I told you not to do this.” Joe looked at me, carrying the child away and setting him down. “See, we don’t have stuff like this where our kids can reach it. We like to make it kid proof so they can have fun.”

  Anger zinged through me. “You take your stove out of your house too? Cause that’s not kid friendly either but you have to teach them they can’t play with some things.”