by Asia Marquis
"Come with me." He led her by the hand to the bedroom, planting tiny kisses on her arm, her lips, her neck. "I've missed you so much, Toni. You're always working so late."
"I know, hon, I'm sorry. As soon as we get this product shipped..."
"Shh." He pressed his lips against hers, both of them enjoying the kiss.
Toni reached down and started rubbing him through his jeans, taking a secret pleasure in the way he hardened at her touch. David started to unbutton her shirt, pushing it back and off her shoulders. Toni had always been proud of her breasts, and she pushed them out, straining against her bra.
"You're so beautiful," David breathed. His lips traced a line down her throat, tasting the chocolate skin of her chest, down between the valley of her tits. He made short work of the clasp behind her back, pushing the cups away and uncovering his wife's bountiful chest. He took one chestnut-colored nipple into his mouth, pulling her back until he sat on the bed, her body pressed against his.
"I want you on top today, baby."
Toni didn't answer, just reached down and unzipped her husband's pants, pulling them down with his boxers in one motion. When she took him in her mouth, he was in heaven.
"That feels great, Toni," he moaned, "but don't stop there."
She had an impish grin on her face when she pulled her own skirt up, pushing her panties aside. She'd been with him long enough to know what he liked, and she knew leaving it on would drive him wild. She crawled onto the bed as he scrambled back, climbing up his body with an animal arousal playing across both their faces. She bit his neck softly, and then slid him inside. He leaned up, pulling her into a tight embrace.
"Don't stop when I tell you I'm going to cum. Don't stop until I fill you up."
Toni had always wanted children, but it never seemed like the right time. She knew that now wasn't the right time either.
"Please no, David," she whimpered.
But then she was moving. Her body acted on its own, and when she didn't fight it, her body started to feel a pleasurable warmth spreading, alongside the sexual tension that was building deep inside her. She started moving faster. Anything to make it feel better. She could feel herself getting close, sliding over the edge of orgasm. The pleasure of her obedience smashed into the growing orgasm inside her and sent her flying off the edge. Every move she made sent her deeper into pleasure.
David seized up below her.
"I'm gonna cum," he groaned. "Get off me."
Toni heard the words and reflexively started to move off. The pleasure stopped. Toni screamed in frustration and pushed back down hard, and the heady, fuzzy feeling came back in force. She felt herself tightening down on her husband as another orgasm ripped through her. David pushed up against her, pushing deep into her as far as he could and let go a massive orgasm, filling Toni with his hot, potent cum.
He pulled her down against him and they lay on the bed beside each other gasping.
"What happens now?"
"The trick, my love, is love." David breathed hard between the words. "You can try a chemical substitute, for practicality's sake. Now you can take your answer back to the suits. From that point on, you're set."
"And... about what just happened?"
David looked at her, an impish grin on his face.
Toni got her period two weeks later. Her raise, she got a week after that. And thanks to her success, of course, she got a certain amount of leeway with her staff. David kissed his wife while they waited in line, at his fourth day on the job.
"What's on the block today?"
"We need to keep working on the formula."
David grinned at his wife.
"I think I could be convinced to do that."
Don't Want You Back
How a Cop Won Her Heart and Saved Her Life
Chapter 1
These past few weeks, I have done nothing but question my decisions. The decision to hop on a plane, fly all the way from Harvard to my hometown, and visit my mom without any warning? Probably my worst one yet.
Sigh. There's no turning back now. I'm in the back seat of a black taxi being driven by a huge Hispanic man with a weird growth on his forehead, and he has Mom's address in his GPS. When did taxis stop being yellow? He had to honk at me before I realized that's what he was.
Listening to the radio play music from the 90s doesn't help my mood. It just makes me relive memories of my childhood, of this quiet town that somehow turned into a bustling up-and-coming city almost overnight.
What used to be woods and lakes has turned into gated communities outside of the major hub of business. Sure, the lakes are still there. So are some trees, but they're all sanitized. Cleaned up, trimmed, shaped. The muck at the bottom of the lakes has been cleaned out, and the owls in the trees forced to find a new home.
I heard, before I stopped talking to my mom, that some rich old white man came to the area and gentrified it. Brought in new business, reinvigorated the fishing community, destroyed everything I remember of the area. Mom said he was a savior, but all I see is someone murdering this land.
The kids living in Bedford now will never experience getting lost in the woods for a day like I did. No one even called the police, they knew I'd be found. I was a wanderer, always have been. Times were different then, though. Even with talk of Satanic Ritual Abuse, the world was safer.
Now, these kids will never have to figure out how to amuse themselves in a town with one general store and not much else along the lines of entertainment. Most people didn't even have TVs back then. Just books, even though our library was pitiful.
As we pass the library, I notice it's been renovated. It's bigger now, and the garden out front that used to grow tomatoes for locals to take as they like now just has marigolds and some other colorful flowers. I wonder who takes care of the hungry in the community? As the town grows richer, do the poor end up worse off than before?
I hate the thought. There were years where Mom and Dad relied on those tomatoes and the corn and wheat our neighbors grew. It was the surplus that others had that fed us and kept us alive. We didn't have much, but we had community. It was more like an extended family.
I've never seen that kind of community in the big cities I've visited, especially not at Harvard. I can feel the coldness of industry seeping into Bedford. It makes me sadder than my broken life.
My plan in coming home was to combat a loneliness that has plagued me since Dad's death, but now I feel even worse.
Mom doesn't even know I'm coming home. What if she's mad at me? What if she's sick, or... what if she died in the last couple of months? I haven't called her in so long, anything could have happened. With a deep hole growing in my stomach, I hunch over and try to catch my breath. I should have called someone to see if things were okay.
I'm just causing trouble. I hate doing this.
Still, if she is alive, I know Mom will be happy to see me. She's been so lonely since Dad died, and I figured we could both visit his grave together.
My roots are here, and I need to tap into them to grow again. I've been emotionally stunted ever since his death, pushing everyone away. At least, that's what my therapist said the one time I actually went to see him.
Maybe... maybe there's a chance that I can learn to let people in again. Maybe the history I have with these people, whoever is left, will be enough to melt away the ice that's surrounded my heart for so long.
I hope so. I really hope so.
We pass my old high school. It somehow looks even worse than it did back then. Some of the blue windows are now plain, making the school look mismatched and ugly.
My last year there, I pushed everyone away. I was grieving. We all grieve in different ways. Still, I can't blame a bunch of hormonal teenagers for not having the energy to deal with me while I was so miserable. It hurts, but I can't blame them.
My hope when I left was that I would meet new people and recreate the full life that I lost here, but Harvard didn't give me that. No one there has the tim
e to help some mopey black girl figure out her issues.
My friends here, when they were still my friends, would have helped. They tried to when I was at my worst. Every day, they were there. At the funeral, they were there.
And, being the terrible person that I am, I pushed them away. I was too occupied with reliving the death of my father, watching him be pulled out of the lake where he spent every morning fishing. He was barely human. Bloated, blue, covered in lake-things.
I received my Harvard acceptance letter the next day. He never even got to see me succeed where no one else in our poor, black family has ever even attempted to go. I whisk away a tear and spend a little more time remembering him.
He would have been so upset to learn I've failed two classes this past semester and I'm thinking of dropping out. I was so excited to major in history of Africa, especially in its diaspora around the world. Some time after I started my junior year, though, a deep depression set in.
I'm wallowing in it now, I think as I sigh. The Hispanic driver looks back at me, more annoyed than worried at my state. I can't say I blame him. This entire long drive from the airport has been me either crying or silent.
Mom will help me. She always knew how to bring me out of my malaise when I was a child. I'm imagining her wonderful cakes and the huge stash of Disney movies she has on display around her TV. I wonder if it's still the old CRT we bought in 1995, the one that nearly died when the house flooded but miraculously came back on after 3 days of drying out.
Finally, after hours in the back of this taxi, we manage to pull up to my house. It's still white with blue details, the white turning brown from rain and mud. The front lawn is still barely there, our house being too deep in a valley and too near the lake to really sustain grass. There is one change though.
Instead of the driveway only being occupied by my mother's old white Lumina, with the big scratch in the back from when I was learning to drive and I smashed it into the garage in the back yard, there is a second car. One much shinier, and black. It seems brand new, or nearly brand new. Strangely, I think it's a BMW.
Does Mom have company? Maybe instead of being lonely, she made friends again, and is doing okay. That, at least, is a relief. Knowing that when I abandoned her, she wasn't completely alone, I sigh with a smile.
Slipping the handle to the fence up, I carry my small suitcase through the back yard and up the back steps. The bottom step is crumbling from two decades of use. Dad was supposed to fix it. He just never had the chance.
The back door is unlocked, no doubt because my mother has been in the garden all morning. She often spends her time back here, tending to vegetables and her apple trees. The apples, in Autumn, are almost all donated to the local food pantry. Not one goes to waste, and that's how we like it.
In the yard is a strange sight, though. A half-formed motorcycle, some of its parts laying on the cement. Does her friend build motorcycles? Is my mom going to join a bike gang? I'll have to talk her out of that!
Immediately inside is the kitchen, and there is my mom. Her back is to me, her hands busy with mail. Mostly bills. She's humming an old song, one from her own childhood that she often hummed for me when I couldn't sleep. Her black hair is mostly gray, now, and her body has become more frail. Even so, she still looks strong. She still has some fight in her.
“Mom?”
She starts, gasping loudly as she turns. When she sees me, her dark brown eyes go wide and she runs to me, throwing her arms around my shoulders. She smells like cocoa butter and the earth, and she laughs as she kisses my cheek. My face is cradled between her hands.
Warmth courses through my body. It's smooth and calming.
“Destiny, it's been so long. I'm so glad to see you!”
Setting down my suitcase, I try to smile even though all I want to do is bury my head into her shoulder and cry. “I'm sorry for not calling, I just,” I pause, wiping away a tear. “I needed to come home. I thought you might like a surprise.”
Mom fidgets with her dress, but her face is still smiling. “I hate surprises, girl, you know that.” Her eyes flick to the doorway that leads to the living room. “But still, I am happy to have you home. We haven't even spoken in...”
“In months, I know. I'm so sorry. I've been going through so much. I'm not sure, anymore, if I'm doing what I'm supposed to be doing.”
“Oh, my darling.” She takes my face in her hands again. “Whatever you are doing, is what God wants you to do.” When she pulls away, she grips her dress and glances to the living room again.
“Mom? Is everything okay?”
She opens her mouth, then closes it again. She starts to talk, but thinks better of it before crossing her arms, more like she's holding herself than like she's angry. “There's something I haven't told you.”
Oh no. “Okay. What is it?” I don't want to know. Is it something bad? Does she have cancer? Was that car in the driveway a doctor or something? That's the only kind of person in this town I could imagine having such a nice car. “Are you sick?”
Mom looks confused, but then she laughs and waves her hand. “No, no, it's nothing like that. I wanted to tell you sooner but, well, you never called.”
I feel guilty, but I say nothing, waiting for her to go on. Mom hasn't lost her touch with guilt trips.
“You have to promise not to be mad.”
Shrugging, I chuckle. “I can't imagine what I'd have to be mad about! Just spit it out, Mom!”
Instead of answering with words, my mom holds out her left hand. Her skin is dark, especially since it's a little dirty from the soil in the garden. What she wants me to see, though, takes a few moments to process. It's glinting in the sun that comes in from the window over the sink. It's beautiful, actually.
It's an engagement ring.
“What!” I yell, grinning from ear to ear. I grab her hand and pull her closer so I can see it. “Oh, Mom, it's beautiful! Who's the lucky guy?” I can't think of anyone who was courting her before I left town. I always suspected that our gardener fancied her, but he was too professional to ever do anything about it. It's not like I even had proof.
Mom bites her lower lip. “I'm serious. You have to promise not to get angry with me.”
“Mom, you're scaring me,” I say.
“Well, he's younger than me. A lot younger. But he's really sweet and kind to me, and he's helping get me out of debt! Actually he's ready to start paying off your student loans, as soon as you give him the information. If you're comfortable with that, anyway.” She squeezes my hand. “I know how you are about pride and all that.”
“How much younger is he?”
Mom thinks for a moment, before heading over to the doorway. She sticks her head out and calls, “Come here, dear.”
I hear someone stand up, the creak of a recliner bouncing back into place. The TV, which I now realize has football playing on it, switches off, and a man walks in and puts his arm around my mom.
I should be elated. This guy is handsome, he's tall, and he's obviously rich. Instead, I step forward and point my finger right at him. “You!”
Lucas Young. Lucas FREAKING Young. “Mom, you can not marry this guy!”
“What?” She says, looking back and forth between me and Lucas. “Do you know my daughter, Lucas?”
He smiles, his crooked, smarmy smile. I hate his smile. I'd smack it right off his face if I could. “I do, Vera! What a coincidence. All this time, I never realized the Destiny you were talking about was this Destiny!”
“How do you know each other?” She asks.
“We went to Harvard together, for a while. Until Dad died.” Lucas squeezes my mom's shoulder. I feel disgusting even seeing him touching her. Mom is usually such a good judge of character, how is she not seeing the real Lucas?
“He asked me to go on a trip to Paris with him, as a date!” I yell, my whole body shaking. “And then he left me there, to pay for my own flight back home because some model found him and asked him back to her hotel.”
Mom presses her hand against her chest, empathy in her eyes. “Oh my goodness! You're always so responsible and helpful, Luke. Destiny, how could you hold that against him?”
I snort, opening my mouth to say I found them naked in their hotel room. There's no way that story is true. My mom cuts me off before I can explain this.
“And like I said, Luke is helping me to pay all my bills. Your dad left us so much debt. It's not like I knew you guys had been together. Did you ever... you know?” Mom makes a gesture that I'm sure she meant to be explanatory, but it made no sense. Still, I know exactly what she means.
“No!” I shout. Mom looks to Lucas, who shakes his head. I never gave him a chance to get into my pants before we got to Paris, and the model swooped him up before our first night there.
“Then I don't see any real issue. Plus, I met Luke's father, before he passed.” She rubs Lucas's back as if to console him. “He was totally supportive of our relationship.”
“Mom, I'm really not comfortable with this. He's scum. He's a terrible person.” Even as I say this, I know I'm not going to win this argument. Realizing this, I notice Lucas looking at me. I can't really say he's giving me a creepy look, but there's some kind of glint in his eyes. Then he licks his lips as he looks me up and down, and I know there's something seriously wrong with this situation. I curl my lip in disgust.
“Lucas, what are you doing?” I shrug and shake my head. “Is this some kind of joke?”
“Oh,” Mom says. “You think that someone loving me is a joke? Why can't you just be supportive, Destiny?”
Taken aback, I respond by picking up my suitcase and storming out the back door and onto the street. I need to find a hotel, because there is no way in hell I'm staying in the same house as that creep. Further, there's no way I'm letting him ruin my mom's life. He has some kind of angle, and I'm going to figure out what it is.