by JQ Jones
“I know the food won’t be as good as Vanessa’s at the diner at home, but who can be choosy on a road trip? Are you going to speak civilly anytime today, baby?”
“No,” he said. He turned his attention to the traffic on the highway. They had a window seat.
“See, when I say baby, I’m not using an endearment, I’m commenting on your general lack of maturity,” she said.
Clint looked back her and sighed. “You’re a pain in my ass. I’m happy with my life as it is. I don’t need complications, at all. I make love too hard for me to be with you. I’m a harsh and barbaric man and no woman in her right mind wants to be brutalized when she’s in bed.”
“Don’t spend a lot of time on BDSM porn sites, do you?” Nora said. She smiled up at the waitress and arranged her food in front of her, taking up most to the table.
“I’ve tried BDSM but it didn’t move me the way…the way.”
“The way we were last night.”
“I like what we had, but I don’t want to put you through that every time,” he said.
“You won’t. Nobody does anything ‘every time.’ I’ve never had a long-term lover, but I assume that after a while you do everything there is to do. Otherwise you might as well have a blowup doll,” she said. Food continued to disappear from the platters in front of her. Everything she did was precise and exacting, including eating a huge breakfast, methodically going from savory to sweet, with tiny sips of tea in between.
“Like I’ve shown I like having sex with you so I assume, there I go again assuming, that we’re going to be doing a lot of different things a lot of different times until we end the relationship. You like it hard and rough and deep. Lucky you, so do I. I’ve never really done it exactly like that but I plan on doing it again with you, very soon,” she said.
Clint grunted as she patted his hand where it lay on the table. “It’ll be OK, baby,” she said.
Chapter Seven:
Feeling Like the Breeze
They were speeding along the causeway into downtown Newport News as the sun went down over the water. “I’m a mountain girl born and bred but I love the play of light on the water. I’d love to paint it,” Nora said. With her head leaning back against the seat and her eyes half shut, she could filter out the dirt and grime of the port area and just concentrate on the play of light on water.
“I didn’t know you painted,” he said.
“I don’t, but sometimes I think that certain sights can only be captured by a great painter. Painting has the depth and soul that the moment needs. Don’t you think that some things need to have the soul of the moment included?”
Clint grunted. He felt a little safer behind his normal dark glasses, at least shaded from the bright-brown, intelligent eyes of the dark fairy. She had a way of staring at him that made him cringe at her insights that she just gave without care of his feelings. They drove into the middle of town where they were booked at a mid-range hotel. The room overlooked a central fountain and faced west so that the sun streamed through the windows as they came in. She stretched across the bed like a tired cat.
“We’re going out to dinner tonight so you can fill me in on your next distributor. I need to have more background on this next character than you gave me on the last one,” Clint said.
“Are you asking me out on a date?” Nora said. She stretched out on the bed on her back, her eyes closed but smiling broadly.
“Not really, we need to discuss what’s coming up. We have to eat something and I’d rather it not be greasy takeout chicken again. And since we’re already intimate, why confuse the situation with a classic date?” he said.
“’Cause I want to go out on a date. We need to go to the nearest mall, I have to get a date dress,” Nora said. “Hell, I’m really stoked.” She was off the bed and out the door before Clint could get out of his chair.
* * * *
Clint tried to slow her momentum, but Nora had a full head of steam and went through the nearest mall like a cyclone. She picked out two dresses, a pair of shoes, panties and bras. She added cosmetics and a light perfume and was at the checkout counter in forty-five minutes. They fought over who should pay, Nora producing her ever-present wad of cash and Clint easily circumventing her with a black credit card.
Nora waited for Clint, fully dressed and ready, for another hour after she finished her quick shower. Clint wanted to groan as he came into the room. She was stunning. Dark chocolate, sensual, loveliness that made him hard as soon as he saw her break into a huge, wide grin as he stepped into the room. She wore four-inch, strappy, heels instead of her usual canvas tennis shoes. The silk mango dress draped from her shoulders, leaving them bare, and flowed to her mid-thigh as it caressed her slight curves. He wanted to lock the door and have her at this very moment. He clutched his hands into white-knuckled fists to fight the gnawing need that surged through him.
Several deep breaths later, he was able to stuff his hard dick into black jeans, button up a white dress shirt and slip into cowboy boots without his hands shaking or laying her out on the bed for his pleasure. His inner self screamed his possession but he suppressed the call. All the while she chattered about their “date.”
“People go for drinks before dinner, don’t they?” she said. “I was home schooled so I didn’t date until I went to college. I was horrible, I couldn’t do small talk, I couldn’t talk about TV shows or movies, but I was pretty good at having sex. I wasn’t promiscuous because I was too picky about what I liked in men.”
“What do you like?” Clint said.
“Intelligence, humor, passion, compassion, strength, congenial and good conversations,” she said. She stared at him with narrowed eyes. “I guess I can live with fewer characteristics.” She laughed at his scowl.
The cab dropped them off at a seedy little dockside cocktail bar that she’d spotted from the highway. It was a dark, dank place with the faint smell of disinfectant overriding any other dubious scents. He carefully lifted her onto one of the high faux-leather stools, allowing his hands to enjoy the feel of the silk as it rode her body. The stool had been patched with grey duct tape that threatened to snag her dress. Nora smiled her thanks and ordered a glass of merlot while he drank bottled water.
Nora talked to the bartender, the people at the bar, including a couple—two guys on their first date—with an ease and joy that made Clint feel as if he was just there to provide the setup for her punch lines. She smiled broadly, laughed freely, and left the bar with at least five numbers from men and women who wanted her to keep in touch.
The bartender called a cab to take them to the restaurant he chose. It was just as dark as the bar but with waiters who knew more about wine and good food than most of the people on network cooking shows. Their waiter Tony, a slight man with an Elvis pompadour, ended up speaking directly to Nora after a few curt answers from Clint.
Nora and Tony had a lively discussion about what a true date meal would entail. Tony suggested a nice four-course meal that was sensual and slightly erotic.
“On a first date, one should make a promise that may or may not be fulfilled,” Tony said. He poured out a sample of wine for Clint’s approval but still talked directly to Nora.
Nora, going with all of Tony’s suggestions, decided that they would have oyster martinis with beluga caviar, shrimp bisque followed by seared duck breast with fig sauce, risotto with wild mushrooms, and finished with a chocolate walnut pound cake and plain vanilla ice cream.
Clint never let anyone, much less a dark fairy, order a meal and wine without his particular input. He couldn’t quite decide why he went along with it but just watching her was fulfilling. Between courses she filled Clint in on Cushing Maxwell and his operation.
“Mr. Maxwell is from Jamaica, he has a large family both here and there. Most of his sons work at his hotels while his daughters usually are in the medical field, mostly doctors and nurses. He has about seven boys and eleven girls. Mr. Maxwell has a lot of baby mamas but he claims them all
and everybody gets along. Dad told me that he’s been here for over forty years and has a hand in every Jamaican gang from Miami to Maine. Notice that I didn’t say that he controls them, because Mr. Maxwell is the final arbiter of disputes but not necessarily the boss. You have the right to disobey him, but it’s at your own risk.” Nora sipped her wine. “Now, he’s practically retired but I can’t and won’t deal with anybody else. He’s invited us to lunch tomorrow at his restaurant. I don’t foresee a problem except for my hair.”
“What’s wrong with your hair? I love it,” Clint said.
“Dreads are spiritual for Rastas. I had mine because my hair fits with my lifestyle. Caring for my dreads helped me make it through the deadly quiet first days when Dad died and Esperanza left, but I’m not a Rastafarian. When I had to cut them, it was painful because I had grown them for a very long time. I’m not going to quit living because they had to go.” Nora was talkative after drinking the wine that accompanied the meal.
“Why would your hair affect anyone in Maxwell’s operation?” Clint said. He motioned for more wine from Tony, who appeared like a ghost before settling back into the background.
Nora smiled her thanks before he disappeared. “Almost all of Mr. Maxwell’s crews are Rasta and they might take offense. We’ll have to see once we get there.”
“Rastas use marijuana as a sacrament, right?” Clint said. He found himself watching her lips as she spoke. He wanted to keep her talking just to watch her tongue flick over her beautiful, full lips. Her eyes sparkled as she explained the Rastas who worked for Mr. Maxwell.
Clint listened with half an ear about the religious beliefs of people he couldn’t care less about. The sight of the candlelight playing on her shoulders pulled him back to the last time he bit into the soft skin there. He stared at her lips as he remembered the taste of skin, the sound of her groans.
“You’re not listening,” she said.
“Of course I’m not. You’re practically half-naked in front of me. You’re absolutely glowing, your eyes make me want to take you right here, right now. You’d let me, too, wouldn’t you?” he said. He spoke in a soft, easy voice, as if they were discussing a new book or play.
“I’d probably let you after the cake. Thank you for the suggestion Tony,” Nora said as Tony placed two plates of cake and ice cream before them and quickly folded back into the dark background.
“I can smell your arousal,” Nora said. She smiled, then broadened it as she slipped the dessert into her mouth.
“Don’t exaggerate. You can’t smell me from across the table.”
“Sensitive nose, years of telling the proper time to harvest. You could drive nails through a two-by-four with that huge, hard dick now.” She laughed as he sputtered out his wine.
They sat quietly eating and talking about the weather, hay crops and cows, anything to take his mind off of the sensual little fairy sitting across from him. It took another half an hour before he motioned Tony for the check.
Chapter Eight:
Reason I Smile
They didn’t touch in the cab, or in the elevator, or when they finally reached the suite. Clint poured out two drinks and sat in the heavy leather chair that sat in the corner by the window. Nora scrunched up her nose, opened a bottle of red wine, and curled her legs under her on the couch facing the chair.
“I forget that every woman isn’t a scotch girl,” Clint said. He glanced into his drink for long minutes before she answered.
“I prefer vodka tonics. Sue me if I like the taste of quinine,” she said. She slowly tugged off her shoes, flexing her bare toes in relief.
“I like the way my legs look in heels, but in my case, it just not worth all the hurt tiptoeing around on my toes all night causes.” She shifted onto her knees and stretched, long and languid. A half smile played on her lips as she leaned over to pick up her drink. She sipped it, watching Clint over the rim.
Clint felt his dick rise painfully in his jeans. He wanted to shift himself for more comfort, but didn’t want Nora to know how much she affected him just by looking at him. Her pursed lips told him that she already knew.
“You like it rough, we’ve already established that, but what else do you like?” Nora said. She slid off the couch to hover over him, her lips less than an inch away from his.
“I can smell you again,” she said. Clint felt his dick jump in response to her voice.
“You can’t smell me, you see me pressing against my jeans, that’s all,” he said. He had to clear his throat to finish his sentence.
“Let me feel it.” She straddled him, letting the wetness of her silk-clad pussy run down to soak into his jeans.
“I can’t because I’m not half-dressed,” he said.
“I’ll take care of that and get you all undressed.”
Nora unbuttoned his shirt, leaving it wide and gaping before she lowered herself to the floor. She took off his shoes and socks, kissing his toes before she licked his ankles. When he half stifled a moan, she licked them again with open-mouthed enjoyment.
Sliding her hands up his thighs, she unsnapped his jeans and tugged them open and down to the top of his legs. His dick proudly stood up, throbbing in time to his breathing. His shorts were already trapped by her hands as she pulled off his jeans, so he was wonderfully naked. Straight dark hair surrounded his balls, already swollen with the need to come.
The jeans hung over his ankles until she dragged them all the way off and flung them across to the couch. Now she was able to kiss him from ankle to inner thigh. He laid his head back against the chair, sinking lower, opening his legs wider, accepting the oral stimulation that had him on the brink of coming in a mind-shattering blast.
But she wasn’t ready to let that happen. She reseated herself on his , raging hard-on, lifting her dress just enough to allow contact with her tangerine panties.
“Can you feel the wetness now?”
“Oh yeah.” His voice was thicker and richer.
She kissed him with deep, open-mouthed, pleasure. He was passive through the entire erotic trip, his hands clenching the arms of the chair as he tried to get back into control.
Nora planted a trail of wet kisses from his mouth to his neck. There she licked him from his collarbone to his ear, attacking his lobes and ear with teeth and tongue. “You have a wonderful taste. Savory and sweet at the same time, and you leak pre-cum like a sieve. Last night I thought I’d drown in the taste of you. That same pre-cum you’re smearing all over my brand new panties. I think I’ll take the time to appreciate the taste of you slower tonight. I’ll do it right now,” she whispered in his ear. She dropped between his outstretched legs, keeping her big brown eyes locked on his until she had licked her way to the tip of his throbbing dick. They finally closed their eyes when she swallowed his tip, licking the gathering moisture on her tongue before she took more of him into her mouth, trying to go to the root but finding that he was too big and too wide for her mouth to stretch that far.
Clint pressed his eyes tightly shut, trying without success to stop the groans and hitches from escaping. He could only drop his head back, pressing deeper and deeper into the chair, wanting to grab her head to force her deeper onto him.
“I can’t hold on much longer. You need to stop, or I’ll either explode or fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk tomorrow,” he said.
She swallowed him as deep as she could then came back up to the tip where she nursed it like it was a precious sucker before she locked her eyes back to his. “Do both.”
There was no way he could deny the challenge. Now it was her turn to gasp at the sound of her dress and bra being ripped away. He stifled any protest when he did the same to her panties, tossing the remnants to the floor before he grabbed her up into his arms and carried her over to the huge plate-glass windows overlooking the well-lit fountains. His hands pillowed her breasts before he pressed her tight against the glass, probing her dripping wetness with his pulsing dick.
“You are so going to regr
et this,” he said.
“Doubt it,” she said.
His right hand clamped onto her shoulder. “Don’t fucking move,” he said before he slammed all the way into her.
Nora answered the entry with a groan as she wiggled her ass back to get more of him. “Is that all you got?”
“You are a fucking madwoman. Can’t help this,” he said. He slammed back into her. Nora grunted her acceptance and wiggled again. They established their rhythm as she met each slam with a wiggle.
“I’m not deep enough,” he said. He pulled away from Nora as they both moaned their disappointment, and he carried her to the huge bed. He arranged her on her knees with pillows under her stomach.
“Oh my,” she said.
Clint pushed her further on the bed and used the time to lave her clit until she squirmed and tried to crawl away from the sensations. He only allowed her to go so far before he growled and moved her back to the pillows. Clint looked down on her flawless dark skin, slowly rubbing her everywhere he could reach while she continued to squirm and sigh. He leaned over her, pinning her into place with his arm around her back forcing her onto her forearms while he dove directly onto her clit, biting, tonguing, and munching on her erect clit until she came with a scream that was only slightly muffled by the pillows she had gathered to her chest to do just that. He kept her on her back, licking her clit to send her into serial orgasms until she lay in a twitching mess. Nora felt him nudge her legs open wider.
“You asked for this,” he said. He positioned himself between her thighs on his elbows. He waited until she open her eyes to watch his face in the dim light.
“I kind of like it,” she said, barely able to raise her head up from the bed.
Clint muttered to himself as he tried to gently enter her. She was wet and hot and every so often she shivered, as small pulses of her coming caused her to jump each time he touched her anywhere. He tried to go as slow as possible, but she bucked up, making him plunge all the way into her. The sound of his thighs and full, pendulous, balls hitting the back of her legs filled the room. They both moaned.