Loving HART

by Theresa Hodge

  “I called a taxi for her. I wanted to comfort her during this trying time for her, but I couldn’t allow her to stay here and cause trouble for us. My loyalty lies with you.”

  “If I wouldn’t have shown up here tonight, would you have let her stay?”

  “Sure, I would’ve let her stay long enough to help her in any way I could and then sent her on her way,” he admits with sincerity.

  “But what if she would’ve come downstairs in that T-shirt and I wasn’t here?”

  “Then, she would’ve been sent on her way much sooner with the same choice words I gave her before I sent her home tonight. I don’t appreciate that stunt any more than you do.”

  “Good, because I won’t play second fiddle to anyone. The last thing I intend to do is intrude in a place where I’m not wanted.”

  “How can you doubt that you’re wanted? You are very much wanted here,” he says and stretches his arms wide as if to encompass his home. “And here,” he touches a space in his heart. “Don’t you realize how much I love you and how much I’ve always loved you, Whitney Martin?”

  I look down at the floor, trying to give myself time to take all of this in. His finger lifts my chin so he can peer into my eyes.

  “I love you too Hart,” I say. “I’m sorry that I didn’t realize your love for me back then. But I’m glad that we found our way to each other. Because I truly do love you.” I feel so vulnerable as I admit my true feelings. Hart has a way of making me let go.

  “I want to make love to you, Whitney. I want to hold you in my arms all night long. Please tell me you want the same thing,” he begs.

  “Hart, I do want to make love with you too,” I barely get out my reply before he hauls me into his embrace and kisses me senseless. His tongue flicks in and out of my mouth as he plays cat and mouse with me. A piercing throb invades my inner walls as his arousal pokes me in my belly.

  “You smell so good,” his lips trail to the side of my face and neckline as he takes the time to inhale my scent. His hands are like an octopus as they begin touching my face, my shoulders, arms and breasts.

  His hand wanders back down as he kisses me again. Eventually, his hand skims over my soft belly area before lifting the edge of my shirt to get to my braless breast.

  “No bra,” he mummers against my lips before thrusting his tongue deeply into my mouth.

  “No bra,” I agree as his hand cups my breast and his thumb flicks back and forth across my nipple. “Ahhhh,” sounds of ecstasy escapes my lips.

  He removes my clothes piece by piece, until I’m standing before him completely nude. “You’re overdressed now,” I look at him through lust-glazed eyes.

  “Not for long, sweetheart,” he promises as he kicks off his boots and I help him divest of his shirt, jeans and underwear, all in record time. “I’m starving for your pussy,” he tells me just before pushing me back onto the bed and sets his course of planting kisses over my entire body. His hot tongue licks at my nipples, before dropping tender kisses all over my belly. He moves down, dropping more kisses on my pelvic then pubic bone. I moan aloud, when he drapes my thighs over his shoulders and dives in like a man on a mission.

  Finally, I think as my pussy throbs and feeds him my nectar. His tongue swipes my entire pubic area from front to back. Wetness seeps down my thighs as he pays special attention to my throbbing clitoris.

  Hart goes from gently kissing and nibbling his way around and inside my slick folds to thrusting inside my core with his thick tongue. My hips lift and I grind myself onto his mouth for all that I’m worth. “Ooh, Hart, baby, what are you doing?” I cry out.

  He answers me by spreading my labia apart and sucking on each of my inner lips before switching to kissing and licking my outer lips. I should probably be furious right now, but that tongue of his is driving me insane as I thrash beneath him like a woman starving for more. I weep into his mouth an earth shattering orgasm. His lapping sounds are loud as he swallows my essence with relish.

  I tremble when he slides up my body and hovers over me on his elbows. He then takes one warm hand to push my thighs further apart. His desire-filled eyes burn into mine. “You’re mine,” he grates thrusting his nine-inch erection into my pulsating walls. His thrusts aren’t as gentle as the last time we made love, but I don’t want them to be. This is what my body has been yearning for. Hart embedded deep within me with no mercy. “No one will come between us,” he adds on a grunt.

  I wrap my legs around his trim waist as his pumps grow bolder and bolder. My lusty cries grow louder and louder and his animalistic grunts turn me on so much that I ricochet into a massive explosion. My walls go into a convulsive state and squeeze the life out of his big cock.

  “Arrgh shit, I’m fucking cumming,” he hisses out as his seed spits out inside my core. Completely satiated, he rolls off of me and pulls me close to his side.

  “Explosive,” he says and place a kiss on top of my head.

  “Yes, explosive,” I agree drowsily and fall right to sleep in his strong arms.

  *

  Despite the early hour of the morning, I lay in delightful splendor. I know I shouldn’t be this deliriously happy, but I am. There’s both a thrum of excitement that courses through my body and a hint of anxiety that makes me wonder if this is too good to be true. I yawn and reach over for Hart but I encounter nothing but empty space.

  How long has he been up, I wonder? I look over at his bedside clock and note it’s a little before seven o'clock. Suddenly, I can smell the scent of fresh-brewed coffee in the air and know that he’s in the kitchen. It has to be a strong brew for the aroma to waft upstairs in this huge home.

  I jump out of the bed and grab my overnight bag that Hart has already placed at the foot of the bed. I walk into his adjoining bathroom, take a shower and brush my teeth, before getting dressed and heading down the stairs.

  I pause just outside of the kitchen door to listen as Hart’s sings along with the radio. I smile at the sound of his deep and sensual voice. The sound makes me happy to hear it first thing in the morning. I push the door open and walk inside. I can see that Hart is also already dressed for the day.

  "Good morning, my love," Hart says, upon hearing me enter the kitchen.

  “Good morning, honey,” I walk up behind him to wrap my arms around his waist and press my face against his back. I close my eyes to inhale his fresh and clean scent as he flips pancakes on a griddle.

  He stops what he is doing for a second and places a soft kiss onto my lips. "Please, have a seat and I'll get you a cup of coffee, after I plate our pancakes." "Unless you prefer something else," he adds.

  "Coffee sounds wonderful," I say. "But you don't have to wait on me like that. Just point me to the cups and I'll get my own," I add.

  "Nonsense, I won’t have it. I want to wait on you, so sit down and relax, please."

  I walk over to the table and take a seat as he asks. I’m so not used to any man I’ve ever dated waiting on me like this. I went to sleep last night smiling and I wake up smiling. A woman can really get used to this.

  "Sweetheart, I want you to eat up. Breakfast is the most important meal for champions,” he says as he places a nice plate of bacon, pancakes and eggs on the table in front of me.

  “Thank you,” I say as he sits down across from me with his own plate.

  “You’re welcome, baby. I hope you slept well last night,” he says with a teasing glint in his eyes.

  “I slept too good,” I reply and dig into my food with gusto after he blesses the food. “You can really cook. This is so good,” I tell him.

  “My parent’s housekeeper Mattie taught me how to cook before I went away for college.”

  “Wow, you had a housekeeper?” I stop eating enough to look at him across the table.

  “Yes, but just because I grew up privileged, I just want you to know that I have never taken advantage of my blessings in life or thought I was better than anyone else, no matter their position in life.”

  �
�You don’t have to explain. I already know you’re humble and you aren’t a snob. You never have been.”

  “I’m glad you know that. Because my parents have a house on Martha’s Vineyard and they want me to bring my girlfriend. I want you to come with me,” he says before taking a sip from his coffee cup.

  “Do they know you broke up with Sabrina?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you tell your parents about me, or about who I am, or anything like that?” I ask him. I think he knows that I’m trying to avoid asking the obvious question.

  “I just told them that I met the love of my life and that Sabrina and I didn’t work out.”

  “But, I think you should—”

  “Look at the time,” he cuts me off getting up. “We better hurry if we don’t want to be late for work. You know how morning traffic can get.”

  “You’re right.” I let my concerns go about meeting his parents. Glancing at the clock, I jump up and help him clear the table. “I’ll see you later,” I say once we make it out of the house. I encircle his neck to give him a goodbye kiss before getting in my car.

  “I’ll miss you. Will you go with me to meet my parents?”

  I bite my bottom lip. “Yes. How long will we be staying?”

  “Just the weekend. I’ll use my company helicopter to fly us out.”

  “You know how to fly a helicopter?”

  “Of course I do. Don’t look so worried. You couldn’t be in safer hands,” he says, closing my car door.

  “Okay, if you say so,” I reply before starting my ignition. I blow him a quick kiss and drive around the circular driveway before easing onto the roadway.

  Chapter 15

  HART

  “Hart, thank you for coming with me to meet my mother,” she tells me as I pull up in her mother’s gravel driveway.

  “You’re welcome, sweetheart. It’s only fair that I meet your mother, especially since you’ve agreed to meet mine.”

  “True,” she says as I open the car door for her to get out. We walk up to the Beech Wood ranch style home. I look around, admiring it all.

  “Did you grow up in this house?” I ask her as she rings her mother’s doorbell.

  “I sure did. My bedroom is still the same as it was when I left for college,” she says with a giggle.

  “Whit, I’m happy to see you made it,” a woman who is the spitting image of Whitney opens the door. I’m glad you brought your young man with you too,” she gives me the once over as she steps back to allow us inside.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Martin. I appreciate you for inviting me here. You have such a lovely home, by the way.”

  “Thank you, Hart, right?”

  “Yes ma’am, Hart Strong at your service,” I say with a smile.

  “Whit, I like this young man already.”

  “I love him too, mother,” Whitney admits. Her mother’s eyes widen in surprise by her daughter’s admission of love. Whitney turns, looks at me and smiles.

  “Alright then. Since Hart likes my home, you may show him around while I put the meal on the table. And be sure the two of you wash your hands before coming to my table,” she directs.

  “Yes mother,” Whitney says as she places a kiss on her mother’s cheek. “Come on.” Whitney takes my hand and shows me through the one-level home with three bedrooms, two baths, and a family room where a large, flat screen television hangs from the wall.

  “I especially love your bedroom. I didn’t know you were into collecting stuffed animals. Had I known, I would’ve gotten you some.”

  “I used to be into collecting all kinds of stuffed animals. I outgrew it after a while, but I didn’t have the heart to get rid of them. So, I just left them in my old bedroom. That way, I can revisit old memories from time to time. My dad bought the majority of those for me,” I admit, feeling a mist of tears enter my eyes.

  “You still miss your dad. It must be hard for you and your mother not to have him around, especially during the holidays.” I pull Whitney’s head to my chest and hug her close to me.

  “Yes, it is. The thing is, he was so much into the holidays when I was growing up. Even after I went away to college and came back home during the winter break, he would have the outside of the house lit up and the inside was decorated as well. He was so into the holiday spirit. We still kept the family tradition of driving out to Huckleberry Tree Farm every year to pick out the biggest and tallest Christmas tree. Mother used to say, ‘Charles, there’s no way in hell we’re getting that tree through the front door’. But dad, always said, ‘You just wait and see. This tree will make it inside the front door, come hell or high water’,” she laughs at the memory. “But, guess what?”

  “He could never get it through the front door, right?” I guess.

  “Right,” she replies and we laugh together. “He would always have to get the saw and trim it down. And mother would say, ‘I told you so Charles. When are you ever going to listen to reason?’ He would just turn to her and take her in his arms and kiss her until she forgot about what she told him.”

  “Seems like your dad was a good man. I wish I could have met him to thank him personally for being a part of bringing you into this world. Because you, my love, are the perfect fit for me. I’m sure he had a lot to do with molding you into the woman you are today.”

  “Thanks Hart. That means a lot to me,” she says and swipes away another tear that’s threatening to fall.

  I steal a quick kiss from her tempting lips, just before she leads me into the kitchen. The open-concept kitchen is in close proximity to the dining room. It’s full of delightful smells of onions, peppers and other pleasant spices that set off a cheery vibe.

  “Dinner is ready,” Mrs. Martin announces. “I hope you both brought your appetites.”

  “Wow, I definitely brought my appetite,” I say looking at the plated dishes of baked Cornish hens, dirty rice, and asparagus. We have glasses of ice cold sweet tea to drink. I seat Whitney’s mother first and then Whitney, before taking a seat myself.

  “Hart, if you don’t mind, will you do me the honors of blessing our meal?” Mrs. Martin asks.

  “It will be my pleasure,” I reply. We join hands as I proceed to bless our food. “Heavenly Father, thank you for the blessings of the two magnificent ladies around this table. Thank you, for the invitation into this lovely home and thank you for the hands that prepared this scrumptious looking feast. May this food be blessed with plentiful nourishments for our temples. Continue to keep us all in your arms eternally, now and forever. Amen.”

  Mrs. Martin gives Whitney an approving eye before saying, “Thanks so much for that spirit-led prayer. I felt that young man.”

  “You’re welcome,” I say, not knowing where the words came from. I’m far from a saint, but I was raised to be a praying man.

  Between bites of the delicious food, Whitney’s mother asks me questions to try to get to know me better. I don’t mind her questions at all. I expect nothing less of a mother looking out for her child.

  “Whitney tells me you’re in the construction business. How is that working out for you?”

  “Business is doing very well and I expect it to continue doing so in the unforeseeable future. I think my company has built a solid reputation to stand behind the work we do.”

  I look over at Whitney and give her a quick wink. A blush rises to her cheeks as she sends me a smile that lights up her beautiful eyes.

  “That’s great. I’m really glad to hear it. So many businesses have been going under. I’m also proud of my daughter. She is doing big things in her business as well…Sierra as well,” she adds.

  “I’m very proud of Whitney too. She works very hard and deserves all sorts of rewards,” I reply and reach under the table to slide my hand under Whitney’s skirt and squeeze her supple thigh.

  I send her a wicked glance and she starts to cough as her bite of food goes down the wrong pipe. “Are you alright?” both me and her mother ask at the same time.

&nbs
p; “Yes.” She picks up her glass and takes a long swallow. I smirk and she glares at me. I have a hard time holding in my laughter.

  “So, Whitney tells me that you’ll be taking her to meet your parents next weekend in Martha’s Vineyard,” her mother speaks, directing my attention back towards her.

  “Yes, ma’am,” I reply and take a sip of my ice tea.

  “I’m really looking forward in meeting them,” Whitney joins in.

  “Do your parents’ realize you’re dating a black woman?” her mother asks bluntly.

  “Mother,” Whitney start to say, but her mother cuts in.

  “Pardon me if my questions seem intrusive, but you are my only daughter and I, as your mother, am within my rights. And before you even go there, I know you’re a grown woman and all but you’re still my child. You’ll still be my child when I’m old and gray and you have to mash up my food in order for me to eat.”

  I begin laughing and can’t stop. Whitney gives me a look that says, ‘I don’t see anything funny,’ so I rein my laughter in. “I’m sorry,” I mutter with repentance. “But to answer your question, no, I haven’t told my parents that Whitney is black. Whitney’s color is irrelevant. The only thing that matters is that she’s the woman I love and will one day make my wife,” I simply state.

  Whitney gasps and her fork clatters loudly against her plate as she drops it. “Oh, I had no idea that you and my daughter were that serious. But I should have known better once she informed me that you wanted to take her to meet your parents. It’s all good and well that you think there will be no turbulence with your parents accepting my daughter. I hope that you are correct in your assumptions. If the situation takes a turn for the worse, I want to make myself plain and clear when I say this. I don’t want my daughter hurt or abused in any shape or form. You and your parents will have me to deal with if that happens, which I pray it doesn’t.”

  I give Mrs. Martin a look of respect and glance over at Whitney and her mouth is still open in surprise as she visibly winces from her mother’s blunt words. I reach over, grasp her hand, bring it to my lips and place a kiss on it. I look back over to Mrs. Martin.