“Oh, I don’t really need dresses. I just like them. This stuff is more than enough.” She holds up the arm full of clothes.
“Ella, we’re not leaving here until you’ve picked out at least one dress. I want you to be comfortable and happy with me. If that’s what you like to wear, go pick some out.” I lead her to the bright rainbow of colors.
Uncertainty dances in her sweet brown eyes. Then she looks back at the dresses. “Are you sure?”
“Do I look like I’m stressed about it? I want you to get them. Besides, it’ll be a lot easier to rip those new panties off you when you’re wearing one of those.” My voice drops and I watch with satisfaction as a long shudder of desire overcomes her.
“Okay, what do you think of this one?” She holds up a bright dress that would flare around her legs.
“It’s great. How about you try this stuff on, though? I want to make sure we get the right size.”
Ella nods and we head back to the change rooms. I peer inside the long corridor of stalls, but don’t see a customer service person to check in with. I shrug and flop down in a seat outside the dressing rooms. “I’ll wait here for you. I don’t see anyone to help you out, so just go in and get changed. If someone comes along I’ll let them know you’re trying on your stuff.”
“I’ll be quick,” she reassures me before disappearing into the stall at the end of the hall.
I lean my head back against the wall and fight with the exhaustion trying to grip me. One of the side effects of working, looking after Chloe, and then staying up way too late every night to fuck is that I’m constantly tired. Not that I will ever in a million years complain about it. It just means I need to drink a few more coffees in the day and that is a tradeoff I’m willing to make. I let my eyelids slide shut and the tension in my muscles slips away as sleep threatens to take me right here and now.
“What do you think?”
My head snaps up quick and my eyelids pop open as Ella’s voice surrounds me. As soon as my eyes focus on her my mouth drops open. “You look absolutely amazing.” I soak in every inch of her. The way the fabric cinches under her ample tits and then puffs back out around her full hips, it was made for her body.
The energy that was draining out of me only seconds ago has come back like a shot of adrenaline. “There’s only one way you could look better in that dress.” I lick my lips hungrily.
“How’s that?”
“If it was hiked up over your waist and you had no panties underneath.” I stand up, looking around at the vacant hall. I can’t restrain this urgent need aching inside me. It’s too powerful of an instinct to ignore. Leaving the bags by the chair, I lead Ella back to the change room she chose and lock the door with the flimsy eye-hook behind us.
“What are you doing?” she whispers, her eyes wide like a doe.
“Face the wall and hold up your dress,” I demand gruffly.
Ella does what I tell her to and I drop to my knees behind her, quickly ripping off her panties and pushing her forward until her ass is pressed out at me and her cheek is resting against the wall. She acts so innocent, but I can see her glistening pearls of desire at her entrance as I lean into her and lick them away.
She softly mewls as I delve my tongue past her lips, gliding it forward in her folds until her hard little nub is pressed firmly against me. Ella whimpers and opens her stance so her ass cheeks open a little and I grab them, holding them until I can see her asshole puckered up. Someday that will also be mine, but right now isn’t the time.
Leaning into her, my face is buried in her from behind as I suck on her clit and then thrash my tongue against it. Ella moans and I smack her swiftly on the ass. “Shhh!”
I lick her clit, flicking it up and down over the tip of my tongue as my fingers knead into her plump cheeks. Ella’s hips buck back and her thighs shake as she shudders against me. I can hear her restrained moans as her orgasm rips through her and she’s left shivering like a leaf on a tree.
I stand up and she starts to turn around to face me, but I slide my hands over her shoulders and make her face the wall. “I’m not done with you yet.” I yank out my wallet and grab a gold foil packet from inside. It probably takes half a second before I’ve got my cock yanked out and covered with a condom. I grab it by the base and slide the tip inside Ella’s slick entrance.
“Oh,” she breathes the word.
I grab her shoulders and thrust my entire length inside her fast. None of this slow and sweet shit. Not right now. Right now I need her tight pussy squeezing down on my shaft. Right now I need to fuck her with the hard, long strokes of a man who can’t hold back for another second.
I wrap my hand under her hair and tug it back toward me as I stretch her walls around me. My hips slap against her as I fuck her roughly. Her legs shake as I thrust into her again and again.
Pleasure tears through me, overwhelming my senses as I bury my cock deep inside her. My cum spurts into the condom, filling it up with my seed until the shudders of bliss stop traveling through my body. I pull out, careful to hang onto the ring surrounding the base of my shaft, and dispose of it, tying off the end.
Ella tugs up her underwear and smooths her hands down over the dress as I get it zipped up with a smile. “I’d say that’s the one.” I grin. “You should definitely get that one.”
“Mmmm, if it’ll make you that crazy, it’ll be the only thing I ever wear,” she murmurs.
I pull her into me and give her a quick kiss before opening the door and peeking out into the hallway to see if anyone is there yet. Lucky for us, the customer service in this place seems to be terrible. I slip out the door and head back over to my chair, surrounded by bags, and try to fight off sleep as I grin stupidly and wait for Ella to finish up.
Honestly, though, is there anything better than being exhausted from fucking all the time? If there is, I’ve never heard of it.
30 | Jackson
“She’s requesting your magic song that keeps the spiders away.” I walk into the living room where Ella is leafing through an old, dusty paperback from my bookshelf. I can’t help but notice how different she looks.
Although she’s only in her early twenties, she’s always looked much older. Not because of wrinkles or gray hairs, but in how she carries herself. In the burdened slope of her shoulders, in the sorrowful tone of her voice. I used to think she was just an old soul from the distant look in her eyes, but now I know it was the glazed over stare of a person who’s experienced too much of life’s chaos and sadness at too young an age. I don’t know why I never recognized the pain, the hopelessness, the fear. It’s exactly how I felt before Chloe came into my life.
Now Ella radiates a peaceful happiness that makes her sun-kissed skin shimmer. The horrors she’s experienced have vanished from her eyes, replaced with a hopeful sparkle that dances like flecks of gold over the beautiful brown. I can’t take my eyes off her. She’s simply stunning.
I was wrong. It’s not that Ella looks any younger. It’s more like she’s been walking around with the flame of passion extinguished from her soul. Like dreams were a distant memory and the harsh reality of her life had ground her down to dust. Now, I finally understand that myth of the phoenix rising from the ashes. A little over a year ago, I thought that was a silly story we tell ourselves, but as I gaze at her glowing face, I can see the truth.
“I’d love to sing it to her, if you don’t mind?” She tilts her head and her long hair flows down over her arm.
“Why would I mind?” I frown, confused.
“Well, I don’t want to intrude on the special bedtime routine you guys have, that’s all. I heard you reading Chloe her bedtime story. It was cute,” she explains.
“I think there’s nothing better to follow a bedtime story than a lullaby. Go ahead, she’s waiting for you.” I nod toward the stairs.
Ella smiles and heads up to Chloe’s room. Her new dress flares out around her legs as her bare feet cheerfully hop up the stairs. I tilt my head and listen for a m
oment as her sweet song fills the house. Without meaning to, I find myself tip-toeing back up the stairs, drawn to the music like a sailor to a siren song.
As my foot hits the top stair, Ella’s simple tune comes to an end. “Good night, Chloe,” she whispers.
“No, Ella, wait.” Chloe stops her.
“What is it?” Ella sounds concerned.
I hope Chloe isn’t just turning this into a game, trying to stretch out her bedtime with a bunch of distracting questions.
“Um, uh, well…”
I shake my head and start to head down the hall to tell my daughter that bedtime means sleep.
“Ella, sometimes I miss my mommy.” Her voice is thin, but her confession pierces my heart, stopping me abruptly in my tracks.
“Oh, honey, that’s completely normal,” I hear Ella take a couple steps closer to Chloe. “I lost my mommy too when I was younger and I still miss her,” she answers.
“You lost her? Where?” Chloe asks.
“No, I mean, I didn’t lose her. She…” Ella’s voice trails off into silence.
“Did she die?” The bluntness of the question makes me wince. Children aren’t really known for their tact, I guess.
“Yes, she did.”
“My mommy died too,” Chloe explains plainly.
It’s not something we talk about a whole lot. When I first brought my daughter into my home, I took her to a professional to talk about her mom. The therapist told me to keep the dialogue open about her death, but not to dwell on it. After the first four months, Chloe stopped asking when Janet was going to come get her. Lately, I’ve been wondering if she still remembers her at all.
“I know, and I understand how much you must miss her.” Ella’s voice is rich with compassion.
“Uh-huh, I do. I think she used to sing me a bedtime song too, but not the same one you sing. I like them both.”
I didn’t realize Janet had a special lullaby for Chloe. My gut twists with guilt for not knowing something that probably meant a lot to my little girl.
“I’m glad you like it,” Ella answers.
“Yep. Plus, your song keeps spiders away, so I really like that.” She sounds so cheerful. You’d never guess that she was talking about losing her mom. “Ella?”
“Yes, honey?”
“Are you my new mom?”
My heart leaps into my throat as the bluntness of her question sucks the air from my lungs. How is it that kids can just cut so straight to the point? They never get lost in the swirling ‘maybes’ or ‘what-ifs’. Their world is so remarkably black and white.
“’Cause I’d like if you were my new mommy.” She gets excited.
“Well, thank you,” Ella finally answers. “I would love that too, Chloe. But I’ll never replace your mother, okay? Where I’m from, women in the family are so important,” she explains. “Mothers are super special, but you can also have a really close bond with your grandmother,” she tells Chloe.
“Like my nana!”
“That’s right. Also we really love our tias, I mean, our aunts. I would be more like a special auntie, okay?”
“Okay.” Chloe’s word is muffled by a big yawn.
“I hope you have sweet dreams. Sleep well.” Ella tiptoes out of Chloe’s room and into the hallway.
“You did a great job,” I whisper, leading her back downstairs.
“Thank you.” She follows me down and my thoughts are a crazy mess.
How is it that kids can see the world so plainly, but as we age, we overcomplicate every single thing? Giving layers of complexity to issues that aren’t all that hard to understand. My thoughts go back to my mother’s words, back to when she said the jarring statement, like a simple fact, that I love Ella.
Why did I even question it? As my heart swells and warmth fills my veins, I know she wasn’t wrong. I am in love with Ella.
I love her.
Now I just need to stop overanalyzing and accept that simple, beautiful truth.
31 | Ella
Jackson and I ease back against his comfortable sofa and he searches for the remote control. For a moment, my thoughts zap back to Sylvia and Raymond. For years I watched them go through their nightly routine of lazily relaxing on the couch while watching shows. In a weird way, it was one of the things I envied the most about their lives. Just having that time to relax. To let their minds go numb and let the hardships of their day float away while they enjoyed each other’s company for a few hours. I was never allowed to sit on their furniture, let alone watch their television, so as Jackson grabs the remote and flicks his screen to life, a tingle of rebellion travels down my spine.
An advertisement for the new fall line-up of shows draws our attention as Jackson sinks back against the navy fabric covering the cushions and whistles. “I can’t believe tomorrow is the first day of October, can you? Where did the summer go?”
I sit taller, my muscles tensing. “It’s my birthday tomorrow.” The words fall out of my mouth, sounding every bit as surprised as I feel.
“What? No, it’s not.” Jackson casts a glance at me from the corner of his steely eyes with a half smirk on his face. “Wait, is it?” He looks startled as his full attention turns to me.
“It really is. I don’t care, though. I didn’t realize it was that time of year again.” I look down at my nails, fleeing from the intense curiosity written across Jackson’s raised eyebrows.
“You’re serious? You really forgot that tomorrow’s your birthday? How does that even happen? I had no idea!” He runs his broad palm down over the back of his neck and searches the room. “I don’t have a gift for you or anything.” He sounds so much more disappointed by that fact than I could ever feel.
“Yes, I’m serious. Jackson, listen.” I grab his hand, but I can see the wheels turning inside his head. Like he’s trying to figure out if it’s too late to run out to the store to buy something for me at the last minute. “I haven’t celebrated my birthday since I turned fifteen years old. It was my quinceañera, which is a big deal in Colombia. It’s when a girl becomes a woman.”
“So, kinda like a sweet sixteen then?”
“I’m not sure.” I shrug. “Do girls wear a beautiful pastel dress and a tiara for their sweet sixteen?” I honestly don’t know. I haven’t exactly been invited to a lot of American parties.
“Uh, no. Not usually. That sounds really elaborate.” Jackson watches me closely, waiting for me to continue, but my thoughts drift back to my fifteenth birthday. Memories of the happiest and most exciting night of my life flash through my head like a slow motion movie montage.
“My family started my day with fifteen helium heart-shaped balloons and my mother made me the most delicious Arepas.” I can almost taste the sweet cornbread pancake smothered in soft, white cheese melting on my tongue. I swear, I can almost smell the inviting home cooked breakfast. My mouth is watering just thinking about it.
“That sounds sweet.” His hand slides over mine, enveloping it in warmth and strength.
“It was beautiful,” I agree. “I remember I was looking forward to finally getting to wear makeup. Up until then, my parents were very strict about it. I couldn’t even wear tinted lip gloss. I’d beg them to let me, you know, just for special occasions, but my mother wouldn’t hear of it. She’d always told me to wait for my quinceañera. So, when I woke up that morning, that was the first thing on my mind.”
I remember how I stuffed my breakfast in my face, chewing as fast as I could, and raced downstairs where my mother had laid out my gorgeous, pillowy gown for that night. My parents both watched me with a twinkle in their aging eyes as I lifted the gown from the back of the chair and swirled it around the floor.
“Fifteen sounds like a good age. We should have the custom here too,” Jackson murmurs.
“That night, at the huge dance, all of my family and friends were there to celebrate.” I can feel the dewy humidity in the air as I close my eyes and recall the details that I haven’t allowed myself to remember in years.
“I started the night out in flat shoes. It’s part of the tradition. It’s symbolic of starting out as a girl, but when my father slipped my high heels on and I stepped out onto the floor”—I sigh at the memory of the smiles and clapping as I twirled theatrically for the onlookers—“I felt like a princess.” I realize my eyes have softened with tears and I wipe them away quickly.
“It sounds magical.” Jackson squeezes my hand, hanging off my every word.
“It truly was.” I breathe out a quivering lungful of air and force my tears away. “Not long after that, my family was murdered. I was smuggled to America and brought to Sylvia’s house. I never had another birthday again. But I always had that memory. It was the best day I ever had and I got to share it with my family before they were taken from me. I’m just so grateful I at least had that one day with them.” I can’t stop the tears. I brush them away, but they just spring right back.
“Shhh, hey, come here.” Jackson pulls me into his thick chest and I can smell his musk as I bury my face and let the tears dry against his shirt. The warmth of his body, the hard ridge of his muscles, his manly scent, it all relaxes me. I sink into him, losing myself in his arms.
“Are you okay?” He grazes his thumb down the edge of my cheek as I lift my head and meet his eyes, nodding.
“I will be.” I smile, for once realizing the truth in my words. I’m free from that horrible woman who kept me as her indentured servant. I’m finally free and I couldn’t imagine a better life. I get this fluttery feeling, this buzzing pulse that tingles every nerve in my body, this weird way I struggle to breathe every time he looks at me like this.
Jackson leans into me, his lips brushing mine in a kiss as light as a whisper, as soft as a summer breeze. It’s not the passionate, desperate kisses he’s covered my lips with before. It’s simple and sweet.
“Come with me.” He stands up and tugs my hand, helping me to my feet. I follow him into the kitchen and he opens the fridge door, taking out a box of white wine. “Mom left this here on labor day. We had a barbeque and she likes to keep it classy.” He chuckles. “Here.” He opens the cabinet door and grabs two wine glasses, holding them under the spout. He fills them up, handing me one. “I know it’s pretty far from fancy, but I’d like to make a toast.”
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