by Lace Daltyn
The little house sported two rooms, one a poor-man’s great room, consisting of a couch, end table, TV, and mini-kitchen, all almost within reaching distance of each other.
Josh led Jenna to the bedroom, which felt roomier even with the double-size bed and dresser it held. He shook his head. “Your mother really thought we could live here?”
Jenna pulled his head down. “I don’t want to talk about Mother at the moment.” She licked her lips and he forgot all about anything except how talented that mouth of hers was and his already hardening cock. He sucked her tongue into his mouth, tasting the mingled scent of both of them. She nudged his tongue and he pushed back, his mouth moving over hers, capturing her, telling her she was his for now and for always.
They lay as one on the bed and Josh toyed with her long, foiled hair. “I wonder what you’d look like as a brunette.”
“I could change it.”
“Damn it, Jenna. That wasn’t why I said that.” Josh sat up and ran his hands through his hair. Fuck. He hated it when Jenna slipped into the puppet-mode her mother had conditioned her to. He wanted his passionate Jenna. The one with her own opinions. The Jenna who was willing to try new things, and the one who would fight with him, and for him. “Stop trying to be what others want you to be.”
Josh hated the sheen of tears in her eyes, but it was past time for this to be said. He cupped her face in his hands. “Do you have any idea how special you are? You are beautiful, no matter what your hair color is. You think of others before yourself, to a fault. When are you going to think about yourself? When do you come first, Jenna?”
“I—I don’t know.”
“I don’t want to marry someone who plays chameleon depending on whom she currently needs to please. I want to marry you. Jenna Louise Wilton. The woman who loved her father so much, she got past her grief and stage fright to speak at his funeral about what an amazing man he was. The woman who made all the arrangements for that funeral, and who called me a month later, asking me to meet her for coffee. I want to marry the strong, self-sufficient woman I fell in love with. More importantly, I want you to know that woman.”
Jenna shrugged. “I’m not sure I know how to find her anymore.”
“You’ve let your mother dig in too far and I think we need to exorcise her.”
“That’s pretty harsh, Josh.”
“Yes, it is,” he said. “But there’s some truth in it.” He stared at her, daring her to disagree with him. He also hid the worry over what he’d done to break her away from her mother’s clutches. Sending that obscure application in had been an act of desperation. He really needed to talk to Jenna. About the application and the business changes. She wasn’t going to be happy with either situation. Later, he thought. Right now, they needed to settle this thing about her mom.
Jenna nodded. He knew she couldn’t disagree with him.
“Good. I tell you what. Let’s start right now. With something simple.”
Jenna raised her head and stared at him for a long moment. “All right.”
“So, what color would you like your hair to be?”
She pulled a few strands in front of her, running them through her fingers. “I like brunette.”
“You don’t get to pick what I just said.”
“Wait a minute. Just because you said it, doesn’t mean I don’t want it. I’m a natural brunette and I liked my hair color. Mom figured it looked too Irish, with the blue eyes and all.”
He frowned. “What does Irish have to do with it?”
“Dad was Irish. He went prematurely white.” She gulped. “But I always liked my hair color.”
Josh grasped both her hands. “Then that’s who I want to marry.”
When she looked at him quizzically, he touched her hair and explained. “I want to marry a natural brunette. Since you probably can’t grow this out in the few weeks we have left, any chance you can get close with a new color?”
Her eyes shone as she nodded. “I can try. No. I will do it. And I want my hair longer, too. This...” Jenna fluffed her hair. “This makes me look like I can’t decide whether I want it short or long.”
So Jenna’s hair and eye color, as well as her complexion, took after her father. Josh thought of her mother with her blonde, shoulder-length hair, and realized the woman was trying to mold Jenna to look more like her.
“I'm glad you like long hair. I do, too.”
She grinned. “Then we both want the same thing.”
“And this is only the start. I envision a whole list of ‘I like’ items in your future.” He kissed her long and hard, then lay her back on the bed. “Now, maybe we should see again if you really are a natural brunette.”
****
His kisses pulled all the breath from Jenna’s lungs. Hard and fast, then slow and sensual, he tried things he’d never done before, hesitating after each one as if gauging her response. It felt ... empowering.
He pulled her lower lip into his mouth and Jenna leaned into him, wanting more. He sucked harder and she pulled her lip back, driving her tongue into his mouth. Telling him without words what turned her on, and what didn’t.
He peppered kisses along her chin and throat, then sucked the fragile skin of her neck into his mouth. Jenna shivered as he played with her, feeling his kisses as though they plunged straight into her slit, separating it, and devouring her.
He toyed with the buttons of her blouse as he kissed her collarbone. Before she could think straight, all were undone. He backed away and spread the edges, leaving only the pink lace of her bra covering her breasts. Josh ran his flattened hand along the dip between her breasts and she arched into him.
“You are so beautiful,” he said, leaning in to suck a nipple, already tight with desire, into his mouth, lace and all. Jenna gasped as threads of lust bounced off all the edges of her body, then pulled back to a mounting explosion in her soul. Her feet tingled, her hands itched to touch him, and her core was hot and wet. And waiting.
“You like that,” he mumbled without losing the grip his lips had on her.
“Oh, yes,” she answered.
His hand kneaded her other breast through the material as his lips on her taut tip became her sole focus. Awareness of the room around her disappeared. There was only Josh, here, toying with her, showing her how good they were together. She never sensed him moving, yet the front clasp of her bra parted and he pulled it back, baring her to him. His hands moved over her, caressing her, as his eyes made love to her. When he lowered his head again, she almost cried in relief, until he pulled her nipple into his mouth and she had to suck in air to keep from flying. She felt his touch everywhere, even though he limited himself to her breasts. And it felt like heaven.
Jenna moved against him, pulling his now erect cock against her hip.
“Uh uh. This time, it's all about you,” he said, making Jenna gasp as he pinched her nipple and sent shards of pleasure coursing through her.
He nudged her to a sitting position and helped her shed the blouse and bra. Then he watched, his eyes focused on her every move while she undid the zipper of her skirt and stood.
They’d played around pretty heavily before. They simply hadn’t broken through that last barrier. Still, Jenna had never been completely naked in front of Josh. Tonight would be a first.
He pushed the skirt down over her hips and grinned up at her. “Nice thong, love.”
She stepped out of her skirt with a slow sway of her hip. When he dipped his head to kiss the pink material of her panties, she forgot all about being flirtatious. His tongue dove through the flimsy thong and Jenna groaned.
“You like?”
“Oh, yes,” she whispered.
“Then you’ll love this.”
She felt her panties slide to the ground. He helped her step out of them and then gripped her thighs, nudging her legs apart. Without giving her time to breathe, he drove his tongue into her. Back and forth, between her sensitive clit and her opening, he licked. And kissed. And licked som
e more. She leaned back against the wall and, as she moaned his name, he plunged his tongue into her, sending her already overloaded senses skyward. She crashed into the climax, thrusting deeper into his mouth, needing more.
Limp with expended desire, Jenna wanted to sag to the bed, wrap herself around Josh, and fall asleep. He didn’t give her the chance, continuing to taste her wetness, nibbling her clit, making her forget all about being physically destroyed. He pulled her tighter to him and parted her lips with his thumbs as he played, until the crescendo built again.
Bam! Bam! Bam! “Jenna? Are you in there?”
The euphoric fog Jenna and Josh were enveloped in disappeared as if a balloon had been popped right next to them. Gasping for breath, Jenna still managed to recognize the shrill tenor of her mother’s voice. It did not bode well and, in fact, it sounded like world peace was at risk. On shaky legs, Jenna grabbed her clothes and threw Josh’s shirt at him. “Get dressed. Hurry.” she whispered.
“I will not rush on account of that woman,” he said.
“Shhh. She’ll hear you.”
“Let her.”
“Jenna?” Her mother’s voice was even higher-pitched this time.
“We’re in the bedroom, Mrs. Wilton.” He grinned and raised his voice as Jenna attempted to cover his mouth with her hands. “We’ll be out as soon as we’ve finished.”
“Shit. Shut up, Josh.” Jenna tried to infuse some sting into her words but her grin was too wide to effectively chastise him. “I am going to pay for that.”
“Hey, at least the pounding has stopped.”
Jenna could just picture her mother standing on the other side of the door thin-lipped, arms crossed, and foot tapping away.
“Damn it. You’re trying to cause me trouble, aren’t you?” But Jenna couldn’t keep the smile out of her voice.
“You may do that woman’s bidding. I will not.”
“God, I love you,” she said.
Five minutes later, Jenna chewed her lower lip as she stood in front of the still-closed door. What she really wanted to do was climb out the bathroom window and run. Not giving herself a chance to consider that option, she turned the handle.
No one stood, toe-tapping or otherwise, on the tiny porch.
“What? No ogre at the door,” Josh said, his chin on her shoulder.
“Shhh.” Jenna nodded toward the house where her mother stood ramrod stiff on the back porch as she searched the yard.
Josh tucked her hand under his arm and, with a grin, said “ready?”
Grateful for Josh’s calming presence, Jenna smile up at him. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
At the base of the back-porch steps, Josh turned to Jenna and, in the good mood that lingered in his eyes, she saw her doom. Uh oh. She gulped a lump stuck in the middle of her throat. What was he up to? With a gleam worthy of a leprechaun, he tipped her back and lowered her over his arms. He held her gaze in a way that had nothing to do with revenge and her blood boiled with desire as he kissed her. Slow, long, languorous, and scorchingly kissed her, leaving her panting for breath when he stood her up. With a wink, he whispered that they needed to talk, but it could wait for now. Then, tipping his non-existent hat, he bid Jenna’s mother goodbye and headed for his car.
Chapter Four
Running a finger over her lips, a dazed Jenna watched Josh leave, enjoying his ass in the form-fitting slacks until his last words filtered into her brain. They needed to talk? She turned in time to watch her mother whip around on her heels. The back door slammed with uncharacteristic noise behind her.
Jenna followed, thoughts of talking pushed aside by the memory of their cottage play. Josh’s kisses, the way his lips proved again and again how much he cherished her, made the world background noise to her love for him. She smiled. Marriage to him would definitely be fun. Satisfying, too. Very satisfying.
All feelings of contentment fled when Jenna saw the neat stack of stuffed, addressed, and stamped invitations on the kitchen table. Guilt flooded her. This was the job she and Josh were supposed to help with tonight.
“Ah, Mother, I’m sorry.”
Her mother neatened a stack of the invites by pounding them on the kitchen table.
“Come on. You remember being in love, don’t you? I wanted to spend some time alone with Josh.”
Her mother gave her a pointed glare. “Did you give that man your virginity?”
Jenna reeled as if slapped. “I...”
“You will never get his respect, and the things in life you deserve, if you cave every time that man crooks his finger in your direction.”
Dropping to the chair, Jenna picked up several of the invitations and fingered the edges. “That man’s name is Josh. And it’s not like that. I’m going to be his wife in a few short weeks.”
“This is the only time in your life you’ll have the power to make demands.” Her mother curled her manicured hand around Jenna’s wrist for a moment and Jenna fought the urge to pull back. “Honey, I speak from experience.”
This was an old argument between them and one Jenna had grown very tired of. “Daddy was wonderful to you.”
“Your father took everything I had and then some.”
“He took good care of you. He loved you.”
“He didn’t know the meaning of love.”
Jenna’s defensive wall snapped upright and she gripped the invitations, struggling to get her temper under control.
Be patient with her, Jenna. Her rose-colored glasses got broken a long time ago and she’s never been able to repair them.
Her father’s words echoed in her mind and provided enough calm, barely, to help her respond with an even voice. “Daddy did love you, Mother. And he was kind to you. He gave you everything he had. It was never enough for you.”
Jenna tuned out her mother’s response as she focused on the invitation in her hand. She didn’t recognize the name. Thumbing through the short stack she held, Jenna didn’t see a single name she and Josh had put on their invitation list. A glance at the piles and some quick calculations confirmed there were more invitations filled out than she had ordered. Fifty-four names. One hundred and ten people. Already, that was larger than she and Josh wanted their wedding to be.
Thunder pounded in her ears as she held the top invite out to her mother. “Who are these people?”
“Friends.”
“Not of mine. I don’t know this name.” She fanned the invitations out on the table and picked up another stack. Again, not a single recognizable name. “And these? Who are these?”
“Colleagues and friends.”
Jenna tossed the envelopes on the table. “These people are not on the guest list.”
“I added them.”
“I only ordered enough invitations for what we need.”
“I ordered more.”
“How many more?”
“Just what we need. What you need.”
She’s a complicated woman, Jenna.
Shut up, Dad. “How. Many. More?”
Her mother’s chin jutted out. “One hundred and fifty.”
Jenna gripped the table to keep from strangling her mother. “Invitations or guests?” Please let it be guests. Please.
“Invitations.”
Jenna’s nightmare had officially become a reality. “Are you kidding me? Do you know how much a sit-down dinner will cost for that many? Hell, Josh and I could put a down-payment on a house for what the linens alone will cost.”
“Don’t be so melodramatic, Jenna.”
Melodramatic? Jenna wasn’t being melodramatic. She was about to pop a cork.
Her mother pointed to the invitations now sprawled over the kitchen table. “There were simply too many must-invites you hadn’t considered.”
“Can the Garden House even hold this many people?”
Her mother tightened her lips. “No, they can't. Which is why I moved us to the yacht club.”
“You...what?” Jenna winced at the sound of her own shrill voice.
Jenna had fallen in love with the cozy, romantic feel of the place she and Josh had selected for their reception. “You can’t do that.”
Her mother’s face registered what looked to Jenna to be honest bewilderment. “Of course, I can. I’m paying for it.” Patricia Wilton waved her hand in a dismissive arc Jenna knew well. “Besides, you know we have no choice. We have to maintain a certain place in society.”
Jenna leaned on the table to keep her hands from shaking. It didn’t stop her racing heart, or the flush that she knew suffused her face. “No, mother. We don’t. Hear me well. You will not invite anyone who’s not on the original list. You know that list, right? The one drawn up by Josh and myself? The one I gave you weeks ago?”
Her mother stood. “I won’t have you arguing with me on this, Jenna. I know what’s needed and what’s best for you.”
“You mean what’s best for you.”
“They are one and the same. You have a reputation to maintain. You carry the Wilton family name and must do right by it.”
“Not for long. I’ll soon be a Latham and glad of it.”
Patricia Wilton stumbled back until her hip collided with the countertop. Her face blanched to the same white Jenna had seen after her father’s death. It figured that when Jenna finally grew some balls, she’d strike a bull’s-eye. She knew full well she’d just hit her mother squarely below the belt. The only benefit to her statement was that it effectively ended the conversation.
Her mother smoothed her skirt and turned away. She stopped as if trying to remember something, turned back to Jenna to say she was going to bed, and then disappeared down the hallway, her stooped shoulders weighing heavily on Jenna.
Jenna sank to the chair and propped her elbows on the table, covering her face with her hands. Remorse weighed her down. That same guilt nudged her to go after her mother. Or maybe it was her father whispering in her ear. She can’t help herself, Jenna. Be the bigger person. She should apologize. She knew she should. Jenna stayed rooted to the chair, though, unable to move and feeling decidedly selfish about it.