by Gina Watson
She swirled her tongue around the tip, then along the shaft, depositing moisture in her wake. Her hand started pumping from the root to just below her lips. He groaned and placed his hands in her hair, not forcing, just massaging.
“I guess one of the earliest memories I have is taking one of those Mexican serape Saltillo blankets down to the park on the Fourth of July. We walked from the house hand in hand.” His fingers feathered through her hair. “We left early, Mom had packed a picnic lunch. Dad loved her fried chicken, so did I for that matter. It was delicious and she had this little secret she made us swear not to tell anyone … she put an entire bottle of Tabasco in some buttermilk and marinated her chicken in that. I became privileged to that information as a teen. Anyway, I guess I was about five years old around the time of the picnic. We made a day of it. Dad brought a Frisbee and a baseball and mitts and we just hung out at the park. We’d claimed a great piece of real estate from which to watch the fireworks show and were content to relax there all day.”
This was the most she’d ever heard about his parents or his childhood. He never spoke of it. She didn’t want him to stop talking, but she felt a pressing need to hold him so she straddled his legs, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him. In return his lips were punishing in their rhythm. He needed her. She broke the kiss and said, “What else do you remember?”
He closed his eyes and shuddered in her arms. “The moment I found out they were gone. I remember that day like it happened yesterday.” His voice broke. “I prayed and prayed that night. I prayed on my knees until my legs went numb.” The intensity of his voice was erratic, loud and soft. “I honestly thought I would wake up and they’d be there. They weren’t of course. But you were there. Your mother and father were there. Hell, your whole family was there. After the first few months I began to resent all of you. What you had. But it became so easy to love you.”
Forehead to forehead, she caressed his jaw in her hands and gently kissed him. “I love you Jackson.”
“Bug, I don’t know what else to say.” His voice was dry and raspy. Tears rested on his lower eyelids.
“You don’t have to say anything more.” She knew in time he’d tell her all he needed to say, but for now she needed him inside of her as much as he needed to be inside of her.
Slowly she rotated her hips so that her core rubbed his cock, bathing it in her moisture. He fisted the root holding it in place so that she could take him in. As she lowered herself his tears fell from the ledge where they’d perched. She kissed them away.
“Bug, I need you. Thank you for this and for never once giving up on me.”
“You don’t have to thank me for that, but you’re welcome.”
His warm lips molded to hers and then he took her bottom lip between his teeth and moaned like he tasted the finest wine. Masculine hands at her hips gripped her hard and turned her so that she was now beneath him. He pumped into her deeply and sucked a nipple into his mouth. Normally she could hold out and wait for him, but the intensity of his possession of her body had her ready to lose her mind. It had been too long since he’d been inside of her and she needed the release only he could bring. “Jackson, I need to come.”
“Are you saying you want this to be quick?”
“How about we do it quick now, take a break for a slice of leftover cake from the party and then we explore each other until noon?”
He growled on top of her. Then he thrust into her hard, and pushed her legs toward her chest. His need was voracious and for the first time in their two-year relationship he let himself go. Lost in their ecstasy he moaned, pounding repeatedly into her body. Energized by his actions, she met him thrust for thrust moving her hips to allow him to go as deep as possible. Her hands raked down his back and he cried out her name as he emptied into her. Her back arched as she spiraled out of control around him.
She hoped it was the first of many furiously uncontrolled couplings. They fell fast asleep wrapped up in one another.
Epilogue
They didn’t want a long engagement so they’d placed their names on a waiting list. Amazingly, a date became available in December.
Today—she—would—be—his.
So many changes had occurred for them over the past few months. Jackson had started his job as an E.R. physician. Clara hadn’t thought much would change when he took his full doctor position in emergency medicine because he’d been a resident there, but she was wrong. The section chief was in a hurry to mentor Jackson into the director of clinical services position and his hours were long and tedious, but he loved what he was doing and they loved their newfound freedom as a couple in love. Every day she’d pop in for a visit with him and was content to wait however long was needed for a window of time when they could be together, even if only for a moment.
Her little cheese shop was holding its own as well. By the third month in operation, she was able to pay her own overhead and food costs and even put a little money away. She loved talking to people and getting them passionate about cheese, olives, jams, and honey. The strangest thing about her gig was that she paired wine with cheese and made recommendations. At the age of eighteen she was allowed to sell wine, but she wasn’t allowed to drink it. Consequently, she wasn’t moving too much wine. She was relieved they hadn’t stocked much of the stuff.
On top of her new business and his new role as E.R. doctor, they also were in the process of moving. Her father had purchased a home for them in Augie and Mia’s neighborhood. Jackson was adamant that he be the one to provide for all of her needs, but she knew her dad had always dreamed of giving his little girl her first home. He finally had to agree to let Jackson pay him back when he was in a position to do so.
With work and moving Clara was happy that the wedding plans came together seamlessly. Jackson gave in to tradition and let her parents pay for most of the wedding. She had the perfect dress, the perfect setting, and the perfect man.
Her mom and all of her brother’s wives were sitting in the parlor of the church. Clara’s dream was about to come true. In an hour she would walk down the aisle of the St. Louis Cathedral and marry Jackson. She’d asked Eve to be her maid of honor and as she stood in her silky white dress she scanned the room. She couldn’t imagine this day without a single one of her sisters-in-law or her mother. In that moment she knew Jackson had been right—she needed her family. Jackson had selflessly sacrificed his need of her to give her back to her family. She shuddered at the memory of living without him. She would never have to again. And best of all, her family had given their blessing and shown their love and support for the union.
Women hovered all around her. Brook and Isa were busy steaming wrinkles she couldn’t even see out of her gown. Jenny and Chloe pinned her hair, and her mother touched up her lip gloss. Jessie, Eve, and Mia were busy fluffing all the bouquets and discussing the processional.
The hour passed quickly and they all lined up at the door leading to the sanctuary. She stood to the side and watched the processional line get shorter and shorter. Excitement flitted in her stomach and she knew she’d never been this happy before. “First Day of My Life” by Bright Eyes drifted through the speakers. Her father walked her to the doorway arch leading from the foyer into the sanctuary. She told him to stand there with her until the first verse was complete. No one expected the quirky song. She guessed they were listening for Mendelssohn’s Wedding March, but she’d saved this little surprise for this moment.
Jackson turned the moment she and her father filled the arch. He always knew when she was in a room. This knowledge caused a large smile to break across her face and she thought her skin might split. He threw her an equally big smile.
“You ready to march?”
Her dad kissed her hand and placed her arm in his. “Yeah, Dad.”
“I love you, Clara Bear.”
“I love you, Dad.”
They marched slowly, her gaze locked with Jackson’s. Her song for him blasted through the large speakers. When h
er father gave her to Jackson the room fell away, along with all the people. There were no walls, nothing existed to confine them. Together they would face the world as one. The covenant they entered into meant more to her than the house, the cheese shop, or his title as doctor because it meant they were accepted. They were acknowledged as equals. She’d been allowed to make the decision to love him for the rest of her life and the fact that her family supported her in that decision was humbling. They’d support her and Jackson through anything now, no matter how difficult the circumstance, or high the hill to climb, her family would be there, pushing behind them.
They exchanged vows and rings and then the sweetest words she ever heard were spoken by the priest, “Ladies and gentlemen, may I present Mr. and Mrs. Jackson Reid Olivier.” Old fashioned yes, but she was made to be Mrs. Olivier and she knew he needed her to be as well.
The wedding ceremony started at seven o’clock. It was seven forty-five when they walked, hands joined, through the front door. A New Orleans brass band waited for the wedding party to exit and then the trumpets and rich saxophone sounds filled the night air. “When the Saints Go Marching In”—the song’s message wasn’t romantic, but it was the tune and the spirit with which it was played that was infectious. They marched down Bourbon Street through the French Quarter with her family and friends in tow. She’d never seen Jackson so happy and carefree. Her dress dragged along the filthy streets, but it would be a hell of a story to reminisce with her grandkids about exactly how the bottom became such a dingy shade of gray.
Many people from hotels, apartments, and nightclubs joined their festive parade. Those who didn’t whooped and hollered as they passed.
She tugged at his arm and he bent his head toward her ear. “Cracker Jack, this is the best day of my life.”
“No, Bug, it’s the best day of mine. Thank you for giving me my life back.”
“Hey, you stole my line.”
“Oh.” His brow hitched.
“You saved me that day in my sixteen-year-old bedroom.”
“You saved me back.”
They kissed, holding up the march, but no one seemed to mind. Their hearts were truly entwined and could now beat together as one. Nothing would ever be more perfect. Clara turned to her family and smiled as she rested her sleepy head on Jackson’s shoulder.
“Together forever,” they said in unison.
Damaged excerpt
Excerpt has not been edited. Content may change upon final publication.
≈
Strong arms on Bailey’s waist guided her down to the bench, positioning her on her knees. The couch was low and she felt the breeze rush over her exposed bottom.
“Hang on, just gotta put on a condom.”
His words were slurred from the amount of alcohol coursing through his system. The condom wrapper zipped and she listened hard for other sounds, but heard only the soft waves against the boat.
Attempting to turn over she pushed against the bench with her hands, but he pushed her down with his knee in the small of her back. “Don’t move.” He chuckled. His voice was cajoling not harsh as he scooped her hair into his hands and positioned it over her left shoulder. “Do you want to leave?”
“No, I just …”
“Just what? If you’re having second thoughts you need to tell me because once I start, there’s no turning back.”
“No second thoughts, I just wanted to see your penis.”
“Penis is a bit clinical for my tastes. Call it a cock and I may let you see it.”
“I want to see your cock.” She smiled as she said the taboo word she’d rarely spoken.
“He smacked her butt hard. Don’t worry baby you’ll see it as you suck and lick it and I come down your throat.” His words caused her to shiver. This is what she’d sought when she went to the pub. She wanted to be screwed by a man that knew exactly what he wanted and how to use what the good Lord had given him.
Maura had been opposed to this kind of destructive behavior, but she’d told her sister that she definitely wanted to experience raw ecstasy before she passed on.
At once he plunged one of his fingers into her depths and she cried out from the sudden fullness.
“Damn you’re snug. You’re wet though, that’ll help.”
She wondered what she needed help with and then she felt something solid, heavy, and warm push between her legs. The sensation startled her and she jolted forward.
“Damn, are you sure you really want this?”
“I want it!”
“Convince me.”
She pushed back onto his erection and moved her hips, rubbing her wetness onto his cock.
“Your body clearly wants it. What I meant was convince me with your words.”
“Oh … er … I … um … want your stiff, hot rod to penetrate me.” That’s just dreadful.
Huge booming laughter vibrated through him and into her. “Okay, but I’ve never heard it quite put that way before.” His hand slapped her butt and then she shrieked at the intrusion of him fully sheathed inside of her at once. Stinging pain morphed into tingling bliss. Behind her he held still giving her a chance to adjust to the fullness.
When she moved her hips to adjust he pulled out half of his length and slowly fed it back inside of her until his tranquil composure had her begging.
“Ah, please.”
“We’ll get going in a bit, let me stretch out.” His voice had a lilt to it and she imagined he was smiling, maybe laughing, at her.
His hands palmed her butt and kneaded. Then he spread her cheeks as his cock parted her folds. “You’ve got a perfect little ass.” She acknowledged his words with a groan. “Ever been fucked here?” His finger rubbed around her bud.
“No.” She croaked. He chuckled and then he was pounding into her using his hips with speed and precision. Each forward and backward stroke was as steady as the last. Furiously, he pumped and even the boat was rocking. Whimpering, she was louder than she’d ever been during sex, usually preferring to keep the noises to a minimum, but the sounds were involuntary. His strong hands on her hips pulled and pushed at the flesh there to aid his efforts. Hard slapping fleshy sounds coupled with their wetness and the creaks from the boat could be heard.
Suddenly his arms looped through hers and pulled her to a standing position. Roughly he pulled her back toward his chest and his arm snaked down her body, his hand cupping her sex. “Give me your hand.” His voice was raspy.
He placed her hand where his had been. “Feel my cock pumping in and out of you.” His fingers pushed against hers and she gasped when she felt his hot hard steel, wet from her juices, sliding in and out.
“Play with your clit. Make yourself come.”
His dirty whispers in her ear compiled the soundtrack of the most erotic scenes of her life. She placed her fingers on the spot and sighed in pleasure. This is what she’d been wanting, craving—a moment to forget who she was. She wanted to be treated like a sexy woman and this man, this magnificent man, was sharing his skills with her. God he knew how to make a woman’s body sing.
His thrusts slowed as he slid his middle finger into her mouth, imitating the movement of his cock. As quickly as it appeared his finger was gone. He pulled out a fraction and she felt pressure against her butt. She stilled, not sure she was ready for what he had planned.
“Relax. I’m just going to finger your ass.”
Her body seized. She was experiencing so much pleasure that she almost didn’t have enough emotion left to feel embarrassment. Almost. She pulled away. He pulled her back and started thrusting, his finger pushed into her mouth a second time.
“Relax. Push against me. I promise it’ll be more pleasure than you’ve ever experienced.”
His finger left her mouth and massaged around the tight skin of her bud. She closed her eyes and slowly massaged her clit. Inhaling deep she pushed against his finger and he slipped in. Stinging pain gave way to raw pleasure. It was different than the pleasure she gave herself wit
h her clit massage and different from his cock filling her vagina. Pain coupled with tingling spread from her core. Every time he moved even a centimeter she felt it to the roots of her hair. The sensation was all consuming—like taking a plunge into a pool of ice cold water. Not a single cell had been left untouched.
She could have sworn he’d crawled inside of her and was pleasuring her from the inside out. Her own low cries were unrecognizable. She existed in a space that was untouched by time or gravity. She floated, the boat’s gentle rocking heightening her sense of weightlessness. She couldn’t move so his free hand cupped her sex and his finger massaged her clit as she came hard on his cock. Her muscles clamped down around the finger inside her causing a flurry of intense pressure to the nerves around his finger. Her tits hardened to the point of pain and she screamed over and over. He groaned as her muscles contracted around him. Together they reached the pinnacle and plummeted into carnal abyss.
Her body went limp after the last electric charge worked its way from her core out to her skin. Still he jerked and moaned behind her. When her knees gave out he pulled her down with him to the couch. They sat with her back to his front for several minutes. Her eyes closed and if she didn’t watch it she knew she’d fall asleep. Her stamina for ordinary day-to-day tasks was diminished and this exertion, when compared to her normal daily living activities, was akin to flying to the moon.
He slipped from her, rose from the couch and stood just outside of what appeared to be a small room. When he turned toward her his jeans were fastened and zipped. He walked toward a shelf above where she was sitting and stood on tiptoe. The smooth vocal melodies of Birdy filled the small boat cabin and her eyes closed. She hoped he’d let her sleep before he wanted her to leave. She knew guys were funny about that kind of thing, but if he made her go she’d have to nap in her car.