by kj lewis
“Hey, baby!” My endearment soothes his pinched expression. I raise my chin upwards indicating that I want a kiss.
He crouches down to kiss me and runs his finger down my turned up nose. “You’ve been busy.”
“Your girl could rule the world if she wanted,” Teague says. “The military could use her to set up new combat zones.”
“I’m almost done. This is all I have left” I point to the clothes laying in my lap. “What time is it?” I look at my wrist, remembering with sadness that my watch is no longer there. Graham notices and places a light kiss to my temple.
“It’s seven-thirty. I thought we would stay in for dinner. I ordered Chinese.”
“Sounds perfect.” I place the last folded sweater on the shelf, and Graham pulls me to my feet.
“Would you like to join us?” Graham asks Teague.
“Thanks, but I can only handle so much mothering in one day. I need a break.” He makes a funny face, and I playfully punch him in the arm.
“Ow!” he rubs the sore spot. “That hurts. I bruise easily.” I pat the spot in question.
“The place looks great. I can’t believe you did all this in one day.” Graham picks up the picture of me and Teague and studies it for a minute before setting it back down.
“Joy was here for a few hours. She helped too. You sure you’re good?” I ask Teague.
“Yep.”
“You want me to…”
“Nope.”
“You might…”
“I won’t.”
“Okay.” I pause for a minute and hug him before taking Graham’s hand.
“Text me when you’re ready to go running in the morning.” I can tell he is still a little uncomfortable with my affection.
“But you said yesterday you don’t run?”
“If you go, I go. That’s how this works, remember?” Graham doesn’t hide his pleasure that I’m actually having to follow the rules when it comes to security.
When we’re finally alone in the elevator headed to his apartment, I lean my head on his shoulder and pull his arm to my chest, placing a kiss on his hand. “I missed you today.”
“Did you?” His question is tainted with uncertainty. From this morning or from Teague?
“I did.”
“How much?”
“This much!” I reach my arms as far apart as they can go.
“Come here, silly girl.” He kisses and releases me when the elevator doors open into the penthouse. I can see straight through to the open-door view of the river over his terrace.
“Music or TV?” he asks as he grabs plates for our dinner.
“TV. I think there’s a Yankees game on,” I say grabbing a Diet Coke for me and wine for him. He picks up the Diet Coke and puts it back in the fridge, handing me a bottle of water instead.
We curl up on the couch and share from the selection Graham ordered.
“What are they doing? He was out!” Graham says to the TV.
“He was safe.”
“No he wasn’t.”
“Yes he was. He lifted his heel off the bag when he caught the ball, the runner touched the bag before his heel came back down.” ESPN replays the play in slow motion, confirming what I said.
Graham looks at me and shakes his head.
“I’ll be back,” I tell him. I want to change into some sweats and curl up with a book while we watch the rest of the innings.
“You’re a goddess,” he says. I’m naked about to pull on his sweats.
“You’re not so bad yourself.” I wink at him.
“Don’t.” He stops me as I step into his pants. Instead he removes his clothes and lifts me, wrapping my legs around his waist. He opens the door to the glass covered patio off his bedroom and carries me to the chaise lounge.
“Graham,” I say uneasily looking up at the buildings towering over us. “People can see us.”
“No they can’t. It’s security glass. We can see the view unobstructed, but no one can see through the glass to us.”
“Are you sure?” I ask hesitantly.
“Would I let anyone see you like I see you?” And I know he wouldn’t. The glass wraps around all sides except the one facing the river, where there are no buildings. Graham sits back on the chaise lounge, taking me with him. He cups my face and takes his time kissing me, exploring my mouth. It takes my body about a nanosecond to respond to him and I begin to grind my hips against him.
“Hold your hair up,” he instructs me.
I raise my hands and pull my hair up, holding it in place high on my crown. The way I’m sitting causes my back to sway a little and my breast to lift to Graham’s mouth. He clamps his lips first around one, then the other, moaning as he works my nipples into hardened points.
“I can smell your arousal.”
“Only for you, Graham Taylor. Only for you,” I say still grinding my hips into him. His name on my lips breaks his resolve.
“Turn around.” He lifts me off him. His lap is wet from my sex grinding on him.
I turn facing the view of the river, my back to him.
“Lay with your front against my legs. Like this.” He helps guide me into position when he sees I don’t quite understand what he wants me to do. My head is resting on his calves as he slowly begins to massage mine, working his way up. His leans forward and grabs my hips pulling them up his body and into the air, his arms supporting much of my weight. My arms rest between his thighs, and it’s almost like I’m in an inverted plank position.
“Graham?” I question trying to figure out what he is going to do.
“Rest your legs on the top of the chair.” I realize now his intentions and shimmy my way closer to his mouth, resting part of my legs against the top of the chair and holding some weight on my arms. Graham supports the rest. He sinks his tongue into me, weaving in and out of my sex and backside. It doesn’t take long before I’m coming in his mouth, my body shaking from the mind-blowing orgasm that is ripping through it. It’s a few more minutes before Graham is satisfied he has drawn every last tremor from me. My arms collapse onto the chair.
He gives me a minute before directing me to turn to face him again. My legs feel like
jello.
“Lower that beautiful ass onto me baby.” He’s holding his erection in his hand, guiding it into me as I lower onto him.
“Oh my god,” I murmur.
“That’s right, baby. Feel every inch of me.” His hands wrap around my waist, pushing my hips further onto him.
“Graham.” My hips move against his fullness inside of me.
“Open your eyes, Emelia.”
I look at him, giving him my full attention.
“Don’t move yet. I want to talk to you for a minute.”
“Okay,” I reply timidly, not sure where this is going and struggling to keep my body in place.
“I’m sorry about this morning.” He says it quickly like it’s been bursting to come out of him. A siren goes by reminding me we are outdoors. “I shouldn’t have done that to you, but all thoughts seem to go out the window where you are involved. I want your submission, Emelia, and when you refuse to give it to me, I resort to what I know. Punishment. I don’t want to have to fight you for it each time. What do you need from me to know that I will take care of you? I will make sure your needs are met. I will provide your heart’s desire. Submission is not about me taking all your power. It’s about you trusting me to know what is best for you. For us. I need it and I want it.”
This is as real as it gets. Us sitting eye to eye, him inside me.
“What happens when you leave, Graham? I can’t protect myself if I don’t keep some parts to myself. This has never been an issue for you before. The women you’ve been with have always been like you. They knew going into this what was expected of them and what their next step was once it was over. And I don’t know that, Graham. I already can’t breathe at the very thought of you leaving me.”
“Who says I’m going to leave you?”
“You, actually. This all started with the idea we would have the kind of affair you are used to. We both know this is an impermanent thing.”
“I’ve told you that’s not what I want anymore.”
“And I hear you, but at some point you’ll still leave. And I have to make sure I’m strong enough to survive it, and right now I know I’m not.”
It’s the most honest I’ve been with him. I have laid all my cards on the table. I feel raw and exposed. I lower my eyes to break the contact, something I’m not accustomed to doing.
“Why do you think I’ll leave?”
I look at up at him and I can’t hold back the tear that falls down my cheek. “Everyone I love does.”
He wipes my tear with his thumb, and I can tell he’s trying to make puzzle pieces fit again.
“We’re going to start over. No talk about affairs or how long this will last. We’re going to be a team. And you’re going to trust me to be the leader and I’m going to trust you to give yourself over to me in your own way. No crystal ball. One day at a time. Do you trust me?” he asks.
“Unequivocally.”
“Then the rest is just details.” He kisses me long and deep. “Move,” he whispers. My hips comply and I lift off him. His mouth is everywhere—on my breast, my shoulders, my neck, my ears.
“Open your eyes, baby. Look around you.” Its night now and I can see people in the windows in the buildings surrounding us. “It’s erotic, isn’t it? Watching people. Knowing that they are going about their evening, unaware that you’re out in the open riding my cock. Unaware that I’m about to fuck your ass. Hundreds of eyes on you, but not seeing you. Only me. I see you, Emelia. All of you.”
“Graham,” I moan.
“That’s right, baby. Let me hear you. I love to listen to you. I love how loud you get for me. How you don’t hold back. You give me everything.”
His words sex me up and I get louder. My cries of ecstasy mix with the everyday noises of the city. I look up, and there’s a woman standing in the window a few floors above us holding a glass of wine. She’s lit from the light behind her. She’s beautiful and for a minute I wonder if she can actually see me, but I can tell by her expression that she obviously has no idea that I’m down here. I bring my eyes back to Graham. He’s been watching me watch her. I ride him harder, spiraling us both over the edge.
“Fuck!” I scream as my body convulses around him while he mumbles something unintelligible. I go limp against him, losing all ability to control my body.
We lie in his bed, the terrace doors open, the breeze coming in. As always, New York awake at our feet. His hand rubs up and down my back.
“I talked with Harry today. He’s hoping you’ll stop by tomorrow so you can talk.” He pauses. “I’ll go with you if you like, or you can do it on your own.”
Several minutes pass before I finally respond. “I’d like you to go if you can.”
He pulls me into a tighter hold. “I’d love to.” He takes a breath and then asks, “Teague said you were throwing back the tequila at the club Thursday night. Want to talk about it?”
“I thought Teague said he wasn’t my babysitter.”
“He’s not, but he’s concerned for you. Just like everyone else. Like me.”
Graham doesn’t push. He continues to run a hand up and down my back waiting patiently as I process my thoughts.
“I realized on the way to the club, that I’m angry with my mama. I don’t know what to do with that. It feels wrong. I’ve never been angry with her. Even when she continued to let Tony be in our lives, I never blamed her for it. She never saw how he was. When our grandparents died, she relied on him even more. I never had the heart to tell her what a manipulative bastard he was. I just made sure Tony stayed away from Addie. As long as she was protected, I was okay. I could handle whatever I needed to handle. But this. This was deliberate. She told me my father died before I was born. How could she tell me that? When I saw Harry’s face, I knew he was as shocked as I was. He had no idea I existed. He never knew she was pregnant. To find out I have a father who is a good guy…she knew she was dying. Knew she was leaving me to take care of me and Addie, and she never told me. What kind of mother does that? What if my knowing would have made a difference with Addie? What if Harry would have loved us? Maybe Addie wouldn’t have lost her way. She was my hero and she let me down.”
All of this spills out before I know what has happened, which is good because I probably wouldn’t have had the courage to say it if I had thought about it first.
“It’s ok to be angry with her, Emelia. It’s only natural. No one is bullet proof. Not your mother. Not you. There’s nothing you can do to change the story, but you can change the outcome. Let yourself be angry, then forgive her. That’s all you can do.”
I take a deep breath as I consider this. “I love you,” I tell him, placing my hand on his cheek.
He rolls on top of me with a kiss. “Say it again,” he says with his eyes locked on mine.
“I love you. Graham,” I say as he sinks into me.
“You shouldn’t run with earbuds in.” Teague is already handling me and we haven’t even left the apartment.
“What?” I ask, my eyebrows dipped in confusion.
“You’re not aware of your surroundings when you have earbuds in. It dulls one of your senses. Your senses alert you when something is wrong.”
“That’s why I have you. I’m wearing them.”
“Earbuds aren’t allowed in the marathon. Wouldn’t it be better to get used to running without music now?”
I hear laughter over my shoulder.
“Man, did I make the right decision.” Graham smiles at me as he takes his seat at the breakfast bar.
“What are you talking about?” I ask.
“Teague. He’s the right man for the job. He’s good for you.”
“I’ve worked with POW’s more cooperative than she is,” Teague says to him, stretching for the run.
“I’m sorry, did you say something? I didn’t hear you.” I point to the earbuds in my ears.
“You two deserve each other,” Graham chuckles.
“She’s too good for me,” Teague replies in a moment of sincerity, all teasing aside.
“I know how you feel,” Graham’s eyes sincerely look at me.
“I’m still running with my music.”
“Well that touching moment was short-lived.” Teague’s sarcasm returning.
“Bye babe. We’ll be back.” I walk over to Graham to kiss him goodbye.
“You know we’re running sixteen miles today,” I remind Teague as we enter the elevator.
“And the hits just keep on coming.”
The run is actually enjoyable, but it takes me a while to find my stride. Teague doesn’t feel the need to talk to me, which I like. I wear earbuds when I run so that people leave me alone. Teague is my earbuds now, I guess.
We run the Hudson River Greenway up to 110th street, crossing over the north end of central park to 5th Ave. From there, we make our way down to 58th street, straight back to the Hudson Greenway. Exactly sixteen miles. I’m wasted by the time we’re finished. I haven’t been sticking to my running schedule the last couple of weeks, and my body is protesting the shock I just put it through. Teague is too tough to admit it, but he’s going to be sore tomorrow, too.
When I make it back to Graham’s, I decide to ward off some of the inevitable soreness with a few leisurely laps in his pool. I throw on a practical swimsuit, which is difficult to find in Jackson’s haystack of designer two-pieces that look like something Beyoncé’s backup dancers would wear to the Grammys. I’ve left Graham to finish his work, not wanting to disturb him with my anxiety about my meeting with Harry.
It feels good to stretch my muscles, skimming the top of the water. I’m on lap seven when Graham dives smoothly into the water to catch up to me. We each stay in our lanes, hyperaware of the other. Like he did in the Hamptons, Graham slowly increases the pace, pushing
to see if I’ll compete. He knows I can’t resist. I catch a glimpse of his smile when I turn my head for air.
“You win.” He says after a few laps, pulling me from my lane to his body. “I’d rather make out with you than race you.” He runs his lips up my throat.
“I’d rather race.” I feel how hard he is already when I wrap my legs around his waist.
“Good to know,” he teases, swimming backwards with me wrapped around him.
“Did you finish your work?”
“I’m never finished, but it’s enough for today.”
“Really?” I kiss his lips lightly, smiling as he works at treading water with me still wrapped around him. “What are your plans for the rest of the day?”
“I can think of a few things,” his hands start to undo the strap of my two-piece. I run my tongue over his before I push off of his shoulders, dunking him under the water and swimming to the steps.
“What the hell?” He tries to catch my ankle before I pull it out of the water.
“Let’s compete.”
“Compete?” His brow dips not understanding.
“Compete. See who can do the best flips.”
“Why do you want to start a game you’ll know you’ll lose?” he asks, climbing out of the water behind me.
“Who says I’ll lose?”
“I always win.”
“That was before me.”
“After you, then.” He says, dripping water over me while he towers above.
I’m distracted by the water running down his chest, thinking how much I would like to follow in its trail.
“Concentrate, James.” He snaps his fingers in front of me bringing me back to the present. I shrug unashamed at my momentary objectification.
I start with an easy dive. He follows.
“I thought you were going to challenge me,” he taunts.
“I’m working up to it. Lulling you into a false sense of security before I go in for the kill.” I hit the board strong and add a flip.
“Mine had more air,” he argues after he has mirrored my move. It’s true of course, but I’m not going to tell him.
We follow with cannon balls, toe touches, and diving ball catches.