by Zuri Day
Through the haze of passion, Donovan heard a soft, neighing sound. I know, Sauvignon, time to take off the saddle. This was followed by a very wet nose nudging the back of his head. Ha! Good idea, old girl. Donovan heeded Sauvignon’s stellar advice and, with tongues still entwining, began walking Marissa backward toward the stable. They were two employees, temporary though they may be, making out in broad open daylight before God and everybody. His mother rarely visited the stables these days, but it would be just his luck for her to decide to try out the telescope Donald had gifted her with at Christmas.
They entered the barn, a cool respite from the blazing sun. It smelled of hay and sweet feed, horse sweat and leather. The thorough cleaning given just that morning prevented it from smelling of something less desirable. No matter. Donovan and Marissa were only aware of each other: the feel of her silky hair as he bunched it in his fingers, how his muscles rolled beneath her hand. He turned so that she was against the wall and lifted his head to look deep into her eyes before continuing the assault. The kiss changed in intensity the way the horse had changed speeds, quickly going from soft and languid to hard and urgent. Breathing intensified as nipples hardened and a shaft became engorged. He raised his head again, this time to rain kisses on her temples, cheeks and forehead. The absence from her mouth caused his mind to clear. Breathing heavily, he leaned his forehead against hers.
“We can’t do this.” Donovan worked to control his breathing.
“I know.” Marissa willed her heart not to beat out of her chest.
“The work,” he whispered.
“My crazy friend,” she replied in kind.
“Just too complicated.”
“Doesn’t make sense.” She stared into eyes, which mirrored her own, filled to the brim with longing and black with desire.
Breathing slowed.
Time stood still.
“Just one more kiss?”
“Okay.”
He thrust his tongue into her mouth. It was as if a starter gun fired, as though lightning flashed through every fiber of her being. Just like that, she was on fire, a tigress raging out of control. Marissa could think of only one possibility to stoke this flame. Mindlessly, she reached for the cotton shirt tucked inside his jeans and pulled it free. But there was still a problem. Too much fabric between them. With not one thought of embarrassment or consequences, she stepped back, pulled her cotton top over her head, threw it to the ground and then fell once again into Donovan’s waiting arms. Ah, better.
Hard abs. Soft breasts. Donovan agreed. A perfect combination.
Pulling them farther into the barn, Donovan spotted a blanket folded on top of a bale of hay. Later, he’d wonder if Diego had known something before he did, but now he just thanked the gods for its convenience. He disengaged from Marissa just long enough to grab it and spread it on a bed of scattered hay. Dropping to his knees, he paused, looked up and took a moment to drink in the vision before him. She looked like a vineyard nymph, her hair deliciously tousled, her lips wet and swollen from his relentless kisses, smooth chocolate mounds peeking from a lacy, white bra. His eyes traveled down to a smooth, flat stomach. He kissed her inward navel, whipped his tongue inside the belly button indention even as his hands sought and found their target: the jean’s zipper.
He undid the button above it, all the while looking into Marissa’s eyes. “Are you sure?” She nodded. He smiled, unzipped the pants and pulled them down around curvy hips, thick thighs and strong, sexy calves. His eyes darkened even further as he leaned into her, inhaled the sweetness of her paradise, rubbed his neat goatee against her lacy wisp of a thong. Licking the sides of the triangle of fabric, he caught hints of the unshaven honeypot hidden behind it. His dick hardened further, pushing up against his jeans in a way that was almost unbearable.
Fortunately a rescue was at hand. “Here,” Marissa said, kneeling down on the blanket while avoiding his eyes. “Let me.” Her movements were not as smooth as Donovan’s had been, with slightly shaking fingers working to unclasp the silver buckle, unbutton the fastener and undo the zipper or, rather, unleash the beast. That’s what she thought of his manhood: a long, thick bulge against stark white cotton boxers that caused her eyes to widen and her throat to go dry. She’d read about such massive appendages in erotic romances, had even seen one during her one and only experience watching a porno flick. But to see one live, throbbing, in the flesh? It made her heart race even as it made her wet.
“Come here.” Donovan shifted so that most of the blanket was exposed. “Lie down.” He rose as she lay, and he removed his jeans and boxers. His desire bobbed and weaved like a fencer’s sword. He noted Marissa’s stare and the slight apprehension that shone in her eyes. “I’ll try not to hurt you.”
She swallowed. “Okay.”
He lay next to her and for a moment, mere seconds really, was content to just look in her eyes. But all too soon his need to touch her, feel her beneath him, overcame him. He placed soft kisses on her face, neck and shoulders as his hand sought and found the valley between her thighs. “Um.” He kissed her deeply while his fingers explored, teasing her silky folds, running his thick middle finger between them, swallowing her gasp inside his mouth. With one slight pull and a flick of his wrist, the thong came away from Marissa’s body, leaving her fully exposed. She felt free and wanton as the wind played against her skin, along with Donovan’s fingers and tongue. He plunged a digit inside her, and she opened wide to accommodate him. His thumb teased her nub, and she thrashed against the blanket, the prickling hay against her back creating a textural contrast to the fire below.
“Donovan, please,” she panted, the words surprising to her ears. “I need it. I can’t wait.”
And there it was, that deep, rumbling chuckle that was all too rare, pouring into her ear as he covered her body. He held himself over her, placed his juicy round tip at the entrance of her heat. She squiggled against it, willing her body to open up and accommodate him. But he was as big as a Louisiana slugger and she was as tight as a drum.
“Relax,” he whispered, kissing her everywhere his mouth could reach. “Relax, my sweet Marissa.”
It took several moments but finally he was inside her. Donovan lay still, delighting in how tightly she sheathed him, luxuriating in how her feminine flower pulsed around his love muscle. Once adjusted, she began moving beneath him—lazy circles, a sure, slow grind. Donovan smiled, appreciative of the fire he’d discovered underneath her conservative demeanor. There wasn’t much time left to prove to Marissa what she needed, to melt the ice around this woman’s heart. Sweet, sweet Marissa. My beautiful filly. I guess it’s time to show you right now. So with that thought, and with a deep thrust, the ride began again…for real.
Chapter 21
Donovan shifted lanes on I-15 North, bobbing his head to the sounds of Anthony Hamilton, one of his favorite artists. His mood was happy, ecstatic even, and it had everything to do with one particular woman and one very special afternoon. A classic that used to play on his grandparent’s turntable wafted into his head. Yes, what a difference a day makes. Based on how Marissa had reacted after the loving was over and the spell had lifted, his battle to win her heart was nowhere near done. It had been the quietest ride ever back to the hotel and once she’d showered and rejoined him in the office, he knew that it had just begun.
* * *
“We need to talk about what happened.” Marissa entered Donovan’s office without knocking: no jewelry, no smile and no preamble.
Donovan nodded. “Have a seat.”
“I’d rather not.” Realizing that she’d spoken more harshly than intended, and that, literal romp in the hay aside, Donovan was technically still her boss and not so technically her permanent employer’s brother-in-law, she backtracked. “What I mean is, there’s a lot of work to be done and what I have to say won’t take long. So…I’d rather stand.”
“Please, Marissa…”
She was glad he couldn’t see how her name rolling off his to
ngue now affected her: a squiggle here, clenched muscles down there, heat pulsating throughout her very core.
He didn’t have to. Donovan knew that Marissa had to be upset; that like him she preferred to maintain control. She was probably angry that she’d lost it. Donovan, however, was shaken, not scared. For now he’d go easy…but he had no intention of letting her go. He motioned for her to take a seat in front of him. She reluctantly complied. He sat back in the chair: demeanor relaxed, voice steady and calm. “What happened just now was a moment that neither of us expected. But since the remainder of your time here will require us to work together extremely intensely—”
That’s what I’m afraid of.
“and very closely—”
I’m toast.
“I’m hoping that the professional camaraderie we’ve created will allow us to finish the task in stellar fashion. I’m sure you want me to forget this afternoon. That’s not going to happen.” He looked at Marissa without blinking. She looked away. “But I will respect what I’m sure are your wishes and conduct myself in a proficient, platonic manner. If that’s what you want.”
“It’s exactly what I want.” So why does it feel so terrible? Because you’re a liar, that’s why!
“Fair enough.” He looked at his watch. “I have a luncheon meeting in an hour, and I believe that the majority of what else I have to accomplish today can be done online. So this afternoon, if it will make you feel better, you’ll have the office all to yourself.” A bittersweet smile scampered across his face.
Little did he know it, but Marissa wanted to catch that smile, put in her pocket and save it for when she was back working at Boss Construction and once again sleeping in her San Diego bedroom—alone. Instead she stood, squared her shoulders and, with a thank-you that couldn’t have been delivered more curtly than if it had been by a staff sergeant to an underling, she left his office.
Thirty minutes later, Donovan left for the day.
* * *
Donovan’s cell phone rang, bringing him out of his musings. “Sharon!”
“Wow, somebody’s happy. And here I thought you couldn’t live without me.”
“Ha! Barely. How are you?”
“Much better, thank you. The doctors say I may be able to leave in the next few days. I got the flowers, the candy, the bear and the wine. Of course, they confiscated the latter, but the gesture was appreciated.”
“Nothing beats a failure but a try.”
“Most wouldn’t take you for a bad boy, Donovan Drake. But I know differently. You’re incorrigible.”
“I knew that Patrice would tell you about it. Hoped that it would put a smile on your face.”
“That it did. How are things at the office?”
“As under control as it can be without you around. Diamond’s husband’s assistant is helping me. She’s proficient, a speedy typist, a workaholic—” amazing lover “—we’re doing okay.”
“She sounds wonderful. Do I need to be worried about my job?”
“Never that. You’re irreplaceable. Which is why I’m on my way to L.A. to see with my own eyes that the doctors are doing their job.”
“Donovan! I told you not to bother.”
“And it seems as though I’m coming up just in time, too. Somebody seems to have forgotten who’s boss.”
* * *
Marissa was thinking about bosses, too, and it wasn’t Jackson Wright. Until now, she would not have thought it possible to have one single thought consume you for twenty-four hours. Even in sleep, she’d dreamt of him. Donovan. Heard his laugh, smelled his scent, felt him thick and deep inside her. By morning she believed that the dull ache between her legs was not the residue of her ride on Sauvignon but the relished reminder of Donovan riding her. One thing she now knew for sure: with the other two men she’d been with, she’d only had sex. Yesterday, for the very first time, she’d made love. It was the best possible man at the worse possible moment. Or was it? The more she thought about it, the less she was sure.
Traffic was light as Marissa smoothly navigated her silver Honda over three lanes and prepared to exit I-15 South, just north of downtown San Diego and just minutes from her destination: the Blessed Assurance Baptist Church. When she arrived in what had been her home away from home for a large part of her life, the crowd was bustling, the mood was joyful and praise and worship were in full swing. After a procession of waves and hugs from the parking lot to the pew, she settled in to enjoy the service. And she did. So much so that midway through the sermon that dealt with God’s favor, man’s faith and finding the balance, she was convinced that the minister was speaking directly to her. He admonished the parishioners to shake off the fears of the past and embrace the glorious future that God intended. “You’ve prayed for a blessing, a miracle,” he intoned. “And then when God sends it, you turn and run away!”
She joined the shouts of “Amen, Pastor!” and “Hallelujah!” and by the time service had ended, her decision had changed and her mind had been made up. She was going to come clean with Donovan, take a chance with her feelings. He had assumed that she wanted him to forget what happened between them. He assured her that he wouldn’t. Later today, she’d assure him that not only was amnesia not what she wanted, but that she’d like to give him more such moments to be remembered.
Those heady thoughts, that giddy feeling, lasted fifteen whole minutes. That’s how long it took for her to navigate the crowd, exit the church, walk down the steps and run almost directly into Steven McCain.
Chapter 22
“Whoa!” Steven turned. When he realized who had bumped him, he broke into a wide smile. “Just what I’ve always wanted—a beautiful woman running into my arms.”
Marissa stepped back, quickly assessing the situation. Steven was with his friend, Antonio, so that helped. Antonio had always seemed like a stand-up guy, low-key, not prone to histrionics. There’s no way he’d let Steven act a fool on the Lord’s day right in front of His house. Maybe I can get through this without tears. Or bloodshed. She lifted her chin, determined to try.
“Hello, Steven, Antonio.” When he leaned over, she gave Antonio a quick hug.
“What? No hug for me?”
“Sorry, dude, I’m all out.” The cheeriness in her voice was as fake as snow in summer, but it sounded real enough. “I have a handshake though.”
Steven took her hand, but when he lifted it to his mouth she pulled away. His eyes narrowed. “Damn, baby girl. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were still trying to block a brother, that you still have attitude about a lie told to you, about a situation that should have been forgiven. Being that we’re here at church and all.”
“All is forgiven, Steven. But nothing is forgotten. That’s the difference. Y’all brothers have a blessed day.”
She’d only taken one step before Steven grabbed her arm. “What’s the rush, sister? Aren’t you going to fellowship with your fellow congregants as the pastor suggested?” He smiled, as if to show that what he said was indeed a question and not a demand.
“That’s what I just did,” Marissa retorted, trying to keep her tone light as well.
“Tony and I were just getting ready to go grab a bite. Care to join us?”
“No, thanks. I already have plans.” Once again, she turned to walk away, ready to smack Steven with her purse if he tried to detain her.
He didn’t, but he fell into step right beside her. “Hey, Tony,” he said, his voice still light and playful. “Marissa doesn’t believe that I have pictures of her, the ones I told you about.”
Marissa huffed, slowly losing control of the peace the service had just provided. “Steven, please. Why don’t you give it a rest?” She turned to Antonio. “Tony, like thousands of teens transitioning into adulthood, I made some decisions that if it were possible I’d take back. One of them is that I posed nude for an art class. It was done very tastefully and—” she whipped around to Steven “—no pictures were taken.” She stopped and confronted Steven. “There.
You satisfied?” She began walking even faster to her car.
“Don’t even worry about that, Marissa,” Antonio said. “Like the reverend said, the past is the past.” He gave a warning look to Steven. “Cut it out, man.”
Steven ignored Antonio and continued following Marissa. “No pictures were taken during class, but after class? In that little dressing room where you’d stored your clothes?” Marissa’s steps faltered the slightest bit. “Ha! Yeah, you remember. But what you might not have known is that there was a storage room with an opening just large enough to offer a full view of everything happening on the other side of the wall.”
Marissa stopped in her tracks. “You’re a liar!”
“Ha! You wish.”
“A sick pervert. A worthless lowlife. I can’t believe that I ever called you friend.”
“Tony, man, it’s funny what people will do when they think they’re by themselves. When they think that no one’s watching.”
Marissa neared her car. She lifted her arm to disengage the locks, opening the door as soon as she reached it. She’d have closed it, but Steven held it firm.
Antonio took a step forward. “Steven, that’s enough! Come on, man—”
“Look, don’t involve yourself in what ain’t your business. I just want to talk to her.” He turned to Marissa, softened his voice. “Five minutes. That’s all.”
Taking a deep breath, Marissa placed her keys in the ignition and her phone by her side. In case she needed to dial 911. She looked at Antonio and nodded, but was grateful that he didn’t walk too far away. “Okay, Steven. Five minutes.”
“I want to go out with you.”
“Not happening.”