Accept Me

by J. L. Mac

  Damon wastes no time disrobing me. With one quick tug, he’s removed the black yoga pants that I use to lounge around in. He leaves my navy blue lace thong in place but goes to work on my tank top and bra. I lie before him in just the thinnest of lace, wanton and ready. The slickness between my thighs beckons to him. His slacks drop to the floor and are joined by his boxer briefs a moment later. I squirm, watching him reveal himself to me. His engorged cock springs forward, jutting up and outward. My eyes trace every throbbing vein, every ridge and the velvety smooth rim of the tip. My tongue involuntarily darts out of my mouth, moistening my lips. Damon knows what I want.

  I hold up a crooked finger and motion him to join me on the bed. “I want my lips wrapped around your cock, baby.”

  He climbs onto the bed and reclines on his back, his heavy cock twitching against his abdomen. I kneel between his legs, lean forward and take his length as far is it will go. The dewy tip of him butts against the back of my throat, but I take him deeper still. I peek up to see Damon staring down at me, jaw clenched, eyes heavy with pleasure.

  I work my hand up and down the length of him, making long firm strokes. My tongue swirls and slides around the broad tip of his cock, winning a low moan from somewhere deep in his chest.

  “Fuck, baby,” he says, then sucks in air through gritted teeth. His hips begin to buck beneath my ministrations the closer I bring him to release. One big hand tangles in my brown waves, guiding me up and down.

  Abruptly, his hand tightens in my hair, stilling me.

  “On your back,” he growls, pushing me away.

  I waste no time doing just as he says and spread my legs wide for my Big Man. His fingers hook into my soaked thong. He pushes his thumb through the delicate fabric and just that quick, the junction between my legs is all his. His lips go to the soft inner part of my thigh and place warm, lingering kisses on his way to my wet center.

  My hips squirm. My back arches. I ache for the fullness of him. With my eyes shut, Damon’s skillful mouth reigns over the most sensitive parts of me. Purely expert flicks from his tongue overwhelm my pulsing clit. A clear moan rings out around us. It only encourages him. His full lips seal around my clit and my hips buck, my body ravenous. He alternates between light suckling and hard passes from his tongue. Little jolts of electricity burn through my extremities, making my legs twitch and jerk in sync with each pass from his tongue. My fingers find his dark chocolate brown hair, lacing through the tangled mess of strands.

  “Damn you taste perfect, baby,” his low voice reverberates through his lips against my flesh, setting me trembling in his grip. “So sweet.”

  My breathing comes in quick gasps the closer I am to coming. “Ah, Damon,” I moan.

  “That’s right, baby,” he urges.

  My head tosses back against the pillow. My eyes bulge, my mouth pops open, and my body arches, giving all of me to his masterful mouth. A current of pleasure rockets through me in every direction, wiping out all cognitive thought.

  He’s just fucked me stupid without even fucking me. The irony doesn’t escape my endorphin-saturated brain. Only my overachieving, real life God of Sex could wield this brand of magic. I’m his happy supporter.

  Damon’s rippled, muscular body snakes up mine, settling between my quavering thighs. My hardened nipples beg for attention and my Big Man obliges. His mouth covers my nipple briefly, sucking hard. He nips, creating the perfect amount of pain, then repeats his work on my other side.

  He grips his thrumming cock and I look down to see a shining bead of dew just at the apex of his wide tip. He eases forward, placing it right on my sensitive clit, depositing his singular drop of pleasure right there. Good fucking God, that’s hot.

  My hips thrust upward involuntarily, desperately wanting to draw him in. His honey eyes burn right through me just as he thrusts into me, sheathing himself to the root. He’s as deep as he can possibly go and the fullness of him is exquisite. Our respective sighs echo around us as he leans in closer, caging me. Propped on his elbows, his chiseled chest makes pass after pass against my breasts, heightening my satisfaction.

  Stroke after deep stroke, Damon builds both of us closer to climax. I’m helpless beneath him. My nails dig in. My legs cling around him tightly. His breathing comes faster and heavier. His speed increases. The air in my lungs stalls in place. My toes curl painfully. My muscles clench at Damon’s cock, exploiting every ounce of pleasure that he has to give. He slams into me once, twice, three, four times more, then shudders, spilling himself inside me.

  With him still buried deep, I wrap my arms and legs around him, holding him close. I kiss the throbbing vein in his neck and allow both of us to relish in the bliss we bring each other.

  Damon’s breathing grows deep and his body relaxes against mine before I have a chance to ask him why he looked so riled up this afternoon. Whatever had him looking so tousled is a mystery. I doubt he’d do much explaining anyway. He never does. Still, I hope whatever has him frustrated has nothing to do with me. Or Noni. Or Edward.

  Sleep comes easy despite my ever-growing level of worry. I only hope that when and if Damon discovers what I’ve unearthed, he won’t pull away from everyone who loves him. Specifically me.

  After making breakfast for myself, Damon, and Grams, I gather my things for work and shove them into my shoulder bag. I’ve got a laundry list of things to get done today and I pray it’s enough to distract me from my own thoughts.

  “Hey,” I catch Damon by his necktie and pull him to me as he passes by in the foyer, “are you okay? You looked irritated when you came home yesterday.”

  “Versan,” he explains with a shrug of his big shoulders. “Quack thinks he knows everything. That’s all.”

  His appointment.

  I’d forgotten that yesterday was Wednesday and that Damon would be going to see the good doctor for his usual appointment.

  “Wanna talk about it?” I offer, knowing that he’ll likely say no.

  “Will I have to pay you?” he teases with a wink.

  “Of course,” I clutch my heart feigning offense.

  “Name your price, ma’am.”

  “Hmm… Ah!” I hold up my finger then pull him closer by the silk tie he’s wearing.

  His lips touch mine and just like that, I’m swathed in everything Damon Cole. Even if for just a moment, I forget the world and every person in it. For just this moment it’s only me and Damon and the connection we share.

  “Oh, gimme a break,” Grams laments in mock disgust. She’s entered the foyer with her duct tape-adorned walker, a backpack slung over one shoulder, and her reading glasses dangling from her neck.

  Damon’s deep laugh resounds against my lips before he breaks away to smile broadly at the woman who raised him. He looks back to me and gives me a chaste peck. “Gotta go, baby. Call you later. Bye, Grams,” he says on his way out of our door.

  “Okay!” I call out. “Love you!”

  “Love you too!” he shouts back.

  Once the door closes, I look to Grams and can’t help but laugh. “What’s with the backpack? Going back to school?”

  “No, Miss Smartypants. I’ve got some pictures and things for Noni to look at.”

  “Yeah, I guess she does have a lot to catch up on,” I admit.

  It’s then that it really sinks in that Noni has missed almost thirty-three years of her child’s life. She’s given up so much. She missed watching him grow and learn and turn from a baby to a child to a man. If I ever have a child, I can’t imagine missing everything. Even the thought of not seeing a baby that I made with Damon is enough to spawn a small ache in my chest. I don’t like the thought. Not at all.

  Noni beat us to work this morning and it’s beginning to look like something I should expect. More often than not (with the exception of yesterday, really), I get to work and find Noni waiting to be let in. She’s all kinds of dependable. Every day she even looks the same. Her brown hair is brushed smooth and pinned back with a hair comb. Her clothes
are secondhand, but they’re professional and always pressed and clean. She smells of lavender perfume. Her dark brown eyes are lightly rimmed with eyeliner, her lashes coated with a modest amount of mascara. I can’t say that she needs much more than that. She’s a beautiful woman in spite of her circumstances. Had I looked closer before, I think I might have seen my Big Man in Noni. He has the same long eyelashes, dark brown hair, and brown eyes, though his are more of a honey brown whereas Noni’s remind me of melted chocolate.

  I should just give her a manager’s key instead of letting her wait outside with her bag lunch, purse and travel mug every morning.

  “G’morning, Noni,” I greet as I pull the store keys from my bag.

  Grams shuffles right over to her and wraps Noni up in a hug that seems to be reserved for mothers. I’m not entirely sure how to even describe that type of hug but I do know that it’s lingering and gentle and full of secret whispered exchanges in each other’s ears. I take a moment to admire these two women, distractedly placing the key into the door and turning until I hear the slide of the deadbolt. I may not have my own mother around anymore, but I’ve gained two amazing women whom any person would be proud to call their mom. They are perfect examples of what a strong woman is. I idolize them both.

  Noni smiles her typical sweet fashion. “Morning, Jo.”

  Grams shuffles into the store first, followed by Noni, as I prop the door open with an outstretched foot.

  “I’ve brought the pictures I told you about,” Grams says to Noni, covering her heart with her hand and smiling ruefully. “I’m excited to look at them. It’s been a while.”

  “You two go on into the office. I’ve got that table guy coming at 10,” I say as I check the watch on my wrist. It isn’t Maman’s watch anymore and I’m still getting used to it. It’s a pricey replacement though. My new Rolex matches Damon’s (though I’m not sure much is the same besides the brand and the fact that it’s a watch); it’s a gorgeous, shiny rose gold with diamonds embellishing the face. It’s simple but elegant and I must admit that I love it. I tried to refuse, but Damon insisted that I have it until he can get Maman’s watch fixed after the bath water disaster. I don’t know why I bothered trying to resist the elaborate gift. Damon doesn’t take no for an answer. Ever. I need to remember to ask him about Maman’s watch when I get home…

  Grams and Noni happily retreat into the office, leaving me to begin sorting things out for the table guy. He’ll be here in about an hour and since Damon is the one who arranged this meeting, there is no refusing it. He swears that this custom furniture company is the perfect thing to update the store to make it a more “young adult friendly” environment. Jonathan Greene is the guy’s name and apparently he custom designs charging station bistro tables. Each one seats three customers and accommodates charging needs for e-readers, laptops, tablets, and cell phones. They even have these little pop-up partitions for privacy, making the tables look like a pie chart of some sort. His company is called Going Greene and something about it just sounds so pompous that I find myself crinkling my nose at his choice in business name.

  At 9:45, the door to the store swings open an in walks Damon’s assistant, Brian, a leggy blonde woman, and what I assume is her son. This must be Brian’s sister. The resemblance is uncanny.

  “Jo, baby, meet my big sis, Lindsay. Lindsay, Jo.” He thumbs from me to her then back to me. “And this stud is my nephew, Trey.”

  “Stud, indeed,” I say, winking at the handsome little boy. For the second time today I envision what Damon’s and my babies would look like—silky brown baby hair with honey eyes and pouty, fat little baby lips. Some super feminine side of me swoons and melts into a pool of hormones somewhere on the floor. What the hell, Jo? I shake off the vision and focus on Brian, who’s tapping his foot impatiently. “How can I help you, Bri?”

  “I brought Linds with me because we’re job hunting for her today, but Boss Man told me to be here to take notes during this meeting with Going Greene.”

  “You mean spy on me.”

  “Not spying! More like micromanaging in his standard way.” Brian shrugs, then brushes a stray dirty blond hair from his forehead. Must be out of hair gel. Or spackle. Or whatever he uses to set that hair of his into a cast iron helmet-o-hair.

  “You’re babysitting,” I toss over my shoulder as I retreat behind the coffee bar for a fresh cup. “Want something to drink, Trey?” I ask the green-eyed boy.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he replies politely. “Do you have chocolate milk?”

  “I don’t think we do, but you know, there is someone here who makes a wicked cup of hot chocolate. Want some?” I offer, leaning forward as if telling some national secret.

  Trey’s wide grin is answer enough.

  “Be right back. Brian, you and Lindsay help yourself,” I call as I walk off towards the office.

  By the time I pry Noni from Grams and return to the coffee bar, Mr. Jonathan Greene has joined our little private party. Brian is standing there with his tablet at the ready but Trey has disappeared into the children’s section. Lindsay appears to be immersed in the menu Noni has developed. Mr. Greene is standing with Brian, waiting for me.

  “Hi. Jo Geroux. Nice to meet you.” I hold out my hand to him.

  Mr. Going Greene smiles pretentiously and I inwardly mark one for myself on the scoreboard for having predicted this. No one names their business after themselves like that unless they are truly and thoroughly in love with themselves. Going Greene. Might as well have been Pompous Poop.

  “Pleasure to meet you, Jo. Jonathan Greene.” He holds my hand for just a little too long, making this meeting awkward in a hurry.

  “Yes, well, um. Let’s get to it, huh?” I ask, clapping my hands together in front of me.

  An hour and a half into his presentation, I find myself making up a reason to go to the office, leaving Brian to take notes from the showy Mr. Greene. I’ve had about all I can take of his namedropping and bragging.

  When I resurface, My Greene has left the store and apparently so have Lindsay and Trey.

  “Where’d your sister go?” I ask, looking around.

  “I don’t know, but she took off out of here like her hair was on fire. She said she’d be right back.” Brian waves dismissively towards the door as if he’s completely unconcerned. “I emailed you and Damon a copy of my notes. I gotta get out of here. Boss Man has already texted me twice to go get a file from Mike Passarelli,” he says, shaking his head and stowing his tablet in his man purse.

  “Who’s Mike?”

  “His personal snoop,” Brian replies easily.

  “What?” I make no effort at hiding the quizzical look on my face.

  “Yeah, Mike just does all of Damon’s personal snooping into everything business and personal. How do you not know this?” he squeaks in the most dubious fashion.

  “Good question,” I mutter weakly, because I really don’t get why I don’t already know about this guy. Who hires someone to snoop around for them? Someone with interests to protect.

  “Yeah Mike is all macho Bruce Willis, Die Hard style. He’s pretty hot, too. Don’t go getting me into trouble, chick.” Brian points one manicured finger at me.

  “Never,” I assert, holding up my hands in surrender.

  “K. Later, skater,” he singsongs on his way out the door.

  “Peace out, girl scout,” I counter.

  Snoop? Like investigator? Guess I’ll have to ask Damon about more than just the watch tonight.

  When our house comes into view, I see Damon’s truck parked in front. I’m surprised. He rarely beats me home.

  “I’m going to have a nap, Jo,” Grams says as I help her out of the car. “I’ll be in later on.”

  “Okay, Grams. Get some rest.” I follow her down the walkway to her apartment and help her in. I smile and shut the door, then hurry back into the house to get out of these clothes and see what Damon’s doing. I’d like to know all about this Mike Passarelli snoop guy. I’m especially cu
rious to learn if Mike investigated me when we first started seeing each other.

  “Damon?” I call out, waiting a moment for his response. Nothing. I head in the direction of his office, betting that I’ll find my Big Man in there. I tap lightly on the door then open it before Damon invites me in. I never wait for an invitation. “Hey, I called for you,” I say as I enter. “What are you doing?”

  Damon sits behind his desk, reading from a manila folder with a vacant expression on his face. Every nerve in my body goes on high alert. Something isn’t right. He stands without saying a word and rounds his desk, striding towards the door.

  Damon shuts his office door and stands himself between me and my exit. “What did you do?” he asks levelly.

  My heart instantly doubles its pace and I know what’s coming. I can see it in his eyes. He knows. This is happening and I’m not ready for any of it.

  “What did you do?” he repeats in an eerily calm voice. The only response I can register is a series of confused shakes of my head. “Don’t you deny it, Josephine; I saw you with Grams talking to her at the store.”

  “What?”

  “CCTV, Josephine. It was installed yesterday evening.”

  “You were using it to spy on me?”

  “That’s irrelevant.”

  “No, I think it’s completely relevant. What else have you been spying on, huh? Has Mike fed you anything juicy?” I march to his desk and snatch the manila folder up and flip it open. My eyes scan the first few lines before Damon crosses the room and seizes it from my hands, flinging it back onto the desk.

  Subject: Edward Cole

  Findings: Substantial debt to various private lending institutions and their affiliates. No known aliases. No known foreign accounts or property. Record of two cellular numbers registered to “Edward Cole.” Surveillance to continue as previously discussed.