Cards Of Love: The World (Swift Series Book 2)

by Leslie Pike

  Is she getting close already? I think so. Thank God, because I’m not sure I have the power to hold back.

  Her cheeks turn pink and her nose crinkles with the coming of an orgasm. There’s the sexiest groans coming from deep inside her. She pumps hard against my thrusts. My balls beat against her. I hear my own guttural cry as we reach the pinnacle of pleasure.

  Then it’s all sensation. We come together in a rush of sexual fire, frenzied by its desire to spread. My jaw tightens as her eyes squeeze shut.

  “Fuuuuuck!” she screams.

  “Yeah, come baby!”

  Relentlessly I pound into her with all the strength I have. There’s no stopping me, or her. Passion matching passion.

  We take every sensation the orgasm has to give. I don’t slow down till that happens, resting my body on hers for a few moments before rolling off.

  “I can’t talk,” she gasps.

  “Me either.”

  We wait until our hearts return to a halfway normal beat. I prop myself on an elbow and look at her. Just look for a few beats.

  “What exactly was that?” I say.

  “I’m not sure. But I hereby nominate you for the Fucking Hall of Fame. Or maybe the Kennedy Center Honors will induct you.”

  That makes me chuckle. I move a strand of golden hair from her eyes.

  “That was the best, best ever,” I say. No contest.

  She gazes in my eyes. “For me too. We’re screwed.”

  “Completely. And just so you know, I can go a lot longer than that. No bragging, just fact.”

  Her face brightens with the statement. “Give me whatever you’ve got.”

  I chuckle.

  “Now that I opened my big mouth I need to tell you I need a few minutes. Maybe fifteen, twenty. I’m fucking forty-one, remember.”

  I think it’s alright because her hand touches my face and fingers run through my hair. She’s smiling.

  “Wanna get in the pool?” Her eyebrow lifts.

  “Let me put some music on and get us some champagne. Sound good?”

  “Meet you in the water.”

  With that, she stands and drops the torn pieces of her dress that still clung to her body. Arms in sleeves, the entire back, it slides to the ground. Walking towards the pool, she turns and looks over a shoulder. Am I watching? Oh yeah.

  “Great beautiful fucking ass you have, Miss Jordan.”

  I get a grin before she dives in the still water. When she comes up, she swims back and leans cross armed on the pools edge.

  “Let me see yours. Give me a look,” she purrs.

  Shit. My dick just jumped. Getting up, I walk towards her till I’m standing naked right in front of where she floats. Her eyes lift and settle on my crotch. I give her a dickwave. It’s waking up already. Then I slowly turn so she sees the whole picture. There’s a long catcall whistle.

  “You’re such a perfect little arrangement of atoms,” she calls.

  Making the complete rotation I look down at my cock. “Not sure I’m gonna need the entire fifteen.”

  Her giggles. Even those get me hot.

  “Stay there. I’ll be right back,” I say.

  I head into the house and the first thing I do is turn on the landscaping lights. Oh yeah. Now the pool’s lit, the trees, and most importantly naked January. She knows I’m watching through the window and begins doing backstrokes. Mesmerizing. What a body. My hand automatically goes to my dick and I take a long stroke. Memories of being inside her accompany the visual.

  Better get to my job and stop touching myself, or I’m gonna come quickly again.

  I start the backyard music and hear the first song on my playlist of favorites. Fuck, this is perfect. John Legand says everything I’m feeling. Not only have I not felt this good in years, I’m not sure I ever felt this way before.

  Walking to the refrigerator, I take out the bottle I put in this afternoon. The flutes are waiting on the counter. I catch a glimpse of myself in the reflection in the sliding doors. Completely nude me, wearing an expression I haven’t seen in years. Joy.

  Gathering it all, I head back to her.

  “Did you miss me?” she calls as I approach.

  I set the glasses on the table and work to uncork the bottle like a naked sommelier.

  “Like Harry missed his Sally.”

  “What are we going to do about that?”

  “We’ll figure it out. We’re smarter and older, remember.”

  “It was only a movie. This story’s real.”

  There’s a second or two where we both realize how much truth is in the statement. The moment that lets me know we’re on the same wavelength.

  She grins at my expression and pushes off on her back. What a sight. Long legs, perfectly shaped breasts, and a pussy I’d give my right nut to fuck again. And the golden hair. It floats beside her like a blonde halo. But she’s no saint. She’s a misbehaving sensual woman and not afraid to show she enjoys it. I love that about her. I’ve never found feigning innocence appealing in a woman over twenty.

  I carry our champagne to the edge of the pool and set the glasses down. As she swims towards me, I dive in. A shock of cold and then pleasure. I come up beside her and take her in a wet embrace. Naked against each other. Kissing. Umm.

  “Lovely lips,” I say finding it hard to stop.

  She breaks away and swims to the champagne. I’m right behind her. Literally. My dick against her, my arms over hers. We pick up the flutes.

  “Here’s to the unpredictable wild world. And also to the shredding of the Jordan/Swift Friends Agreement.”

  She takes a sip and sets down the glass. Turning her body to face me, she rubs up against my dick with those velvety lips. I’m electrified.

  “You’re not playing fair. And I believe it’s the Swift/Jordan Agreement,” I tease.

  “Let’s not fight,” she says covering my face with soft kisses. “I’ve got a much better idea.”

  “Is it something I’m gonna like?”

  She ducks under my arm, swims towards the stairs and rises out from the water like Venus. Without looking back, she pulls her long hair to the side, twisting out the water. It’s tucked up in a tight roll, away from her face. Even naked, she’s surefooted. Sexy confident.

  Turning to face me she calls me with a wiggling finger.

  “If you like blow jobs under the stars, you will. Come here, big boy. I’m feeling inspired.”

  Are there stars in the sky? I hadn’t noticed. It’s only her I see.

  Chapter 9

  January

  November and December have proved to be the hottest months of all. They melted forty into the new seventeen. This man. I may have to check into a rehab clinic for pussies with cock addiction issues. Although mine is Brick specific. I have no interest in other men.

  Meanwhile, the time spent having sex over the last eight weeks must qualify us for some kind of award. Maybe Top Performers or Circle of Excellence. In the bed, against the walls, under the water in the shower. That one time on my stairs, which sounded sexy but hurt like hell. Him on top, me on top. Standing, sitting, floating, bent over, from behind, in the behind. Ow! Oh. Ahhh. We’ve been feasting on a smorgasbord of carnal pleasures like starving sex addicts.

  But the delights of the flesh pale compared to what else I’ve found. When I crawled out from under the sheets the truth was waiting. I’m in love with Brick. The moment I tried to tell myself I wasn’t was when I realized I was. There’s no denying my feelings. Maybe there’s something to that Tarot card business. Summer would love to hear me say that. It feels like harmony and a new beginning. More than anything it feels life changing.

  It’s not just how he looks, or even how he makes me feel. Not the sexy bed head, the butterflies in my stomach, or the perfect physicality of him. It’s the intangibles. Who he is down deep. He wears no mask with me. I see the man, his strengths and weaknesses, sure of himself but not in any way cocky. His character is rock solid. He listens.

 
Does he love me? I think so, because the faint look of sadness I detected behind his eyes? It’s not there anymore. And it feels like my fate. But that’s a weighty word to throw around before ten in the morning. I have this nagging urge to tell him how I feel. To sing it to the heavens while skipping down the streets of Memphis.

  I just can’t bring myself to be the first to say the words. It doesn’t help that it’s only been two months. There’s a possibility it hasn’t been enough time for him. What if the thought never crossed his mind? That would be mortifying.

  “I have to actually work sometimes,” I say into the pillow. My words are muffled but I don’t want to move. The massage I’m getting from my handsome, naked masseuse is just too wonderful. He’s straddling my torso, balls resting on my ass. Lovely.

  He answers with a soft touch trailing down my spine. The chills follow his finger.

  “Work? Why? We could live on…” He stops mid-sentence.

  I look over my shoulder. The expression is priceless. He’s surprised himself and doesn’t know how to finish the thought any another way. What other word would fit? I’m not about to help him. He was right the first time. But if he can’t even say the word, he doesn’t yet feel it. I lay my head back down.

  “I’m going to lock you out of my office today, Brick. I’ve calls to make, I need to go over a contract and I’m meeting with Duane tonight to sign an endorsement. I’ll see you tomorrow when you pick me up for the wedding.”

  “That’s a little harsh. Who’s gonna take care of my needs all night?”

  We both break up with the question.

  “Your needs have ruined my work ethic,” I say.

  He slides off my body and leans on an elbow.

  “What about your effect on me? I haven’t always been such a slacker.”

  I turn over and slip my arms around him.

  “One more kiss before I go,” I say. Before he can answer, I take the kiss myself and make it a good one.

  “Alright. You win, Cruella,” he says raising an eyebrow.

  “Why the name?”

  “Because you’re abusing my dog.”

  I start laughing and don’t stop till he kisses me quiet.

  The last day of December and it’s a gorgeous one. Just a few more hours left of what will now be known as my favorite year. What a glorious way to close it out. As I dress, I’m thinking about Atticus and Charlotte’s wedding plans. I fell in love with the idea. A private late morning ceremony. Just family and I will be witness to the vows in the Swift forest. No best man or maid of honor. Atticus says the entire family deserves the titles equally. And being that Charlotte doesn’t have an extended family, these will be all the people needed. I think the whole thing’s spectacularly romantic.

  A home-cooked brunch will follow, and then the newlyweds will return to their condo and the rest of us to our respective homes until the night’s festivities.

  The reception will be at the Swift estate. All guests are instructed to arrive by eight and be waiting for the bride and groom to appear at nine. A New Year’s Eve reception meant to blow out any other, will be held under a huge white tent in the backyard. They even hired a live orchestra to provide the music. There’s two hundred invitees and Charlotte told me only a handful sent regrets.

  I lift my reception dress over my head just to get a preview before tonight and attempt to shimmy into it. I’m trying anyway. What the hell? This was much easier to do when I tried it on in the fitting room last month. It just slid over my body. Getting it past my hips, I look at my reflection in my mother’s full-length mirror. What the fuck?

  That airhead salesgirl was paying more attention to Brick than me. She must have wrapped up the wrong size. I flip the tag over. No, it’s a six. That’s right.

  Shit! It hasn’t been just sex Brick and I’ve been feasting on. I’ve eaten more in the last two months than the previous six. The only positive thing about it is that my boobs have gotten a little bigger. You’ve got to be eating a whole hell of a lot to gain weight in your boobs. Ha!

  Somewhere in the back of my mind another possible reason begins to surface out of the fog. But it gets big and bold real fast. That’s when I lose the smile.

  When was my last period?

  WHEN WAS MY LAST PERIOD?

  WHEN WAS MY LAST PERIOD!!!

  Instantly my head starts pounding. I’m cold and hot at the same time.

  Grabbing my purse off the bed, I rummage for my phone. Before I access the calendar, I pause. And pray.

  If you just give me this one thing, Lord, I promise not to ask for anything again. I just can’t be a pregnant forty-year-old single woman. You know I’d make a terrible mother. Amen.

  Just the words scare the shit out of me. It takes only a few swipes and taps of my finger to bring up the page I want. I move backwards starting at the end of November. No. So okay, it’s been more than a month. Not to worry. I’ve gone five weeks between periods before.

  My eyes dart to the previous weeks. Ohhhh shitttt! There it is, seven weeks ago big as day. What the hell, January? I didn’t notice seven weeks had passed? Shit! Damn that man and his distracting cock, face, personality, self.

  I’m screwed. Then I just begin screaming at the top of my lungs. I throw myself on the bed and start crying. The funny kind where once every ten seconds or so you wail. Even in the midst of it I can see the humor. It’s like I’m outside of my body watching this crazy woman having a fit. My greater self is watching and telling me it’s not gonna change things.

  Then it slows to a whimper as I realize this doesn’t necessarily mean I’m pregnant. Maybe I have some condition that cause you to skip periods. Yeah! That’s probably it! Suddenly there’s hope.

  I need to buy a pregnancy test. Looking at my watch I calculate the time remaining before Brick picks me up. Forty-eight minutes. If I leave now, I can be back in twenty. Five minutes for the test. That leaves me with twenty-three minutes for makeup, hair and finding another dress that doesn’t make me look like a stuffed sausage. It’s doable.

  I grab a coat from the closet, throw it over my tight-as-a-whore dress and head out. Clear the roads! I’m a woman on a mission.

  Back home I unwrap and read the directions as I sit on the toilet. My hands are shaking. Okay, pee on the stick. Deceptively simple for something so monumental.

  Urine runs over my fingers. Shit. But God, if you grant me my request I promise to be a better woman in every way possible. Amen.

  I wonder how many women have shot up prayers to the big guy while they were taking a pregnancy test? Suddenly acting as if you talk every day. Most of them I’d say, but for all different reasons and for two very different outcomes.

  I’m just going to sit here and wait. My vow lasts fifteen seconds, then I can’t take the waiting any longer. I leave the stick laying on a Kleenex on the sink and start pacing. Three minutes is an eternity when your entire future hangs in the balance.

  Before the three minutes is up, I peripherally see the unmistakable lines. I feel the tears well up. My bottom lip is quivering like a child. But there’s no mommy to comfort me or say everything will be alright. Nothing is going to be alright. Grabbing the cell from the counter, I tap the one name I know will help. The keeper of my secrets. I need my sister.

  She answers on the first ring. “I thought you were at the wedding. What’s up?”

  “I’m pregnant.”

  She starts laughing. “Funny.” Her laughter builds as I picture her throwing her head back and touching her stomach. “That’s great, Sister. Plenty time for you to say goodbye to your perfect life.”

  When I don’t join in on the joke, things get silent.

  “January?”

  “I’m serious. I’m fucking pregnant.”

  “Oh shit! Fuck! Is it Brick’s?”

  “Well yeah! Of course it is.” The last word fades away with my tears.

  She goes into her protective mode.

  “Ohhh, honey, I was just kidding. Of course it’s Br
icks. And it’s gonna be okay. Come on. I’ll cry with you.”

  And she does just that. She starts crying right along with me. Soon it becomes funny. I laugh between sobs, she giggles between wails. Until we’re both just laughing.

  “Have you told the father yet?”

  “Hell no! I just found out myself thirty seconds ago. Besides, I don’t even know what I’m going to do about it yet.”

  She stays silent. When I begin to protest she interrupts. “I’m just processing. Don’t read anything into my silence. Shit. There’s lots to consider, January.”

  “I haven’t begun. Ohhhhhhhh.”

  “Want my opinion?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Take a few days to think. Don’t talk to Brick about it until you know how you feel. What direction you want to go. Then bring him in.”

  “Do you realize we have a wedding today, followed by the reception? It’s not like we can skip it. Shit!”

  “Listen. There’s a big pink or blue elephant in the room now and you’re never going to be able to unsee it. You’ve got time to think things through. At least a little time. How far along are you?”

  “I have no idea. I know nothing except for some unknown reason I got pregnant against all odds.”

  “Didn’t you use birth control?”

  “No!! I haven’t for over a decade. I’m not able to conceive! Remember?”

  “Well, clearly that’s not true. It’s sort of a miracle, January. Don’t you think just a little?”

  I start crying again.

  “Let me just say one thing. Okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m with you whichever way you decide to go. But I’ve got to tell you, being a mother is the most magical thing that can happen to you. Horribly, soul suckingly magical. The little shits. They ruin almost everything you have. Except love. That grows bigger than you’d believe.”

  Leave it to my sister to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.