Say You Love Her

by Z. L. Arkadie

  I guide my dick deeper into the crease of her ass just to see what she’ll do next. She doesn’t budge. I hear her breathing as if she’s asleep already.

  I press my lips on the skin of her shoulder. “Hey,” I whisper.

  “Hmm?”

  I grind my dick harder up against her ass. “You’ve gone to sleep?”

  She turns to face me. Our noses are close. Her breath blows gently upon my lips. Her eyes are closed. She is asleep. I sit up on the edge of the bed. Part of me wants to get away from her, and the other part wants to hold her and try to fight the urge to fuck her. So I jump into my pants and tug on a shirt. It’s times like this I wish I hadn’t quit smoking. Two flights of stairs later, I end up on the porch at the back of the house. Jacques is already against the rail puffing on a cigarette.

  He twists around in that cool way of his to acknowledge me.

  “Couldn’t sleep,” I say.

  He offers me a smoke. This time I take it. Plus, this won’t be any old cigarette; it’ll be one with Jacques fucking Blanchard.

  “How was New Orleans?” he asks.

  “It was nice.”

  “You didn’t stay for the party?”

  “Angelina wanted to leave early so she could get that album to Madame Beauchamp before she went to sleep. And now your daughter is in my bed.” I divulge this piece of information since it’s driving me crazy as hell.

  He takes a long drag on the cigarette. He watches me with one eye closed as he blows smoke out of his mouth. “Are you still sticking to that ‘she’s family’ bullshit?”

  I’m struck by panic. “What do you mean?”

  “Do you have a thing for Angel?”

  Hell, I have a dick thing, brain thing, and heart thing for her. But you don’t tell a woman’s father that you have a dick thing for his daughter, which is the reason I had to get the hell out of bed with her.

  He chuckles. “Relax, man. This isn’t an arraignment.”

  I steady my breathing. “I like her.”

  He nods contemplatively. “She likes you too.” He expels another cloud of smoke. “Angel’s a lot like Josephine in more ways than she’d like to admit. You’re here because she charmed your ass off. She can pull you close and still be a million miles away.”

  I’ve been staring at the tree line in the distance for so long that my eyes have adjusted to the darkness. But the trees seem to me like giants with skinny legs, carrying clubs. They’re marching along the moon-glistened lake. It’s beautiful and ominous, just like all the shit I feel for Angelina.

  “Josephine always convinces me to go the hell away,” he mutters as if it is an afterthought.

  I cling to that last thing Jacques said before I put out the half-smoked cigarette. Both the cigarette and his words leave a bitter taste in my mouth.

  “At least she won’t be around to be my third ex-wife.” After a long pause he snorts. “Shelly filed for a divorce.”

  I recognize his tone. A man uses it when he wants to download. “That your wife?”

  He grunts thoughtfully. “Yeah, man… I didn’t love her. I still love her ass though. Fifty-eight years old and her ass hasn’t lost…” He flexes his fingers in a squeezing motion.

  “If only you could live happily ever after with an ass,” I say, half joking. Hell, I could live happily ever after with Angelina’s. Her tits too. Her legs. Her fucking thighs. Her back. The skin of her back is as supple as a lick of ice cream.

  “I was never her kind of cat.” He has the same faraway look in his eyes that I’ve seen on Angelina.

  “Is she in Paris?” I ask.

  “She’s in L.A. I live in Paris.”

  “Without her?”

  “Which makes that ass a lonely ass.” He chuckles and takes the last drag on his cigarette.

  “Shit…”

  “I look back and think, why the hell did I marry her? Then I remember Josephine started seeing this cat named Raymond Sanders.” He shakes his head as though he’s trying to get rid of the memory. “We do stupid shit when a woman stabs us in the heart.”

  I don’t know what to say. I admit that I’m too intimidated to ask all the questions that are running through my head. I want to know how long he’s been married. Why the hell did he stay all those years if he didn’t love her? Did he fuck around on her?

  “I’m going to miss that ass, though,” he mutters. “It’s unrivaled. Twenty years, and outside of Josephine it was all I needed.”

  I chuckle. “Then you love Josephine?”

  “I’ve loved Josephine from the moment I saw her. She wouldn’t marry me, though. She didn’t even want to love me.” He grimaces. “She always said I’m the reason why she’s dying because she can’t stop loving me and it’s killing her. Isn’t that some crazy shit?” Jacques has the same habit as Angelina. He’s watching me, waiting for my response.

  “That is crazy shit,” I whisper, nodding.

  “Josephine lives in her own universe.” Jacques abruptly skips down the steps. He turns around. “You want to go?”

  I’m instantly torn. “Where?”

  “Drink, play poker, make some music.” He glowers at the house behind me. “Because there’s no sleeping here tonight.”

  I consider his offer, but it’s not enough to tempt me away from holding Angelina for the rest of the night. “I’ll pass,” I say.

  He smiles wryly and walks down the driveway without looking back.

  I return to the room and stand at the foot of the bed. Angelina is curled up in a ball. What the hell do I want from her? According to Maggie, I’m an immature loser who ditches any responsibility. I’d been aching to be with Angelina’s sister before I met her. Maggie will never buy it. She’ll say I’m transferring feelings from one sister to the other and that I have to grow the hell up. Then what about Monroe? I was ready to make a go with her until I caught her with Shane. And then there’s the movie. I don’t want to make a movie. I’d rather follow Angelina to wherever the hell she’s going. If that’s New York, then that’s where I want to be, but I’d rather buy one of those houses in the French Quarter that Angelina said suits me and ask her to move in.

  Angelina stirs and then turns in my direction. “You were gone,” she says.

  I’m glad she noticed. “Yeah,” I say and lie down beside her. “I had a smoke with Jacques.”

  “I thought you quit smoking.” She snuggles up to my armpit.

  I draw her in to me to let her feel my solid dick on her ass. I’m positive she likes it. “I didn’t smoke the whole thing, but you don’t get a chance to share a cigarette with Jacques Blanchard every day.”

  I let the sound of her lyrical giggle fill me. “He’s smitten with you.”

  I’m grinding against her sexy ass again. “And I’m smitten with you.” It comes out a wheeze.

  The anticipation smothers me. What will she do next? She turns to face me. I can’t help myself. I put my lips on her slightly parted mouth and kiss her tenderly. She responds by sliding her tongue against mine. Oh shit, it feels exactly how I thought it would. I go straight for the tits and stroke one of her nipples. A moan escapes her. Before we know it we’re rolling on top of the bed. I pull her top down and suck the tip of one of her tits. Her nipple is stiff and soft against my tongue. I suck one and squeeze the other. I bite and lick and then suck some more. I can’t get enough of them. Shit, I can hear myself slurping and breathing. She’s sucking air and moaning. I want to be inside her pussy too. She runs her fingers through my hair. She’s definitely responsive. My dick is so hard that it’s clinging to my stomach. Shit, it’s never done that before.

  I take her shirt and rip it open. I suck and taste the skin between her breasts and down her belly until I shove my tongue against that hard yet soft spot through her panties.

  She gasps. When her pussy is hot and wet enough, I pull her panties off and run my tongue around her clit. Her pussy smells as sweet as it tastes. She’s squirming, and I don’t want her to get away from my mouth. I
’ve been waiting too long to make her come, and I want to hear it. I want her so bad that I’m spurting out pre-come against my stomach.

  She moans, and I slide two fingers into her pussy just so I can feel it twitching and pulsating and creaming.

  Suddenly she shivers and shoves a pillow over her face to muffle an even louder cry. I crawl up between her spread legs. She’s looking at my dick. I take it in my hand. It’s as hard as steel. She spreads her legs wider, inviting me in. Shit, thank you, Angelina. I lick my lips and kiss her as I thrust myself inside her dripping hot pussy.

  “Shit,” I mumble. And I mean shit. She’s too fucking tight. Each thrust makes me want to come. On top of that she’s tightening her muscles around my dick. I shove myself into her very deeply and hold it. “Stop,” I whisper. “Just wait.”

  She kisses the side of my face.

  “I’m going to come,” I say.

  She cups my face in her hands and lifts it. We’re gazing into each other’s eyes.

  “What are we doing?” she asks.

  “Making love.”

  She nods. “We are?”

  “You turn me the fuck on. My body, my mind and soul.”

  I’ve seen that look in her eyes before. She’s sizing me up, trying to figure out if she can trust me. “Me too,” she finally whispers.

  That’s all I need to hear. I pump my dick in and out of her heated depths. I want her to feel me. I want to make her come, but I can’t concentrate. All I can feel is my cock getting set to explode. “Shit, it’s coming.” I’m panting. I want to hold on to this sensation for as long as I can. Then she wraps her arms around my neck and puts her lips on mine. “Oh,” I grunt with my mouth against hers. That did it. I thrust my dick deep into her belly and explode inside her. Our kissing is passionate as I quake against her naked body. I’m still so fucking turned on. She’s an amazing kisser. Just the fact that her hands are on me makes me want to grow another hard-on and fuck her until the sun comes up.

  “Shit.” I pin her hands above her head and suck as much of her tit into my mouth as will fit. I run my tongue around the nipple and bite. She moans and says my name in whimpers. My dick quivers. It’s cooperating with my brain.

  She says my name again with a sigh.

  I shift my hips and bite on her other nipple.

  “Charlie, wait.”

  I suck her tit into my mouth one last time, leaving the nipple damp. “What?” I breathe. It sounds like she has regrets. “Do you want me to stop?”

  She grips my ass. She’s not strong enough to push me that deep inside her, especially not as far as I want to go. So I plug her hard. She gasps. I’m closer to being ready for round two.

  “No, I don’t. I just want to know what this means.”

  I search her eyes. “It means a lot.”

  “It does?”

  “Yes.”

  “What about Monroe? I don’t want to come between the two of you.”

  “She’s not my girlfriend.”

  “She likes you.”

  “And I like you.”

  “I like you too.”

  Enough talking. I wrap my tongue around hers. Her lips are tender and sweet. We kiss until my dick is ready to go again. I aim for the liveliest regions of her pussy. “I want to see you come,” I say, stroking her.

  I flip her over, spread her legs, and reenter her pussy from the back. I lay her down on her stomach and push my fingers on her clit. I don’t take my eyes off the side of her beautiful face. Shit, what a profile she has. It’s erotic. Her pussy is tightening around my dick. I can feel her orgasm building and mine too.

  “Ah!” She lets out a loud one. I keep my thumb moving around her clit and aim for the sweet spots inside of her tight pussy. She’s squirming beneath me, clawing the sheets. Her ass is against my cock. Shit, how long have I wanted to get this close to it? And then she does it. She cries out and trembles. The way her pussy feels…

  “Damn it!” I speed up. My orgasm kicks in. “Oh!” I blast another one inside her. I white the hell out because it feels so good to come back-to-back like this. Pleasure doesn’t get better than this. I’m fucking addicted to fucking her.

  We’re panting. I massage both sides of her ass as I lie on top of her beautiful body. I kiss the side of her face and then shift her hair off her neck and kiss her there. My brain wants more of her, but my dick will be out of gas for at least thirty minutes.

  “Do you want me to get up?” I ask her.

  “No,” she says.

  We’re in sync. I don’t want to move. I want to sleep inside her skin.

  Chapter 8

  The Last Dance

  I end up cradling Angelina even after my dick falls out of her. I keep my hands on her tits. I can’t stop feeling her up, even while I fall asleep. Shit, she’s made me into a horny bastard.

  Hours later, sunlight stabs me in the eyes when I open them. I reach for Angelina’s clit. I’ve been yearning to see her come in the daylight. But she’s gone.

  “What the hell…” I roll over to look at the door. There’s a blanket over me. She must’ve covered me up before leaving. I smell bacon and pancakes. Did I dream last night? I’m certainly capable of having that kind of wet dream. I take a piss and then a quick shower. We definitely had sex. The skin of my dick is tender from fucking her tight pussy.

  As I get dressed, I think about what Angelina said about my clothes when we were in Long Beach. I like a nice pair of jeans that fit comfortably and don’t have that embroidered shit on the back pockets. A comfortable V-neck shirt, long sleeved or short sleeved. I’m basic. I don’t get what she’s talking about. That thought gives way to me wanting her here in this room, on the bed and beneath me.

  I head downstairs. I hear Jacques and Josephine when I reach the bottom floor. I have this giddy feeling because I anticipate seeing Angelina. I’m also nervous. Why did she leave the bed without telling me? Then I remember what Jacques said last night during our smoke. She can pull you close and still be a million miles away. And then all that shit he told me about his wife and Josephine. Was he warning me about Angelina? He said she was like her mother. If that was a warning, then what am I supposed to do with it? I’m too far in. There’s no turning back.

  I walk into the dining room, and Angelina isn’t there.

  “Good morning, sleepy head,” Josephine says. She looks vibrant for a woman who’s supposed to be dying. It’s hard to believe that she is.

  “Good morning, Ms. Beauchamp.”

  She raises her eyebrows. “Ms. Beauchamp? If I’m not Madame then I’m Josephine, but never Ms. Beauchamp to a handsome man like yourself.”

  I grin at her. “Sorry. Good morning, Josephine.”

  “That’s better.”

  I check over my shoulder. I thought I heard someone behind me. “Sit down,” Jacques says.

  “How was the poker game last night?” I ask as I take a seat.

  Jacques grumbles.

  “I told you not to go messing around with Chester. He’ll take you for everything you own—even the socks on your feet,” Josephine says.

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” Jacques grunts.

  Waffles, steak, scrambled eggs, biscuits, and home fries are on platters in the middle of the table. Jacques is the only one eating. Josephine didn’t eat dinner the night before either, at least not with us.

  “How did you sleep?” She raises her eyebrows as though she already knows the answer to that question.

  I glance at Jacques, petrified. Shit, were Angelina and I too loud? Fucking in her mother’s house. Did they hear us?

  “Rather well,” I say. I cough to clear my throat. “Is Angelina here?”

  “She’s at Karina’s,” Jacques says. Now he’s fiddling with an electronic tablet. It looks like he’s checking his email, which reminds me that I have to check my voice messages.

  “What’s going on over there, Jacques?” Josephine asks, craning her neck.

  He grimaces as he types out a m
essage. “Same as always. Everybody wants a piece of me, but I’m only one man.” He powers down the tablet. “We’re going to head over to Karina’s this afternoon for a party. Will you be ready to play, music man?” he asks.

  “If that’s an invitation, then hell yeah!” I feel kind of guilty. It’s as though he’s rewarding me after I’ve done dirty things to his daughter, and shit, I’m not even close to being done with her.

  Jacques smirks. “So how is Daisy doing with your brother? Is she really happy with him?”

  I flinch. That question came out of left field. “She’s happy with him.” That’s an easy and true answer.

  “He likes to handle shit. He seems to be the one in charge.”

  “That’s just how he is. He tries to handle my shit too. If Jack loses control of a situation and the people around him lose control of theirs, then he loses his mind.” I’ve never been able to put that into words until this very moment.

  Jacques nods as he says, “I see. He’s one of those kind of cats.”

  “Like you, Jacques,” Josephine chimes in.

  Jacques scowls as if he’s bothered by the comparison.

  “Jack’s a good guy.” I feel like I have to defend him, because hell, he is a good guy. “He’ll never hurt Daisy. He worships the ground she walks on, and that’s no exaggeration.”

  “She’s not the one I’m worried about.”

  “You’re worried about Jack?”

  “If he keeps smothering her, she’ll run,” he says without blinking an eye. I kind of believe him, and then I don’t. It’s not as if he knows Daisy as well as he does Angelina. When I thought I was in love with her, I viewed their relationship from every angle, looking for an irreparable rip. There isn’t one. Yes, Jack is overly attentive and it can be annoying as hell, but their chemistry is too strong for it to bother Daisy.

  It seems that’s all Jacques has to say on the subject. He asks Josephine if she plans to attend the party.