“Now this is what I’m talking about. This is what sweet tastes like.” His hooded eyes captured hers and her heart rate quickened. “I would share. But this sweetness is only for me. You don’t mind, do you?”
She wanted to say, hell no! Eat until you get a cavity, until you get the sugar, as the old folks say.
But instead she just smiled and shook her head. “The fruit was sweet enough for me. Now I’m kind of craving something salty. I think I know just where to find it later…” She let her words trail off suggestively.
He helped himself to a little more fruit laced with her, and then he stopped and kneeled in front of her, placing one of her legs over each of his shoulders. “Too much fruit, not enough sweet,” was all he said before he began giving her the most intimate of kisses. He lapped and tugged and nipped and soothed, using his mouth, tongue and lips to cause an eruption so fierce she felt like she had been run over by a truck by the time she stopped shaking and screaming.
She really hoped that the hyped selling points of it being a “secluded and private villa” were true. Because if they weren’t, then the villas around them were getting an earful. Luckily, the balcony was private enough, and she didn’t have to worry about anyone seeing her stretched out, being pleasured, whipping her head back and forth and speaking in tongues.
He continued lapping greedily until she stopped moving and didn’t think she had another ounce to give. He stood up and reached for her hand, leading her over to the balcony rail.
Just as he was about to position her in front of it and lean her over, she stopped and turned to face him. “I think you’re forgetting my craving for something salty, Hubby.”
She dropped to her knees, keeping her eyes up and focused on him. She unzipped his shorts and released his sex from the flap in his boxer briefs.
She ran her tongue across the head and moaned. “Mmmm, salty with just a hint of sweet.” She covered him with her mouth, sucking him in and working her jaws into a sweet, suctioning caress. She let her hand hold and stroke the parts of him that she couldn’t reach with her mouth.
He slowly moved his hips back and forth. His hands moved to her hair and he gripped it, lightly nudging her in time with his own movements.
She kept her eyes on him, loving his intense reaction to her. He threw his head back and groaned.
“Oh, God! You’re killing me, girl.”
Since her mouth was busy she couldn’t respond or even smile, really. But she could giggle inside and revel in how wonderful it felt to make her man—even if he was only temporarily so—feel good.
She let him fall out of her mouth with a pop and teasingly licked up and down his shaft. “Say my name.”
She kept her eyes on him, letting him know that he would only get teasing until he complied.
He gave her a hooded gaze and seemed to shudder with anticipation each time her tongue flicks connected. “Jasmine.”
She moved away after giving him a small peck on the tip. “Unh, unh, unh. That’s not the name that’s going to bring you to ecstasy. Jasmine would never! But Jazz…” She winked at him.
He groaned. “Come on, Jasmine, baby, please.”
She shook her head. “Say my name, Hubster. You can do it.”
He grinned. “You’re killing me.”
“Ahh, but what a sweet way to go…”
“Okay, Jazz…” He moved his hips forward slightly and she took him in her mouth again just as he finished with, “Mine.”
She could have stopped and teased him some more, but she knew that was the closest she would probably get to him calling her Jazz. He thought he was so clever, and she fully intended to make him suffer later. But at that moment, all she wanted to do was taste.
So she swirled her tongue around him as she worked her jaws and lips with one purpose only—pleasing her husband.
The nature of their marriage, how long it would last, how much she was starting to fall in love, none of that mattered. Just when she started to feel his knees buckling in the sweetest release, he pulled away.
“I want to be inside of you when I come.” He pulled her up and finished what he’d started earlier, draping her over the balcony rail.
He stepped behind her, lifting the skirt of her little lounging dress and spreading her legs so that he could stand between them. He entered her in one solid thrust, pushing all the way to the hilt.
She gasped at the fullness but pushed all the way back wanting more. Luckily they were only two stories up. Not that it mattered. She couldn’t be distracted by seemingly trivial things like how far up they were and if the railing was really as sturdy as it felt.
The only thing she could focus on was how good it felt to have him inside of her, thrusting and retreating at a pace and speed that pushed her closer and closer to the edge of what promised to be the most earth-shattering orgasm of her life.
When his arms reached around her and squeezed her breasts as he used his hold to lift her slightly and pull her away from the railing and even closer to him, she lost it. She panted and stuttered out an incoherent scream as her orgasm ripped through her. Troy soon followed with a long groan and his own release.
Just as she was about to slump over and rest for a while, she felt herself being lifted and carried inside.
Troy finished undressing her and then undressed himself before he cradled her in his arms in bed. They both let out satisfied sighs and she dipped her head to his chest to inhale the pure unadulterated masculinity of him.
“My Jazz. Mine.” He mumbled in a slurred sleepy speech tone. “I’m keeping you, girl. You’re mine.”
Her heart stopped and restarted at a breakneck pace. Was it the great sex talking, or did he really mean he wanted to keep her? And if he did want to keep her, for how long…
She really hoped he meant to keep her forever, because that’s how long she was starting to realize she wanted to keep him.
After spending the last day of their honeymoon in Tobago hiking in the Western Hemisphere’s oldest protected rain forest and exploring the sights, Troy and Jasmine capped off their stay by taking part in the local entertainment of goat and crab races. Watching the crab race was so much fun they almost regretted eating the winning crab when it was all over. Almost…
As they walked down the secluded beach hand in hand, Troy almost wished they had another week to spend there. The honeymoon had put so many things in perspective for him, and he had come to realize so many things about his lovely wife.
“This has been so amazing. I almost don’t want to go home. It’s so relaxing here.” She glanced at him and tilted her head saucily. “And then there’s you…”
“Yeah? What about me?”
“I don’t know. It’s like… Well, I’m going to just keep it real with you. Being with you these past few weeks has been amazing. And I just can’t believe that it’s so amazing and I…” Her voiced trailed off and he wondered what she would have said next.
He wondered if he even dared to hear what she was going to say or dared to have any kind of hopes or expectations about it.
They walked in silence for a little while longer, letting the soft island breeze take away any anxiety or stress they might have had about returning to the contest at work and the battle between them.
“Can I ask you a question?” She stopped walking.
“Sure.” He took a seat in the sand and pulled her down onto his lap. He kissed her lips softly, letting his tongue trace and mark its path before it dived in.
She kissed him back for several minutes before putting her hand on his chest and pulling away. “Why didn’t you want a cohost for Detroit Live? I think the past few weeks we’ve been really good together.”
“Don’t. Let’s not go there, Jasmine. We’re having a good time. It’s our honeymoon and I really don’t want to spend our last night on the island on that topic. We’ll be back in the thick of things soon enough when we get back home.”
She narrowed her eyes and glared at him. “Maybe we
should just get a divorce now and I can just find another job then.” She made to get up and he pulled her back down.
“What do you mean get a divorce? If you get a divorce then your mother’s money will go to your father. I thought you didn’t want that. I thought you would be brave enough to at least stick it out six months so that some of the money could go to the charity for single mothers… What’s your problem?”
“My problem is you. This.” She waved her arms, gesturing back and forth between herself and him. “This marriage. The contest. All of it. I didn’t know when I signed the contract with your dad that he would make us battle for the solo host position. I thought at most I’d be your cohost, charged with bringing new energy to the show. I knew you’d hate it, and I have to admit when I signed the contract that was one of the perks, that you would absolutely hate it and having me as a cohost would work your nerves. But I figured we could use that energy to make magic on the screen.
“And then I ran into you in that airport and you literally saved me. You wrapped me in your arms and you saved me—” She stopped and took a deep breath.
“Then why do you want a divorce? Why do you want to leave me?” He had to fill the silence even though he was almost afraid to hear her answers.
The passion in her voice, her tone, everything, had his chest feeling raw and exposed. He probably shouldn’t have asked her any questions. Because if she kept talking, God knew how he would deal with it.
She closed her eyes and laid her head on his chest.
He let out a breath of relief. If she didn’t say anything else, he might have a chance to keep his barriers up. He might be able to continue giving only as much of himself as would allow him to still feel safe from the floodgate of emotions that threatened to burst any minute.
Then he heard her soft voice mumble, “I’m scared. I think I’m falling in love with you,” and he knew he was done for.
He kissed her soundly, penetrating her mouth in an effort to forestall any more confessions. The barriers he had that were meant to help him keep his distance and keep it together when she left in six months or two years had broken down and he was exposed and too open for his own comfort. So he kissed her, trying to fill back up.
Soon she was ripping his shirt off and her hands trailed his chest, leaving sexy little goose bumps in their path.
“You are going to have to buy me some new shirts when you get this inheritance of yours, Jasmine. And you will get your inheritance because I’m not giving you a divorce now.”
Not now. Not ever.
She planted soft pecking kisses down his chest. “You’re rich.” Peck. “You can afford to sacrifice a few shirts for the cause.” Peck.
He relished her touch and felt himself bulging and coming to life each time her hand caressed and each time her lips connected with his chest. “What cause?”
“The cause of wild and passionate lovemaking, Hubinator.”
“Oh, my favorite cause, I try to donate often…” he said as he fell backward onto the sand.
She smiled, but it didn’t seem to reach her eyes. She laid her body on top of his and kissed him again. As they kissed, their hips ground against one another, and before he knew it she had released his sex from his pants, maneuvered her thong to the side and enveloped him in the soft, wet heat of her womanhood.
She looked deep in his eyes as she worked her hips up and down slowly. He kept her gaze, knowing that he never wanted to look anywhere else.
The silence of the moment spoke volumes, at least to him. He saw forever in her eyes. Love was all over her face, and he wondered if he was imagining it. He knew what he was feeling besides the bliss of her winds and dips and suctions. He was feeling his heart swell up with a fullness that could only be until-the-end-of-time love.
He wished he could tell her. But if she was going to divorce him in six months or two years then he couldn’t. He couldn’t open himself up to that kind of pain.
So he pulled her face closer to his own instead and kissed her with everything inside of him. He wanted her to feel all the love he had inside.
She kissed him back with so much passion it literally stole his breath. He gasped and clutched her to him as he lifted his hips from the sand and thrust upward in a ferocious heat.
He had to say something.
“I don’t want you to leave me, Jasmine. Please don’t leave me, baby.” The words ripped from his mouth before he could censor himself.
She groaned. “I won’t. I can’t. I’ll stay as long as…” She threw her head back and let out a low-pitched moan as an orgasm took her over.
Her sex clenched down on his so tightly and so quickly it caught him off guard. Before he knew it he was grabbing her buttocks and holding her still as he spilled his seed inside of her.
They rode out the waves of their climaxes together, and it was only after they had gotten back to their villa that he realized she had never finished. She had never told him what he had to do so that she would stay with him forever.
Chapter 11
Game. Set. Match.
Jazz sat in her dressing room fuming.
The honeymoon was over. And back in the real world Troy and Jazz worked every day remembering the pact that they had made in Tobago. They were playing to win and in it together. However, after the show that day, Jazz was finding it hard to remember that pact.
The knock on her dressing room door started out as just a tap. Just one tap that apparently was supposed to make her jump up and let whoever it was in. But she knew who it was and he could keep on knocking, but he couldn’t come in. Only Troy would assume that he could just tap on the door once and be welcomed with open arms.
One week he was up in the ratings. The next week she was up in the ratings. The following week they were tied. If they were horses racing they would have been neck and neck. It was starting to take a toll on their marriage and the tenuous bonds they were starting to build.
Today they taped their Caribbean special and showed clips of Troy in Barbados at the Jazz Festival and Jazz in Trinidad at Carnival. They had even been able to get reggae artists Gyptian, Cham and Junior Reid all to perform. And because the audience seemed to love when she and Troy danced or had some kind of sparring, they had a battle to see who was best at doing old-school reggae dances. They challenged each other to see who was best at the Pepper Seed, the Bogle, the Butterfly and the Dutty Whine.
Of course, given Jazz’s Bajan roots, she assumed she would be the winner, but Troy gave her a run for her money. She won. But it was close. The reggae artists all performed solo and were set to close out the show after Jazz and Troy did a Caribbean cooking segment with the owner of a new Caribbean restaurant downtown.
Jazz didn’t intend to participate as much. Besides the fact that she was already a pretty accomplished cook, she had a public motto that cooking was overrated to uphold, after all. She’d told Carmen that and tried to beg off the demo, but the woman wouldn’t hear of it.
So there she was standing on the stage with Troy and Gina Langston pretending to learn how to make a curry chicken roti.
She must not have been paying enough attention for the arrogant Gina, because Jazz heard a slight annoyed tone in the beautiful Jamaican woman’s voice as she asked her to pass the onions.
Troy passed the onions instead and rolled his eyes. “My wife thinks that cooking is overrated, so she’s not really into the demo, Gina.”
“Well, if she plans to remain the wife, she better learn how to cook or she’ll lose you to a woman who can feed you in more ways than one.” Gina drawled her words out in a sweet and sexy slight Jamaican accent.
Jazz felt her eye twitch and her head did a full swivel as her arms folded across her chest. The in-house audience picked up on the tension immediately because the ohhhs and ahhs and laughter were almost instantaneous.
She willed herself to remain quiet. Because she was not going to give Little Miss Jamaica a trip to Barbados…at least not on the air.
Troy
and Gina finished the demo, and Jazz did well not to snatch Gina bald when the hussy actually fed Troy a piece of roti.
Troy laughed and looked at Jazz. “See, that’s how you treat a man.”
The audience erupted and they went to commercial.
Jazz glared at Troy as he continued to make nice with their “guest.” Jazz couldn’t be that fake. So she went over to stand by the producers instead.
“He’s such an asshole. I knew this might be a problem when I booked Gina. He has such a roaming eye. One woman will never be enough for him. I certainly learned the hard way.” Carmen’s soft voice whispered angrily behind her. “She’s just his type, too. Well, more the type he used to date, not the type he married.”
Jazz spun around. First Troy with the insults and now this chick? “What?”
Carmen backed up. “Don’t shoot the messenger. I’m on your side. I want to see you get your own show. I’m the one who talked Jordan into looking for a new host and getting Troy into the office. I couldn’t believe that the two of you had gotten married. I was only trying to save you from the heartache I suffered, like so many women in the long line of broken hearts that that asshole leaves in his wake. Gina will probably be next after you.” Carmen’s eyes had an evil, bitter glint. “You need to go back onstage for the closing.”
Stunned, Jazz didn’t know how she managed to close the show and smile. But the smile died as soon as the camera light went off. She glared at Troy and tried to formulate what she would say to him, but she couldn’t think of a thing. So she walked off instead.
The knocking grew progressively louder and she rolled her eyes and decided to take off her makeup instead of responding in any way.
“Open the door, Jasmine. Please.” Troy’s calm, matter-of-fact voice after he’d made a fool of her on national television and in front of all their friends and coworkers for the past few weeks grated on her nerves.
At First Kiss Page 13