Love in Due Time

by Smartypants Romance

  Her mouth opens and she draws me in, taking her time to experiment. The slow pace makes my leg shake and invisible fingers tickle up my spine. Eventually, she lowers, taking me deeper. My fingers find the thick braid hanging over her shoulder and I stroke the intricate design. Her head bops, her cheeks hollow and she grips the part of me which won’t fit in her mouth. My eyes roll back in my head. If she thinks she doesn’t know what she’s doing, she’s wrong. So wrong. Then she draws back.

  “It’s messier than I remember.”

  Sweetmothertruckercheeseontoastbuckler. “Be messy,” I whisper-choke with a desperate chuckle. Her mouth returns to me, sucking with more vigor. Her tongue swirls, licking up the side before swallowing me in again. My fingers turn to a fist on her braid, holding myself in place.

  Let her lead, Nathan, I warn myself as my hips want to thrust upward, seeing how far she can take me. When she surprises me, and swallows me to the back of her throat, I groan out a warning. We should have talked about this first.

  “Naomi, you don’t have to—”

  Her free hand comes to my lower abs, drawing her short nails down my skin. I buck upward under the tickling sensation, and just when I think I’m going to lose her, she redoubles her efforts. I’m taken to the back of her throat again, and my body unleashes.

  Christdrivingatractor. She holds onto me, drinking me in. My eyes roll back again as my lower spine tingles until I can’t take it anymore and I’m empty. My hands come to either side of her head and I gently push her upward. She releases me with a sloppy pop. Sitting up, her lips are wet and swollen, and my brows pinch. Sheepishly, she grins down at me.

  “That was very bold of you,” I tell her, hoping she’ll understand I’m proud of her for taking what she wanted from me.

  “It’s easy with you,” she tells me, and I understand better what I’m stuck on you really means to me. I’m falling for this woman. Falling hard. The universe and its energy be damned if it tries to take me from her again.

  “Can you kiss me after what we did?” The comment surprises me and I cup her cheeks.

  “I’ll do anything you ever ask.” And then I kiss her to let her know I mean every word.

  As I’m leaving her house later in the evening, still on a high from what we did, I hear voices through the thin brush and bramble hedges between Naomi’s home and the Bickerton build. The night silence and the foliage-thinned trunks carry the voices subtly to her yard. I pause in my tracks, drawing closer to the rough male tones.

  “You sure we won’t get caught?”

  “Naw, my pop don’t pay attention to me other than to smack me around. He’ll never know it’s us.” The second voice sounds too familiar and the hairs on the back of my neck rise. “Besides, no one checks this place at night. It’s the perfect spot.”

  I lower behind the thin saplings, hoping the darkness hides me while I creep closer to the voices.

  The wolf returns.

  “What about that woman next door?”

  “The witch? She’s too busy brewing potions or casting spells to hear us.” Sickened, I straighten knowing they refer to Naomi without understanding a thing about her. She’s not brewing or chanting, but I bristle further with the realization that they know she lives next door.

  “You think we can pull this off?” the first voice questions again, sounding too young, too uncertain of whatever mission is planned. The shape of both males is more man than boy, but the tenor of their voices gives away their youth. “I don’t trust the deputy. He keeps driving by.”

  “He only passes once. Quit your worryin’.” The second voice scoffs and the guffaw tips me off. Junior Henderson.

  Ready to stalk through the bushes and give those boys a piece of my mind before kicking them off the private property, I’m stopped by the sound of approaching motorcycles. I stiffen as I watch two bikes pull into the drive. The gravel softly crunches and then the bikes die. I don’t have to see him to recognize the outline of a man I once knew well. Catfish hikes off his bike and walks heavily to the boys, not an ounce of stealth in his steps.

  “Boys,” he addresses them.

  “Men,” Junior corrects.

  A deep, smoky laugh follows the correction and I notice Dirty Dave still perched on his bike.

  “Whatcha got?” Catfish asks and I squint in the darkness, as something passes from one hand to the other. Drugs? A gun? Cash? It’s too hard to tell, but whatever it is, is most likely not legal. After a brief inspection from Catfish, he pockets the treasure and speaks again. “How you doing on that other thing?”

  I recognize this tactic. As if by keeping their words vague, it lessens the seriousness of whatever illegal action is planned.

  “Still working on it,” Junior replies, standing taller against a man twice his size. I can’t even surmise what Catfish would want with two seventeen-year-olds, but knowing we patched in at roughly the same age, I can only imagine none of it is good.

  “And the girl?” Catfish asks, and my breath catches.

  “Won’t be an issue.” Junior pauses. “What about the wolf?”

  “He’s not your concern.” There’s an edge to Catfish’s response and I wonder what he’s got planned for me. “I’m damn proud of you,” he adds, lowering his tone to prove his point. The depth of Catfish’s words is not lost on me. Pride was something he desperately wanted as a young man after his parent’s death and he was forced to live with his miserable uncle. Recognizing Curtis as easy prey, the club provided the admiration. I don’t know Junior’s story, but from what I just heard, Dwight smacking around his kid doesn’t sit well with me. Junior Henderson’s story could too easily match Curtis Hickson’s history and that worries me for the younger man.

  I’m roused by a heavy smack of leather as Catfish claps a hand on Junior’s shoulder.

  Don’t shuck it off, kid, I mutter in my thoughts. If his dad roughs him up, he’ll hate that touch, but if he wants Catfish’s approval, he’ll hold firm. For a moment, I’m that kid, desperate to belong to a group, to find approval, and I’m propelled back to the things I did to be a part of the Iron Wraiths. Theft. Deals. Alliances. It was all only a stepping-stone to something larger and something I’d never considered. Taking a man’s life was never my plan. I shiver with the memory, crossing my arms as I watch Catfish return to his bike, the roar of his engine cracking open the night like an ax splitting wood. My eyes trail after the retreat of Catfish and Dirty Dave, drifting down the switchback road, and then quickly I return my attention to the two teens.

  “You’re gonna be one of them soon,” the first boy says with excitement to Junior, clapping him on the back.

  “Don’t touch me,” Junior warns, shrugging off the enthusiastic smack. Ah, there he is. The tough guy holding it together under pressure around a bigger man and then exerting his authority over a lesser one. He’ll make a good Wraith one day and my chest aches for the future of a kid I really don’t know.

  As the two disappear behind the opposite side of the construction site, I wait until a car appears, slowly coasting down the gravel drive. It appears they want to remain invisible as best they can, keeping the lights off until they hit the road. Headlights flicker to life a few feet away from the drive, and then they pick up speed, blending into the night. I shake my head and turn to look back at Naomi’s dim house.

  Should have hung out at the library, kid. Maybe reading a book would’ve prevented him from wanting to deal shit.

  Chapter Twenty

  Dewey Decimal Classification: 127 The Unconscious and the Subconscious

  [Nathan]

  Our next date is the official number three, although I don’t know why we’re counting any longer. Unfortunately, we can’t get together until Saturday and strangely, I miss her all week. After the interchange I witnessed at the construction site, I’ll feel better once Naomi and I spend more time together. Saturday is one of those lingering Indian summer afternoons with a last shot of warm sunshine before fall truly sets in and winter arrive
s. Seeing as Naomi loves trees, I thought she might like a trek through the woods. I’ll appreciate the hike as long as it’s daylight. Cooper Road Trail is off the beaten track, and I want something unique for our final date, because I don’t want it to be final. I’m hoping date three is the date.

  “Each tree has meaning,” she states as we begin our short hike. She’s jabbering about pines and hazelnuts, and it makes me smile how she’s so animated about each tree, like they are old friends.

  “Recognizing our purpose within Nature and how it is connected to us, is one of my favorite things about being a Wiccan. Trees. Flowers. Herbs. It’s all part of something bigger.”

  Naomi isn’t like any woman I’ve known with her philosophies on life and her being one-with-nature-ness, but I enjoy the difference. There is a lightness to her steps as she admires each solid oak and river birch we pass. Her hands fondly touch trunks as she explains the deeper purpose behind the wood. As we walk, she gathers the biggest leaves fallen to the forest floor, making a brightly colored fall bouquet. A real inner peace seems to surround her today, and I’m hopeful she can finally release the certainty that doom-and-gloom will follow us being together. Nothing major has happened to her since the last orgasm and while it might seem silly to keep track, I’m counting the orgasms as proof her vagina doesn’t rule the universe.

  I can’t believe I’m thinking these things.

  Eventually, I chuckle. “I’ve never known anyone like you.”

  “You’re laughing at me,” she teases, but something shuts down in her eyes.

  “No. I’m delighted by you. You see things so differently. It’s like you belong here among these trees. I wish I had a place that made me feel so … calm. So peaceful.” I’d had another blowout with Dahlia. She wants to attend a Halloween party some three towns over.

  “You never let me do anything,” she screamed.

  “I let you do plenty of things. Go to school. Live in my house.”

  “Gah, I can’t wait until I move out. Lexie and I are already looking for apartments.”

  Heaven help me. I don’t need her falling into the wrong crowd, and I have no idea who this Lexie person is. Somedays, I think I’m not going to survive her seventeenth year. Dahlia’s rebellion makes me think of Junior and his choices. The exchange I saw still haunts me. I have no idea how to save him from a decision that could change his life forever.

  “What about building? Creating something with your hands? Doesn’t that bring you a sense of accomplishment? I would think completing a project and seeing a job well done would bring a certain satisfaction.”

  I snort. “Not exactly. Especially not when I’m correcting the mistakes of others.” Dwight comes to mind, but then I think about what she says. At the end of a project, with a build finished, it does feel like I’ve created something—someplace special.

  “I guess I never thought about it,” I admit after a moment.

  “When you build someone a house, the wood has purpose. It will provide comfort and warmth and love inside the walls you created.”

  A place where someone will be waiting.

  When we find a spot near a stream, I spread out a blanket I keep in the truck and we settle on the ground for sandwiches. I’m not really a gourmet cook, but I’ve perfected the art of sandwich making. The sandwich roll can’t be too thick. It’s the meat layered in curls, plus cheese, that makes the flavor. I prefer an oil-and-vinegar spread with extra pepper sprinkled on mine. I confirmed with Naomi her preference and had to swallow back my comments when she asked for only veggies.

  “I try not to eat processed meats and cheeses.” But she’ll eat a doughnut?

  She’s worn a dress again with another pair of thick leggings. Sitting cross-legged, she spreads her dress to cover her legs. Now that we’ve sat, she seems fidgety. Her fingers twist and untwist within her skirt.

  “You okay?”

  “I have something for you.”

  I stare at her in wonder. “You brought me a gift?”

  “Well, I don’t know if I’d go that far,” she states, shrugging and blushing. “But this is date number three ...”

  Does she think we’re over? I thought bringing her to this place would be the perfect time to discuss what’s next—us.

  “The number is not relative at this point, Goddess,” I softly warn, my voice low as I scoot toward her and lift a knee, draping my arm over it. “What do you have for me?”

  My voice drips with innuendo, and she chuckles before pulling something from her pocket. In the palm of her hand is a bead bracelet and I stare at the masculine combination of browns, greens, and copper.

  “It’s called a gratitude bracelet. The wood beads connect you to nature and the copper is a metal. It’s a conductor making the beads work together. The green-toned beads are rhyolite which connects you to the life force in nature, giving joy, and the cream-colored beads are picture jasper which keeps you grounded and reminds you to love.” Her voice falters on the last word and her eyes return to her lap. I stare in wonder until she looks up again.

  “You think it’s silly, don’t you?” she asks, lowering the bracelet. “I just thought it looked manly. It reminded me of you, and I thought you could use the energy—”

  She abruptly stops when my palm covers her cheek. I lean forward and kiss her, drawing her mouth into mine, tugging and teasing until she opens wider, allowing my tongue to search for hers. Her hand comes to the side of my head, curling around the back as the kiss deepens. My fingers delve into her hair, twisting a fistful to turn her head and allow me better access to her mouth before I slowly draw back from her and reach for the bracelet clutched in her hand.

  “This is a gift, and I’m honored.” My insides feel strange, warm and ripple-y. She gave me something. Something which reminds her of me, and yet the entire collection will make me think of her—her love of nature, her groundedness, and her energy force. I’m not opposed to male accessories. I wear leather straps and the occasional silver rings, so I easily slip it on my wrist and admire the colorful combination of wood tones and copper beads. “This might be one of the most thoughtful gifts I’ve ever received. Thank you.” It’s a gratitude bracelet and I’m thankful for her, thankful for the second chance with her.

  I hold up my wrist to show her how it fits, and she surprises me again by leaning forward and kissing my pulse point. “Thank you,” she mouths, and with her eyes locked on mine, she kisses me there again, only this time she opens her mouth, sucking at my skin a second. My breath catches as I watch her. Then she does it again, adding the tip of her tongue to draw along the vein under sensitive skin.

  “Naomi,” I groan, cupping her face with both my hands and crushing her mouth with mine. I can’t get enough of this woman and each time she surprises me … I’m surprised. She’s unexpected, just like the first time we met.

  “I’m stuck on you,” I say, looking deeply into her eyes for a moment. While I want to take her on the blanket, underneath her beloved trees, I also want to spend time with her on this beautiful day, so I pull back and tug at her necklace, the one I never see her without.

  “Explain this to me,” I ask, holding the black crystal in my palm.

  “It’s a black tourmaline,” she explains, scooping the gem into her own. “It’s a protection crystal to cleanse the negative and soothe anxiety. My sister gave it to me, which is a bit surprising.”

  “Is it magical?” I ask. I’m curious. She’s really into this stuff and I want to understand.

  “Not exactly. It’s more a mindset. I believe in these things,” she says with conviction.

  “That’s cool.” I smile with a nod and offer her a sandwich. Scooting back just a little bit, I fall back on one elbow and stretch out my legs. I take a bite of my mine and then ask another question.

  “Speaking of mindsets, you mentioned your family was ultra-religious. No offense, but what god says your sex life causes a catastrophe.” I’m joking to lessen what I really want to know. “What hap
pened?” It’s a sensitive question but I’d like to know what caused her to believe her sexual relations could directly cause some travesty, particularly if connected to me.

  Thankfully, she giggles, as she unwraps her sandwich. I don’t want to insult her, but she hasn’t mentioned being close to her parents, just their accusations. “The religion according to Winifred and Willard Winters.”

  “Whoa, that’s a lot of Ws.”

  “That it is,” she says, smiling good naturedly. “But seriously, my parents ran their own church and they were strict. No funny business. No dancing. No drinking. No cavorting.”

  “Cavorting.” I snort.

  “Of course, they cavorted at one point as there were four of us.”

  “Four?” Right, her brother. She hasn’t mentioned him much.

  “Scotia, Beverly, Jebediah, and then me. He was three years older than me.” Her sandwich rests in her hands as she picks at the bun.

  “Was?” I don’t miss the past tense.

  “He died when I was twenty-one. We were close.” We sit in silence a moment. I’ve set my sandwich on the paper wrapper, waiting for her to tell me more. “The night I was at the Fugitive. The night we met. He was killed in a motorcycle accident.”

  A lump immediately forms in my throat. I think I stopped breathing. I don’t move though my body screams for me to sit up.

  “I was there for my birthday. I don’t know if you remember that part.”

  You’re giving me something sacred.

  “Anyway, you kind of quickly disappeared after we … you know …” She waves between us. I bite the inside of my cheek. “So, I called my brother. He was so pissed off that I was at the Fugitive.” She shrugs as a sheepish grin crosses her lips. Then, her voice lowers. “He had no business being on the Tail of the Dragon between Green Valley and the bar.”