by R. S. Lively
We're standing in her studio. Once she took over the condo her aunt and uncle owned, she renovated the interior a bit, carving out a nice big studio for herself. There are several completed canvases scattered around – more of this mixed-media style of art, that are all just as striking. All with a powerful message.
On the canvas in front of me are headlines from a number of local papers about recent shootings in the city. She's painted what look like chalk outlines, abstract looking faces, and a stylized representation of both bullets and blood. It's moving. It's powerful.
“I painted this after we visited that gallery in Brooklyn,” she says. “It inspired me.”
“I can definitely see the influence,” I say. “Kind of hard to miss.”
Other completed works I see carry strong messages about child abuse, poverty, sexual assault – Darby has a powerful vision and voice with her art. It really is unlike anything I've ever seen before.
“These pieces – they all need to be in a gallery somewhere,” I say. “People should be seeing these.”
She nods. “I actually have a show coming up later this year,” she says. “I'm hoping to have a dozen pieces done by then.”
“Your work is extraordinary,” I say.
She gives me a soft smile, her cheeks coloring. “Thank you,” she says as the doorbell rings. “Be right back.”
She hustles off to answer the door and I walk around her studio a little more, soaking in and enjoying her work. I always knew Darby was talented, but seeing her work now, the progression of her maturity as an artist – it blows me away.
I'm squatting down, looking closely at one of her paintings when she steps into the room wheeling a box in on a small cart, a puzzled look on her face. I already know what it is and give her a smile.
“You had something to do with this, I take it?” she asks.
I shrug. “Won't know until you open it.”
“You know, spending money on me isn't what's going to win my heart.”
“Not trying to win your heart by spending money,” I reply.
I lift the box and put it on a table that sits against the back wall. She uses a box cutter to open it and when she has the cardboard peeled away, she stands there, looking at the contents, a solemn look on her face.
“I can't believe you bought this for me,” she says softly.
“I saw how hard it hit you, Darby,” I say. “I thought you might like it.”
She turns to me and smiles. “I do,” she says. “Very much.”
On the table is the piece from Moton's Gallery of Urban Art that had impacted her.
“If nothing else, I thought you might want to display it in your classroom,” I say. “Maybe, your kids can draw some inspiration from it like you did.”
She steps forward and wraps her arms around the back of my neck, pulling me into a tight embrace. I kiss the top of her head, relishing the feel of her pressed to me. It's these quiet moments we share, when we seem to be communicating with our bodies and minds, that mean the most to me. It's what's been lacking with other women I've dated. Actually, it's been non-existent with other women I've dated. Being with Darby again really highlights just how much it's been lacking and how much I've missed it.
She looks up at me and pulls me down to her, pressing her mouth to mine. Our kiss starts slow and gentle, but quickly gains some heat and steam. Our tongues swirl together and I feel my body responding to her. I pull back and give her a little smile.
“I thought you said –”
“I changed my mind,” she says, cutting me off with a mischievous grin. “Shut up. Call it a woman's prerogative.”
“Works for me.”
I kiss her again, harder and with more fire and passion. I feel myself stiffening in my pants, my cock growing harder by the second, begging for release. Darby grips me through my slacks, stroking and rubbing me, making the desire within me swell like a molten tide.
Reaching up, I unbutton her blouse and slip it off her shoulders, dotting kisses down her neck and chest. I unhook her bra and let it fall to the floor, letting her breasts spill free into my hands. I slide my tongue down and take her erect nipple into my mouth, sucking on it gently at first, before giving it a slightly harder nip that draws a gasp from her.
“Wait,” she says.
I stand up, thinking she's about to put an end to it, when she turns and hustles out of the studio. She comes back a moment later with a condom in her hand and a sultry smile upon her lips.
“Better to be prepared,” she says.
I pull her to me and kiss her hard, sliding my tongue in her mouth forcefully as I grip her hair and give it a firm tug. As we kiss, she loosens my tie and slips it off me, before she starts to unbutton my shirt. She slips my shirt off me and lets it fall to the floor. Slipping my hands underneath her skirt, I pull her panties down, sliding them all the way down her legs. She kicks them off, but leaves her heels on, which I approve of. Turning her around, I bend her down, making her brace herself on the wide, padded stool she uses when she works.
Grabbing her hair, I pull her head back as I slide my hand back up her skirt. Standing behind her, I kiss her neck and shoulders, then quickly plunge my fingers into her warm, moist depths. She gasps as I start to bang her hard and fast, driving my fingers into her again and again. She cries out and her juices run down my hands, fueling the fires that are burning within me.
I slowly withdraw my fingers and let her turn around. Slipping my fingers into my mouth, she watches, lust shining bright in her eyes, as I lick my fingers clean of her juices.
“I can't get enough of tasting you,” I say, my voice heavy and thick.
“Jesus, Carter,” she says, her breathing shallow and ragged.
I fall to my knees before her, sliding her skirt up and put her thigh over my shoulder. Leaning forward, I dive into her warm, wet core. I plunge my tongue into her, savoring every last drop of her juices. It's intoxicating and heady. I run my tongue over her clit, drawing a strong shudder from her, before I slide my tongue back into her, licking her up and down,
“Fuck,” she gasps. “Yes, baby.”
I lick and suck on her pussy as she grinds it down hard against my mouth, taking my tongue deeper into her. She has her head thrown back, her red curls spilling down behind her. Her eyes are closed, and her lips are parted, she's gasping and calling my name as I take her clit into my mouth and suck hard on it. Reaching up, I cup her breast and pinch the nipple roughly. She cries out, but she grips the back of my head, pushing me deeper into her.
A choked gasp erupts from her mouth as I feel her whole body tighten up. She lets out a long, low moan, and then I feel her explode. She practically screams my name as her orgasm crashes down upon her and I plunge my tongue even deeper between her lips, feeling her pussy spasm and pulse around it. I can't get enough of the feel and taste of her, and continue licking until she pushes me away, a look of absolute bliss on her face.
“It's so sensitive right now,” she stutters, her breath even more ragged than before. “Too much of a good thing.”
I laugh and get to my feet and lean into her, kissing her hard. She digs her nails into my shoulders, a slight pinch of pain that makes me gasp. I lift her up and set her on the stool, and she spreads her thighs for me as I step forward. She takes the condom and unrolls it down the length of my cock, her eyes never leaving mine.
“Fuck me, Carter,” she says, her voice husky. “I need you inside of me.”
She wraps her arms around the back of my neck and wraps her legs around my waist, crying out as I thrust my hips and drive my hard cock deep into her. My body is shaking, my desire for her overwhelming me, as I start to pound myself into her hard and deep. She's so tight, but so warm and wet, sending electric sensations coursing along my skin.
“You are so fucking tight,” I grunt as I thrust myself into her again.
Darby throws her head back and calls my name as I pump my hips, driving my cock into her again and again. She's thrashin
g wildly against me as I fuck her, her eyes filled with desire and need. Her breath is exploding from her in bursts and her body is tightening up around me. She squeezes my cock with the muscles inside of her and I almost lose it right there.
Clamping onto my shoulders, Darby leans back until she's almost perpendicular with me. I keep pounding away inside of her as she digs her nails into me again, the sharp bite of pain making the pleasure I'm feeling absolutely electric.
“Carter,” she gasps. “Baby, I'm going to fucking come.”
“Then come for me, Darby,” I say. “Come all over my fucking cock.”
And she does. With a long, shuddering cry, her body tightens up and then goes limp an instant later she is trembling and thrashing as I continue to drive my cock into her hard and deep. She's caught up in the throes of passion, her orgasm rocking her from head to toe. Finally, she sits up and looks me in the eye, giving me a look of pure, intense lust.
I take a couple of steps back when she pushes me away with surprising force. Darby slips off the stool and falls to her knees, gripping the base of my cock with one hand and using the other to strip the condom off me. She tosses it over her shoulder and leans forward, attacking my cock with a zeal that takes my breath away.
She swirls her tongue around the head of my prick, looking me in the eye as she laps up the pre-cum spilling out of the tip. She squeezes my cock hard and starts to jerk me off, pumping her hand up and down, her hand wrapped firmly around my shaft. Darby leans forward and takes my dick into her mouth, working her hand and mouth in unison, sucking and stroking me like a woman on a mission.
I moan loudly as she blows me, the sensations of her tongue running up and down my shaft are intense. My skin feels like it's on fire as she tightens her lips around my cock, gripping me impossibly hard, as she starts to stroke and suck me harder and faster.
Reaching down, I grab a handful of her hair, giving it a hard yank as she sucks me off. I feel my body tighten and then start to tremble as she works my cock like a pro. Gripping her hair harder, I start to pump my hips, unable to stand still. I fuck her mouth as she raises her hands and rakes her fingernails down my chest to my stomach, sending chills through my body.
I feel the pressure starting to tighten inside of me and know I'm not going to last much longer. Darby is making it incredibly hard to draw this out. As if sensing that I'm building to a crescendo, she sucks and strokes me even harder, desperate to bring me to the brink.
She pulls my cock out of her mouth, but continues to jerk me off as she looks me in the eye. That flirty smile touches her lips and there's a lustful twinkle in her eye.
“I want to taste you, Carter,” she says. “Come in my mouth.”
I offer no verbal response. Instead, I grab her hair again, pulling it nice and hard, as I slide my dick back into her mouth. I start to pump my hips, fucking her mouth even harder. She moans all around my cock, the vibration of her voice in combination with everything else she's doing me, pushing me to the brink.
All at once, I feel my body lock up tight. I throw my head back and cry out as I start to shudder, as my cock starts to pulse in her mouth. A moment later, I blow my load, filling her mouth with my hot seed. Darby stops moving and grips the base of my prick, taking it all into her mouth and swallowing it down.
My breathing is ragged and when I look down, Darby slips my deflating cock out of her mouth, licking her lips, a pleased look on her face. She stands up and as I look at her, I'm overwhelmed by the need to touch her. To feel her near me. I grab her by the hips and roughly pull her to me, kissing her hard and deep.
A moment later, I step back and try to catch my breath. “Fuck, Darby,” I say. “You are amazing.”
She gives me a wink. “Yeah, I know.”
She takes me by the hand and leads me out of her studio. I follow along behind her, my head and body buzzing with sensations.
“Want to take a shower with me?” she asks.
I kiss her again, unable to get enough of her. “I'd love to.”
“How do you feel about staying the night?”
“I think I can pencil you into my schedule.”
She slaps me playfully on the chest and laughs. “Pig.”
“Oink oink,” I reply.
I follow her into the large bathroom, taking her in as she strips out of her skirt. I look her up and down, drinking in every piece of her, desire burning inside of me again.
My heart swells as I look at her for another reason though. We seem to be falling back into each other again, pretty easily. It almost feels like no time has passed, and no wounds were suffered. I know it's not true, and we both bear the scars to prove it.
But, being with her again, seeing her smile, it makes me think that yeah, even though we've probably still got some work to do to close the book on the past and write a new future together, it is possible to go home again.
Chapter Fourteen
Darby
“So, what's new in your life?”
I look across the table at Mason as he munches away on the appetizer in front of him. He chases it with a long swig from his glass of scotch. He seems a bit irritated an on edge today. I don't know what it is, probably something at work, but it makes me want to end the evening early.
Though, if I'm being honest, I want to end it early anyway, so I can go spend some time with Carter.
We've been seeing each other for a few weeks now, and I can see that things are already starting to get serious between us. Despite all my resistance, we seem to be picking up where we left off a decade ago. It still scares me, but not nearly as much as it did before. Carter is a good man. I can see it. He's got a good heart and if there is one thing that's abundantly clear, it's that he cares for me. Deeply.
“Not a lot,” I say. “The usual.”
He nods and pops another morsel into his mouth, washing it down with more scotch. His eyes bore into me and I feel like a defendant, on trial, with Mason cross-examining me. It makes me feel defensive and on edge myself. I don't like the scrutiny he's putting me under.
“Seeing anybody?”
“I'm not going out with your flunky, Mason,” I say and laugh.
I take a sip of my wine as he leans back in his seat and stares at me. He drains the rest of his glass and signals the waitress for another. He's silent the entire time we wait for his refill, just sitting there looking at me. The feeling of discomfort I'm feeling is suddenly joined by an oppressive and ominous feeling as well.
“And why not?” he finally asks.
“Not interested,” I say. “Do I need a reason to not want to be set up?”
He shrugs. “I suppose not,” he says. “I just thought you might be looking for some company.”
“I'm not,” I say defensively.
A small, malicious smirk touches his lips as he leans down and pulls something out of his briefcase. He tosses it across the table, where it opens up I find myself staring at a picture of myself and Carter on the front page. My stomach drops into my shoes and my throat goes suddenly dry. We've been so careful about not being seen by the paparazzi when we're out.
Somehow, someway though, some asshole with a camera snapped a shot of us walking arm in arm through Chelsea, looking entirely comfortable together – which we are. The headline, in big, bold letters screams, “Who Is The Mystery Woman In Carter Bishop's Life?”
“Care to explain that to me?” Mason asks.
I shrug. “I don't think I can,” I say. “It's not a very flattering photo.”
“Funny,” he says. “What are you doing with him?”
I take a sip of my wine and look at my brother evenly. “I wasn't aware I needed to check my social calendar with you.”
He sighs and drains his glass again, signaling for yet another. His face is dark with anger and his eyes are narrowed, glowing with irritation.
“He's a piece of crap, Darby,” he says. “You can do better than this asshole.”
“You don't know the first thing about him, M
ason,” I clap back. “You never have, and because you prefer sitting up there in your ivory fucking tower, looking down on everybody, you never will.”
“Hey, I'm okay with that,” he says. “I prefer not associating with criminals.”
I scoff. “He's not a criminal.”
“You don't know him, Darby,” he says. “You're still blinded by your little schoolgirl crush on him.”
“Actually, I do know him,” I say, my voice growing heated. “I know him very well. It's you that doesn't have the first clue about him, Mason. It's you who's blinded by your own insecurity and hatred.”
“Insecurity?” he chuckles. “Right. Good one.”
“You've never gotten over the fact that he kept you from getting your ass kicked at St. Aggie's,” I seethe. “That he made you feel like less of a man or something. In case you didn't realize it, he was trying to help your stupid ass, Mason.”
I become keenly aware of all the people around the restaurant turning to look at us. I guess our conversation had gotten more heated – and louder – than I realized. Uncomfortable beneath all that scrutiny, I clear my throat and try to not let it get to me. Try to push away that oppressive feeling of being watched – and judged.
I lower my voice, but don't lessen the heat. “If you took the time to get to know him –”
“I don't want to get to know him,” Mason says, apparently not caring who hears us. “He's a piece of street trash. And personally speaking, I don't want my sister associating with street trash. Not only is it bad for you, it's going to reflect poorly on me.”
“Keep your voice down, Mason,” I snap. “Or I'm leaving right now.”
He gives me a dismissive wave and takes another pull of his drink.
“This isn't about you,” I say. “My relationships have nothing to do with you.”
“Darby, I'm a U.S. Attorney and I have my eyes on a bigger political office,” he says, pitching his voice low. “Your relationships impact me and my electability.”
I laugh. “Those aren't my problems,” I say. “And there is nothing wrong with Carter. He's a respectable businessman.”