by Zuri Day
Papa Dee, who’d been watching for a second or two, spoke. “Go on, son. Show that gal what you’re working with!”
Chapter 16
“Pops!” Dexter turned his head, but didn’t immediately separate from the object of his affection.
“Mr. Drake!” Faye did what she’d initially planned when turning around in the first place. She pushed Dexter away and straightened her clothes. “I, uh, came to check on you!”
“Checking on the wrong mister, looks like.” The twinkle in his eye could have rivaled the planet Venus.
“Get on in here, Pops, and stop embarrassing the lady. You were supposed to be napping until dinner was done.”
“Wasn’t no sharing what y’all were cooking up. Hehehe.” He walked over to the cupboard, retrieved olive oil and poured some into the skillet. “Throw those onions in here and get to working on the rest of those vegetables. I’m hungry!”
Under Papa Dee’s watchful eye and instruction, a mouth-watering meal of pasta and meatballs soon graced the table, along with Faye’s salad—topped with fresh mozzarella and Papa Dee’s special apple cider vinaigrette. They ate, laughed, listened to tales of Papa Dee’s youth and the women who loved him...and sampled sparkling wine.
“This is wine?” Faye had asked, after sampling the fruity rosé Dexter placed before her to accompany the salad. “It’s delicious!”
“Careful, baby girl. It tastes good but make no mistake—those grapes are well fermented.”
“Meaning?”
Dexter looked at Papa Dee, who smiled. “Never mind,” he said, pouring more bubbly into her glass.
The sampling continued with a rare sparkling red served during the entrée and the dessert wine that Faye had previously enjoyed paired with Grandma Mary’s pound cake. During this time the nurse returned, and Papa Dee retired for the evening.
“I love Papa Dee,” Faye exclaimed when Dexter had returned from saying good-night. Her eyes were bright and her tone was animated. “Makes me miss my grandpa. Didn’t see much of him and Grandma after my mom remarried and we moved to Saint Louis.” She turned to Dexter. “Have you ever seen a cow up close?” Her hand bumped his arm. “Oh, my. Your arms are big!” Her volume increased with each sentence, and she started to giggle.
“Okay, Doctor. I think it’s time to get you back to your room.” He stood and moved to help her up.
“Please, Dexter, I’m not an invalid,” she said, swatting away his hand and trying to rise. Unfortunately, her motor skills were lubricated. “Ooh.” Another giggle. “Oh, my goodness,” she drawled, now leaning against Dexter and looking up dreamily into his eyes. “I think I’m a bit tipsy.”
“I think you’re right.”
He sat—translated, poured—her into the passenger seat, and five minutes later had her snuggled against his side as they walked through the lobby to the elevator. Using a special key, Dexter summoned a car in an instant, and as soon as it arrived they were whisked directly to Faye’s floor.
“Really, I’m okay. I can walk. My head was just woozy for a minute.”
“I know you’re stone-cold sober. I just like how you feel in my arms.”
“I like how you feel, too. How you look, how you—” she took a deep whiff of his shirt “—smell.”
Dexter gave Faye a look out of the side of his eye. Ms. Conservative. You are going to be some kind of embarrassed tomorrow. But I’m liking what I’m seeing tonight. They reached the door. “Where is your card?”
Faye retrieved it from her purse and, since he’d requested it the first two times, gave Dexter the card to open the door. He did, and she promptly put her hand on his arm. “I want you to come inside.”
This was a switch. The other two times she’d barely left enough space for her to squiggle through the opening before closing the door. He followed her inside.
“I need to lie down for just one minute. Come join me.”
“You’re a lightweight. I should have listened.” Dexter felt bad for giving her wine that she drank like soda. “I’ll order up some coffee for you. And water. You’re probably dehydrated.”
“I am not dehydrated. I am in full control of my facilities and have made a decision.” Dexter thought, faculties, but, okay. She walked over to the bed and plopped on it. “Come. Sit.” He did. She turned to face him. “My friend Addie says that I’ve been working way too hard. She’s right. I need to have some fun. I’d like to have some with you.”
“We had fun this evening, Doctor. Dinner was nice. We laughed and talked. Now it’s time for you to get some sleep.” Even as he said this, Dexter was more than a little aware of how Faye’s hand was sliding up and down his leg, sending a burning sensation through his thick denim jeans. Not being made of stone, he decided it was about time to get moving.
“No!” She grabbed his hand. “Sit.” He did. Again. “I know you think it’s the wine, but it’s not. Okay, maybe it’s made me a little more forward.”
You think?
“But maybe that’s best. Because it allows me to say what I’ve been thinking since I met you. I’d like for us to have sexual intercourse.”
“Sexual intercourse?!”
“Yes, Dexter. That is when a penile erection is placed into the—”
“I know what it is, Faye.” He stood and pulled back the covers. “Come on,” he said, reaching for her foot and taking off her sandal. He always was a sucker for nice feet and toes, and hers were silky, the fresh French pedicure making his mouth water. He made quick work of pulling off her other sandal and fluffing the pillows. “Get under the covers.”
“Only if you get under them with me.”
“The sooner you get to sleep,” he said, continuing to ignore her, “the sooner you’ll wake up and realize that you’ve let the cat out of the proverbial bag.”
“Speaking of cats,” she said, reaching for her zipper.
“No, you don’t.” He stayed her hand. “Wait until I leave.”
“I don’t want you to leave.” Her pout was just too perfect for him to ignore. “I want you to stay. Please?”
“Okay, I’ll stay. But only if you go to sleep.”
“Yes, let’s sleep together.” She scooted over to make room for him. Against his better judgment, he lay down. She rolled over and was on him before he could put up a defense.”
“I’m so horny. Let’s have sex.”
“You’re drunk. Let’s sleep.”
And that’s what they did.
Chapter 17
Morning came, announced by bright shards of sunlight streaming through the open blinds.
“Argh!” Faye hurried to turn away from the intruding glare. And bumped up against...a body? Wait, where am I? She opened her eyes. Uh-oh.
Two smiling eyes were staring back at her. “Good morning.”
“What are you doing in my room?”
“You insisted that we sleep together. I obliged you.”
Her eyes widened. “Did we...” She yanked back the sheet that covered her. Tank top and pants were still on. Good. I think.
“No, Doctor. We didn’t have the sexual intercourse that you demanded.” His broad smile indicated what fun he was having.
“I know that I drank a lot. But you’re pulling my leg. There is no way I would ask for, let alone demand, such a thing.”
“You could and you did. Your exact words had to do with...how did you say it? Penile erection.”
“No!” She pulled the sheet over her head.
It wasn’t enough to drown out Dexter’s laughter. “I think I got a chance to see the real Faye Buckner last night.” She groaned. “Oh, no. Please don’t be embarrassed. I really like her.”
She closed her eyes. Memories came rushing back. Pasta and wine at Papa Dee’s. Sparkling wine. Delicious wine. Too much wine. “Oh,
no.” She unburied her head and glared at him, too stunned to be embarrassed. “You knew what you were doing. That wine was delicious. You planned for me to drink too much!”
“Baby, if I’d planned to spend the night in your bed, we would be naked right now.”
“I can’t believe this,” she whispered to herself, massaging her forehead as she did so.
Dexter reached out and ran a light hand down her arm. “You don’t have a headache, do you?”
“Surprisingly, no.”
“Not surprisingly. You were drinking the good stuff.” A pause and then, “I’m aching though.”
She turned to face him, feeling awkward and strangely comfortable at the same time. Other women might prefer flowery prose and false promises. This straightforward approach allowed her to think with her head, not her heart. For a practical person, it felt better and made sense. “Do I dare ask why?”
“Because I’ve been lying next to you all night...feeling your leg thrown over my thigh, smelling your scent.” Faye swallowed. “Remembering what you said you wanted me to do to you. Do you remember?”
Faye shook her head. “Not really.”
“Papa Dee says that a drunk mouth speaks a sober mind.” Silence. “Given the sobriety of this new day, would you still like to have sexual intercourse? Or, as I’d prefer to describe it, would you like to make love? For the record, I’d very much like to do so.”
Faye sat up against the headboard. “I’d imagine you like to do so quite often.”
“I’m a strong, viral, healthy male. Make no mistake about that. But I am also discriminating. I wouldn’t make love to just anyone.”
“As much as I prefer this to lies and nonsense, it’s interesting that we’re sitting here discussing sex like I would a medical procedure. It’s crazy, actually!”
“I’m sure Addie would agree.” Faye almost gave herself whiplash with the quickness of her movement. “Your best friend? You mentioned her last night.”
“That’s it.” Faye threw back the covers and jumped out of bed. “I’m going to take a shower. I need to clear my head.”
“Want me to join you?” No answer. Dexter chuckled.
Until a second later when she said softly, “Yes.”
“You sure?” he asked, his voice low and soft when he’d entered the bathroom.
“Not really...but I’m not sure I’ll ever be this vulnerable, or this bold, again.”
“I only want to do this if you want it.”
“It’s been awhile,” she said with a sigh.
“How long?” The head shake was barely noticeable. “On second thought, maybe this isn’t such a good idea. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Actually, that’s probably why you’re the right choice. One, I really don’t know you, and what I do know of you implies that you are a ladies’ man. I know not to take this seriously—that this is physical, nothing more. Two, in a few days I’ll leave the resort. I probably won’t see you again. And three, you look like someone who practices often and—” she turned away, pulling her tank top over her head “—are probably very good at what you do.” Perhaps it was her medical background and intense study of the human body, but as sexually conservative as she was, Faye had never been particularly modest. So with that said, she pulled down her jeans, turned on the showerhead and stepped inside. “Wait,” she said, when Dexter began to undress. “Do you have a condom?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Come on in.”
Dexter frowned. He enjoyed straightforwardness as much as the next person, but Faye’s approach was too clinical, too detached. She wants to dictate what happens here. As he removed his jeans and boxers, he knew that that wasn’t going to happen.
Faye knew the moment Dexter stepped into the stall. Goosebumps broke out all over her body though she hadn’t been touched. Best to stay focused and in control. “Dexter, can you grab the soa—”
Kisses on her buttocks were not at all what she’d expected.
She froze.
He chuckled.
“Just relax,” he murmured. “And enjoy.”
The dream! Her shivering began in earnest now; her mind scrambled amid the strange sensations and surprises. “Wait...”
“Shh...don’t talk. Feel.” Sometime in the past few seconds, he’d managed to grab the sponge. Her logical mind wondered how he could have done that when his tongue had been...oh, well. Never mind thinking. Just managing to stay upright on legs resembling noodles was a tall order.
Turns out she didn’t have to. As water chased the suds away, Dexter placed his hands around her waist, lifting her off the ground. Her legs automatically wrapped around his hips, leaving her open and exposed. Wanton. Wicked. Securing her against the shower wall, he began an oral assault—kissing her shoulder, neck, nibbling her earlobe, before slanting his mouth over hers and initiating a bruising kiss. Her back felt the cool of the marble, the heat of the water and Dexter’s tongue searching, swirling as his hips mimicked its movement. Her nipples pebbled into hardened buds as he slid a hand along her side, briefly caressing her hip before sliding his hand between them, teasing her lower set of lips the way his mouth did her upper ones. Soon another nub was hardened, the slick wetness between her legs having nothing to do with the fact that they were in the shower. Over and again he slid a strong middle finger between her folds, setting up a rhythm that Faye’s hips immediately began to pattern. Encased in a fog of passion, she became aware of a strange mewling sound. It took several seconds to realize that she was the source. When the finger that had stroked her into madness delved inside her, she came undone, enjoying a release unlike she’d ever experienced, her fingernails sinking into Dexter’s shoulders as she tried to hold onto sanity.
Slowly easing her down from the wall, Dexter led Faye from the shower and patted her dry. He’d been surprised at the tightness he encountered, believing that she wasn’t a virgin only because she’d earlier told him so. But he was determined to rock her world in a way that she would never forget, and in doing so, he knew he’d have to be a patient man. Fortunately for both of them, time was on their side. Dexter hadn’t finished what he’d come to her room to do. He was just getting started.
Chapter 18
“How are you feeling?” he whispered, patting the last vestiges of water off Faye’s skin and enveloping her in a smoldering hug.
“That was pretty amazing,” she admitted. “But I’m sure you get told that often.”
“Right now isn’t about what others tell me. Right now is all about you.” With that, he reached for a bottle of lemon-scented oil, lifted her off the ground and walked purposefully toward the bed. Faye’s eyes never left his as he gingerly placed her on the king-size masterpiece, unscrewed the cap on the bottle and poured a generous amount into his hand. “When is the last time you had a massage?”
“The day of Papa Dee’s party. I chose the shiatsu massage offered at the salon.”
“Good choice,” he said, briskly rubbing his hands together to heat his palms and the oil. “I think you’ll like this one much better.” After smoothing the oil down the length of her legs, he reached for the foot he’d earlier admired and began a slow, rhythmic kneading. Using his basic knowledge of reflexology, he placed his fingers on certain points of her feet, massaging lightly in some places, harder in others, and giving each toe its own special attention. Faye’s eyes fluttered closed. Which is why she was totally unprepared for what she felt next—Dexter’s skilled tongue circling her toes before sucking the big one into his mouth. She hissed and grabbed fistfuls of sheet, even as her love button quivered with desire.
The massage continued, slow and specific, as his hands performed magic from her ankles to her thighs. He bypassed her pulsating paradise, retrieved more oil, and continued rubbing away kinks and tension, although given the enormity of her orgasm,
Faye was certain there was little stress left!
“Turn over.”
She complied, and soon her back was receiving the same attention her legs, arms and chest had received. When he began to knead her booty, she thought she’d go wild, and when his tongue replaced the fingers touching seemingly forbidden places, she gave up all pretense of rationality. When he coaxed her to her knees and then slid his face beneath her, lapping her feminine nectar with his tongue, holding her hips firmly in place and maintaining the pressure when she tried to escape his tantalizing torture, tears of ecstasy cascaded down her face and she was not ashamed. He licked her leisurely, purposely, unrelentingly. Even as he did so he slid a finger along her backside, until she felt she’d faint from the pleasure. And when once again the joy of her climax bubbled over into an explosion of sensations, Dexter quickly and expertly sheathed himself and took a slow, steady plunge into her wetness—before she could think and be aware, while she was relaxed and still floating on an orgasmic cloud.
Once they were joined in the most intimate of ways, where not even air could come between them, he stopped. Waited. Allowed her muscles to relax until he was fully accommodated. Until he felt Faye’s hips began a timeless dance. Only then did he join her, matching her rhythm, pushing himself deeper, pulling out to the tip, and then plunging back in once, twice, a million times. Faye wasn’t sure. All she knew was that what she felt was new and magical and something she wanted to last forever. The rhythm was unpredictable—at times slow and methodical, and then, without warning, a pumping frenzy. Faye simply hung on for the ride, matching stroke for stroke, riled to a point past thinking or caring. Searching for yet another explosion into orbit and when again it finally arrived, they took it together. Dexter moaned deeply, clutching Faye against his heart. Faye screamed, a sound new and foreign to her ears, and collapsed against him.
“How was that for sexual intercourse?” he mumbled, turning them on their sides and spooning her close.
“Just what the doctor ordered,” she drawled amid a yawn. And then she fell into one of the deepest sleeps she’d ever known, plagued only by the dream that lay beside her.