by Zuri Day
Chapter 19
When Faye awoke, Dexter was gone. She rolled over and found a note on his now-cold pillow, written on the elegant stationery the hotel provided:
Hey, Pretty Lady:
I hope you don’t have plans for the evening. I’ll be by to pick you up at six. Wear those raggedy jeans and T-shirt you had on when arriving at our luxury hotel. J
Dex
Faye couldn’t help but smile. She had arrived looking pretty tacky. That day she hadn’t given much consideration to where she was going and was more dressed in the mode of where she had been. In the tent cities and countryside of Haiti, clothes were given very little consideration. People were way more concerned about water and food.
Speaking of food, Faye found herself ravenous. The activities of the morning had worked up quite an appetite. She rolled out of bed and was immediately assaulted with the soreness that had resulted from the couple’s strenuous acts. “Well, Addie. The cootchie cobwebs are certainly gone.” Thinking of her best friend made Faye smile. The things I’ve done, she will not believe!
After ordering room service and then spending an afternoon on the computer, making appointments for the following week and final plans for the benefit fundraiser, Faye went downstairs to meet Dexter. Given what she was wearing, she had not a clue what surprises the evening held. He was in the lobby, talking on one phone and texting on another, looking absolutely dashing in a plain shirt and faded jeans. Faye could do nothing but shake her head. Three cars? Two phones? Movie-star looks. Their worlds were so different. Still, one thing they had in common could not be denied: passion. Pure and simple. The conservative Dr. Buckner possessed an inner freak. No one was more surprised than Faye, nor one more pleased.
“Where are we going?” she asked, after Dexter had surprised her once again by bypassing all of the vehicles in the parking lot and stopping at a golf cart.
“Fishing.”
Faye’s look could have gone next to the word incredulous in the dictionary. “You’re kidding, right?” He nodded toward the backseat, where she saw two portable fishing rods, a tackle box, duffle bag and a cooler. “You...are going to catch a fish.”
“One of us better, or tonight we’ll starve.” She continued to look at him as one would an alien from Mars. “We’re catching our dinner.”
Faye was stunned into silence. This man was simply complex, and she was forgetting all about her vow to keep this a totally physical interaction. “You’re not what I imagined,” she said, at last.
“What? Didn’t think a brother like me could get his hands dirty?”
“Not at all. The man I saw when I arrived at the hotel lobby was one who’d balk at crud found beneath his fingernails, as one who gets as many beauty treatments as any female—manicures, pedicures, facials, the works.”
“What’s wrong with that?” Dexter asked, purposely looking at his perfectly buffed nails.
Belatedly, Faye realized her error. “I didn’t mean that as an insult. It’s just that your many sides intrigue me.”
“As a boy, I was Papa Dee’s shadow. He’s the one responsible for my country side. We’d hunt and fish and go horseback riding. He loves everything about this land, and passed that down to me. I practically lived in flannels and dungarees until I was ten.”
“Dungarees? Ha!”
“That’s what an inordinate amount of time spent in the presence of an old man will do,” Dexter said with a smile. “Also, don’t be surprised if I’m fixing to fetch something, or if you become a gal instead of a woman, or if I ask ever so politely for a bit more of that poontang.”
Faye’s laughter rang across the mountains, complemented by Dexter’s deep chuckle and the sound of the wind.
They reached a nice-size pond about a mile from the commercial property. In the distance beyond, Faye saw the horses, stables and a large red barn they’d passed on her earlier tour. It was a picture right out of a book or magazine: deep, thick grass; endless blue skies; large, fluffy cumulous clouds; and mountains that kissed the heavens. “All of this belongs to you?” she asked, as the golf cart came to a stop.
“All of this belongs to the family,” he corrected. “It can be parceled for various buildings, such as what happened when my sister got married and they built their home. But it can never be legally divided or sold outside the family. This will always be Drake territory.”
He continued the history lesson on the land and the family that owned it as he unloaded the cart and set them up on a small deck that extended about five feet into the pond. “You ever fish before?”
“Once or twice,” Faye responded.
“Lures or live bait?”
“Mostly live,” she said, with a cocky smile.
“Nice. I don’t have to worry about you going all girlie on me when I pull out the worms.” Dexter reached for the tackle box, happy for seemingly no reason. And then it hit him. This was the first time he’d shared his love of nature, specifically fishing, with a woman. None of the women he’d dated, and there had been scores, had ever had the slightest interest regarding the land—except trying to set up residence there. His ex-girlfriend Maria was the only one who’d ridden a horse, and she loved it. But even she scoffed at anything that would ruin her designer jeans. Now here he’d met a woman who could match him stroke for stroke in bed and bait a hook? Donovan’s words rushed to the forefront of his mind. When you meet the right woman, everything changes. Dexter immediately shook off the thought. He wasn’t the type who would ever get married. But if he did, he decided, it would probably be to someone like Faye.
Faye leaned against the deck railing and looked out over the sparkling water. “What kinds of fish are stocked in your pond?”
“Perch, bluegill, a few largemouth bass.”
“No catfish?”
“You eat those scavengers?”
“Heck, yes! Give me some fried catfish fillets, coleslaw and French fries, and I’m good to go.”
“And here I was beginning to think you were a true country girl.”
“What’s more country than catfish?”
He handed her a baited rod, and with a quick kiss to the lips now pursed in concentration said, “You’ll see.”
They fished and talked, and Faye found it fascinating that the same man who’d regaled her with talk of college exploits and career achievements in a swanky, upscale restaurant was now equally as comfortable talking about loading a twelve-gauge shotgun, or using horse dung in the making of composted fertilizer for the family garden. She squealed when she reeled in the first catch: a yellowy perch, weighing about two pounds. About ten minutes later, Dexter snagged a four-pound bass. His eyes danced, and she imagined the little boy he’d spoken of, who bragged about his first ten-pound catch for over a week.
After reeling in another nice-sized catch, Dexter walked over to the duffle bag. “You ever clean a fish?” he asked, over his shoulder.
“Sure have,” Faye was proud to reply. “Only once though, and actually my grandfather cleaned it. I mostly watched.” She watched in silent wonder as Dexter pulled contents from the bag: a skillet, fish grill, plastic plates and various utensils, including a large knife. From a smaller bag inside the larger one came a woven blanket, paper towels and sanitizer. “Are we going to cook out here?”
“Unless you want sushi.” He walked to the cart and retrieved the cooler. Placing it on the ground, he pulled out a jug of water and a bottle of sparkling wine, before standing to give Faye her cooking instructions. “Start the side dishes while I handle the fish. Cut the potatoes as thinly as possible, and don’t skimp on the olive oil, else we’ll be here all night.” When she continued to stand there dumbfounded, he added, “There’s corn in there, too. Grab those ears and get to shuckin’, gal. The sun will be down soon!”
“Normally the doctor gives the orders,” she s
aid in response to his demand.
“Not on this land, baby girl,” he replied matter-of-factly. “Here, I run things.”
It was the best meal she’d ever eaten, especially the simply grilled, lightly seasoned fish, which quickly replaced cornmeal-battered catfish as her new favorite. Especially when gut, cut and cooked by a fine, shirtless brother. He’d taken his shirt off while cleaning the fish and so far hadn’t bothered to put it back on. The view was fine with Faye, and so was the ambiance. Dexter had remembered everything, even the iPhone that now played smooth music through portable speakers. It was almost as though she were back in Africa with the Peace Corps or her medical team, who on more than one occasion had sat around a campfire on which food had been prepared, listening to the sounds of nature and enjoying the simple life.
They enjoyed a quiet, companionable moment, both lost in their thoughts. Finally, Dexter got up and retrieved the wine. “Now time for dessert,” he said, deftly popping the cork, holding himself up with his elbow as he lay back.
“Where are the glasses?” Faye asked, the sudden desire in his eyes sending a squiggle of fire that began in her belly before traveling south.
“Don’t worry.” Dexter reached for her arm, motioning for her to lie down beside him. “We won’t be needing those.”
Chapter 20
“Take off your clothes,” Dexter demanded, following a leisurely kiss.
“Here? Now?” Even as she asked the question, Faye reached for the zipper on her jeans. “What if someone sees us?”
“No one comes on this part of the property. It’s just the two of us.”
He quickly stripped out of his clothes, then helped her remove her jeans. A black lacy bra and matching thong quickly followed. “Um, just lay back. Let me look at you. I like your body, baby.” He plucked a piece of grass and began to lightly run it over her skin. She shivered. He smiled. “This morning, I had to rush things a bit. Tonight, I plan to take my time.”
“I didn’t...feel you were...rushing,” Faye managed to eke out, as he gently pushed her legs apart and continued his assault. He stroked her nub with the blade, all the while running his fingers up and down her legs, across her stomach, up to her already taut nipples. No matter what happened later, Faye knew that she would never look at grass the same ever again! Dexter picked up the bottle of sparkling wine. “Here, take a sip.” His voice was low, deep, commanding; his massive dick bobbed and weaved with a life of its own. She rose up and drank from the bottle, not breaking eye contact with Dexter as he gently poured the ambrosia into her mouth. He moved his hand, and the liquid spilled across Faye’s body.
“Aw!”
“Ooh, sorry,” he murmured, bowing his head. “Let me get that.” He began a journey with his tongue, following the trickle of wine running down her skin. He feasted on her nipples—licking, tugging, biting—until they were hardened peaks. More wine flowed and he stroked her stomach, his tongue stiff in some moments, soft in others; he seemed to know exactly how to ebb and flow. He poured wine near her navel. It tickled. She laughed. When he spread her legs and again reached for the bottle, she grabbed his hand. “No, you can’t go there.”
His eyes darkened even further. “I can. And I will.” He parted her folds with his fingers and teased her pearl. “Unless you don’t want it.” He stopped. She squirmed. “Do you?”
She nodded, slowly at first and then more feverishly.
“Then tell me. I want to hear you tell me what you want.”
“Please...” She reached for his hand, trying to force him to continue.
“No, Doctor. You’ve expert knowledge of the body. Tell me exactly what you’d like me to do to you.”
“I want you to lick my clitoris,” Faye panted. “Now!”
Dexter chuckled. Cool wine gave temporary relief to her raging heat, but not for long. Soon, he had his tongue all over her, adding a C, D, E and F to what was more commonly known as the G-spot. Fingers played a melody within her, drowning out the song’s lyrics of loving and wanting and holding on. Instinctively, her hips began to grind in a circular motion, her head swung from side to side and her hands moved back and forth against his hair.
“That’s right, baby. Let go. Give this to me.” He blew on her wetness and this surprising act, combined with the wind swirling around her naked body, gifting her with nature’s embrace, was almost her undoing. She cried out, her hips lifted off the ground, and the stars she saw had nothing to do with the ones overhead.
Rubbing his body against her, he caught her mouth in a searing kiss. The essence of her sweetness mixed with the fruitiness of the wine was still on his tongue as it swirled against hers, giving her gustatory as well somatosensory pleasure. Dexter made a sudden move and balanced a knee on each side of her hip, his manhood protruding toward the sky. “Do you want this?”
“Yes.”
He reached for the wine bottle and gave it to her. Then, without a word, he lay down, stretched himself to his full six feet two inches (plus nine, but who’s counting?) and closed his eyes. Faye was tentative. This was new ground. She’d performed oral sex once or twice, but that had been years ago and even then, if she recalled correctly, it had been forgettable at best. What if she disappointed him? After the way he’d rocked her world, she wanted to do no less than return the favor.
“I don’t know how to please you that way,” she admitted.
“Do what I did to you, baby. Wet me down with the wine, then dry me off with your tongue.”
Faye poured wine on his shaft, swirled her tongue around his mushroom tip, tickled his sac, and then buried as much of his length as possible in her hot, wet mouth. Up and down, over and again she worshipped at his penile shrine. Dexter almost came right then.
“Get on and ride me, baby,” he said in a whisper, his hips beginning the movement that he’d continue once inside. After one final kiss, Faye eased down on his piercing-hot girth, contracting and releasing her Kegel muscles and driving him wild. Heady with her newfound control, she once again rose to the tip of his goodness, and then slowly, oh...so...slowly, lowered herself until he was fully inside her. Placing her hands on his expansive chest, she began a rhythm that allowed Dexter to touch her very soul: back and forth, up and down, side to side, push, pull. With the sun going down and the wind kissing her bare skin, she felt total abandon, massaging her own breasts as she clasped her thighs and rode them both into ecstasy.
Afterward they lay there, in their own private Garden of Eden: naked, satiated and content. Faye nestled into the crook of Dexter’s arm, watching the first star of the night begin to twinkle against the endless sky.
“I’m going to miss this place.”
“This place,” Dexter asked, positioning her closer, “or me?”
“You’re not what I expected,” she said again.
“Neither are you.”
Faye turned her face toward him. “What did you think the first time you saw me?”
“When I saw you that first day, standing there in those raggedy clothes, I didn’t know what to think.” He dodged her punch. “What? You know you were looking tore down.”
“It was a long trip.”
“You could wear a paper bag and still look good.” His gaze was intense, letting her know he meant it. “When you were standing at the edge of the patio, deciding whether or not to go in the party, I thought that you were shy, unsure of herself, probably an introvert who didn’t socialize often.”
“That’s mostly true. I wouldn’t say shy but definitely the more introverted, studious type.”
“Then when Papa Dee collapsed, I saw a whole other woman. One who was confident and intelligent, totally capable of commanding a situation. The dichotomies intrigued me. I wanted to know more.”
“That’s why you asked me out?” Darkness continued to fall, yet she could feel Dexter nod besi
de her. “I’ve enjoyed my stay here, and you, but the truth is that we come from two very different worlds, and we’re going in different directions. You are the heir to a very profitable enterprise known as Drake Wines Resort and Spa that caters to the wealthy, and I am getting ready to start up a free clinic, a center to serve the very poor. What I’m about to undertake is a challenging endeavor. There’s a building to try and get renovated, staff to hire, volunteers to recruit. It will take up all of my time.”
“You’ve already secured a place for your clinic?”
“Yes, but it needs work.” Faye gave him the short version of the building purchased at a fraction of its value from a successful San Diego pastor: Jack Kirtz of Open Arms Ministry.
“My brother-in-law owns a construction company. I could talk to him about helping you.”
“Really? Dexter, that would be wonderful. We’re being very frugal with our budget but—”
“Don’t worry about that.” He kissed her forehead. “You can be one of our charitable contributions.”
“Thanks. I think.”
A moment of silence before Dexter spoke again. “There’s a lot on my plate, too. I work very hard. But everyone needs a break from routine now and then, a chance to relax, reflect and take care of...personal needs.”
“I’m sure you’ll have no lack of women wanting to help you do that.”
“True. But I’m not talking to them right now. I’m talking to you.”
“We’ll see,” she said finally, wondering but not asking about the other women who were surely in Dexter’s life; not wanting to know if there was one significant other or several, not wanting to care whether they existed or not. The truth of the matter was that all too soon she’d pack her things, check out of the hotel, head to San Diego and start her new life. She saw long days, hard work and much sacrifice ahead. And very little room for either relaxing or reflecting with a man named Dexter Drake.