by Lacey Legend
With his breathing becoming a little fast and ragged, he immediately dipped his head, soon connecting his tongue with my clit, which was aching and throbbing with need. Moaning, I tangled my fingers in his thick, dark hair, feeling as if I’d just been freed from some sort of prison of desperate longing.
As it sometimes did when Fed and I were enjoying intimate activities, time soon kind of ceased to become a thing. With him raking his tongue across my throbbing, tingling clit, I was quickly lost in a world of pleasure so intense that I really couldn’t tell if mere seconds or minutes were passing. All I knew was that with each second or minute that did, I was becoming more and more convinced that I did really drive Fed ‘half-mad.’
After however long, I felt a powerful orgasm building low in my belly, and I began begging Fed to let me feel him inside of me, speaking in a voice so low, husky, and garbled that I hardly recognized it as being my own. However, he seemed to hear my request crystal clear anyway, because before I knew it, he’d stood and was all but ripping off his clothes. Panting with desire, I raised myself up on my elbows, eager to see if his rod was rock-hard yet, and I wasn’t disappointed.
Reclining back on the couch again, I asked him to please make love to me, because I was desperate to feel his cock inside of me. After this request, it only took him about half a second to cover my body with his own, keeping his feet dangling off the side of the couch because of his large frame.
Positioning the head of his beyond-stiffened erection at my entrance, he paused briefly, just long enough to brush a tender kiss against my mouth before plunging his thick shaft into my pussy with one slow thrust. Nearly at the brink of climax once again, I threw my head back, reveling in the sensation of being so completely and totally filled, and by such a large, hard cock.
Fed soon began thrusting slowly, pulling himself nearly totally out of me before sliding back into my slick depths once again. This slow action stayed my climax for a few minutes maybe, but eventually I felt such an urgent, strong urge to have him increase his pace that I began moving my hips to meet his every thrust, although just a slight beat ahead of him, just a fraction of a second faster, trying to signal to him that I was ready for thrusting that was a bit more intense.
With Fed seeming to pick up on my signal quickly, it wasn’t long before I got my wish. With deep, guttural grunts, he began thrusting harder and faster, making me moan loudly while digging my fingers into the hard ridges of his muscular back.
“Yes. That’s it, Fed. Please don’t stop.”
He didn’t, and soon I couldn’t hold back a loud cry of passion, now digging my nails into his back while powerful waves of pleasure began crashing over me, one right after the other. Whether by coincidence or design, he also reached his peak at this time, growling out his climax while spilling his hot seed inside of me.
Once the last spasm of our ecstasy had passed, we just rested in embrace, with Fed shifting his weight to the side of me, to the very edge of the couch, showing the same consideration he’d shown to me while we were making love. Although we could get a little intense in our lovemaking sometimes, and sometimes even downright rough, Fed always seemed to be aware of my general comfort as far as not crushing me with his body weight like a couple of my ex-boyfriends, including Malcolm, had always done.
Once our breathing had begun to return to normal after a few minutes, during which time Fed had tenderly stroked my hair and kissed my face, he wordlessly got up, lifted me into his arms like a baby, and began carrying me across the suite to the bedroom. With my eyes closed, I just clung to his chest the entire time he was carrying me, feeling a sense of more profound happiness than I’d ever felt in my life before.
Little did I know, this happiness was going to be very short-lived.
*
The following day, back in my apartment, I called my aunt and uncle and my grandparents to tell them all the happy news that Fed and I had gotten engaged. They were all absolutely thrilled for us, and my grandma even cried, saying that she was just “pleased as punch,” which was an expression she rarely used, but when she did, it meant that she was extraordinarily happy.
I was feeling pretty “pleased as punch,” too, while I began making dinner a while later, mentally imagining Fed’s and my wedding, which we’d decided would take place in just five short months, on Valentine’s Day. Fed would be home in about an hour, and I couldn’t wait to tell him about some of my plans, and ask him about some of his.
I’d just put the rosemary chicken I was making in the oven when my phone began going off, jarring me out of my happy reverie. A moment later, I was jarred out of it further still when I saw that it was my mom calling. Feeling bad for doing it but unable to help myself, I groaned loudly, thinking that I’d probably rather take a call from anyone else in the world but her right then. However, knowing that she’d probably heard about my engagement already, and wouldn’t stop calling me until I talked to her, I answered the phone anyway, just hoping that our conversation would be brief.
In typical fashion, my mom got right into things. “I just heard about your engagement via a text from Aunt Denise. She wanted to congratulate me, because she assumed that as the mother of the bride-to-be, I had been told first and already knew.” Taking a deep breath, my mom paused. “Does this make you feel good about yourself, Jasmine? Does this make you feel like you’re any kind of a good daughter to me?”
Fighting another groan, I had a seat on the couch. “We haven’t spoken in months, Mom. You haven’t contacted me.”
“And you haven’t contacted me, either. You also didn’t send me a little package of European goodies like you sent to everyone else. Oh, yes, I heard about that.”
“Well, I didn’t send you one because obviously, we’re not on good terms.”
“Well, you could have sent me one, anyway. I don’t think it would have killed you.”
Closing my eyes briefly, I sighed. “Are you going to congratulate me on my engagement, or are we just going to spend this entire phone call arguing?”
She didn’t respond right away. “Let me just ask you this. Are you quitting your job now? Are you going to give up on having a career and making something of yourself?”
“Oh, so your telling me congratulations or not depends on whether I’m going to quit my job now? Real nice, Mom.”
“Well, as your mother, I think I have a right to know what you’re doing.”
“Well, since I’m an adult, and since you never ask me nicely, you don’t really have a right.”
“You’d better watch your mouth and remember who you’re speaking to, Jasmine.”
“But, just so you know, I am quitting my job. Fed and I talked about it last night, and we both agreed that this is the right thing, since I’ve grown to hate marketing with a passion. I can barely even stomach the thought of doing it for the rest of my life.”
“Well, what about--”
“I don’t want to go into law, either, Mom…for the millionth time. I’m not interested in law at all. I’m not you. I’m actually a whole different person. Remember?”
“Young lady, you’d better--”
“No, Mom, I’m not going to ‘watch my mouth.’ I’m a grown, twenty-eight-year-old woman, and I’m going to speak my mind. I’m not going to tiptoe around you anymore, like I used to do. I’m also not going to let you steer me into anything anymore, either. I’m finally going to start living my own life, and the way I see it, you have two choices. You can either support me in this, and maybe we can start slowly mending our relationship, or you can continue to try to control me and mold me in your image, and our relationship can continue to deteriorate even further.
Although, if you choose this latter option, I’m afraid we actually won’t even have any kind of a relationship at all anymore. I’ll always love you, Mom, and I’ll always send you birthday and Christmas gifts and all that, but I’m just not going to continue talking to you if you can’t respect the choices that I’m making in my life.”
Several seconds ticked by before my mom finally spoke.
“Well, you’ve gotten it all off your chest, haven’t you?”
“Yes…I have. And, frankly, it was a really long time coming.”
My mom didn’t respond, and after a few moments, I said I had to go finish fixing dinner.
“Do you have anything else to say before I do, though?”
I expected some kind of a sassy retort or a put-down or something, but instead, she just spoke a few words in a quiet voice.
“Go make your dinner, Jasmine. Goodbye.”
I said goodbye with an unexpected, funny little ache in my chest, having a strange feeling that maybe this would be the last time I was ever going to speak to my mom again. Somewhat to my surprise, it turned out that it wasn’t. About a month later, I received a text from my mom. I just wanted to congratulate you on your engagement. I’m happy for you. May I come to the wedding?
Surprised and somewhat touched by her polite tone as well as the content of her message, I texted her back right away. Of course. Fed and I would love to have you there. We’ll send you an invitation.
She responded to this text by sending a single heart emoji in return.
A few weeks later, I called her, asking if she’d like Fed and me to fly her to New York City, where we were currently living, sometime soon so that she could join Fed’s mom and me on a wedding dress shopping trip.
Sounding genuinely pleased, she said she’d love that. “You just tell me the day, and I’ll clear my schedule to make the trip.”
After we’d discussed different dates, and where she might stay when she came to visit, we talked a little bit longer, just about how work was going for her, and how I liked living in New York City. When my mom eventually said that she had to go so that she could get to the gym before it closed, I realized that I was actually sorry, because I’d actually been enjoying the conversation.
By the time Fed and I were married in February, my mom and I had firmly established a new sort of relationship. It wasn’t a perfect one, by any means, but it was much better than the one we’d always had. Now, my mom frequently encouraged me instead of belittling me. As for myself, I tried to take more interest in her law career, something that I’d never really done. I only wished that we’d established this new sort of relationship sooner; however, as my grandma reminded me on the phone one evening, better late than never.
Reveling in the bliss of being a newly-married couple, Fed and I honeymooned on the French Riviera for over a week, followed by a week in Barcelona, and then one in Hawaii. When we finally returned to New York City, which we’d decided would be our permanent “home base,” I felt a slight sense of letdown, which Fed called “post-elation deflation,” although this didn’t last long. I soon became very involved in doing charity work with Whitney, who’d officially become my new best friend. Having not heard from Abbey in months and months, I hadn’t even invited her to my wedding.
With Fed and I as in love as we’d ever been, the year flew by, and before we knew it, we were coming up on our one-year anniversary as a married couple. On the evening of our anniversary, Fed first took me out to dinner at my favorite restaurant in the city, then drove us to the ballroom where our wedding reception had been held, saying that he had a special surprise for me.
“Give me a little hint,” I said.
He glanced over at me with a smile. “No.”
A short while later, we arrived at the luxury hotel where the ballroom took up almost the entire ground floor. Once inside, Fed took me by the hand and led me to the ballroom, which, to my astonishment, was lit with at least a thousand white candles in clear glass domes. Just like they had the night he had proposed to me, the candles made up words in fancy cursive, although this time, the words were slightly different. This time, they read, Marry me again?
While I read the words with a lump in my throat, Fed gave my hand a squeeze.
“What do you say? Would you do it all over again?”
With tears welling in my eyes, I turned my face to look at him. “Yes. A thousand times yes.”
Soon Fed and I were slow dancing to quiet music that was coming from speakers that I couldn’t even see. Atop the marble pillars that lined the walls of the ballroom, hundreds and hundreds of white roses, maybe even thousands, sat in crystal vases; and presently, I asked Fed how many roses there were.
Holding me close, he smiled down at me. “Four thousand, three hundred, and eighty. A dozen for every single day we’ve been married.”
Having expected this answer, I rested the side of my face on his chest, smiling. “They’re gorgeous, Fed. Thank you.”
It was only a few minutes later, that I realized I had an anniversary surprise for him, too, and I lifted my face from his shoulder. “This is all so magical that I almost forgot about my anniversary surprise for you.”
He looked into my eyes with his own eyes twinkling. “Oh, yeah? What is it?”
“Well, it’s not something I can give you quite yet.”
“Well, when?”
“Oh, in about seven-and-a-half-months.”
Immediately, with his previously jovial expression having become one of complete seriousness, Fed stopped swaying in time with the music. “Do you mean….”
Grinning, I nodded. “Yup. We’re going to have a baby. I didn’t want to tell you until I knew for absolute sure…but this morning at Dr. Taylor’s office, she said, ‘You officially have my permission to go ahead with your little anniversary surprise for your husband. You’re pregnant.’”
Stifling a quiet gasp, Fed said that he just couldn’t believe it. “I mean, I can believe it, but….”
His expression was one of such shocked seriousness that I found it somehow comical, and I laughed. “I couldn’t believe it at first, either. But then, when I had to run into the restaurant bathroom to get sick while having lunch with Whitney today, things really started sinking in. I’m really pregnant, and we’re really going to have a baby. It’s finally happening.”
Because I’d gone off birth control about a month before our wedding, Fed and I had eventually started to think that maybe we were going to have some problems in conceiving. Dr. Taylor had recommended that we wait a year or “a year-and-a-half-ish” before “becoming too concerned,” though, so we had, thoroughly enjoying our baby-making efforts along the way.
With his eyes a bit shiny and pink, Fed pressed a tender, lingering kiss against my lips before speaking in a voice that held just the hint of a tremor. “The night you said yes to my proposal, I didn’t think I could ever get any happier. But with this news….”
He swallowed hard and didn’t seem like he was going to continue. Smiling with my eyes filling with tears at the same time, I felt myself getting a little choked up, too. “So, you’re really happy?”
“Only happier than I ever dreamed was possible,” he said. Now really beginning to cry, I put my head back on his chest. “I can say the same myself.”
Message From The Author:
Hiii
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STRANDED IN LONDON
LACEY LEGEND
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places or events are entirely coincidental.
Copyright 2015 Lacey Legend
Written by Lacey Legend
BOOK DESCRIPTION
Tabitha has been given a new job working in London but, for her, it is a long way from home and she is missing New York. She does not know a soul and she is feeling lonely to the point of actually feeling stranded in London.
Things pick up when she meets a handsome English gentleman named Freddie who also works at the company and they instantly connect and embark on a secret off
ice affair. They have led totally different lives yet they have so much in common and Tabitha feels like it was meant to be.
However, Freddie seems reluctant to let it become anything more then a brief affair and Tabitha wonders why. Does he really feel the same about her? Or is there something else he is hiding?
Read On To Find Out!
Chapter One
Tabitha’s dark brown eyes scanned the room of unfamiliar faces. Her first week at the London headquarters of fashion label, Hastings-Bass, had been an unmitigated disaster. She found herself placed in a socially awkward situation attending the retirement party of the man she was replacing. The expressions on the faces of her co-directors were those normally found at a funeral – not a celebration of thirty years of faithful service. Tabitha wondered if they predicted her arrival, and the departure of the marketing director, was the start of the demise of the company.
She knew the expectation was for her to integrate with the directors and mingle with work colleagues, but her spirits were dampened. Brooklyn’s finest marketing guru was having difficulty conjuring a simple smile. The idea of exchanging pleasantries in the British branch of her work place seemed positively overwhelming.
She’d spent the week shadowing Marketing Director, Mr. Warburton, whose shoes she’d be filling, and realized she’d walked into what was essentially an old boys club. The main power players were all over fifty. Tabitha had a feeling that her appearance was not completely welcome. She wasn’t sure whether it was her age, gender, or skin color that was ruffling feathers. Tabitha was certain a distinct question mark hung over her professional abilities and whether she’d blend in with the company’s current workplace culture.