Jackson was talking to Sam in a way no man had ever talked to him, other than possibly Grant, Forrester and Grady. Jackson was genuinely interested in everything Sam said. He wasn’t just making conversation to impress me. He wasn’t trying to pick up Sam’s mom. He was just talking to the kid like he was a real person, someone worth talking to.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, Sam said one of those things I completely didn’t expect.
“I have no dad,” he said.
My eyes widened. I didn’t know what possessed him to bring that up. I looked to Jackson but he didn’t miss a beat.
“I hear that, kid,” he said. “I don’t have a daddy either. Not anymore.”
“Your dad died?” Sam said.
“Yes, sir. Not to speak ill of the dead, but he probably deserved it. You know the ravine bridge when you’re coming up from the city? The one that seems like the perfect place to do some bungee jumping.”
Sam’s eyes lit up with recognition. “I know that bridge.”
“My daddy crashed right over the edge of that thing. The explosion could be seen from the valley dam.”
“No way.”
“Yup. So if you want some advice from me, be very careful when you’re driving a car. It’s the single most dangerous thing you’ll ever do in your life. Even if you smoke. Even if you join the army. It’ll be your car that kills you if you’re not careful.”
“Good advice,” I said.
“Especially don’t drink and drive. Next time you’re drinking, call your mom, or call me. Don’t get behind the wheel.”
Sam laughed. I looked at Jackson but he was kidding. He laughed too. “I’m messing with you, kid. I’m messing with him,” he said, looking at me. “I know he’s too young to drink.”
“And too young to drive,” I said.
“Not for long though, right buddy?” Jackson said.
Sam nodded. He’d been too busy listening to Jackson to eat his ice cream. Jackson’s was all gone.
“Voila!” Jackson said. “Told you I’d finish first.”
“Oh man,” Sam said, slapping his forehead.
“See, man. I distracted you. Asking you all those questions. You’ve got to be on the lookout for that shit. You can’t be letting people pull the wool over your eyes.”
“I know,” Sam said, shaking his head. “Damn.”
“Sam Jones,” I said. “We don’t use words like that.”
“He did,” Sam said, indicating Jackson.
Jackson shrugged. “Old habits die hard,” he said.
Sam laughed, as if that somehow justified him.
To me, the whole thing was amazing. Sam was actually listening to every word Jackson said. If he’d had a pen and paper, he’d have taken notes. I could tell my little boy had been starved for this kind of attention his entire life. Jackson wasn’t just a man, he was a man’s man. There’s a difference. And that difference seemed to mean the entire world to my little boy.
I was enjoying sitting there but it was past nine and Sam had to get to bed. I wasn’t sure what Jackson had in mind. Had he really just been stopping by for an ice cream, or had he been stalking me? To be honest, I hoped he’d been stalking me.
Chapter 40
Jackson
HOW CAN I DESCRIBE THE feeling of meeting my son for the first time? It’s impossible. It’s like asking someone to describe the first time they saw the sunrise, or the first time they felt love so deeply it hurt.
I looked across the table at Faith. Jesus, my heart was burning for her. She was out of this world. To say I craved her would be a tragic understatement. I longed to feel her body against mine, the warmth of her breasts, the sweet wetness of her pussy.
I almost felt guilty. I was sitting next to my son for the first time in my life, and my mind was obsessed with filling his mommy with my semen.
“Faith,” I said.
“Yes.”
“I had a really nice time last night.”
She looked at me and then away. She was still shy after all we’d been through. It was the most adorable thing in the world. I wanted to see her again. I was dying for her.
“Me too,” she said.
I put twenty bucks on the table for the ice creams and Faith’s coffee.
“You don’t have to pay,” she said.
“Of course I do.”
“Well,” she said, straightening her dress. “It’s been really nice bumping into you. I’m sure Sam had a nice time chatting.”
Sam nodded. What a great kid. He was a gift, a gift Faith had given me. I’d never be able to thank her for it. But I could try.
Right there and then, I decided that there were a million things I could do to repay both of them. I owed them. I’d been gone for so long. I’d missed so much. But it wasn’t too late to make it up. I could dedicate my life to repaying Faith for the gift she’d given me—the most beautiful son in the world. I’d live my life for her. I’d spent years securing her safety, now I would secure her happiness, her joy, her ecstasy.
“I had a nice time too,” I said.
“I’d better get him home. It’s passed his bedtime.”
I looked at my watch. “Shit. It’s past mine too.”
Sam laughed.
I watched her take Sam’s hand and walk to the door. I didn’t want her to leave.
What could I do to get more time with her?
“Faith,” I said when she reached the door.
She stopped and turned back. God damn, she was hot. She had on a cashmere sweater, a light cotton dress, her hair was tied back. If I could have got up and grabbed her, I would have. I’d have lifted her onto the ice cream counter and taken her right then and there.
“I’ve got more wines to show you. We should get together some time so that you can try them.”
“I’d like that,” she said.
“I mean, strictly for professional purposes,” I said with a wink.
She smiled knowingly. “Strictly for professional purposes,” she agreed.
I looked her over from head to toe. Every bit of her was perfect. It was like she’d been sculpted by God’s own hand, just to torture me. I couldn’t help it. My body hungered for her like a raging need. I needed her. I had to have her.
She came back over to me.
“Why don’t you come over in an hour,” she said. “And bring some wine.”
I nodded. I’d take that offer. It was an offer to the most delicious pleasure in the world—Faith’s body.
She went back to the door.
“Bye, Sam,” I said.
“Bye, Jackson,” he said.
I watched them leave. When they were gone I looked down at my hand. It was trembling.
My son. I’d met my son.
Chapter 41
Jackson
WHEN I PULLED UP OUTSIDE Faith’s house an hour later, I had a strange feeling. It was like déjà vu. Something about the situation felt familiar, as if it was something I’d done before, in a prior life. It was almost as if it was destiny. It just felt right, like it was meant to happen.
Her house was beautiful. However she’d done it, Faith was doing well for herself. I had such respect for the life she’d created in my absence. It was a modern house with beautiful stonework and large windows overlooking the mountainside. You could see down into the vineyard of the valley, and toward the west you could even see the ocean. The mist in the morning must have been stunning.
I grabbed the case of wine bottles from the back of the truck and went to the door.
“Come on in,” Faith called.
I opened the door and stepped inside. The house was nice—high ceilings, panoramic vistas, high quality fixtures. There was a gas fire on, despite the fact that it was eighty degrees outside. I took it as a good sign.
Faith was nowhere to be seen.
I walked across a beautiful white rug to the window and looked down into the valley. I could have seen my own vineyard if the sun was up.
From behind me I heard Faith’s sultry voic
e. “I just put Sam down.”
“We’ll keep the noise down,” I said, turning.
When I turned—boy. That’s all I can say. She looked like something out a dream, or a fantasy. How the hell had I gotten myself into that house with her? It felt too good to be true. She’d let her hair down and it flowed over her shoulders like a river over a waterfall. She’d touched up her make up. Her eyes were definitely smokier than they’d been earlier. The dress she was wearing was like a thin piece of lace, draped over her body perfectly.
She had such style, such fashion. She blew me away. I felt underdressed as I stood there looking at her.
“You just going to stand there?” she said.
“Sorry.” I was falling over my words. “I just, Faith, you look lovely.”
“Thank you,” she said, not quite as shy as she’d been before.
“Really lovely,” I repeated.
She smiled. “You said that already.”
“You’ve got me lost for words.”
She pointed at the couch. “Have a seat,” she said. “I see you brought the wine.”
“There’s some white,” I said, taking a seat. “We should put that in the fridge.”
She went into the kitchen with the crate of wine and came back with a bottle and two glasses. My cock was vibrating in my pants. It was so hungry for her I didn’t know if I’d be able to restrain myself. All I wanted was to jump on her.
She sat down on the other end of the couch, about four feet of empty space between us.
All I could do was look at her.
“I’m sorry,” I said, “but I really don’t think I can drink any wine right now.”
“How come?”
“How come? Are you kidding me?” I said, indicating her. “Look at you. You’re like a vision from a dream.”
She giggled. She had such a girlish laugh. It was strange. When I looked at her, I didn’t see a mother, I saw a little girl, and I was desperate to fuck her. I was bigger than her. I was physically stronger. To me she was a child, waiting to be taken.
I moved across the couch closer to her.
“Jackson Jones,” she said teasingly. “Are you trying to take advantage of me in my own home?”
I smiled. “I do believe I am.”
“Luring me into this with your delicious wine,” she said.
“I can think of something much more delicious.”
“What’s that?”
I looked at her lips. They were like fruit. I’d picked my fair share of grapes. Her lips were like the color your fingers get when they’re covered in crushed grape juice. She was nature’s gift, the fruit of the world. She wasn’t just a woman, she was my fate, my destiny, and it was time for me to devour her.
I leaned in and took hold of her. My lips met hers in a startling moment of intimacy. I swear, there was a ringing in my ears. You ever seen that painting on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel in Rome, where God’s reaching out and touching the finger of an angel? That was what it felt like at the moment my lips touched hers. It was more than just a kiss. It was something spiritual.
I slid my tongue into her mouth and tried to suck her up. It was as if I was trying to suck the life from her body. My tongue touched hers, my lips covered her mouth completely, and I devoured her. I drank her up. I savored the taste of her mouth for the exquisite delicacy it was.
She gasped when I broke the embrace.
“Good god,” she sighed.
“Girl, you ain’t felt nothing yet. When I’m done with you, you’re not going to know what happened.”
“Don’t make me wait,” she said mischievously, laying back on the couch.
“You’re going to be in a daze,” I said. “You’re going to know you’re mine for the rest of your life. You won’t even be able to look at another man.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes it is.”
“Those are big words.”
“I’m a big man,” I said, and opened my belt and jeans, letting the full length of my manly cock fall out of my pants.
She took one look at it and shut her eyes.
“Don’t be afraid,” I whispered.
“Oh, I’m not afraid,” she said, and spread her legs open.
I saw that she wasn’t wearing any underwear beneath that dress.
“Naughty girl,” I said as I bent down and put my lips over her exquisite cunt.
She thrust forward, clenched my head in her thighs, and locked me into a tight embrace. She was desperate for me. I could taste it on her. Her pussy was dripping juice the moment my tongue entered it. She couldn’t hide her desire from me even if her life depended on it.
I sucked on the lips of her cunt gently, licking the folds of her clit, thrusting my tongue into the void of her pussy.
“Jackson,” she moaned.
I broke free of the lock her legs had on me and came up for air. My cock throbbed and for a brief moment, I was afraid it was going to orgasm without me. Without my permission. That’s something that never happened to me before. I can assure you, there’s nothing premature about my cock and it’s workings. But there was something about the look on Faith’s face, the mixture of love and desire and understanding, that almost sent me falling into the abyss of my own lust.
She had a hold of my soul in a way no woman ever had or ever would. A passion came over me, a rage, an utter loss of control. I wanted her, but not just for pleasure. I wanted her for domination. I wanted to claim her so completely that the whole universe would know she was mine, not just for the length of our lives, but for all of eternity. I wanted to brand her. I wanted to mark her in some way, as my own.
I don’t know if I can describe the feeling. Other men would understand, I think.
Possession, domination, ownership, mastery.
“You’re going to surrender to me,” I said. I didn’t even know where the words were coming from. It was like my soul was speaking directly to her.
“Yes,” she panted.
“I’m reclaiming you, Faith Shepherd. I’m reclaiming what’s mine. Now and forever.”
“Yes,” she moaned.
I stripped her naked. I had to have her naked. It wasn’t just about having an orgasm any more. It was about one man and one woman becoming something new. I pulled her dress over her head. She didn’t have a bra on. She looked up at me, completely naked, and shivered.
Was that fear? I don’t know. I’ll never know.
All I know is that what I did to her cannot be explained only by our desires. I wanted to fuck her, yes. But like I said, this was something beyond that. She was mine. She was the mother of my child. I felt as if we didn’t belong as two separate people, but as a single embrace of love that would last forever. I pulled off my shirt and climbed onto her so that I was sitting on her breasts, both of us naked. My fat cock was in front of her face.
“Lick me,” I said.
She blinked, hesitated for just a moment, and then opened her mouth.
Fuck me. Holy hell, fuck me. That tongue. That mouth. I could have died. She took the enormous head of my cock into her mouth and sucked it. I got up to angle myself. I pointed myself at her and then slid into her throat. I went so far I thought she’d choke. She didn’t. She took the full length of me, deeper and deeper into her mouth. I imagined coming in her mouth and the though almost set me off. But I stopped myself.
For my first orgasm, I knew I wouldn’t come inside her. I would save that for later. First I had to come on her. I had to mark her with my liquid. I had to put my scent on her. I had to make the world know she was mine, that she belonged to me. It was something animal and I no longer had control over it. I was back to reclaim her.
I felt my cock throb in her throat and I pulled it out. She was naked, innocent, vulnerable. I could do anything I wanted to her. I had her under my full weight. There was no way she’d be able to escape.
I lifted myself up, holding my weight on my legs.
“I’m going to come on you,” I said. The
words even sounded strange as they left my mouth, but to my surprise it seemed to turn her on.
She wanted me to.
“Yes,” she gasped, and she took her breasts in her hands and held them together, as if telling me to come there.
I slid the girth of my shaft in the crevice between her succulent breasts. God, those breasts felt like pure gold. I slid in and out of her cleavage and an energy built up inside my cock that I knew I wouldn’t be able to contain for much longer.
It was a rage, a rage at the world, a rage at everything that had happened to me. It was a rage at the twelve years we’d lost, the men I’d been forced to kill, the things they’d done to Faith, and the things they’d forced me to do to them.
I was cursed, but I was a man. And as long as a man has a woman and a child he can love, no curse matters.
That’s what Faith’s body told me. She was my forgiveness.
My deeds were a crime against the laws of man and God, but Faith’s body forgave me for all of it.
That’s what her eyes told me. If she was willing to let me take her, if she was willing to let me lay claim to her like this, then there must be some salvation after all.
The exquisite contraction. The muscular grind. The pleasure of orgasm.
A hot, white stream of sperm flew from the tip of my cock and landed along the valley of Faith’s cleavage. There it was, for God to see. My semen on this woman’s breasts. She was mine. And I was hers.
Whatever else I’d done in the world, I’d come to reclaim my woman. My family.
That had to mean something.
My cock poured more semen, it flowed like a torrent, covering her chest in the sticky white mess of my manhood. There was no doubt. She was mine and there was nothing that could ever undo that. This was permanent. My orgasm rushed through me like a fire in an oil well. I’ve seen those fires up close. All the water of the ocean isn’t cold enough to put out those flames.
That’s what my orgasm was. She was covered in me. She was wet and sticky, and she was mine.
I collapsed onto her, my semen wet between our two chests. I didn’t care. I didn’t care about anything but her.
“Holy hell, Jackson,” she gasped. “Look what you’ve done to me.”
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