by Wayne Jordan
Soft candlelight filled the room, the shadows and light dancing like lovers in the corners. Eboni lay on the bed, the warm glow caressing her scarlet lace lingerie even as it beckoned him to seduction.
His erection was immediate, forcing a groan from between his clenched teeth. What had she done to the room? He decided he didn’t care when or how—he just knew he was about to have one of the best nights of his life.
“Come here, lover boy,” she said, her voice husky with desire.
She parted her legs slowly, tempting him with a glimpse of her...but she wasn’t wearing any panties. And she called him a pervert. He smiled.
To say he was surprised was an understatement, but he loved that about her. She wasn’t afraid to be daring and bold.
His body shuddered with his excitement. He could already feel himself deep inside her and the image made his penis rock-hard.
He stood over her, his arousal reflected in her own eyes. He took his jeans off and dropped them to the floor, before sheathing and then lowering himself between her legs.
“Now,” she coaxed. “I want you now.”
He entered her with a single firm stroke and she gasped with its impact.
When he was buried deep inside her, he paused, his eyes locked with hers. There was no need for words. It amazed him that they were so in tune with each other.
“What are you waiting for?” she challenged. “You plan on staying there all night?”
He chuckled. “I love a woman with spunk. Hope you are up to the challenge.”
She laughed in response, her inner muscles gripping his penis playfully.
With that, he moved his hips backward and thrust forward, watching her eyes close with the pleasure of his movement.
“Damn,” she cried. “That feels so damn good. I don’t think I’ll ever have enough of you.”
Urged on by her words, he stroked her again, hard and fast, increasing his momentum with each stroke.
Beneath him, she played her part, wrapping her legs around his waist, drawing him deeper inside her with each thrust of his hips.
She gripped his back, urging him on, faster, harder, as her nails scored his skin, branding him as hers—and it drove him wild.
Darren slipped a hand between them, one finger pressed against the nub at the core of her womanhood, the friction created by the movement of his penis in and out of her increasing her excitement. He felt her body contract and her orgasm came sudden and hard. He continued to stroke her, unable to control the harsh groan that escaped his lips. But he wasn’t ready for his own release. He didn’t want this ride to end too soon.
He kissed her, capturing her tongue and sucking on it until she moaned her pleasure. Time stopped. Only the synchronized, sensual dance of their bodies mattered.
The harsh sound of their heavy breathing, broken only by a low groan or a sharp cry of pleasure, filled the room.
And then he felt her fingers dig into his back and her body tensed again. His own body trembled in response.
He increased his speed, stroking her harder and faster. Inside, the pressure built, his rhythm faltered...and then it happened, a glorious, joyous feeling like none he’d ever experienced rushed over him. In that moment, he felt vulnerable, as if he had taken a jump off a high cliff, but there was no sense of fear, only a buoyant feeling as he floated to the ground.
Slowly, he rolled off of her, not realizing he had collapsed on her. Next to him, her breathing slowed as his did.
He moved his hand, searching for hers, and held it as he stared up at the ceiling.
Making love to Eboni was an incredible experience. He could not understand why making love to her was so different. Each time he marveled at their coupling, and each time he was amazed by the connection that held him to her.
He moved his body, turning on his side to look at her.
She stared at him, wide-eyed and innocent, despite their making the most sinful love for the past hour.
He kissed her lips.
She blushed.
“I love making love to you,” he said softly.
“You do?” she asked. He could hear the uncertainty in her voice.
“Yes, I do. Why would you think otherwise?”
“You. Your experience. I was a virgin,” she said with a sense of conviction as if her comment would lessen his enjoyment.
He moved closer to her, wrapping his arms around her, their eyes and lips close together.
“You are one incredible woman. Making love to you feels different, feels right,” he reassured her.
She blushed again, but the concern on her face slowly dissipated.
“I enjoy making love to you, too,” she admitted. “I have nothing to compare it with, but I can’t think of it being any better.”
“Oh, I promise you I will make it better,” he vowed.
He definitely planned on taking their lovemaking to another level each time. He wanted to please her, to make her feel good, and for her to be comfortable with their sexuality.
He kissed the tip of her nose.
“Get some sleep. You must be tired. I am.”
She snuggled closer to him, resting her head upon his chest, a hand against his stomach.
His penis stirred and he groaned.
He couldn’t believe he wanted her again. Would he ever get enough of her? It didn’t seem like it.
She was like an obsession and for the first time in his life, he wasn’t sure what to do.
He closed his eyes and slowly drifted off to sleep.
* * *
On Sunday morning, he woke to the sound of music piping through the speakers in the bedroom. The music wasn’t loud, but he recognized the soothing tenor of Anthony Evans, one of his favorite gospel artists.
He jumped out of bed, wondering where Eboni was. He brushed his teeth, took a quick shower and headed downstairs. The delicious aroma of bacon and eggs teased his nostrils and when his stomach growled, he hurried into the kitchen. He was hungry.
When he stepped into the kitchen, Eboni was absorbed in the task at hand. She seemed to have found everything she needed and was singing along with the music.
She turned, gasped and almost dropped the bowl she was carrying.
“Are you trying to scare me to death?” she reprimanded.
He walked over and kissed her softly on the lips.
“Sorry, I tried to speak to you but the music was too loud.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Was I singing too loud?”
“Not really, but I would advise you not to give up your day job,” he replied jokingly.
“Oh, dear, and here I was planning to try out for American Idol later this year.”
“Oh, well, as my mother once said, you can only succeed if you try and try again.”
She laughed in response.
“Breakfast will soon be done. I hope you like eggs and bacon. There are also a few pancakes and fruit salad. Juice, coffee or tea?”
“Since I can already smell the coffee, that’s my pleasure. I got that coffee all the way from Jamaica when I was on vacation. A friend of mine brings it to me whenever he visits New York.”
“I’ve been trying to cut down on the amount of coffee I drink, but without success.”
“Then we’re going to be no help to each other. I must have my cup to start the day. Having the rich Blue Mountain Coffee doesn’t help.”
“You can have a seat. Everything is already on the table. I’ll just add some bread to the toaster. Two slices or four?”
“Four,” he said with no hint of shame. “I’m a growing boy and need sustenance.”
“With the way you eat, I’m surprised you’re so trim.”
“I work out, too, but I use the gym in my office.”
“Do you like your work?” she asked, lowering herself to one of the stools.
He hesitated for the briefest of moments.
“Yes, love it. But I do have a confession to make,” he said cautiously.
“What is it?”
“I own the apartment building where we live.”
She paused then asked, “You do?” He could hear the surprise in her voice.
“I do. I did plan on telling you before, but the right time never came up.”
“You could have told me that from the first day,” she snapped.
“I didn’t know you then. I don’t tell everyone and anyone who I am.”
“Maybe when we became lovers would have been a good time.”
“You’re right and I’m sorry. I could have told you then. I didn’t think it was that important. You know I’m in real estate.”
He could tell she was upset. She remained silent for a bit as if she were trying to absorb what he had told her.
“I’m sorry. I am really being overly sensitive about this. There is no way we can know everything about each other. We’re just lovers, no commitment—”
“I was thinking about that,” he injected.
She nodded.
“So what do you think about us dating?” he asked.
She thought for a bit. “You mean exclusively. Commitment.”
“I’m game if you are.”
“Can I think about it?”
Her question surprised him, but he nodded, trying to curb his disappointment.
“You can have all the time you want. I’m not going anywhere,” he said.
She nodded again. Her focus was on the plate in front of her. She spooned the last bit of food into her mouth and then set her fork down.
“Are we still going riding?” she asked.
“Can you ride? A horse, I mean?”
“Yes, my dad made sure we all learned how to ride when we were younger. Kemar almost scared Dad once when he said he wanted to be a jockey, but a year later it was something else. I’m surprised he finally made up his mind. He has one more year to go before he finishes his master’s degree.”
“I have a few horses at a stable nearby. I try to ride every weekend when I come home. Today’s a perfect day for riding. There are several trails on the property and an area for those who want to do some jumping. I think there’s also a cross-county trail if you’re interested. We could take one of the trails and stop for a picnic. There are picnic tables dispersed across the property.”
“Sounds like fun,” she replied.
“I’ll prepare the picnic basket since you made breakfast. I’ll be up in a bit.”
“You’re sure you don’t want me to help?”
“No, you go read your book,” he insisted.
“Will do,” she replied, turning to walk out of the room.
Darren turned to the task before him as she left.
He had been surprised that she had been so upset about his omission. Then something crossed his mind. He still hadn’t told Eboni about his ex-wife and daughter. He’d make sure he did it before they returned to New York. He didn’t want this situation to arise again.
Half an hour later, a well-stocked picnic basket ready, he climbed up the stairs and headed toward his bedroom.
When he pushed the door, Eboni sat on the window seat, her head buried in her book.
She looked up when she saw him and jumped up immediately.
“I’m ready,” she said. She had changed into a pair of jeans and a white blouse that hugged her breasts a bit too much.
“Good, the picnic basket is ready. I just need to get into something a bit more appropriate.”
He changed quickly into a pair of jeans and a Calvin Klein polo shirt.
When he looked up from lacing his boots, she was staring at him.
“What?” he asked.
“You look very handsome.”
He snorted. “Thank you, hon. Are you ready?” he asked.
“I’m ready.”
She followed him down the stairs, where he retrieved the basket, and then they headed out the door to the car.
Ten minutes later they were coasting along Post Road. He pointed out several landmarks of the area’s colonial past. The Wayside Cottage in particular had always fascinated him.
He slowed down as they passed the cottage, drawing her interest.
“When I first moved here, I fell in love with this cottage. The earliest part of the house was actually built about 1720 and sits on a fieldstone foundation. I love the gable roof and veranda with Doric-order piers. I believe that another section of the house was built in the 1820s and the final section, known as the caretaker’s quarters, was built in the late nineteenth century.”
“It’s all so...fascinating. Next time I’d love to see inside. Who owns it?” she asked.
“Since 1919, it has been owned by the Junior League of Central Westchester, but I am sure I can arrange it. I know the committee provides guided educational tours in period dress for local schools and community groups, but I make a healthy contribution each year to the league.”
“That’s good.” She looked at him as if she were seeing him through different eyes.
“Why are you looking at me so strangely? I do have a good heart and believe in using my money to help a good cause. I have more than I need.”
“I’m pretty impressed,” Eboni stated. “I love what I’ve seen of Scarsdale. It’s quiet and quaint. It’s hard to believe that Manhattan is just an hour away. I hope it remains like this.”
“With the cost of real estate here,” he reasoned, “it’s not going to change much. However, we’ve arrived at my friends’ place.”
He turned onto a rugged road that led to what looked like an old farmhouse.
“This used to be a farm until my friends Grant and Donna converted it into a stable. They board horses, but also give riding lessons.”
When the car pulled up in the parking area, a tall, handsome man walked toward the vehicle.
“Darren, it’s good to see you. Couldn’t understand why you haven’t been home for the past month or two. Donna told me there must be some lady keeping you in the city. She was right, I see.”
“This is Eboni, a friend of mine. I invited her to spend the weekend. Eboni, this is Grant. He and his wife, Donna, own the stables.”
Eboni shook Grant’s hand, while Grant smiled and said, “Interesting. Must be serious. You don’t usually bring—”
“Grant,” he growled, “she is standing right next to us as you discuss my personal life.”
“Oops. I’m sorry.” Grant chuckled. “It’s just my excitement to meet her. I’m sure Donna will be as excited as I am.”
“I am sure. However, I am here to take the horses out.”
“Which ones? She can ride?” he said, turning to look at Eboni.
“Rafe and Lady,” Darren replied.
“You’re sure about Lady?” Grant queried, looking a bit skeptical. “She is a bit spirited.”
“I can do spirited,” Eboni asserted. “I promise you.”
“I’ll take your word for it, but I’m sure Darren can take care of any problems,” Grant reasoned.
“I assure you,” she injected, a bit offended, “there won’t be any problems.”
“Well, Darren, you have a handful with her. She does look like she can take care of herself.”
“She can. She’s a firefighter.”
“A firefighter!” he exclaimed. “Now, this is all very interesting.” He turned in the direction of a loud shout.
A woman, dressed in riding habit, strode across the yard.
“Darren, I can’t believe it’s you,” Donna squealed. She stopped when she reached them and
planted a huge kiss on his cheek.
Then she turned to Eboni.
“And who is the beautiful young lady?” she inquired, a gleam in her eyes.
“I’m Eboni,” she said, before Darren could respond.
“And I’m Donna,” she replied. She reached for
Eboni’s hand and squeezed it tightly. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet one of Darren’s friends.”
“I’ve been enjoying Scarsdale. It’s a lovely place. I don’t miss the noise of the city at all.”
“Oh, I know you’ll love it here. Darren needs someone to share that big old house with.”
“Donna,” Grant warned.
“You know me, Grant,” she stated, pointing her finger at him. “I speak my mind. She must be special for him to bring her here. For all the years we’ve known him, he’s never brought a friend here.” She turned to Eboni. “No need to blush, sweetheart. I like you.”
“Grant,” Darren said, “we want to go riding. You want to go get the two horses ready.”
“And what’s that in your hand, Darren?” Donna said, peering at his hands. “A picnic basket? How romantic!” She clapped her hands in glee. “You must take Eboni along the northern trail and show her the pond. There’s a picnic area at the end of that trail. She will love it.” Donna glanced down at her watch.
“It was nice to meet you, sweetheart.” She moved closer and whispered in Eboni’s ear, something Darren didn’t hear, but Eboni’s blush suggested it was about him.
A few minutes after Donna disappeared, a groom arrived with their horses.
Darren took the reins from the groom and turned to Eboni. Before he could speak, she moved cautiously toward the horses.
“Oh, Darren. They are beautiful. I’m in love already. And Lady...she is a lady. Even if she’s feisty.”
She placed her hand on the white roan.
“May we go? I can’t wait to ride her.”
Darren waited until she had mounted before he secured the basket and mounted the black Arabian. He had paid top dollar for both horses and compensated Grant handsomely to make sure they were well cared for.