Just Like Candy

by Kimberly Kaye Terry

  “Was? You say that as though it isn’t true anymore,” he murmured, stroking a hand over her belly as they lay close, her back snug against the hardness of his chest.

  “Yes. Was, is right. My parents stayed together just long enough for me to enter grade school, before she left.”

  “So your father raised you?” he asked.

  “Yes, he raised me and my older brother, Corey.”

  “I thought for some reason it was just you and your dad. Kind of like me and Angelica.”

  “No, I have an older brother. He’s a lot different than Dad and me. More like Mom. Or what I remember of her.”

  “In what way?”

  “Corey was quiet, not as expressive in his feelings. Although he made it clear when he turned sixteen, he no longer wanted to move around, was embarrassed by the way we lived, was the way that he put it.”

  “What did he do? Leave?”

  “Yes. He graduated from an alternative school—the type we normally went to because we were transient a lot of times—and got a scholarship to a university on the East Coast. Dad and I didn’t hear from him, just like Mom, for years afterward.”

  The pain of desertion by her brother stung as deeply as it had when her mother decided she, too, no longer wanted to be a part of their family. Candy blinked several times to keep the unexpected tears from surfacing.

  “So in the end, my brother chose the more conservative route, I guess you could say,” she smiled without humor into the dark of the room. “Last thing I knew of his life, he wore Brooks Brothers suits, drove a gas-guzzling SUV—sorry,” she said, remembering Davis too drove an SUV, “and held a highpowered job as an investment broker in D.C., close to where our mother lives. At least as far as I know, as I haven’t had a real conversation with my brother in a number of years.”

  “And your mother?”

  She released a grunt that even to her own ears sounded as painful as it felt.

  “My mother? I haven’t heard from her in years. At any rate, unlike my brother…and mother, I chose the more liberal way of life. I’m not for trying to fit into someone’s ideal of who I should be, what I should look like, where I should live, or how I should dress. I am completely comfortable in my own skin,”

  she finished and if she sounded as though she were trying to convince him, he remained silent about it.

  Davis smoothed a hand over her hair and the constricted feeling began to ease from her chest with his soothing touch.

  Candy no longer wanted to think about her past, her family, her mother…or anything. All she wanted was to feel.

  She turned to face him and reached up and kissed him lightly on his sensual mouth.

  Surprised, he captured her lips with his, sucking gently on her fuller lower rim. Candy hummed around his kisses, having already noticed he enjoyed pulling her lips into his mouth.

  As he sucked on her lips, she groaned as his teeth bit gently into the lower one. The slightly painful sting was instantly soothed when his tongue lapped a hot caress across both lips.

  “Sorry,” he murmured, once he released them. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. Sometimes I can’t always hold it back.”

  “Hold what back?”

  “My desire…need…to get a little rough,” he admitted and buried his face in the crook of her neck, nuzzling aside her soft kinky curls and biting a trail down her neck.

  “Ummm,” Candy murmured and arched her back, “I don’t mind, Davis. You weren’t rough at all with me. God, I loved it. All of it,” she said and reached both hands up and pulled his face to hers and initiated a kiss he quickly took over. When he released her, she was completely breathless.

  “Good, I never would want to hurt you. Tell me if anything I do is too much for you,” he said and Candy laughed, thinking he was teasing her.

  He pulled away from her, looking deep into her eyes, and although it was dark, she could see the earnestness in his expression. “I’m serious, Candy. Tell me, promise?”

  “Of course, but, Davis, I can’t see you ever hurting me on purpose.”

  “No, I wouldn’t,” he murmured and nestled her against his chest as they lay in companionable silence. “My first wife, Gail, was never very receptive, once we were married, to me being ‘aggressive’ in our lovemaking.”

  This was the first time he’d mentioned his wife’s name, willingly, and that he did so now caused her heart to speed up in excitement. That he was opening up to her on something so personal was a milestone in their relationship.

  “When we first dated, before she left for college, she seemed to enjoy the way we made love,” he started.

  “You were high school sweethearts?” she murmured.

  “Not sweethearts. Her grandfather had worked for the company before he passed on; she and I ran into one another once in a while, at company-sponsored events,” he replied.

  His hand continued to stroke over her hair, his voice sounding distracted, his mind obviously in the past. Candy remained silent. She didn’t want him to stop opening up to her, sharing a part of his past with her.

  “I was a few years older than her, but she’d always flirted with me. But like I said I was older, and didn’t view her in the same way.” He paused and captured the finger that was tracing small circles on his chest and placed a small kiss on the tip, before he picked the conversation back up.

  “I came home after I’d graduated from college, with my degree in architecture. She’d just completed her freshman year at the university she attended, up north. We attended the same party one night. I had been drinking, having a good time, she and I started dancing…kissing, kind of doing the grab-ass thing,” he gave a short humorless laugh. “One thing led to another, and before I knew it, we were in bed together.”

  21

  “O ne thing led to another?” Candy asked, one eyebrow raised that Davis could see, even in the dark.

  “That’s about it…one thing led to another. Not hard to do when there’s alcohol involved; inhibitions fly out the window. That was the beginning of a sexual relationship that lasted the summer. It wasn’t supposed to go beyond that…just a summer fling.”

  “But obviously it became something more,” Candy murmured.

  “Yes. When it was time for her to go back to school at the end of the summer, it was obvious that she was pregnant. At least a couple of months, and as we’d been sexually active, exclusively, I thought the baby was mine. Fool that I was, I didn’t even question it. But she wasn’t. I wouldn’t learn that until Angelica was born.”

  “I’m sorry. That must have been hard.”

  “It was. For a long time I was in denial, that Gail would lie to me, when she knew…shit. I don’t feel like going into all of that, right now.”

  “Davis, I believe that it’s hard for Angelica to hear things about her mother and not be able to talk to you about it. The cruelties of others, saying you’re not her biological father, pales in comparison, I think, to being teased about what type of person her mother was, when she feels as though she can’t defend her, because she doesn’t know anything about her,” Candy said cautiously.

  “Yeah, you’re right, it’s common knowledge that Angelica isn’t my biological daughter. But I love her as though it was my blood in her veins. I love her more than anyone on this earth.”

  “Davis, you don’t have to convince me. I know that,” Candy murmured.

  “I have her best interests at heart. I don’t know how to tell her about her mother. It’s not as though any of that knowledge affects how I feel about her, but hell, if I tell her, I don’t know how that’ll affect my child. I can deal with other people’s doubts, but I don’t know if I could handle it if Angelica ever doubted for a moment my love for her. I don’t want to risk that. Not now. Maybe when she’s older, I’ll tell her about her mother’s and my relationship…but not now,” he finished, adamantly, and Candy decided to leave the subject alone for the moment.

  There wasn’t anything she could do to force him to talk to A
ngelica about her mother. The reality of it was that Davis had a skewed view regarding his relationship with his deceased wife.

  Added to that, feeling guilty about not wanting Angelica when he’d first learned she wasn’t his child, biologically.

  “Isn’t there something more pleasurable we should be doing, than dredging up the past?” he asked and leaned down to capture her lips with his. Now it was his turn to leave the pain of the past alone and turn to her as she had done to him when speaking of her family.

  With a small lift of her lips, she gave him a half smile, and ran a hand down his cheek. “If I can’t think of anything, I’m sure you can,” she said.

  Davis reached a thick arm around her body and pulled open the drawer to the bedside table and withdrew another foil package.

  “Candy, that was incredible. God, I don’t know what to say,” Davis said as the last tremors of his intense orgasm left his body.

  He carefully pulled out of her and after discarding the condom, placed her in front of his body, tightly spooning behind her, his mind a chaotic whirl.

  He had an inkling that the sex would be incredible between them, there was no way it would be anything but, yet what we they’d shared, the connection, had come as a total surprise, something he hadn’t expected.

  Although he hadn’t planned the night, had no intention of asking her to dinner, much less bedding her, he knew it was inevitable. It was only a matter of time, whether he chose to acknowledge it or not; his subconscious knew it.

  She’d gotten under his skin from the first moment he’d laid eyes on her, and as much as he might have wanted to deny it, he’d more than wanted her. He craved her.

  Badly.

  And now, like any addict on the street, one taste…make that several tastings, counting their last marathon of sexual exploration…wasn’t near enough to satisfy him.

  And no amount of fantasy or erotic dreams could replace the real thing.

  Now that he’d experienced the real thing, he knew that he was in trouble.

  Damn. He sighed, gathering her closer to his body, listening to her ragged breathing even out as she came down from their last orgasmic high.

  After he’d pushed into her tight, warm pussy…Davis glanced down. One of his legs was casually thrown over both of hers, pinning her to the mattress.

  His dick, soft now as it lay against her plush ass, began to stir to life the minute he thought of what it felt like to push into that pretty kitty of hers…shit.

  Candy had been right when she referred to her sweet pussy as a kitty; he loved to hear it and her purr when he made love to her.

  And although they’d had sex more times than Davis had in nine months, he still wanted more. He needed more of her.

  The soft penis of moments ago began to take on a life of its own, and Davis felt the instant response from Candy when, with a groan, she pushed her round ass cheeks against his dick and softly ground against it.

  He kissed the side of her neck as they quietly, with no words except the occasional soft moan or low grunt, took pleasure with each other.

  He placed one of his hands on the top of her hip, forcing her legs tightly together as his dick knifed back and forth along the crease of her ass and swollen vaginal lips. He felt her tremble as his shaft angled against her clitoris.

  “Do you want to come again, Candy?” he asked in a voice grown hoarse.

  When she nodded her head, not saying a word, his other hand gently manipulated her swollen sex as he ground against her, fucking her, no entry needed as her pussy wept and saturated his dick, easing the glide. Within moments they both went over the edge, again, together.

  They were silent, as he held her tight against his chest, drowsy and sleepy. There’d been no penetration, yet the feeling, the orgasm had been just as intense for Davis as it had the other times they’d made love that night, and it scared the shit out of him.

  He thought maybe one time with her, one time and he’d be able to exorcise her from his mind and go on. But that was before tonight, before he’d made love to her, before they’d shared their history with one another…before he’d gotten to know even more about her.

  And everything he learned further let him know that he needed to be careful around her. Because if he wasn’t, there was a distinct chance she’d do more than work her way into his dreams, she’d work her way into his heart.

  And that was an added complication he didn’t need.

  He’d ridden Candy strong and long throughout the night, unrelenting in his desire to fuck her good and hard, needing to quench his increasing thirst for her…and get her out of his mind, once and for all. To erase her from his thoughts.

  But each time he’d surged into her heat, it had been pure nirvana and he knew he had to have one more taste of her. One more taste of Candy and he’d be satisfied. But each time only served to make him want more. And he hadn’t been gentle with her.

  Hell.

  He never wanted to hurt Candy like he did Gail the one time he’d engaged in sex that had been too much, too intense, she’d said.

  He still remembered the way Gail had looked at him like he was a monster, when he’d suggested tying her up while they made love. She’d allowed him to, but it hadn’t been a pleasurable experience for either one of them. Davis hadn’t ridden her hard, nowhere near the way he’d made love with Candy, but he’d felt as though he hurt her.

  And Gail never let him forget it.

  Afterward she made him promise to never do that, never suggest it again, and he’d gladly agreed.

  The memory made his gut clench.

  He gathered Candy close and allowed himself to drift off to sleep.

  In that state in between sleep and consciousness he promised, “I’m sorry, Gail, I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He kissed the back of Candy’s hair and promptly fell into a deep sleep.

  Candy too was in the state in between sleep and wakefulness. So much so that she wasn’t sure if she what she heard was real or not.

  If Davis had, in his sleep, called out the name of his wife after making love all night long with her.

  22

  “O h no! Not again,” Candy moaned out loud.

  Blindly she tapped her hand around the bed, near the vicinity of her head, until her hands came into contact with the pillow. She shoved it on top of her head.

  She’d done it again.

  Had another crazy erotic, wake-up-with-her-panties-wet, fingers-smelling—

  In the middle of her mental rant, as she began to chastise herself for having another Davis-inspired erotic dream, she stopped. Clear as day, she heard the distinct sound of a man’s voice singing in the…please Lord, let me be dreaming…shower.

  She quickly shoved the pillow off her head and opened her eyes, only to tightly close them again. It was too bright in the room, with the blinds open and the glare of the sun shining off the snow. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust.

  As well as her foggy brain.

  Panicked, she glanced around at her surroundings and down at her naked body. Quickly, she threw her legs over the side of the mattress, trying to gather her wits.

  Okay, so it was true.

  It hadn’t been another erotic dream. It had been all too real what she’d done last night. All night.

  Her dream lover couldn’t take the credit for the deliciously sore feeling she felt between her thighs, the minute she swung her legs over the side of the bed, or the sticky evidence of her own cream between her legs.

  The images of Davis holding her down as he did her, sliding into her so far she thought he touched her womb, burned bright in her mind.

  His perfect penis, so thick and long…the way he’d given careful attention to her tattoo that lay low on her back, in the curve of her waist…

  The way he’d dictated when she’d come, making her beg for it at times, before making love to her, doing her so hard, so deliciously attentive to her body that she sometimes felt faint…goosebumps peppered her flesh.

&nb
sp; And the last time. She remembered how sweet it had been, how he’d loved her from the back, without penetration, the feeling indescribable, before they’d both eased into sleep.

  She thought she’d be in seventh heaven. She thought she would be over the moon. They’d made love and it had been everything she imagined, hotter than any of her fantasies had ever been. It had been one of the most erotic nights of her life.

  So why in hell did she feel a strange nervousness settle in her belly? Why was she reluctant to see him?

  Some of the things they had done until the wee hours of the night were enough to make anyone blush, Candy thought.

  But she knew the problem, the reason for her hesitancy in seeing him.

  Although she’d been almost asleep when he’d finally allowed her to rest, the last words he said rang loudly in her mind.

  I’m sorry, Gail. I didn’t mean to hurt you…

  The singing in the shower came to an abrupt stop, and Candy looked around, frantically trying to find her clothes to cover her body.

  Although why was completely beyond her. She’d allowed him to lick, caress, massage, nibble and explore every inch of her body, so it wasn’t as though she had anything to hide—he’d explored every nook and cranny of her body as he made love to her.

  She jumped up from the bed, ignoring the ache between her legs, and hobbled—sheet haphazardly wrapped around her body—over to the side of the bed. She found her panties and searched frantically for the rest of her clothes.

  She stopped the search when she remembered Davis had stripped her down in the living room.

  Oh, hell.

  She was in the process of doing a quick re-wrap with the sheet—marveling at her own talent with fabric, even in a rush—when Davis stepped out of the shower, looking fresh as a daisy, and stopped.

  His wet, dark hair was spiked, after he removed the towel which he was vigorously rubbing over his head. Water clung to the soft mat of hair on his sculptured chest, down the center line of his chest and abs, glistening in the hair above the plush towel he’d casually wrapped around his lean hips.