Nolan Trilogy

by Selena Kitt

  Groaning against her cleft, he started to lick and suck at her like he couldn’t get enough, no rhyme or reason to it, just pure lust on the tip of his tongue. She swayed, her fingers squeezing him, her mouth just over the head, liking the smooth, spongy feeling of it between her lips.

  His fingers found her again, spreading her open, plunging inside. She wiggled on top of him, feeling him suck the little bit of flesh into his mouth, that hard, pink, aching little bit of flesh, the sensation beyond heaven. Leah moaned, licking and sucking around the ridge, the tip of him—the better his tongue made her feel, the faster she pumped him into her mouth.

  “Mr. Nolan,” she whispered, her hand stopping on him, tightening, feeling her muscles beginning to contract. “Oh that’s it!”

  He groaned, sucking and licking as she came, spreading her wide as she flooded him with her juices. Reaching that glorious pinnacle made her arch and squirm against his face, not caring anymore if he could breathe, just riding the surge and swell of her climax.

  When it was over, she rested her cheek against his thigh, panting and breathless, awkward in this position. She struggled to climb off him and he helped her so she was lying next to him on the bed, his face near hers. She realized she had never even kissed him, but that didn’t last long, because he pulled her mouth to his, tongue searching for hers.

  She couldn’t breathe, he kissed her so hard, pulling her so she was stretched out on top of him, his hands everywhere at once. It went on for a long time like that, kissing and touching, mouths exploring, but all the while she was extremely aware of his hard length trapped between their slick bellies.

  When he dipped his head down to capture one of her nipples, she moaned, arching, fingers gripping his hair. His tongue made circles, his hands cupping her breasts, and then they were rolling, him on top of her, his arms holding his weight off as he sucked and tongued her nipples. It made her crazy with longing, and she felt his hardness lower now, resting between her legs

  “Please,” she moaned, reaching down to touch him. He throbbed in her hand, like steel heat. She rubbed him over her mound, the anticipation making her shiver. He groaned, kissing her, his tongue plunging deep into her mouth.

  “Whoa,” he whispered, breaking their kiss, as she spread her legs wide and pressed the head of him right there, the place she knew he could slide inside.

  “Please!” She rolled her hips, squeezing her muscles around just the head.

  “Are you sure?” His eyes met hers in the dimness.

  She nodded, her hands running down over his back and her legs wrapping around his waist, trying to pull him into her.

  “Okay,” he murmured, taking her hands and putting them above her head. He grasped her wrists in one hand, pinning them there. Puzzled, she looked up at him, feeling the shift of him between her lips.

  “This is your first time.” It wasn’t a question—he said it like he knew, and she nodded.

  “This… may hurt a little,” he explained, shifting forward as he said it, and she shrank from the enormous pressure as he made his way into her flesh. “Only at first...”

  “Ohhhh!” Leah cried, feeling something stretch and burn between her legs, and she struggled under him, but he kept his hold on her wrists, murmuring something into her ear to calm her.

  “It’s okay.” He kissed her cheek, but he didn’t stop, pressing forward more and more, filling her with such an intense pressure she could barely stand it.

  “Wait, oh God!” She squirmed under him, looking for a way out, until he was buried all the way inside of her, resting there, both of them panting with the effort. “Mr. Nolan, please!”

  “It’s okay,” he whispered again, letting her hands go. She grasped his upper arms, the fullness between her legs so incredible she thought she would die. “Touch yourself, Leah. Show me, like you did before.”

  Whimpering, she reached her hand down between them, unable to believe she could feel good there again with him stretching her open so wide, but she was wet, and she found the spot, rubbing it.

  “That’s it,” he encouraged, beginning to move between her legs. He was making circles with his hips as she rubbed herself. “Rub it faster, sweetheart.”

  She did, the tickle beginning again, spreading through her pelvis, a sweltering blaze. He moved slowly in and out, short, easy strokes, his gaze on her face.

  “It feels good,” she murmured, looking up at him, and he smiled, sinking deeper next time, pulling out further. She let her fingers explore, touching the place where he was going into her with wonder and awe. He was inside of her!

  “God, Leah!” He moved, faster, deeper. “You’re so tight...”

  “Does it feel good?” She watched his face change, seeing the hunger there.

  “Oh yeah,” he groaned, pumping harder.

  Over his shoulder, she saw the movie still going, the two people on the screen a reflection of what they were doing on the bed, but she didn’t need to watch. Mr. Nolan was inside of her, slipping in and out of her wetness, making the bedsprings squeak and the bed bounce against the wall, but they were both oblivious to it, lost.

  “More,” Leah whispered into his ear, bridging up to meet him. Her fingers on that sweet spot at the top of her cleft and the feeling of being filled all at once took her to places she couldn’t have imagined.

  He pounded her against the bed, grunting with the effort of every thrust. His breath was hot over her face and she kissed him, sucking his tongue like he had hers, making him moan and press into her deep.

  “Leah,” he groaned, breaking their kiss, and she felt something in her body respond to his intensity, finally letting go.

  She quavered beneath him, her eyes closing, rubbing fast and hard and taking herself over the edge. Her sex began to flutter around the hard length of him, and she’d never felt anything so good as coming with him buried inside of her.

  “Oh God,” he moaned as her muscles contracted around him, drawing him in deeper, and she whimpered when he pulled out, kneeling up between her legs and grabbing her hand.

  “Take it!” he insisted, and she did, grasping the slick shaft and tugging on him. He moaned, jerking in her hand, and began to come too. She watched, breathless, as he shot a hot stream of white lava over her navel, then another, not as far, the searing fluid falling onto the dark triangle between her legs. He gripped her thighs, his face twisted with rapture as he exploded, the molten flow of him erupting through her fist and onto her mound. Collapsing onto her, he kissed her again, cradling her in his arms and rolling so they were pressed together, side by side, their bellies sticky and slick with sweat.

  “Are you okay?” He touched her cheek, stroking her hair.

  She nodded, snuggling closer to him, not knowing how to tell him that she’d never felt so okay in her whole life.

  Chapter Eight

  She walked around for days sure everyone must be able to tell she was different.

  Father Michael always said it didn’t matter if you could hide your sin from your parents or the church, because God could always see into the truth of your heart. It was probably true, and like most Mary Magdalene girls, Leah knew her catechism well and was deeply, respectfully afraid of going to hell—but in this instance, she was far more horrified at the thought of her mother or, God forbid, her best friend, discovering her crimes.

  As luck would have it, Father Patrick’s Sunday sermon spoke directly to her dilemma. Psalms 69:5 said, O God, you know my foolishness; and my sins are not hid from you. And Proverbs 28:13 insisted People who conceal their sins will not prosper, but if they confess and turn from them, they will receive mercy.

  Leah felt as if she was kneeling naked before the Lord, but worse, in front of her mother and Erica and Mr. Nolan and Father Michael and the entire congregation, as she took communion from Father Patrick, knowing full well she shouldn’t, given the serious nature of her sins. But she did it anyway. Some secrets were too profound not to keep.

  And in spite of the fact she fe
lt like Hester Prynne, she had no scarlet letter pinned to her chest, she showed no outward sign of her wicked trespass, and what a relief it was when she finally realized, as she accepted the wafer and felt it melt away on her tongue, she wasn’t going to burst into flames on the spot for her disobedience.

  There was a kind of freedom about it, having committed such grievous sins while no one in the world knew. She felt the kind of guilty pleasure she had as a child sneaking a cookie from Ada’s pantry and never getting caught—all of the pleasure and sweetness, with none of the punishment.

  So when her mother picked her up early from the front of Mary Magdalene’s on Monday—she had a dentist appointment, just a cleaning, which she strangely enjoyed, loving the just polished feeling of tongue against teeth—she bounded down the steps like she used to when she was a little girl, even though she was missing her last and favorite dance class of the day.

  “You’re going to have to learn to drive eventually,” her mother said with a sigh as Leah threw her book bag into the back, sliding into the passenger side. “I can’t keep taking off work to chauffeur you to appointments. What are you going to do all by yourself in New York?”

  “They have subway trains.” Leah laughed at her mother’s frustrated snort.

  The dentist she’d been going to since she was a toddler had been old back then, and he was ancient now, but she loved the clean smell of the office, hearing his praise about the condition of her teeth (the product of genetics more than diligent flossing, she was sure, but she accepted his kudos anyway) and the nurses still let her pick something from the “prize box” after it was all over.

  “Aren’t you a little old for that?” Leah’s mother asked, raising her eyebrows when Leah showed off her “prize.” Today it was a fake diamond ring, the adjustable kind that turned your finger green in a day, and she wore it on her ring finger like she had when she was little, when she used to pretend she was married.

  “When are you too old for a little fun?” Leah stuck out her tongue playfully, making her mother shake her head, but she smiled.

  “I need to stop at Kresge’s,” her mother informed her.

  They parked downtown in Hudson’s structure because it was easiest. Her mother rarely shopped at Hudson’s, claiming it was too big for her to find anything, but Leah knew the real reason was because Hudson’s was too expensive. Hudson’s was the tallest department store in the world, thirty-two glorious floors of shopping, the place Mr. Nolan had taken them for back-to-school clothes since they were little.

  Leah’s mother grudgingly let him—she didn’t like the idea of taking “charity,” she said—and Leah loved riding up and down the elevators with the elevator operators, eating Canadian cheese soup and Maurice salad in the dining room on the thirteenth floor, and getting hot chestnuts from a street vendor out front. You could smell them, nutty and fresh, blocks away. And at Christmas time, the store was transformed into something absolutely magical. They always saw Santa at Crowley’s, though—there was a breakfast with him and you got to take your hot chocolate home with you. Mr. Nolan took them until they were too old to believe anymore.

  But Kresge’s, right on the corner of Woodward and State, was more her mother’s style—sensible items for sensible prices. And sometimes, like today, her mother would splurge and they would go downstairs for a treat. Her mother got a scoop of vanilla ice cream between two freshly-made waffles for fifteen cents, and Leah got her favorite—a Black Cow, Vernors mixed with chocolate milk. They sat at the counter on the red stools, watching the waitresses carrying desserts and eggs and sandwiches back and forth to the tables.

  “So you really want to go to New York?” Her mother didn’t look up from her ice cream and waffles.

  “I don’t know.” Leah took a swallow of her drink and shrugged. “Like you said, I’m sure it’s expensive.”

  “Well you’re going to have to do something.”

  “I know.” Leah had been thinking about that a lot lately, the “something” she might be doing after she left the safety and familiarity of Mary Magdalene’s. She’d told Mr. Nolan about the letter. She had to tell someone. He’d been thrilled, as she knew he would be, and had defended her mother’s reaction, which she’d suspected he might. He understood her mother shopped at Kresge’s and not Hudson’s for a reason—which was why he took Leah uniform shopping every fall.

  “Maybe we can work something out.”

  Leah looked up from her fizzy milk with big eyes. “Really?”

  “I could take a loan against the house,” her mother explained. Then she sighed, wiping her mouth with a paper napkin. “But I’d hate to risk losing your grandparent’s house.”

  They lived in the same house Leah’s mother had grown up in. Soon after her mother had eloped—a story that never failed to amaze Leah, given the woman she’d always known her mother to be—her husband had left for his first tour in the Navy. It was between World War I and World War II, in the time everyone believed there would never be another war, and Leah’s mother had fallen madly in love with a boy whose only dream was to serve his country. She still had a hard time believing her mother had ever had stars in her eyes and had done something so irrational and crazy as marrying Leah’s father just before he shipped out, against Leah’s grandmother’s objections—her grandfather had succumbed to emphysema by then.

  Of course, everyone knew how that had turned out, like some star-crossed Romeo and Juliet story, Victor Wendt had gone out to sea on a doomed ship, a tanker that exploded out due to what they believed had been a fuel leak. He had left Leah’s mother a widow and, as luck would have it, pregnant. Leah came along, and soon after, her grandmother passed away, leaving Leah’s mother completely on her own. But she had the house, which her parents had owned, and thanks to a mutual friend of the Nolans’, Donald Highbrow, now a lawyer in his father’s practice, gave her a job as a receptionist.

  She’d hired Ada to watch Leah. Ada had been the one who answered when the Twin Pines milk man or the Fuller Brush man or the Jewel Coffee man came to the door. Leah had fond memories of holding Ada’s hand as they crossed the street on the way to Mary Magdalene’s, and she was the face she saw waiting for her when the nuns let them go every day, because as long as she could remember, her mother was working as a legal secretary and receptionist.

  “I wish they were teaching you shorthand. You know how I feel about dancing.”

  The moral education and safety of an all-girls Catholic school was a trade-off. They not only refused to teach the girls Latin, the school’s restrictive ideas kept them from teaching them much of anything in the way of useful worldly skills. They’d had lots of classes on cooking, sewing and etiquette. Leah had been taught table setting skills that would satisfy Queen Elizabeth but she couldn’t type at all. Mary Magdalene’s was more of a finishing school than a college, even though they didn’t label themselves as such.

  “You didn’t learn shorthand at Mary Magdalene’s either,” Leah noted.

  Her mother had been best friends with Erica’s mother, Susan, at Mary Magdalene’s, but the curriculum hadn’t changed much since then. They prepared girls to become wives and mothers, which is what good Catholic girls became. Her mother had learned her business skills at Mercy College of Detroit, which the law firm had paid for.

  “I just worry.” Her mother sighed, pushing the last of a soggy, ice-cream soaked waffle around her plate.

  Leah slurped the last of her chocolate milk drink, much to her mother’s chagrin, and then said, “Cheer up, maybe one of the rich boys will get me pregnant and be forced to marry me.”

  “Leah!” Her mother’s jaw dropped, a growing horror creeping over her features. “Are you…?”

  She couldn’t even say the word.

  “No, Mother.” Strange how easily she lied about her recently relinquished virginity. “It was a joke.”

  “It wasn’t funny.” Her mother pushed her plate away, leaving enough change on the counter to cover the cost of their treats and
then snapping her pocketbook closed. “Come on. We have to go exchange light bulbs and I promised Ada I’d pick up a few things.”

  They stopped at Detroit Edison to trade in six burned out light bulbs for new ones. Her mother saved them up and traded them in once a month. Detroit Edison gave you new ones for free if you gave them the old ones. Then they went shopping.

  Leah hadn’t seen Mr. Nolan except briefly at church since what happened, but they ran into him at Wrigley’s, the grocery store. She was on her way back to get a head of lettuce for her mother and there he was, standing in the produce section with one of those little hand carts, putting a quart of strawberries in. She almost didn’t say anything at all, but the sight of him made her feel like melting and she couldn’t help it.

  “Hi, Mr. Nolan.”

  He fumbled his basket, turning. “Leah!”

  They stood there for a moment, and she knew he was remembering. She had an urge to touch him and fought it. His gaze moved over her uniform, lingering at the hem of her uniform skirt and then moving up again.