by Leslie Pike
“Am I interrupting something here?”
“No! Absolutely not! We were just chatting,” I say protesting a bit too firmly.
Grandma looks at Sawyer for confirmation. But instead he points to me, touches his nose and pretends it’s stretching with a lie.
“I thought so, honey,” she giggles. “I’m going to go find Elvis. Carry on, lovebirds.”
Nothing else was said by him or me concerning the mention of the future. We carried on as if the word marriage had never been said. As if my nod didn’t confirm the possibility. We partied and danced like every other guest. But the conversation never left my mind. And deep inside my soul there’s a recognition. My destiny has arrived.
Chapter 19
Sawyer
The first rays of sun creep into the bedroom. While she still sleeps, I’m replaying the night in my mind.
The heart of my hidden euphoria is she didn’t object. I need to keep that front and center. It’s a relief bringing up the subject of marriage didn’t make her laugh, hit me across the face or ask me not to ever say the word again.
There was a nanosecond there that I wasn’t sure which way it would go.
Don’t know what came over me exactly, except when I looked into her eyes I saw the future. The children. The long beautiful stretch of years spent side by side. I just had to invite her inside the vision.
It would have been a mistake to push my luck though. Bristol needs time to absorb change of any kind. I’ve learned that in just these six months.
That’s why I dropped it and went back into party mode. The whole night seemed like a kind of magical time. Everything touched by the spirit of the holiday.
My favorite part, other than Bristol’s nod, was being with Jude. I guess seeing him let loose and really enjoying himself was what I had hoped for but didn’t expect. He has this other side to him that I hadn’t seen before. There’s a ten-year-old boy inside the cynic. That guy had the night off.
All the kids were dancing with their families and with each other. It didn’t surprise me that the Swifts made sure to include them in everything that was enjoyed by their other guests. Elvis and Ann Margaret were doing “The Monster Mash” in the middle of a circle of kids.
Lucinda and Boone, aka Pocahontas and John Smith, were making hot fudge sundaes for the crew. Mallory was talking with the girls mostly, while Atticus and Charlotte were having conversations with a few of the foster parents.
When the time came for the Best Costume it was unanimous. Grandma Birdie took home the homemade trophy made years ago by the Swift children. Boone told the story before handing his mother the timeworn award.
I had to laugh picturing Brick, Atticus and Bristol taking one of Lucinda’s plastic bowls and gluing a cardboard toilet paper roll to the bottom as a handle. They covered it with tinfoil and glued Halloween symbols to the surface. Bats, ghosts, pumpkins and witches made sense. But it was the Easter Bunny five-year-old Bristol insisted on that made the most lasting impression.
Lucinda said the boys were so pissed off at their sister they refused to sign their names underneath. Which worked just fine for their sister. Bristol’s scrawled name is the only artist mentioned.
Other than my bringing up the M word, the golden moment of the party was when Jude was dancing with Bristol and me. Jesus, it was a sweet scene. A carefree kid showed up, which proved the power of hope.
He’s known more disappointment in ten years than most others have experienced in a lifetime. There’s never been a firm foothold as to his place. Yet, you wouldn’t have known it last night. Before then had he known what it is to feel carefree? That kid and his serious expression gets me right in the heart.
She stirs.
With her back to me I have a cat seat to the greatest show on earth. Bristol waking up. First there’s a curl of the legs as she brings them up against her. Then one straightening out, pulling the sheet down with it.
Damn. It only made it to the top of that out-of-this-world ass.
Her dark hair against the white pillowcase is like a piece of art. It fans out in curls. For a moment everything stops. Maybe she’s falling back to sleep. No, no little lady.
I gently pick up the edge of the sheet and peel it back. Yes. Thank you. There is a god and he created this beautiful woman. For me. My eyes take in the curve of her, the hills and valleys.
“Are you enjoying the view?” her sleepy voice says.
The sheet gets tossed back revealing the head to toe story. “You know I am. Stay like that.”
I inch over to her warm body and start my kisses on the back of her neck. Slowly they travel downward, smooth shoulders, spine, tiny waist, making a spectacular landing on the cheeks. One, two.
Now she stretches long, arching her body for my pleasure. “I’ve got the chills,” she says in low tones.
Wrapping an arm around I turn her over. Against me. Breasts so soft and nipples already peaked. I feel her pussy press against my hard dick.
“I want you to promise me something, Sawyer,” she says.
“What?” I say taking in the scent of her skin.
“Promise me you’ll always love me as I do you.”
Did that just happen? I’ve never known this feeling before. Pure joy. “You love me?” I say just to be sure I wasn’t imagining the moment.
“I love you,” she says running a finger over my cheek.
“I love you too, Bristol. Have since the first look.”
We come together in a kiss. In a weird sort of way, it’s our first one.
“Now tell me what you thought of the promise I requested of you last night. I know we’ve pretty much done everything backwards. We said I love you after I brought up marriage. Did it scare you?”
She gazes into my eyes and a corner of her mouth lifts. “Not scared. Stunned.”
“In a good way?”
“In the best way.” She smiles and lights up the room.
I roll on top of her and kiss her lips. She holds my face in her hands.
“Let’s just take it slow though. Okay?”
“I’ll follow your lead, Bristol. Now follow mine.”
I silence any further talk with my kiss. She can’t help but amaze me. There’s a sort of surrender that happens when we make love. Each to the other. I can feel her melting into me.
A tenderness takes over today, devoid of any sort of wild abandon. We take our time. Exploring and savoring our lover’s body. God, this is what Paradise must be made of.
Her response builds slowly and even though I can’t deny the obvious, my hard dick is showing patience. I can rein it in while I worship her.
Getting between her she spreads her legs in anticipation. My mouth finds the source of all pleasure, and I taste the sweet juices. Ummm. I take in the intoxicating scent of her. That alone would get any man hard.
Glad it’s my nectar and mine alone.
I pull back the lips and run my tongue bottom to top, right above the clit. She squirms and begins to quietly moan. I know exactly what she likes, but I’ll never make a routine of it. Variety is a better goal. So instead of flicking my tongue against her, I insert my middle finger. And I play. Easy now.
Her breathing is becoming elevated. Delicate fingers grasp the bedding and she raises her chin to the ceiling. Very gently I call her to me with my finger. Come here, woman. Come.
My other hand softly moves across where her clit lays. It’s easy to know when you’re hitting the right spot. The reaction is unmistakable.
Now her moaning is louder.
“That’s it, love. Right there.”
I start to take my finger out of her pussy, but my idea is quickly rejected.
“No! Leave it there.”
I proceed with the temptation. Calling her, rubbing her, watching her lost in the pleasure. And before long she reaches the place of no return.
“Ohhhh. God! God! Yes! Sawyer! Fuck…fuck… FUCK ME!”
At the perfect moment I just let my finger tap against he
r G Spot.
By the look on her face and the sounds coming from deep inside her, we hit the jackpot. The orgasm goes on so long I think it’s maybe two separate ones back to back. Apparently it’s true that all good things come to an end, because it eventually quiets.
“Holy God that was spectacular! You are a sex god.”
A woman’s praise of your abilities in this department are always welcome. Men are boys sometimes and we need confirmation. Even the most confident of us.
I roll her on top of me, but she slides between my legs.
“Let me return the favor,” she says with those come-hither eyes.
Who am I to argue? I spread my legs and let her in.
Naked on her knees is a beautiful image. Bristol gives as good as she gets. Her blowjobs deserve applause. Instead I always give her a standing ovation. It’s upright before it begins.
She touches me as if it’s the first time. Like she’s been waiting to taste me and lick me and suck me. And it’s always better than anything I’ve experienced before. The woman’s a blowjob artist.
As I’m being held by her sexual powers, her tongue is running the length of me. Base to tip. There’s a slight pause before she reaches the head.
She knows exactly what she’s doing. That’s where things are most sensitive. She’s teasing me, making me lift up to prompt her to continue. Then her lips cover it and I’m lost in the sensation. Fuck.
Licking, sucking, playing with my balls. She puts them in her mouth one at a time. Good god.
With one smooth motion I stop her sucking and flip her over.
“I want to look at you when I come,” I say between breaths.
“Yes. Put it in.”
I angle my body so I can take ahold and guide my dick home. That’s how I think of her now. There’s a tenderness that takes over. Even in the midst of arousal I’m aware of the beauty of the moment. We belong together. This is making love.
I grind slow, take my time, building the heat until she’s close. Then I let go. Harder, stronger, all chains unlocked.
“I’m going to come!” she shouts.
“Come, baby. Come now!”
The magma rises and releases together. As if we could time it to the second. My jaw is clenched, arms tensed on either side of her body. She holds her mouth open, but no words form. Her eyes open and lock on mine. She lifts to get all of me.
When every sensation has been felt I rest still inside her.
“Unbelievable,” she says.
“Unforgettable.”
“You seem far away. Are you playing ball or fantasizing about me playing with your balls?” Bristol giggles as she sits next to me.
“We’re a couple of blocks from the church you know. Don’t make God come down here and wash your mouth out with holy water.”
“He created your balls, so I can’t see how it would be an issue.”
We both start laughing at the left turn our conversation took.
“Remember to silence your cell. It wouldn’t do to hear Bruno Mars asking Cardi B to back up into him.”
“That would be unfortunate. How long is this thing going to last?”
She looks at me like I’m a Martian.
“This thing is a baptism. I thought you said you were a church guy. Didn’t your church have baptisms? Were you baptized?”
The jig is up and I can’t help but chuckle.
“Okay, there may have been some exaggeration when I said that.”
Now she’s laughing.
“Why in heavens name would you do that?”
“Because I thought a Tennessee girl would like a church goin’ man. And it wasn’t a total lie. I used to go to church with my second and forth families.”
“Oh. Well would you like to go to church? I don’t go every week but maybe a few times a month. It’s nice.”
“Yeah. I’d like to try it anyway.” I shrug, but I’m not indifferent to the idea. Think it would be a good addition in my life.
“Were you ever baptized?”
“I don’t know. I doubt it. Here we are. There’s your parents,” I say lifting a chin in their direction.
As Lucinda and Boone walk up the steps to the Greater Memphis Baptist Church, they paint a good picture. Best looking couple comes to mind.
“Look how stunning my mother looks,” Bristol says with pride.
“The Swift women have style.”
I pull into a parking space and shut off Bristol’s car. The truck isn’t right for every occasion.
“Your parents always look like they just came from a photo shoot.” I step out and come around the car to open her door.
“Thank you,” she says taking my hand. Then she looks in my eyes. “My love.” A soft giggle leaves her lips. “I have a feeling I’m going to be overusing the word.”
“Impossible.” I think about this morning and take her in my embrace. “I love you, Bristol Swift.”
“Sawyer Tom, I feel the same. Me for you.”
“You two lovebirds. Help Grandpa, please.”
We turn to find Grandma Birdie offering her arm to her husband. He’s limping. It’s a shaky arrangement at best.
I go to his side and slip my arm through his. “Come on, Davis. You and I can do a better job of it.”
“What happened to your leg?” Bristol says as we walk towards the steps.
“Elvis strained his knee trying to keep up with the youngsters,” Grandma says.
“And Ann Margaret’s back is hurting. I’m not the only one you know.”
Bristol weighs in. “You two forget how old you are. Maybe you should dial it down a bit. Just to protect yourselves.”
They look at her like what she’s saying is ridiculous.
“Sweet Little Lark,” Grandpa says chuckling.
Reaching the steps we begin the slow climb. I lean around Davis’s body and get Bristol’s attention. Just a look and a smile. That’s all I needed.
Chapter 20
Bristol
An after-dinner champagne caps the night. The sound of my knife tapping against the crystal goblet draws everyone’s attention.
“I’d like to make a toast.”
We all came to Brick and January’s home for the baptismal dinner. I thought our family celebrations have always been fun, but now I see I was setting the bar low. With Sawyer by my side everything looks rosier. Le vie en rose.
We’re gathered around the large rectangular table letting the delicious dinner settle. Brick outdid himself on this one.
“Lets lift our glasses to baby Beauregard, the most beautiful, clever and easygoing child ever conceived.”
We all drink to the latest addition to the Swift family.
“You forgot about his artistic bent,” my mother says across the table.
There’s laughter and comments coming from every corner.
“Exactly how did you come to that conclusion, Mother?” Brick asks.
“Simple. I was arranging a bouquet of flowers to watercolor and baby was in your father’s arms and you tell the rest, Boone.”
My father rarely disagrees with my mother, but his expression tells me he’s about to.
“Lucinda I’m not sure I observed the same thing you did.”
She waves his comment off.
“What are you talking about? Beauregard smiled at the sight. You remarked on it at the time!”
“My darling that was gas, not art appreciation.”
“Let’s get to the dessert,” Atticus says.
“The Godfather has spoken.”
Brick loves to tease his little brother. No matter they’re in their thirties.
January enters the room with the multi-tiered cake. It’s a thing of beauty.
“And no, I didn’t make this,” she says chuckling.
“I could teach you how to make it if you’re interested,” Grandma Birdie offers.
Brick starts laughing and gets a napkin thrown at his head.
“Thanks for the offer, Grandma, but it’
s just not my thing. I’d rather be the one who enjoys it than the one who creates it.”
“Understood, dear. Would you like Grandma to make some baby food for Beauregard? I used to do all Boone’s food when he was a baby.”
“Back in the Dark Ages,” Boone teases.
“Now that I’m interested in. Yes. Thank you, Grandma.”
“I’ll pass the plates,” Charlotte says standing up.
Sawyer’s cell sounds. He removes it from his pocket and recognizes the caller.
“Excuse me, I have to take this. It’s Jude’s mother.”
The entire table knows the situation with Jude and about the foster father’s illness. There are only sympathetic faces.
He walks out of the dining room and I hear the back door open and close.
“What’s happening there? Did they tell him?” Brick asks.
“It was supposed to be today. That’s most likely what the mother’s calling about.”
“Poor child. It breaks my heart to see his sad little face,” Grandpa Davis says. The tears that well in his eyes threaten to release.
“What’s going to happen to him when he has to leave the family? Is the next foster family in place?” my father asks.
“I don’t think it happens that quickly. I’m not even sure when he’s going to be leaving. It’s all up in the air as far as I know. It kills me to think of him being…”
Without warning the tears come. Shit! Stop it, Bristol!
“Oh, honey!” my mother says rising and coming around the table. “Trade places with me,” she orders Atticus.
He’s more than agreeable to the request. Her arms go around me and hold tight.
“It’s alright. Everything will work out as it should. You’ll see.”
Before another thing is said, Sawyer reenters the room. “Jude ran away. Im going to go to the house and look for him. He couldn’t have got far.”
“Shit. He’s not in a good area. And it’s pitch black already,” I say standing.
He lifts a hand in acknowledgment of the family.