The One, page 9
And if we’re measuring based on that, well, I’d say I hit a home run. I gotta say, though, Ms. Kitty sure does the extreme. From no dick to monster cock and no in-between.
‘Oh hell no, you ain’t about to pin your asshole loser ex on me. That was all you. You fell for the Okie-Doke and put me through Dante’s seven levels of hell. Now it’s my time, so you just make sure you don’t screw this up or early menopause; here I come.’
Not gonna lie; Ms. Kitty can be a real bitch sometimes.
‘I heard that!’
MACE
“Can I ask you a question?” It figures! She’d turned my brain into mush; now, she’s moving in for the kill.
“You can ask me anything. What is it?” I took the finger she was busy trailing patterns on my chest with and brought it to my lips. I’m surprised she could talk, seeing as how I was still trying to catch my breath.
We were both sweaty, our bodies clinging to each other. One of her legs rested on my wet, tired dick keeping me trapped beneath her. “Speak, baby.” This ought to be good. I’d learned in the last week that when she hesitated like this, whatever was about to come out of her mouth would be one for the books. I’m still piecing together the conversations she’s been having with her pussy which are more entertaining than anything I’ve seen on the screen in recent years.
“So, are we dating?” The fuck!
“Stephanie, how many nights this week did we go out to dinner together?”
“Three or four.” I hate and love that timid tone of hers. I love it because it makes me hard as fuck sometimes, and I hate it because I know sometimes it means she’s feeling vulnerable and unsure of herself. She’s had way too much of that.
“How many times have I been inside you?” Her body trembled a little, and she tucked herself in closer to my side.
“I don’t know; I lost count.” She mumbled into my chest, and I could almost feel the heat of her blush against my skin.
“I didn’t hear you.” I did, but for her, mumbling is another one of her tells, one of those walls she hides behind. She repeated herself louder this time.
“So, what’s the answer to your question?” I kissed the top of her head to ease the harshness of my response.
I felt her relax, but for some unknown reason, I found myself feeling pissed again. It’s been happening a lot lately, this unexplained anger, but never at her. I doubt she realizes how much she reveals about herself in the things she says, or maybe she’s not accustomed to anyone listening to her or reading between the lines of the things she discloses.
Me, I’d like to meet her ex and plant my foot in his ass. It’s obvious that she’d never been treated the way a woman should be in any sense of the word, but this last question made my heart go soft and tied my guts in knots. That’s something else that’s been happening more of late, that softness of heart that I’ve never known.
What kind of woman, having experienced what we had together in the last week, doesn’t know that she’s being wooed? It’s not innocence or even naivety because, in all other aspects of her life, she’s like a machine. Her business acumen is on par with mine, her self-confidence better than most, but in this one thing, when it comes to relationships, she’s like a lamb to the slaughter.
“Let me put it this way, no man fucks a woman as hard or as often as I fuck you if there isn’t something there.” I figured that was the best way to put it to her without beating around the bush. “Does that answer your question?” She nodded her head and moved it further onto my chest. In all fairness, maybe she doesn’t know that we’re dating because I spend more time inside her than taking her out on these so-called dates.
Like tonight, we were supposed to be going to some play she wanted to see, which I’d have rather put a hole in my fucking head than sit through, but had resigned myself to doing for her, but instead, as soon as she opened the door and I saw the sexy evening gown she was wearing I took her down just inside the door as soon as the shit closed behind me. Sex is my love, language, I guess.
She also doesn’t know that we’re both new to this. That I haven’t ‘dated’ anyone since my college days, and none of them were as serious as this. Right now, I’m going with my feelings and doing whatever I feel is right at the moment. So far, I know I like spending time with her, like taking her out on the town or sitting down across from her at some table in some fancy restaurant that’s not worth half the price on the damn menu.
Mostly I like the way she lights up when she’s happy; I’ve become addicted to it. And, of course, I can’t forget the way my cock feels when I’m buried deep inside her with her soft cushiony body pressed close to mine, our hearts racing together from another one of our sexual marathons. So far, that last one has all the others beat by a landslide.
“Ah, you’re hungry, aren’t you?” Along with the play, I was supposed to be feeding her.
“No, what makes you say that? My tummy didn’t grumble or anything.” She put her hand on her stomach.
“So why are you asking me about dating?” That finger went back into play on my chest, and my cock took notice. “Forget it. Your answer will just make me crazy anyway.” No doubt, she can talk circles around an orator with her shit.
She opened her mouth, but I didn’t give her a chance to get a word out because her mouth was full of tongue as I rolled her onto her back and slipped inside her again. There it is! I closed my eyes in sheer bliss as her warmth wrapped around my length and squeezed.
Fuck, I forgot the condom again. I’ll just pull out. Though that hasn’t been working out so well for me thus far. She has this way of clamping down around me right at the end, and it feels so fucking good spilling anywhere but in her belly is the last thing on my mind.
I didn’t last long this time either, like the last two times I’d had her since picking her up off the floor in front of her door. “Fine, let’s go feed that other insatiable hunger of yours.” My dick was a sorry replica of its former self when it finally slipped out of her, and this time I had enough strength to drag her into the shower to get her cleaned up.
In the end, we ordered in instead of going out because neither of us wanted to get dressed, and besides, experience has taught me that I wasn’t done with her yet for the night. I’m still coming to terms with this whole rollercoaster of a ride, and in the back of my mind, it’s like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.
I’ve slept in her bed every night since the first and still find myself waking up in the night just to look at her face as she sleeps, questioning whether or not this is real or if, like all the other attempts in the past, this too would fizzle out and become a distant memory like so many others have done.
Somehow, in the pit of my gut and somewhere near the center of my chest, I know that that won’t happen. That where before, I never had any real interest in fighting to hold on; this time, just the thought of us not working out leaves me cold. She’d let me in, sure, but I don’t kid myself that there aren’t still hurdles in our way, most of them in her own mind.
We both share something else too. That fear of something we want staying just out of our reach. She doesn’t yet believe that she’s just what I’m looking for, and I can’t over that niggling doubt in the back of my mind that one day her own doubts are going to take her away from me.
“Hey, is that play on again tomorrow?”
“Yeah, but the tickets are sold out. Don’t worry about it; I guess I can see it the next time they’re in town.” We both knew that was unlikely to happen anytime soon, if at all.
“I’ll figure it out.” I wiped some sauce from her chicken piccata off her chin and left my thumb there to tease the crease beneath her lip.
“Why are you looking at me?”
“Did you know you have specks of gold in your eyes?” I saw her pulse race in her throat, and heat came into her eyes. “Damn, again?” She blushed and bit into her lip, sealing her fate. No doubt she’s going to bitch and moan in the morning as she has every morning this week about being sore.
I pulled her from her chair onto my lap and kissed her lips, tasting the tanginess from her dinner. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the way she just melts into me or that sweet sigh she releases into my mouth every time.
Steph
“Listen, Mace, stop screwing with my ovaries. Get that thing outta there.” He eased off, and I felt some relief, but then the dirty bastard went after my G-spot, and I shook my leg like a dog in the bushes. By the time I came back to my senses, he was pounding into me hard enough to shake the bed coming into the home stretch.
We’ve been playing footloose and fancy-free when it comes to protection but believe it or not, pregnancy and babies are the last things on my mind. As soon as he touches me, nothing else seems to matter, and my mind, my very being, is solely focused on him and only him and the way he makes me feel.
“Fuck, I did it again.” Boy, did you ever. I don’t know much about the human body, but I’m almost certain that a man’s not supposed to cum this much, not after the fourth or fifth time. Not that I’m complaining, mind you; other than facing the embarrassment of having to have the sheets changed every day for a week or having to change panty liners at least three times a day, all is well.
I can’t place all the blame for either of those things on him, though, since I, too, leak like a geyser each and every time, which I think has become addictive. I yearn for him when he’s not here, and not just the sex either; I miss everything about him as soon as we’re apart.
His looks, his scent, the way he makes me laugh, even something as little as the way he places his hand in the small of my back when we walk into a place touches something deep inside me. Something soft and needy that has never been filled by anyone else.
I didn’t bother responding to his comment because this wasn’t the first time he’d made it, and I was not about to take the blame again this time. Between him and Miss. Kitty, I’ve been having a time of it, and I can only imagine her gripes after his latest shenanigans. My insides felt like they’d been pulverized by a sledgehammer.
“Why are you giving me dirty looks, lady?” It was hard keeping a straight face or doing something even more embarrassing by jumping up and down like a preschooler while clapping my hands.
“What set you off this time? Last time it was the towel.” As if I didn’t know.
Nat and I have been brainstorming on how to keep our men. I think we’d both, for some unknown reason, found the right ones at the same time, though I’m still holding my breath and waiting to exhale. Nat thinks we should just let go, let our defenses down, and see where things go, but she’s always been the braver of the two of us. I’m still finding it hard to believe this is real that someone like Mace could find me even remotely attractive, but I guess, as Nat says, the truth is in the pudding.
Not to mention, I have the skid marks on my cooch to prove that if this isn’t love or some variation on the theme, then I’ve fallen into something otherworldly. I’d asked him if we were dating not because he’s been lax in that department, but because I wanted to know, wanted to hear him say it out loud so that there’s no longer any doubt one way or another.
He may not have noticed the looks we get when we’re out and about, but I haven’t missed one. I see the way the skinny brigade plump up their chest and stick their asses out whenever they see him as if I’m not even in the picture. I’ve seen the questioning looks and overheard the barest of whispers as we passed by and can only imagine what’s being said behind all those hands and into avid ears.
“Where did you go? I know you’re not talking to your pussy, so what exactly is going on in your head?” I didn’t even realize he’d been watching me this whole time.
“How do you know I’m not talking to Miss. Kitty?” I’m not sure telling him about that was the right thing to do; he seems way too invested.
“You get a different look on your face when you do; spill it.”
Like I’m gonna tell him the truth. I went with a little white lie. What can it hurt? It’s not like he knows me well enough yet to catch me out there. “Oh, I was just thinking about something that I forgot to do at the office.” Before the last syllable left my lips, I knew I’d fucked up.
MACE
My smile was wide as I put the key in her door that evening. She’d shyly given it to me the night before, with great hesitance, almost as if she’d expected me to reject it and her. I knew what the offer meant, knew that for her and I, it was another step forward. Neither of us seemed too worried that it might be too soon, that we may be moving too fast because I’m guessing it felt as right to her as it did to me.
For some reason, I wasn’t as skeptical of her as I had been with others in the past, maybe because of that feeling of rightness. I felt more in control, or more to the point; I wasn’t willing to lose something I wanted again. That raised a lot of questions for me about how serious I’d been in the past if I’d been so willing to walk away at the first sign of indecisiveness on their part.
With her, I didn’t even let myself think about it. It’s like I’d made up my mind at some point that this was it, and I wasn’t about to take no for an answer. This soon, I was already finding it hard to imagine a day without her quirkiness. That virgin pussy of hers packs a punch. Where else am I going to find such perfection?
I’m still not sure about this making a baby thing, and since she’d never brought it up, I’m beginning to think it was nothing more than a joke between her and her friend; the funny thing is, though, it doesn’t scare me as much as I’d think it would. In fact, I find myself thinking about it from time to time with none of the uneasiness you’d expect from a confirmed bachelor like myself.
I opened the door and walked in, feeling that air of lightness come over me as I wondered what I was going to find her doing. She’s full of surprises, this one and each one crazier than the last. It was a whole new feeling, this coming home to my woman. I’d had all day to think about it, so it no longer freaked me the fuck out.
I’d been tempted to go home or to stay at the office a bit longer like I normally do because I have shit to do. But if I went home, she’d feel slighted, which I didn’t want, and as for staying later, as soon as she called to let me know she was home from work, my dick had been awake and throbbing, so I wasn’t going to get shit done.
I heard her feet running down the hallway when I called out to her from downstairs to let her know I was here. No doubt she was looking for someplace to hide, fucking nut. I’d worked her over pretty good last night after she lied to me, and she’d bitched and griped until we parted ways this morning. That’ll teach her ass to lie to me in the future.
A few rounds of hard pounding fucks had opened her mouth, and I finally got the truth out of her. She’s still hung up on her size and thinks she’s less deserving than others. That had opened the door to me asking her about her marriage and her past, something I almost wish I hadn’t done because it only made me want to go find her asshole ex and plant my foot in his ass.
Her memories of her ex-mother-in-law made me think of my own family and their reaction to her, which was a sure sign to me, at least, that I was planning to stick around long enough to see where this thing goes between us. It filled me with rage, just the thought of anyone slighting her, and though I don’t think anyone in my immediate family is that dense, we’ve never faced this before.
No one knows about my obsession with lush women, not that I care. But seeing how torn up, she is about the way she’d been treated because of it makes me feel very protective of her and her feelings where the matter is concerned. Me personally, I don’t get it, but then again, there’s a lot about society that leaves me stumped.
When I was through pounding the stupid out of her, I’d dragged her into my arms and slept with her on my chest. Did I mention that I sleep better with her in my arms than I have been lately, if ever? It’s like something deep inside had found what it was looking for, and all the rough places were now being smoothed out.
I find myself waking up in the night just to watch her sleep as if to reassure myself that she’s really there. The more time we spent together, even when I wasn’t fucking her, the more I could feel those ties binding us together, stronger and with a sense of permanence that was new to me.
I should probably be running scared since she has a lot of baggage, but part of me, the part that had been awakened by her cooky nuttiness, was too intrigued. The fear of being burned again, of wasting my time only to end up with the same result, was no match for the greed I felt when I thought of her.
With Stephanie, my thoughts ran to more than sex and ventured into other places that I’d kept pretty much locked off from the rest of the world until now. I could let myself imagine having more with her since it didn’t look like she was going to make a run for it like so many others had done.
I have to say that all the others paled in comparison, so I no longer felt defeated. As much as she was hung up on her looks and what other people thought, which I learned when she finally came clean about what she was thinking, the more she seemed to want to hang on. It’s like we’d both found something we were looking for, something neither of us thought to ever have.
If I believed in that shit, I’d say we were a match made in heaven; we’d both found what we were looking for in each other. Now I felt that stirring in my gut as I started up the stairs. She was nowhere in sight when I made it to the master suite, and I stepped back out of the room and looked down the hallway.
She’d given me a tour of her mansion, but it was going to take me at least a month to figure this place out. Why one woman needed this much space is beyond me, but according to her, she was making a statement. The house is in one of the better neighborhoods in the city, with historic turn-of-the-century mansions built back in the late eighteen hundreds as summer homes for the wealthy.
