Hi y’all. As promised, this is the unedited “okay” scene I was working on last night…let me know what you think…
When dinner was over he rose with her in his arms, carrying her to the bed, and though he was hard, somehow he was able to subdue the constant, driving urgency he felt to make love to her. Instead they did something he’d only just started doing recently in bed – they talked.
“I have a dinner to go to tomorrow. I want you to come with me.”
“You’ll need a cocktail dress.”
“You mean after five?”
“Yes. Do you have anything suitable?” He knew she didn’t, but he didn’t want her to know he’d gone snooping through her things.
“’Fraid not. I mean, I do, but my good dress is so old you’d probably be embarrassed.”
He doubted that. Even in an old dress Tunie would still be gorgeous. But the people they were meeting would find fault if she appeared ill dressed, and he would not have her humiliated by their smilingly delivered slights and sharp eyed judgment. He didn’t even want to attend, but it was a work obligation, and it was prudent to bring a date to these sorts of affairs. Women had a tendency to lighten the mood.
“Well, you’ll have to go shopping then.”
“Get shoes and a purse, earrings, the whole outfit.”
He laughed. “Is that it? Okay?”
“Actually, no. What’s my limit?”
He shrugged. “Just don’t go crazy, though it might not be a bad idea to get more than one dress. This won’t be the first or the last time we go out.”
Now that was new. He always gave limits. Furthermore, he usually gave the limit before being asked. And he rarely even mentioned the future let alone told a woman to shop for it.
“You got a preference for store?”
“No. But I tend to buy things at Bloomingdales.”
Charles just rolled his eyes. “Okay.” He pulled her into his arms. “Okay,” he whispered against her lips.
“Okay,” she whispered back.
“Okay,” he said.
“Okay,” she answered.
They laughed, repeating the word with a slightly different inflection each time as they removed each item of clothing, stroked each trembling limb and warm patch of skin. They said it with every kiss, every rub, every unspoken desire. They broke it into multiple syllables on heated sighs. Then put it back together on quick inhalations, then broke it again when sensation grew unmanageable, and their lungs need for air broke apart a kiss so full of desperation and longing, no word would suffice to describe their desire.
But he managed to say it again as he made himself comfortable between her legs. He whispered it as he kneaded her flesh and sipped at the tips of her breasts. He licked it into the delicate skin behind her ear, nudged her with his nose as he said it into the hollow of her throat.
It was amazing the nuance and feeling he could infuse into one tiny word, and he liked to think she understood him as clearly as if he’d written things down. Though if pressed he couldn’t have articulated in words how he felt right then. But she felt it as their skins and nails scratched, as their fingers pinched and squeezed. He licked it into her pussy and she laughed as she said it back to him, both hands buried in his thick hair, while she squirmed and tried unsuccessfully to get away.
Of course, he knew what she was doing. Every once in awhile a little stubborn streak would take over her, and she’d try to hold off the pleasure. Deny him his due from her sweet body. And as he did each time she tried, he laughed, and began to play with her. Metaphorically tipping an invisible hat to acknowledge her desire to deny him, he obliged her by building the pleasure and then letting it fade. Fast and slow, then hard and soft, his wicked tongue gave her exactly what she wanted, only not enough. And he did it again and again until she begged him to finish her.
Satisfied with her surrender he attacked her flesh like a lion, nipping and sucking hard, his tongue wild until he could tell by the arch in her back and the rasp of her moan that it wouldn’t take more than another breath to get what he wanted.
Surging up her body, he shoved himself inside her, or he might have had she not been slick with need for him, eager to clasp him as close as he began to rock with hard determined thrusts that hit her high and tight just where she needed him most.
“Now, Tunie,” he ordered, his own release there at the end of his next breath.
And what else could she say, in a ragged, straining breath, except, “Okay.”