Home stretch, babies. One mo’ read through and then, I’ma let her go… I posted this scene for you because I like the normalcy between my hero and heroine. How easy they are with one another. And of course, I like that Charlie can’t keep his hands off Tunie. He will do anything to ensure her comfort. Seriously, the government or some damn body needs to make this kind of love compulsory for all living human beings. If they did, we could probably end all wars and unnecessary violence. Everyone would be too busy knockin’ boots to knock heads…RIP Mike Brown.
Another night, after she watched something on TV, and he watched her watch it, she rose to refill their glasses with the fresh juice she habitually made from lemons, limes, grapefruit or whatever was handy – tonight was lime ginger ale – and returned to sit beside him on the couch.
“No, sit here.” He patted his lap.
He helped her to sit comfortably on top of him.
“Did you eat already?” He’d been later than usual getting home, and he knew she liked to eat before six.
“No. I wasn’t hungry.”
“You have to eat.”
“I ate earlier.”
“At breakfast and lunch,” she laughed.
He huffed irritably and pushed her off his lap. He went to the kitchen and fixed a small plate, returning to pull her back onto his lap. He held a crisp green bean to her lips. She took a small bite, and he ate the rest. He had held another to her lips. She took a bite, and again he finished it. He fed her bite by bite until their shared plate was empty.
“That was for you to eat.”
He let her hop down to refill his plate, and again he blocked her when she moved to sit next to him. He ate the rest of his dinner with her on his lap, forcing her to feed him since one of his arms was wrapped around her waist, and he refused to move it. And all the while, he watched her.
He watched her as he chewed tender meat, watched her as he drank from the glass she held to his lips. He watched her as she wiped his mouth on a cloth napkin.
When dinner was over he rose with her in his arms, carried 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 recently started doing 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. 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 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. 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 never 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 or Nordstrom.”
Charles 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 one word could 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. If pressed he couldn’t have expressed 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 gave the feelings 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 a while a little stubborn streak would take over, and she’d try to hold off the pleasure, deny him his due from her sweet body. Each time she tried, he laughed, and began to play with her. He built the pleasure and then let 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…