Good Enough(67)

I reached for the zipper of his pants. “I want you so fucking bad.” I whispered against his lips. He made no attempts to stop me. Pulling his pants down I squeezed him gently, he groaned into my mouth, the sound seemed both indignant and erotic. He was so hard. I slid my fist up and down his length. Every time he quivered in my hands my breath hitched, making me wet at the thought that I could make him feel that way.

Jameson grabbed me by the waist spinning me around and dropping me slowly to his bed. “If this is what happens to you when we buy a house remind me to play the lotto so I can buy hundreds of houses,” he mutters in to my mouth. His hands slide up my legs, bunching my skirt at my waist. His thumbs edge the line of my panties sending small shivers throughout my entire body. He abraded my skin ripping my lace panties off. His tongue fondled my aching clit. He was like a lion feasting on a gazelle. He was growling with hunger as he licked and sucked my wet, throbbing pussy. My body was quivering, my vision blurry from the intense desire pooling within me. His hands moved back and forth between my ass and my breasts, kneading and grabbing wherever and whenever he could.

“Yes,” I shrilled, feeling my orgasm forming. My body was trembling on the edge of a desperate release. “I’m so close – Please – Oh God – Please.” Sucking mercilessly he worked my clit with the tip of his tongue. Everything compressed savagely, then released in a combustible eruption of gratification.

I didn’t care how he took me but I needed more. I needed him inside me. Jameson carefully sat me up cupping my face and kissed me hard. I could taste myself on him.

“Roll over, on all fours,” he instructed me.

I did as he instructed, already arching my back for him, and he shoved into me. I let out a low whimper at the force to which he pushed. His breathing was getting heavier, his grunts louder with each thrust he made. Each thrust harder than the last. I tightened around him and he cursed under his breath. I wanted him to come. I wanted him to come because of me, because he was inside of me. I want to be the only one that can be the reason he makes the sounds of pleasure he’s making right now.

I knew he was close. His breathing was coming in quick short bursts. “Oh God, Hillary!” He muttered. “I’m gonna come.” His body began to shudder above me. I could feel him quivering inside of me. He relentlessly pounded in to me over and over – I could feel the hot rush shooting through me, then dripping down my inner thigh. The sound of him coming, of his grunt and his moans of pleasure are music to my ears. He kissed me up and down my back as he came down from his orgasm; and I lay there at his mercy for however long he wanted.



April 5, 2003

Our new home is full of chatter and clatter. Friends and family are visiting and helping us clean so we can be ready to move in on Friday. My mother and grandmother are in the kitchen. Marcie is in the bathroom. Lily is all over the place. Mom’s friend Jane stopped by with a big bottle of champagne. While I am outside on the deck chatting with Jane I can hear some type of yelling inside; moments later Marcie is storming out of the back door, blowing by Jane and myself. We go inside and I can see a look of irritation on my mother’s face, my grandmother has her head down while mopping the floor. “What the hell was that all about?” I ask to the open room. “Marcie was yelling at your grandmother for putting too much Pine Sol in the bucket to wash the floors. She said the smell gave her a headache.”

“I told her it’s the way I clean, and I’ve been doing it my entire life professionally. I told her if it bothers her so damn much, she should open a window or get the hell out. So she got out. I don’t care either. I’m trying to help you kids. All she wants to do is complain,” my grandmother says, sternly.

“Wow! Go Grandma!”

Jameson comes down from upstairs. We all turn to stare at him, me giving him that knowing look. “Aww, crap! What happened?” He rolls his eyes. He knows it has to do with him mom. You can see the look of mental exhaustion on his face to go along with the already present physical exhaustion. His shoulders droop, his hand immediately goes up right to his forehead, hoping to rub the pain away.

“Your mother yelled at my grandmother for the way she was cleaning the floors.” I tell him.

“Fucking Hell.” He mumbles under his breath. “Where is she now?”

“Saw her storm outside, all in a fucking tizzy.” I tell him but refuse to make eye contact because even though I’m pissed at Marcie I don’t want him to take the blame for it. If I look him in the eyes, he will feel that this is on him. Without a second to spare Jameson storms out the back door to chase after Marcie.