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CHAPTER 7

Michele

F red didn’t make it.

I don’t reply. I find comfort in his touch. I shouldn’t but I do.

I can’t help but think about the kind man who came by weekly to drop my flowers. Fred was a kind, older gentleman. He and his wife were empty-nesters. He delivered to stay busy. Retirement bored him, he once told me.

Week after week of having the same driver consistently, you learn things about them. He shared openly about his life and never had a bad day. I wonder how Lois will be. They were married forty-eight years. That is a long time to be with someone. How do you build a life alone after that? Do I reach out and send her flowers? Does she know what happened to him already? It’s been days, I hope she knows. If not, the worry over him will certainly drive her insane. My mind races.

He died because I have a crazy ex who happens to live his life around killing people. The guilt consumes me.

The tears begin to fall. The man beside me, stands and moves to the same side of the couch as me. Settling in beside me, I suddenly feel his hand on my neck and the other on my leg sliding me over and onto his lap.

Numb with the knowledge of Fred getting caught up in my bullshit, I allow him to tuck me against his rock hard body.

I’m a curvy girl. Not huge, but I definitely have fluff and softness to my body. He has moved me without missing a breath. Every inch of him under me is taut and firm. He clearly stays in shape. Being against him my small five feet four inch self fits against his well over six feet tall size easily.

“Let it out, buttercup,” he consoles as I can’t stop the barrage of tears. “No more talking for now. Just get it out. Let yourself feel.”

I settle against him. He reaches a long arm to the side of the couch he was sitting on and grabs a blanket from under the cushion. He has arranged us with his back in the corner of the sectional part of this couch, his legs outstretched to where I was just sitting. Me curled up on him, over him, and a blanket now draped over me with his arms holding me tight.

As I let the emotions go, he strokes my hair and says nothing. Silently, I still find comfort in him. No words are needed. He kisses the top of my head as the entire day consumes me.

“Fred was kind,” I whisper to no one.

“He was, I’m sure. So are you buttercup,” he replies and I lift my head and look to the man holding me.

“You don’t know me, Jennings.”

He gives me this half smirk. “Kind of part of my expertise if you will, is to read people. You came here from city life, but acclimated to the friendliness of the deep south. You give your change to drunk Stan every time you leave the grocery store because he stands there pedaling to get another beer. More than that, you always buy a premade sub to give to him as well.”

I gasp. “How do you know that?” Fear builds, can I trust this man? Has he been following me? Does he actually work for Benny? I know my cousin’s lifestyle, she would be the kind to do searches on new people, follow them if necessary. The basic investigation they did doesn’t bother me, but the grocery store is a bit much. Have they been following me?

Reading my mind it seems, he explains, “Was behind you twice and both times same action. Shows it’s a pattern, babe.”

“I didn’t see you,” I reply as he tries to settle me back against him. I have been too comfortable here, let my guard down.

“Relax, Michele. You didn’t see me because once you managed to get comfortable here, you stopped looking over your shoulder every five seconds. I’m not a stalker. But I have a feeling you have experienced someone keeping tabs on you.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I fire back.

“We don’t have to talk.”

He resumes stroking my hair and twisting the ends in his fingers without saying another word.

Is it that simple? I don’t want to talk so he shuts up, when does a man do that? This is a twilight zone. Men like him don’t give up. I said I don’t want to and poof he doesn’t push the issue. I don’t even know what to think.

“I have a feeling you know things you aren’t sharing,” I whisper.

The vibration of his chuckle under me doesn’t make me tense, I somehow find peace in it.

“Thought you didn’t want to talk,” he teases.

Why I continue to engage this, I don’t know. I can’t seem to stop myself as the words tumble out, “Not talking, making an observation.”

“I have a strong intuition, buttercup, you know a whole lot about a lot of things you aren’t sharing. I have another feeling, if you would like to call it that, you may have some connections you haven’t shared.”

I push up off his chest and my eyes meet his, “I think that anyone with half a brain these days should hold things close to the vest. I think that unless we are getting to know each other for friendship, relationship, and those sorts of things there is no reason to share personal information.”

He smirks, “what about situationships?”

I gasp as he pulls me up his body. His lips hit mine and like an idiot my mouth opens for him. My traitorous body longing for intimacy gives in as his tongue dances with mine and this kiss goes from something simple to something full of passion and fire in an instant. My core clinches and panties dampen from a kiss. He is that good.

My hands wrap around his neck pulling him into me as he shifts me over him, my chest pressed to his, my legs entwined with his. As much as my head keeps telling me to stop this nonsense, my body is doing what it wants.

Sliding up, tighter, as he holds me closer, one of his hands comes to cup my ass cheek and the other gripping my neck. Those actions tell me he is as in this as I am. Wildly, I kiss him as his teeth graze my lips. His hand moves up to the waistband of my leggings, sliding down them and under my lace panties, his hand squeezes my ass. His bare hand on my flesh drives me wild.

A moan escapes me as my chest tightens because I’m forgetting to breathe. I break away to clear my head.

“Whoa,” I whisper more to myself. Like what a little slut I am.

Have I become this depraved for affection? I just absolutely kissed a man I barely know while I am in the depths of the worst situation I could be in. What is wrong with me? If I listen to my body, I’m ready to have sex with a stranger!

“Buttercup, stop.”

I blink out of the haze with his hand still on my ass, the one on my neck loosening. I release the hold I have on him and try to put space between us. Instantly his grip tightens on me holding me to him.

“Don’t,” he mutters.

“This isn’t the time for entanglements,” I explain.

He laughs and I feel it in my traitorous vagina.

“Relax,” he whispers and I feel my body do exactly as he commands. This gets my ass a squeeze.

“You have a lot going on, escape with me,” the words come from his mouth before his lips are back on mine.

Or are mine on his? I’m lost in him. He shifts and the hand on my neck moves down my body and up my shirt. He tweaks my nipple and I have to pull away to breathe as every inch of me is full of heat.

Shifting, he moves to spread my legs to straddle him. I feel his rock hard erection under me. Knowing he’s turned on too only drives me higher. He is slightly upright as his head drops to my neck, he hits the spot right behind my ear. His tongue darts out, teasing my flesh as his hot breathe cascades down my neck. The hand on my nipple, moves down the front of my pants while the one on my ass pushes me forward. He sets this pace of rocking me against his fingers and between my pussy lips.

The friction is overwhelming to my senses as I remain completely pliable to his direction. My body doing as it wants, my mind gone to the sensations, a finger slides inside of me and I find my back arching as he bites gently on my neck.

A moan escapes me as my body rides his digit, his thumb caressing my clit as I move. One finger becomes two and he keeps working me. All I can manage to do is grip his shoulders to hold on for the ride as he brings me higher and higher.

“Fuckin’ drenched,” he whispers before nipping my earlobe. His lips come back to mine before I can let the embarrassment win. Lost in his kiss, I don’t realize when exactly his hand left my ass. I’m moving against his hand on my own pace now.

Wild abandon takes over as I seek release. I’m so close.

He breaks our kiss, locks his eyes to mine, “come for me, buttercup,” he orders as he presses his thumb firmly to my clit at the same time he moves his fingers inside me.

I see stars as I cry out in ecstasy before I fall against him.

Gently, he allows the aftershocks to course through me, his fingers slowing their movements but still milking my body for every ounce of pleasure. He removes his digits, bringing them to his lips where one by one he sucks my juices off them.

“Fuckin’ sweetest cunt, knew that shit would be good. Didn’t know it could be that good. Next time you cum on my face.”

His brashness has me red faced in shame.

He shakes his head. “No, Michele. Don’t retreat. You’re an adult, I’m an adult. It’s okay to feel pleasure in a time of pain. The two go hand in hand.”

“I’m a slut,” the words tumble out of my mouth.

Again, he shakes his head as a smile plays on his lips. Lips that are slightly swollen from our make-out session.

“Don’t, buttercup. What you gave me was beautiful, don’t taint it.”

“Jennings, I’m not this kind of woman.” I respond honestly.

“What kind of woman is that?” he challenges.

I look to the porch roof in frustration, “easy,” I whisper.

“Never thought you were.”

Sitting up, straddling his lap, I can still feel his hard length under me. “Howard and Fred are both dead because of me and I’m allowing you to give me an orgasm outside on a porch in a place I don’t know. That makes me a slut.”

He laughs and I swear I feel it through his dick. The slight twitch under me has my body wanting more.

See total whore.

“And now we’re getting somewhere. Why do you think someone is dead because of you?”

Jumping off of him, I realize my mistake.

“You son-of-a-bitch!” I yell and I’m not one to name call.

He sits up with a tent in his pants. For a moment I was feeling bad that he didn’t get off, but right this second, knowing he used sex to relax me, I hope he gets the worst case of blue balls known to man.

“Hey, watch yourself,” he warns as I stand over him.

Backing away, I have to move to the side to get from between the couch and table. “You used sex against me! What kind of man does that?”

He stands, towering over me, “I did not use sex against you. When we have sex, you’ll be feeling me for days. What I did was give you an outlet for all the emotions you have pushed down for years. What I did was test the waters to see if the attraction I have for you was reciprocated. What the fuck I did was learn your body because the next orgasm I give you will leave you unable to move. Luckily for you, we don’t have time tonight because right now, baby, the way you come alive when you let go, I want nothing more than to scoop you up, rip your pants off and eat that pussy with those sweet ass lace panties on. I want you to ride my face until you can’t hold your body up anymore and then I still want to make you come again before I’m done eating you.”

What in the sex crazed monster have I gotten myself into now?