Shortie: "Precession"

Introducing Orion Kazuo Korematsu, inspired by the gorgeous Rick Yune (my baby's daddy), and Phaedra Janelle Thornton, inspired by the lovely Nia Long.  "Precession" is the story of Orion's determination to win back the heart of the woman he left.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



Orion Kazuo Korematsu

 There is no denying the fact that I fucked up with the first footsteps that took me away from her, from them. And yet, besieged by weakness and failure, I kept walking. I walked and walked, still hearing her screams and the encouragement of the doctors to “push…push…push….” I hated myself; I felt lower than the slime on the ocean floor; more disgusting than cockroach entrails. What could I, a man who had nothing, offer her? What kind of father would I be to him? Who was I? What was I? What place did I deserve in their lives? At the time, the answers were no one, nothing, and nowhere.

That was six years ago. Since that time, I have changed my answers. Who am I? Orion Kazuo. What am I? A capo for the Ishiguro family. What place do I deserve in their lives? Her husband, his father. As it should have been, but I was too much of a broke-ass punk to realize that my presence, my support and my love would have more than compensated for my lack of financial stability. The day I walked out burned vividly in my mind. I’ll never forget it and I shouldn’t. What I did to them is unforgivable. Yet I want the chance to make it up to them. I’m certainly in a far better position to take care of them now. As caporegime for the Ishiguros, I have become a wealthy man; though I am not one to show it off.  It's not wise for a man in my position.  I'm the head of the southeast region of operations. The underboss, Seiichi Ishiguro, is very close to me, as I was fiercely loyal to the family, and have been from the day I started working for them. I owned a very nice apartment and two cars; my crews take care of our region and keep things moving. I could give them a good life, a better life. Not to mention that there was a hole in my heart that needs to be filled and I can’t go on until it is.

Phaedra Thornton

Six years ago, I left my girlfriend of five years, Phaedra, while she was giving birth to our son. I had been out of work for about two months, and my prospects were slim due to the economy. Phaedra was taking care of us and I was living with her. I was frantic about my child’s future. For the life of me, I couldn’t see not giving him all he deserved when I had nothing. In a fit of supreme weakness, I walked out of the hospital. I left. I left my newborn son and his mother, a woman I’m still crazy about. I walked out on my family, just like a punk-ass bitch. I regretted that mistake from that day on.   Phaedra is a strong, beautiful woman and I know she is a wonderful mother. After I started working for the Ishiguros, I began sending Phaedra money. 

Watching Phaedra

From a distance, I watched her push our son in the stroller, watched her take him to the park, watched her nurture him, watched him thrive under her love. I longed to be by her side and to hold our son in the air and play with him. Sometimes I watched her with him with low tears in my eyes because I dearly miss her and my son. Phaedra has always been beautiful, but now she is a stone-cold knockout and she turned many heads. She’d lost some weight--not too much, cut off all her hair and now sported a short haircut.  As I made my way through the ranks of Ishiguro’s soldiers and gained more respect and money, I always sent half of my earned fees to Phaedra and our son.

I always assumed that Phaedra would name our child Orion after me; she absolutely loved my name and what it represented. But I heard her call my son one day and then learned that she named him something else.  She called him Quintaz, which was not the name we’d agreed on, but a nice name regardless. However, I wanted my son to have my name. Selfish, I know, considering what I did, but Orion Kazuo, Jr. is my son’s real name.  

Phaedra and Quintaz

Every year, on May tenth, I send Quintaz a birthday gift. Something he can use, anything I think Phaedra might want for him. Anything that will help him in school. I also send her presents. She has always been partial to jewelry and pretty feminine things. When I send Quintaz’ present, I send hers as well.

You see, I am still in love with her. Six years have passed and that has not changed at all. However, with my current job status, I’ve ended up with another girlfriend. Her name is Nysha, and she’s pretty. We’ve been together three years, and she’s great. Nysha is protective of me and somewhat jealous, although she has no need to be. But I don’t love her. I like her and I care to a certain extent, but as far as loving her goes, there will never be a chance of that. My heart has always belonged to Phaedra. Nysha doesn’t know I have a son; it’s really none of her business.  



But thoughts of Phaedra and Quintaz are overwhelming me. I could do so much for them now. I could set Phaedra up in my penthouse and shower her with gifts. She wouldn’t have to work another day in her life. I’d give my son the world. I want the chance to do that, more than anything else. I want the chance to make up for abandoning them.  Nysha wonders why I don’t want to make love to her. It’s because I want Phaedra. Nysha is attractive and sexy, just what a man like me needs on my arm. But I want Phaedra back. I still want her, and I’ve decided that I’ll have her. She’s mine.

No need to explain who inspired this shortie.

to be continued...

Announcement

I'm excited to announce that Middle Child Press' debut work, The Sultry Court, has just received its first literary review.  Author Nichelle Gregory, of As You Wish, Lovin' Leela, and Hearts & Diamonds, gives The Sultry Court three out of five stars. 

"The Sultry Court, edited by Amaya Radjani offers a collection of hot, twisted, entertaining stories sure to tantalize erotica readers! You'll also love the gorgeous artwork and there's even a love poem for poetry fans!"




You can check out Nichelle's complete review at Goodreads!

The Men in My Life...

I love men.  I mean, I absolutely love men.  So I’ve decided to give them some props.  This is the beginning of a series called “The Men in My Life.”  An apropos subtitle would be, “He Can Get It!”  Ladies, let’s be honest.  We all know what “it” means.  I’m just keeping it real.

  

Anyhoo, I’m going to start at the beginning and make my way forward.  My first love is a toss-up between Bruce Lee and the character of Spock, played by Leonard Nimoy.  Since Bruce is a person and not a character, I’ll begin with him.

The Legend

Bruce and I met when I was a young girl; way back in the day when I sported pigtails and was subject to the whim of my brothers.  They loved kung-fu movies, and Bruce was the gold standard.  The first time I laid eyes on him, in “Enter the Dragon,” I fell head over heels in puppy love.  I was too young to understood exactly what was going on, but I liked the feeling nonetheless.  He was simply…magnificent.  The way he dispatched bad guys was awesome, and if you blinked, you missed it, because his moves were quicksilver.  I watched Bruce put many a dude on his ass and cheered every time.  Another thing I loved about Bruce's movies were that they were unpretentious.  They didn't try to be anything more than what they were, which was a showcase for him to put the beatdown on a whole bunch of guys, including Chuck Norris.  Chuck, as "Colt," got his ass whupped.  Classic.

Bruce v. Chuck in "Way of the Dragon."

I was devastated when my brothers told me that he died and there would be no more Bruce Lee movies.  But he was such a genius that we knew there would be no shortage of imitators.  However, as Marvin & Tammi once sang, “Ain’t Nothin Like the Real Thing, Baby…”

Dual Nunchuk Beatdown

My love for Bruce never died and he still holds a place in my heart after all these years.  A few years back, I purchased all of his movies and every now and then, I have myself a marathon.  Time well spent, as I study his moves and techniques as intensely as a crackhead feenin’ for a hit.  My favorite movie is “Way of the Dragon,” where he eliminates 1o thugs in a thrilling  double nunchuk scene.  Effortlessly, and looking fine as hell while doing so.

BAMF

“Game of Death” was his final film, and it was, unfortunately, unfinished.  Most of the movie has another actor in Bruce’s stead, but the final sequence is all him, sporting an iconic yellow jumpsuit and kicking ass all the way.

What always annoyed me was that, except for in “Fist of Fury,” aka “Chinese Connection,” and “The Big Boss,” Bruce was portrayed as largely sexless and fairly ignorant about women.  He had a fianceé in “Game of Death,” but since that ain’t Bruce in the movie, it don’t count.  At any rate, it annoyed me because I know that Bruce could pull major ass; why wasn’t that at least hinted at?  Of course, it was the 60’s, and we all know about the rigidity of censorship at that time.  But the directors could have shown Bruce a little love, pun intended.  He had serious sex appeal.  I haven't met a woman yet that's a Bruce Lee fan who would have denied him a piece of the snappy nappy.  To this day. 

Wicked Sexy

Well, this is my homage to Bruce.  Many have tried to step into your shoes, but they are terribly hard to fill.  Moreover, people shouldn't even try.  There are just some things, like remaking a Prince song, or screwing around with the recipe to chocolate chip cookies, that should be left alone.  You're maybe my first love, and definitely the first man I know to make an ass-kicking look absolutely delicious.  Rest in peace.

Rage, the Flexible Bullet

I’ve had the fortune (or misfortune; depending on the way you swing) to know some people who are so twisted with anger that they are barely visible to the rest of the world.  The genesis of the rage finds its way constantly into conversations; while the details are a bit sketchy, I’m able to grasp how and why these people became so mad.

I know what true rage means.

Anger in small doses is excellent; it clears your mind, focuses your thoughts and is a wonderful motivator.  But just like a car engine that has to cool after being driven, anger must be allowed to dissipate.  It will naturally if left to its own devices.  It takes work to stay mad.  You have to constantly remind yourself of the people that did you wrong or the situations that you were deliberately or inadvertently put in that caused the break.  You’re always revving the car and making it run hot.  What ends up happening is that you eventually burn out the engine.  The brain and the mind are no different.  For people who are constantly, consistently mad, I imagine that they wake up thinking about ways to assign blame to others just to keep the emotions high.  They may even put themselves into situations so that their pain isn’t allowed to end.

I love astronomy, so forgive the metaphors.  But they’re relevant. The energy an angry person uses is equivalent to fusion in the core of a supergiant star.  It burns and burns until the star goes supernova, and then there is nothing left but a tiny black cinder.  This is equal, IMHO, to the soul or the heart of a person who has stayed mad for years and never allowed the hate to die.  They’ve allowed the rage to consume them and it spews forth in vituperative rants that are caused by the slightest perceived insult.  They go off at the drop of a hat and lose their focus of the initial conversation; what typically results is some bastardized version of what went wrong in their lives.

Most people don’t want to be around this.  Everyone hurts or has been hurt in some form or fashion; some deeper and more extensive than others.  I am in no way disregarding their pain or making light of their situation.  I’m speaking of people who don’t know any other way to be but upset.  A person can’t go on forever manufacturing ways to perpetuate their rage.  It will consume them, burn them out and make them a shell of their former selves.  It isolates them because no one wants to be around a person who is pissed off every minute of every day.  It’s futile because the kind of stress that prolonged anger puts on a person can make her/him physically and mentally ill.  Regardless as to what someone thinks is owed to them, the fact of the matter is that the situation may never get resolved to her/his liking.  And the truth is that s/he may never know about it.

Stephen King once described madness as a flexible bullet.  The projectile is fired into the world to hurt others, but it eventually rebounds and kills the person who shot it off in the first place.  The same can be said of prolonged rage.  Individuals who are always angry throw darts—verbal and physical, metaphorically speaking—to hurt those around them, but they eventually are destroyed by the emotional barbs they shoot off.   Some think a change of scenery (or, gasp! a man) will make everything better, but no matter where you go, there you are.  

To a person who is so consumed by rage, please get some help.  Seek out counseling and work those issues out with someone who can be objective about your situation.  A lot of people want to belittle the mental health profession and discount the fact that there are millions and millions of people who truly need psychological help.  If you are so warped by past hurts that you can barely see life passing you by, call your insurance provider and get them to refer you to an in-network therapist.  Get some help and get yourself together.  The people who love you will put up with you, but only for so long, and only until the bullets you fire hurt or kill them.

If you think I have absolutely no idea of what I’m talking about and I’m just regurgitating some bullshit I read from somewhere else or heard from another person, then you could not be more wrong.  Game recognizes game, or in this case, takes one to know one.  

Book Review: As You Wish

As You Wish is a delightful romantic tale about a male Djinn and a female artist.  I haven't read many stories (especially lately) that feature a genie as a protagonist, and Nichelle Gregory's Vander is an absolute delight.  He's sardonic, sexy and fine as hell; the combination of which can make a woman's panties wet.  That pretty much sold me.  3/5 stars.

Read more:  Goodreads        BookBlogs

Into the Void

Any author can tell you that there are times when the muse is awake, the story flows like water.  And then there are times when writer’s block is so severe that s/he believes the dam will never break.  Being an author, of course, I have those same issues.  What I’ve learned during reflective periods is that when my muse is leading me, I am in a place where I’m more alive than at any other time in my life. I’m somewhere I always want to be; yet I cannot visit very often due to the understated danger of that wonderful strange place.  I suppose that is the point, because when I’m there, I’m completely there.  I call it the void.

 

Let me try to explain.

When I look back over my previous works, be they fanfiction or novels (and I could argue that there is a significant overlap), I’m always stunned at the layering, complexity and continuity of what I’m reading.  I read and go, “I wrote this?  Where in the hell did this come from?”  I’m not trying to blow my own horn or put my questionable talent on blast, because I certainly do not have the bank account to show for it.  What I’m trying to say is that when I’m in the void, I’m able to produce work that, by my normal standards, is impossible to replicate.  And not from lack of trying.

I can say this: when I’m in the void, it is just that.  It’s a dark place, a black place, a silent place, a raw nerve ending where my emotions are volatile and precarious.  There is no noise and there is no light; just the rapid reel of my thoughts, my pulse and my breathing.  I’m usually on the verge of tears, or they are streaming down my face.  Standard functioning is at a minimum: I don’t sleep, I barely eat, and I do not remember how I get through my days.  Nothing else is important.  Everything falls by the wayside.  All that matters is being in the void and telling the story that’s in me at that time.  It’s a metaphorical bloodletting; so much has built up that I have to bleed out or die from the overload. And sometimes I bleed for weeks.  Even months.

When I’m in the void, my muse is light-years ahead of me.  I’m not aware of very much beyond the frenetic movement of my hands.  I’m not in control; she is.  She’s like a wild mustang, a wayward missile, a rogue comet, and it is all I can do to hold on to her.  She pulls philosophy, thoughts and dreams from the dark undercurrents of my subconscious, combines them with one or two random unrelated and uncorrelated concepts and turns this miasma into a novel.  Pain is usually the other result; I guess that is where the tears come from.  But I feel better afterwards.

You may ask, “If I feel better afterwards, then why is the void dangerous?”

I’ll have to answer that in a later post.

Book Review: Women of Darkness II

The second Women of Darkness is not as good as the first, in my humble opinion.  While the theme of Volume II was more prevalent than Volume I, it was not as balanced.  More than half of the stories didn't register on my interest meter, but there were a few standouts.  I rate Women of Darkness II 2/5 stars.


Favorite Story?  "I Know What To Do" by Yvonne Navarro.


Read more:  Book Blogs       Goodreads

Up Next:  As You Wish by Nichelle Gregory, Dirty Little Secrets by Shiree McCarver, Folklore and Other Stories, and Purple Jars of Rice by Ankhesen Mie.

Book Review: Women of Darkness

So I've reviewed my first book on Goodreads and BookBlogs: Women of Darkness.  I gave Women of Darkness 3/5 stars.  It's worth a read, but not something you need to hurry up and get.  I found it on Amazon for $.35, and I can say it was worth way more than that, based on the concept alone.  I really enjoyed at least six of the 20 stories, and liked at least half of them.  Take a look:  Goodreads          BookBlogs

Favorite Story? "Cannibal Cats Come Out Tonight" by Nancy Holden.


Next on my list of books to review:  As You Wish by Nichelle Gregory, and Women of Darkness II, also edited by Kathryn Ptacek.

TELA Smutty Outtake, part deux...

Previous chapters...


He didn’t even need to ask.  Kit helped me get up and I got Jelani to his room and put him to bed.  Kit handed me a damp cloth to wipe his cheeks and forehead.  I tucked him in and turned on his mobile and the bed camera.  Then I walked out and quietly closed the door.  Kit followed me back to my bedroom, putting his hands on my waist.  As soon as the door was closed, he had me up against the wall and we were kissing passionately.  I throbbed all over, and from the feel of him, he did too.

We made it to the bed, where he tore off my panties and I pulled off his shorts.  To have him naked and on top of me was unspeakably fantastic.  We kissed fervently; our hands in each other’s hair, our bodies pressed together in a scintillating vortex of heat.  I always knew from the moment where we put our feelings for each other out there that our coming together would be explosive.  It took a month, but the shock wave from our union would spread forth like that of a volcanic blast, and would have the same ripple effects.

He broke the kiss and looked at me.  I was so wet; it was like I was drowning in my own juices.  Kit stared at me; his eyes were dark and as shiny as a moonlit midnight, and he pressed his lips to my ear and said, “You’re marinating.  You’re so wet for me.  I can’t tell you what a turn on that is, what it does to me.”  He reached down and slid the back of his fingers against my lips, brushing against my swollen clit.  I nearly shrieked in response before grabbing the back of his head and kissing him.

“Kit,” I breathed.  “I don’t know how long I can hold out…I want you in so many ways; I don’t even know where to begin…kissing you, stroking you…where to start?”

“Zuri,” he said, kissing my neck while angling my hips, “Calm down.  Just let me pleasure you.  Come if you want to come, but don’t hold back.  Let me know when I make you feel good.”  He pulled my arms up and pinned my wrists to the bed.  Then he bent down and took one of my tender breasts in his mouth, running his tongue around and the nipple in slow delirious circles before affixing his magnificent lips around it before sucking.  It was like there was a direct line between my tit and my girlfriend; the moment he started nipple play, she started gushing.  He released my hands and pushed my breasts together and buried his face in my cleavage. 

“Zuri,” he moaned.  It sounded like he was beside himself.  It certainly felt like he was.  He started sucking the other nipple while tugging on the first.  Incoherent sounds escaped my lips as I felt myself go.  I couldn’t help it; it has been a damn long time since I’d been touched like this—come to think of it, I’d never been touched like this.  I groaned and cradled his head as he exhaled his pleasure.  Kit bit my nipples and I gasped; the sultry mix of pleasure and pain made me gush again.  “Oh!” I cried.  “Oh, Kit, ohhhhhhhhhh!”  I locked my legs around his hips and could not stop myself from climaxing.  Number one.

“Mmmn,” he groaned, making his way across my cleavage to savor my other nipple.  I arched so that my breasts buried his face and he could access freely.  He let the other nipple go with a muffled ‘pop!’  “Mmmn,” he said again, “Zuri, so good…”

He pressed a hot kiss in my cleavage and licked his way down and over my navel, swirling his tongue in the dip.  Then he looked up at me; that smile creased his face and made my heart soar.  “Come down to the end of the bed so that I can get on my knees.”

I didn’t need any help, but Kit helped me scoot down to the end of the bed anyway.  Kit got down on his knees before me and dropped sweet, painful kisses on my thighs as he unrolled my stockings.  He spread my legs and looked up at me, working his way close to kiss my chest and my belly.  He moved with elaborate slowness as his soft hair and softer lips slid across my skin; the two sensations were mind-blowing. 

“Jesus, Kit…” I was about to climax once more.  Apparently, he sensed it, for he dipped his head and smelled me.

“Don’t do it,” he warned, pressing veed fingers against me.  “Wait another minute or so.  Wait for me, Zuri.”

“I’ll try,” I said, bracing myself against the bed.

He chuckled and dropped a kiss on my belly.  “We’re going to take our time, make this last for as long as the baby is asleep.”  Kit maneuvered my hips until my pelvis tilted and he slid his arms underneath my hips and over my torso me so that he could fondle my breasts.  He tossed my legs over his shoulders and it was all I could do to keep from squealing.  I gripped the bedcovers as sweat popped out on my forehead; I was breathing like a steam engine and flowing like a rapid mountain stream.  I couldn’t move my hips or my legs; Kit’s obvious pleasure at giving me head was more than enough to send me over the edge.  I couldn’t stop the torrent that was my impending orgasm.

“Kit,” I moaned, “Kit, move your head…I’m going to come.  Please, I don’t want to—”

“So come,” he ordered.

In his voice, I heard the command of a senior FBI agent; someone a criminal wouldn’t want to fuck with, and it drove me crazy.  I tried to hold back; I tried to keep from drenching his face, because for sure I was going to squirt this time.  He wouldn’t let me go.  He felt me tense up and paused long enough to say, “Don’t be embarrassed to climax, Zuri.  That’s what I want you to do, what I want to make you do.”

“I don’t want to come all over your face…!” I moaned.

“I want you to come all over my face,” he said.  “I want that.  So give me what I want.”

Then he buried his face between my thighs and slipped his tongue inside me, wiggled it, and that did it.  I exploded.  My toes curled and uncurled, matching the grip of my hands and Kit’s name left me on a long, low moan as I climaxed once more.  Number two.

          I fell back on the bed, winded, hands hurting from gripping the covers so hard.  “I can’t believe you made me do that.”

          He stood over me, his erection a beautiful brown exclamation point.  ““You’re delicious.  I’ll make you do it again, if you want.”

          “You’re asking me?”

          “I’m a gentleman,” he said.  “A gentleman treats a lady exactly how she wants to be treated.  If you want to come that hard again, I’ll make you.”

          I closed my eyes and moaned, staring at the moisture on his lips and his cheeks.  “Kit…”

He checked the nightstand and found the condoms.  Kit came back to the bed, staring at me.  He caressed my face.  “I have to be inside you, Zuri.  Now.  I’ll be as gentle as I can, because I know it’s been a while, but be advised that all I really want to do is just bury myself deep inside you as quickly as possible.  Put the condom on for me.” 

I grinned wickedly and took the package, then laid it on the bed.  He stared at me.  “Zuri?”

“Turnabout’s fair play, don’t you think?”

“Do you want to give me head?”

I slid my fingers around him and licked the tip.  “What do you think?”

“Sassy,” he said, his breathing constricting.  “And sexy.  Suck away; I won’t stop you.  But I do want to come inside you, so if I pull away, it’s because I’m about to bend you over.”

I murmured in delight, glad to take over.  He felt so good in my mouth; so hard, so right.  I slid my hands around his waist and relaxed my jaw, moving my head in a slow, seductive rhythm.  Soon, he had double handfuls of my hair and guided me over the landscape of his dick.  He tasted good; light and salty, a flavor I could get used to.

“Zuri,” he moaned, trying not to move my head faster.

I ran my tongue around and around, flicking the tip over his frenulum and the back of it over the head.  Kit stiffened, and just as he’d said, he pulled away from me, pushed me to the side, grabbed my waist and bent me over.  I love a man who isn’t afraid to manhandle me.  Lord knows I need it. I heard the quick rip of plastic, then another moment and he was inside me.  My back arched to accommodate him and he grabbed my hips, smacking my ass.

“Zuri,” he murmured.  “Zuri…”

 I closed my eyes and met his rhythm, popping my hips against his every time we connected.  “I feel you; you feel so good, it’s like you’re filling me up, Kit.  Mmmm….harder.  Pull my hair.”

A moment and then my neck was yanked back as he pulled my hair.  We moved faster, enjoying the smacking sounds our bodies made and the sounds that emanated from our mouths.  The bed bounced, knocking against the wall.  I spared a glance at the monitor to see if Kit’s and my noises woke Jelani, and was glad to see they hadn’t.  I’m an aural lover, and there was nothing like the music of really good sex.  I bent lower, putting my arms down on the bed and spread a little more.  My breasts were leaking.  I reached back and began to play with my clitoris.  He hissed and banged against me like a wild man.

“Zuri,” he said, his breath coming in hot hitches.  “Zuri, I’m about to come…I’m going to…”

I closed my eyes, pinched my clit and clamped down on his dick.  He felt the caving of the sugar walls and from that, burst.  I burst as well; running from the top and the bottom.  Kit trembled and stumbled forward, collapsing on top of me.  I grunted as I took his weight.  He covered my body and his limp dick slid out of me, mixing with the remnants of my third orgasm.

“Your ass is so soft, Zuri.  You’re so soft; every curve, every line, every bump…I love touching you.  I know that I’m heavy, but I could stay here with you like this.”  He rolled off me and removed the used condom.

I turned over and looked at him, swiping my sweaty forehead.  My breasts still dribbled, but not much.  Kit looked at me.

“You leaked during sex?”

“A couple of times; especially when you made me come.  I sprayed the bed a few seconds ago.

“I wish I’d been under it,” he said.  “That’s a kink of mine, Zuri.  Do you mind?”

“You have a breast milk fetish?”

“It’s a turn-on.  Are you leaking now?”

“Yeah.  Jelani will be up soon, so I should get cleaned up.”

Kit ran a hand over my back before lifting my arm.  He rolled in such a way that I was over him and he kneaded my breasts.  Soon, thin dribbles of colostrum escaped my nipples and he licked it off my skin.  He didn’t press hard and he made sure not to spray; he just gently licked the beads of liquid that formed on my nipples.

“If I were your son, I’d never give up the breast.”

“Whatever, Kit.  You know that greedy little fatboy is getting off the tit within the next three months.”  I remained over my sexy, quirky lover, immensely pleased.  “You make me feel good, Kit.  You know how to do it, do me.”

“I’m your man; I’d better know how to do my woman.  I don’t want another man trying to find out your sweet spots and your sexy secrets.”

I smiled and then a scream cut the air.  I looked over at the monitor.  Jelani was awake and wiggling out from under the blankets.  I sighed.

Kit gently kissed both nipples and slid off the bed.  “Go on and wash up.  I’ll get him.”

When he brought my squalling son into the room, Jelani was freshly changed.  He was on Kit’s shoulder and I watched as a few soft words and a couple of strokes on his back calm Jelani down.  Kit kissed the baby’s head and handed him to me.  I lay back down and arranged him against me.  Jelani started sucking and this time it really hurt, for I’d discovered that Kit too, was a hard sucker.

“You owe me, I said.  You suck hard too.”

“I promise that you can suck anything hard of mine anytime you wish.”

“Sure,” I said.  “Of course you would.”

Kit sat beside me, covering us with the sheet.  He kissed my ear.  “Zuri, that was beautiful.”

“I thought so too.”

“Were it not for the baby, we’d be at it again.”

“We would.”

“I’m spending the night.”

“I hope so.”

“I want this; I want all of this, all of you, every bit of it.”

“Kit, it’s already yours.”  I wasn’t about to play games with this man.

“I’m going to see to it that it stays that way.  He adjusted so that I fit in the curve of his arm.  We lay together and I found myself dozing against him while my baby nursed.  “You like it hard, don’t you?”

“I do, at times.  When the mood calls for it.”

“I’ll do what you want when you want it, Zuri.  Now get comfortable, let’s go to sleep.”

I couldn’t argue.  Kit made me come three times.  I wasn’t fit to do much else.  We lay back and I adjusted Jelani so that he could lie on a pillow.  I wrapped around my baby and Kit wrapped around me.  And we were like that, comfortable, happy, and as close to in love as two could be.  I wouldn’t put labels on what we had; Kit and I were together, and that was fine for me.

“Do you want more, Zuri?”

“Meaning?”

“More out of this, what we have here.”

“Kit, as long as we’re together and you’re good to my son, I’m fine.”

“Good,” he said. “I want what you want, and if that changes, then I’ll change to adjust to it.  I’m with you, and I want to continue to be with you.  I’m so crazy about you.  Let’s have something; let’s really have a life together.”

“All right,” I said.  “What does that entail?”

“An open mind and a man you can trust.  Completely.  Do that and I’ll do the rest.”

I ran my hands down Jelani’s back, thinking of how Kit supported me and helped me bring forth my son.  How he had defended me time and again; how he had saved me.  There was no reason not to trust him.  I looked into this man’s eyes; the potential father of my child, as far as I was concerned, and saw all I needed to see.  “Let’s do it.  Give me everything, Kit.”

fin.  For real this time.

The End of a Love Affair: Smutty Outtake

A/N:  I thought I was done with Kit and Zuri, but the other day, they demanded that I allow them to have sex.  So, for your reading pleasure...  Rating: NC-17 and a fetish warning.  Not for the squeamish.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The plan was to actually try and go out for the evening.  Kit didn’t mind Jelani being a part of the date; he wanted to include my child in nearly everything we did.  It made our dating plans interesting, for they had to accommodate a three-month old baby.  But for the mere fact that Kit wanted Jelani around made it quite easy for him to get anything he wanted out of me.  Not that he has; ever since that beautiful night in my bedroom where we put our feelings out there, the most we’ve ever done is kiss and make out.  He’s been busy working cases with J____, and I recently reported to Quantico for my new job as a firearms instructor.  And he didn’t want to rush, which was fine with me.

Kit made an effort to see me at least twice a week; we actually planned our time together.  On those days, we were determined to leave work at a decent hour (it’s more difficult for him than it is for me), and he came to my house.  I’ve been to his apartment a couple of times, but he prefers coming to me so I don’t have to lug Jelani’s diaper bag and carrier around.  Either way, when we see each other, there’s a pressure in my chest and a tingling in my extremities.  I wanted Kit in the worst way; kissing him leaves me with an ache, a void, a sweet pain that nothing in the world could eradicate, except for one thing.  The woman in me; the one he’d unleashed, screamed for him and I could deny her but so long.

  Kit made arrangements for a Brazilian restaurant that I’d been dying to go to, and it was a place where I’d be comfortable with Jelani.  My precious baby boy bounced in his little seat and made happy little noises while I made up my face and fixed my hair.  I haven’t dressed up in months and it felt good to do so.  I wanted to look good for Kit; I wanted to be irresistible to him.  I wanted him to look at me and think what a sexy woman I was; how fortunate he was to have such a hot babe as his girlfriend.  What I really wanted was for him to be unable to keep his hands off me.  I bought condoms and stuck them in my nightstand because if I had my way, we would have sex this evening.  Jelani slept in his room now, and I had no fear that he would hear us getting it on.

The doorbell rang once; to let me know he was there, and then I heard him come in.  I gave him a key to my house two weeks ago.  I stepped back and looked at myself; the dress was a classic Badgley-Mischka LBD; simple, elegant and just the right amount of clinginess to accentuate my curves.  I wore it with thigh-high seamed stockings and a pair of black patent B-M heels.  My boobs were huge; Jelani was still on the tit and he was a greedy little boy.  I did the best I could to harness my cannons and wore nipple pads just in case I leaked.  Kit made no secret about his fascination with my breasts, but I did want him to look me in the eyes at some point during our evening.

“Zuri?”

“I’m in my bedroom,” I said, turning this way and that, tugging, pulling and tucking to make sure I looked my absolute best.  Jelani bounced happily in his rocker and made ga-ga sounds, as if to emphasize how good his mother looked.

Kit entered the room and stopped at the door just as I finished securing my corset.  “Hi, Kit.”

He stared at me for a very long moment, and I took the time to appreciate the utter fineness that was my boyfriend.  His hair was down; I liked it loose, and he wore a black suit, Kenneth Cole from the look, with an open throated white shirt.  I closed my eyes as I felt my womanly recesses begin to burn.

“Zuri…”

“I haven’t had a chance to dress up for you,” I said.  “You’ve seen me looking beat to shit and my hair a hot fire mess, and you still want me…I thought it would be nice for you to see me in all my feminine glory and wonder if you’ll want me still.”

“If I told you that it wasn’t necessary to go out; that I’d be willing to have my dinner right here…” he waved his hand in front of me, “…would that answer your question?”

I blinked.  “I didn’t cook anything.”

He came towards me.  “I didn’t mean that, Zuri.  You look so…you look amazing. If you said, ‘Let’s stay here,’ then I’m willing to do it.  I’ll do anything you want, you know that.”

“It took me two hours to get ready, Kit.  Including the time it took for me to get Jelani ready.  So, we’re going out to dinner.  I didn’t pour my wide ass into this dress just to turn around and take it off.”

He put his hands on my waist and pulled me in for a kiss.  I put my arms around him and kissed him back, leaning into him.  Kit’s hot, solid, sexy and considerate.  He’s the kind of man any woman would be fortunate to lose herself in.  And I wanted to lose myself in him.  His hands slid down and over my ass.  He gripped my cheeks and I murmured against his lips.  He had never grabbed my ass before; nor pressed me into him so that I felt his arousal.  Kit broke the kiss and looked at me.  He had lipstick on his lips and I wiped it off, knowing my own were smeared.  I’d freshen up in the car.

“Zuri, I want you more every time I see you.  I need to be with you; I need more than the sweetness of your mouth and the softness of your skin.  I want you; all of you, every inch of you.  Let me make love to you tonight.  Please.”

I pressed my forehead to his and considered the fact that it really wasn’t that difficult to get into the dress, and it wouldn’t be hard to get it back on.  The stockings were thigh highs; I could conceivably leave them on, and the heels if he wanted me to.

“Kit, I need you too,” I said.  “I want you; I need you…and you owe me another chance to wear this dress.”  I turned around so that he could slip it off me, and he did so, kissing my bare shoulders.

“Zuri, Zuri…what you do to me…”  He unhooked my corset and it fell down by my feet.  I moaned as his hands came around to caress my breasts, which had started to ache.  I watched us in the mirror; Kit’s dark head bent over my shoulder, dropping tender kisses.  His body heat was intense; as if he were a sun and I was drawn in by his gravitational pull.  He stepped back to remove his jacket, slacks and shirt and I turned to be treated to the hardness of his body and the softness of his lips.  My hands found their way into his silky dark hair and his once again found their way to my ass.  He gripped me hard, and bit my bottom lip.  I gasped, overcome with surprise and desire at my body’s response to his aggressive actions.  His breathing grew rapid and his kisses intensified.

“Zuri,” he broke off, nibbling the tip of my nose.  “Change of plans.  I don’t want to make love to you.  I want to fuck you.  Do you mind?”

Who was he kidding?  I was tingling all over from the bite to my lip.  To ensure he understood, I bit him back and nibbled his chin.  “That answer your question?”

When my feet left the floor is beyond me.  My back was pushed into the firm comfort of my bed and then Kit was all over me.  We kissed; hard, hot and heavy and he was between my spread legs, gripping my bare upper thighs so hard I knew bruises would form.  I still wore my panties and he his boxers, and we ground against each other like it didn’t matter.  He stroked my breasts and fingered my nipples; making them ache even more and I groaned with unreleased need.

Kit liked to kiss, and he was damned good at it.  He took his time with my mouth, but there was nothing tender about the way he ravaged my mouth and nothing sweet about my response to it.  I longed for him to be inside of me; my body throbbed and I’d arched my wet panties up into him enough so that he’d know for sure how horny I was.

“Kit,” I moaned as he kissed and licked my throat.  I slipped my hand into his shorts and caressed him; his dick was warm and hard and it felt like heaven in my hand.

“Zuri,” he breathed.  “Zuri, please…”

I started to stroke him as we kissed, really wanting him free so I could grip him good, but our desire was shattered by the cries of my infant son.

“Damn it,” I said, my hand still around Kit’s erection.  “Jelani…why?”

Kit kissed me once more and rolled off.  I wanted to scream in frustration, but got up to tend to my baby.  He was crying and I picked him up.  He had soiled his diaper and he was hungry.

“Kit, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, getting up to come stand behind me.  “We’re going to be fine, my dear.  He can’t help it.”

“Can you get me a diaper, some wipes and powder?”

Kit went to get the items and I removed Jelani’s adorable little outfit and the smelly diaper.  I cleaned him up while Kit disposed of the mess, and then washed my hands.  Then I lay down on my bed, irritated while Jelani rubbed his face in one of my breasts.  Sighing, I attached his mouth to the nipple and cradled him.  Kit came back in and saw me.  For what felt like an hour, but could have been no more than seconds, he watched me nurse my son and then got in bed with us.  He told me to hold on to Jelani and adjusted us in bed so that we could lock legs and he could support me.

“Kit?” I asked as he resumed kissing the side of my face and slid a hand down my thigh.  “Maybe we should have gone out to dinner.  Perhaps that’s why this little guy decided to cut the ape and ruin the moment.”

He chuckled.  “It won’t be the last moment he ruins.  Besides, if you want to go out, we still can.  If not, I’ll definitely take you out to dinner tomorrow.”

“Don’t you have to work?”

He shrugged.  “Half the time, J____ doesn’t need my assistance.  He takes off on assignments at will.  It used to annoy me, but it doesn’t anymore.  He can do without me for another day.  I want to spend quality time with my lady and her little boy.”

At this, Jelani waved his fat little fist.  I couldn’t help but chuckle.  “I want to spend time with you too, Kit.  Apparently, so does my son.”

“Good,” he said.  Then he started kissing the side of my face as I switched Jelani to the other breast. “It looks like he’s getting sleepy.”

“I hope so.  He’s a hard sucker.”

“Is that right?” Kit said.

I smiled and cradled the baby.  “Yes.”

Kit’s hand slid under my arm and began to stroke my nipple.  “Does it hurt?”

“A little,” I said.  It was the truth; Jelani’s jaws were strong and he had a tendency to clamp my nipples.  I sometimes had to apply cold compresses to my breasts when he finished feeding.  I didn’t know when I would wean him, but it wouldn’t be long before I started.

“What about now?” Kit said, moving his kisses to my ear.

I closed my eyes and squeezed my legs together.  “It hurts in an entirely different way.”  This ache I didn’t mind.

“Is that right?” he asked again.

“Yes,” I murmured, praying Jelani was asleep enough to be put down.

He pressed a kiss to my ear.  “I have to admit, Zuri, that watching you nurse your baby is a turn-on,” he said.  “I could watch you with him all night.  I’m so horny for you right now.”

“Really?” I said.  I knew that he watched me feed Jelani sometimes, but I never knew it made him horny.  “That’s a bit of useful information, don’t you think?”

“Well,” he breathed, starting to pinch my nipple, “I’ve tried to stay away from you whenever you do it just because I don’t think I could stop myself from jumping you.”

“What about it do you find exciting? The way I look or the way he feeds?  Or is it just my boobs being on display?”

“All of it,” he said, moaning as a dribble of milk leaked onto his fingertips.  I whimpered in response and instinctively flinched.  Jelani’s head moved and his lips pulled away from my engorged nipple; still making sucking motions.  Milk streamed out and sprayed his little face.  But he was asleep.  Kit watched this and groaned, squeezing me tight.  “I have to have you now, Zuri.  I want you so bad that I can taste it.  Please, please put Jelani down for the night.”

to be continued...