Crazy Love (13 page)

Jackson was so close that Stacie smelled his lingering cologne; she turned away from the TV. “No to all of the above. I don't do shit just because somebody tells me to. I deserve all that and then some. Tell me what woman doesn't,” she demanded, then gave him a challenging glare.

“I don't know if you deserve it or not. I'm not the one to decide if you're worthy. I just want to know why you want all that stuff. That's all I'm asking. Why? Just tell me why you want all that stuff!” he demanded again, and to his delight Stacie was speechless. Then all hell broke loose.

“Get out!” she ordered, popping off the couch and planting herself in front of him. Her legs were spread wide, head cocked to the side, hands on her hips; she was ready to kick ass. When Jackson didn't move, she jabbed him in his chest with her finger. “I want you to leave. Right now! Call AAA or somebody to tow your truck. 'Cause I want your ass outta here!”

Jackson winced, her fingernails were like miniature daggers. He glanced down at his chest and saw two lines of crescent-shaped indentations zigzagging across his chest. This chick is whacked! She's gonna kill me!

“I'm leaving,” Jackson shouted. “You got some serious issues; you need to get professional help—and stop poking me,” he yelled, then swatted at her hand, which he totally missed. He connected with her forearm instead. Stacie's mouth widened with surprise as she stumbled backward and barely missed colliding with the coffee table. It only took her a second to straighten up, her yoga training paying off, and hurl herself at Jackson.

“What? You're hitting girls now?” she screamed, and the look of rage on her face caused Jackson to step back. This situation was getting out of hand. “Oh, so you're a real man, huh?” she taunted, and butted him in his chest with her breasts. “Hitting women make you feel big and strong?”

Jackson held up his hands to ward her off. “Come on now. I didn't hit you. All I did was swat at your hands and
accidentally
hit your arm. And stop poking me with
those things,”
he complained, but he was getting more excited by the minute as Stacie continued with her butting. As soon as he saw that she wasn't going to stop, he wrapped his arms around hers, pinning them to her side. They were face-to-face. He stared into her eyes and she glared back at him.

“You cool?” he asked, loosening his grip just enough so that Stacie could feel the blood returning to her fingers. “I'ma let you go, so chill. No more breast bumps. Okay?” Stacie nodded and he dropped his arms to his side, and as soon as he did that, Stacie pounced on him, hitting him with enough force that Jackson fell back on the couch and she landed on top of him. Her breasts pressed against Jackson's bare chest and he began throbbing. He knew from experience that in a couple of minutes he'd be hard enough to cut a diamond.

“Don't you ever do that shit to me again. Who the fuck do you think I am?” she screamed. “I'm not some hoochie momma that you're used to dating. I'm a
lady
.”

With that, Jackson stifled a retort: The lady who's lying on top of me with her mouth only a tongue length away. Out loud, he said, “I never said you weren't a lady,” Jackson argued, “I just think you have your priorities screwed up. You should be working on improving yourself and not on trying to fix your problems with external gratification.” He finished his thought, then peered up into her eyes.

She had stopped squirming now and stared down at him and he saw something in her eyes that he hadn't seen all evening. Vulnerability.
She is human,
he thought, amazed. He reached up and cupped her face, and she leaned into his hand as if she belonged there. A jolt of desire shot through her body. Jackson caressed her face, running his hand from her hairline to her jawbone; Stacie let out a contented sigh and let her body relax against him. So much so that they melded together like gold.

Jackson felt as though he had come home, and wanted to prolong the moment for as long as possible. He pulled Stacie's face to his and gently nipped at her lips. Then he softly traced the outline of her mouth with his tongue. He inched his way over to her neck where he feasted on the soft skin behind her ears, then moved down to her shoulder bone. Stacie moaned, then turned her head to take Jackson's tongue into her mouth and she sucked on it as if it were a piece of candy. Jackson eased back to her ears.

Stacie inhaled deeply and her breath came out as a soft moan. How he knew that her ears were her hot spot, she'd never know. He gently inserted his tongue in her ear and swirled it around until she thought she would burst. Jackson's hands moved leisurely down her body and encircled her waist, he stuck his finger in the waistband of her doily-size panties and peeled them off.

They kissed long and hard, giving their tongues a workout that would make any teenager jealous. Jackson slid his hand down to her breasts, which he stroked and kneaded until her nipples were hard pebbles that poked through her lacy bra. He gave an impatient groan, then did a trick that he had mastered in high school. Unhooking her bra, he whipped it off her body, then dropped it on the floor all in less than ten seconds. Jackson tugged his towel off and threw it on the floor and it landed next to Stacie's thong. Still got it, he gloated.

But he missed the look that Stacie gave him: a swirl of adoration laced with awe. Lying underneath her was an angel. Starting at the top of his head to the tip of his toes, he was perfect. She had been with handsome men before, but he was beautiful.

His skin glowed in the soft lamplight. His wide shoulders, thick arms and wide chest took her breath away. Her eyes traveled to his southern region, and she broke into a wide grin. He's no four-incher. Lord have mercy on me, she thought. Satisfied, she closed her eyes and focused on Jackson's hands moving over her.

Giving her a wicked smile, Jackson pulled Stacie up so that her breasts dangled over his mouth like two ripe grapefruits hanging from a tree. He leaned up and began suckling. He took a hard nipple in his mouth and sucked it until it glistened like a three-carat diamond; it tasted so good that he had to try the other one. Stacie sighed.

“So you like that, huh?” Jackson asked, and all Stacie could do was nod. She had lost the power to talk. “I like it too, baby,” Jackson said, and to show her, he cupped both of her breasts and lightly tongued them, making Stacie convulse with pleasure. “Do you like this?” Jackson asked in a naughty voice before he flipped her on her back.

He kissed his way down past her stomach and flitted around her pleasure point. When his tongue made contact, it was like she had been hit by electricity. She gulped deeply as her body arched toward his mouth. “I guess you do,” he chuckled as Stacie's body struggled to match his tempo. “Come on, baby, enjoy,” he soothed, as Stacie felt the wave of her climax, then crested and floated back down to earth. She looked at Jackson through desire-laden eyes.

“What the hell did you do?” she croaked. She had never experienced anything like it before. She had had orgasms before, but nothing like this; it felt like an earthquake had ripped through her body.

“Nothing that you didn't want me to do. Hold on, it only gets better,” he bragged, then hesitated. “Umm, you have protection?”

Stacie simply nodded, slid from underneath Jackson, ran into the bedroom and returned with the foil package. Jackson ripped it open and quickly slipped the condom on, then glanced down at Stacie. She was lying on her back, legs spread wide open, staring up at him with a look of hunger.

“I'll take care of that,” he promised. Stacie gave him a perplexed look, which quickly turned to desire as soon as Jackson entered her. “Am I feeding you?” Jackson taunted with each thrust. “Who's feeding you?”

“You are,” Stacie panted.

“You like Big J? Tell me you like Big J!” Jackson demanded.

“I like Big J.”

“You love Big J?” Jackson asked as he swiveled his hips.

“Yeah,” Stacie moaned.

“Tell me!”

“I love Big J!”

Jackson increased his tempo, thrusting deeper inside her. “Who's the best?”

“God, Jackson—you,” Stacie screamed; sweat was pouring off her. “Big J!”

“Is it a big piece?” Jackson asked, and punctuated each word with a deep thrust.

“It's big,” Stacie moaned.

“Too big for this?” Jackson stopped his deep thrusting and simply moved his hips, taking slow short thrusts.

“No—no—no,” Stacie stuttered. “It's not too big.” She cupped his behind, urging him to go faster.

“Nu-uh. I want you to feel Big J. I want you to feel every inch of him.” And to prove it, he slowed his movements to an agonizingly unhurried pace. “You feel Big J? You like Big J? Well, here, you can have him,” Jackson announced, as he picked up his pace, and he and Stacie rode the wave and coasted together.

Afterward, Stacie and Jackson lay on her bed. He had carried her there when the couch had gotten too uncomfortable. Jackson was flat on his back with Stacie's head resting on his chest. The soulful sounds of Anthony Hamilton filled the room.

Stacie angled her head to get a better eyeful of him. “Why didn't you call me?”

“Why didn't I call you? I called you. You never called
me
back,” Jackson drawled, then wrapped his arms around her and pulled her on top of him.

Stacie looked down at his face. His eyes were closed and his lips were curved up into a smile. “I never got the message.”

“I called you,” Jackson insisted as his hands lazily stroked her breasts.

“When…when did you call?” Stacie asked, then pulled herself out of Jackson's reach.

“The same day I met you at Houston's.”

“You did?” Stacie asked, warming inside, and she grinned broadly. “Wow!” Then, “Hey…wait a minute. What happened to the message?”

Jackson shrugged. “Don't know. I guess your answering machine was broke.”

“It wasn't,” Stacie said, shaking her head. “Are you sure you called the right—”

Jackson pulled her toward him and covered her mouth with his, smothering her words, kissing her until her moans filled the room. When he felt he had kissed all her words away he pulled back and said, “Let's just forget about it.” In a kiss-induced daze, Stacie nodded in agreement and returned her head to Jackson's chest.

Jackson felt Stacie's fingers roaming down his chest. “Ready for some more?” he asked.

“Kinda sorta. I want some more of you,” Stacie murmured, and Jackson chuckled. Stacie took that as permission and her hands wandered farther down his body. Leaning over, she flicked her tongue over his nipples until they were tiny stones, then she outlined his pecs, skimming the sensitive undersides with her tongue until he moaned.

Stacie reached down and grabbed his penis and gently stroked him. “Let me feel your mouth on it, baby,” Jackson moaned.

“Not yet,” Stacie said, “but soon.” She kissed his lips, then traced their fullness with her tongue, all the while her hand tenderly caressing him.

“Can you kiss it now?” Jackson begged, and Stacie laughed.

“Boy, you sure are impatient,” she teased. “But I'll do it.” She eased between his legs and left a hot trail of kisses from his mouth down to his penis. Her mouth slid over him and Jackson whimpered as he entered the softness of her mouth. She closed her eyes in ecstasy; he tasted good.

Stacie gripped Jackson's hips as she guided him in and out of her mouth, gently coaxing him to his climax. He tensed and she pulled away, his eyes popped open and he looked at her with bewilderment. “What are you doing?” he rasped. “I was so close.”

“I know,” Stacie answered. “You'll come…I promise.” She bent over and took him into her mouth again. She repeated the process until Jackson was a shaking mass of nerves, exactly how she wanted him. Stacie bowed her head and took him in her mouth, then reached down and cupped his balls, and gently rolled them around in her hand. Her tongue flicked over his tip just as she applied pressure to his balls and Jackson lost it, shouting so loudly that she was afraid the neighbors would hear.

“You said you wanted to come,” she said.

Stacie jumped off the bed, her bladder felt like it was going to burst. “I'll be right back, I need to use the bathroom,” she said. But she was talking to herself; Jackson was fast asleep. In the bathroom, she looked around at the piles of clothing covering the floor. “I really need to clean this up,” Stacie muttered, then her gaze fell on a pair of leather pumps.

She licked her lips, then swiped a hand across her nose; the desire she had suppressed earlier now returned, this time tenfold. Her nose began itching, her palms became sweaty and her heart thudded in her chest. Maybe I'll do it a little bit. Just a little bit, she promised herself. She eased off the toilet seat, took two steps, scooped up the shoe and brought it to her nose. She took a tentative whiff; it wasn't one of her favorites, but that didn't matter.

Her nose tunneled deeper into the shoe, familiarizing itself with old territory. She groaned softly as waves of pleasure washed over her. Her surroundings became secondary as her sniffs increased with such intensity that she sank down onto a pile of dirty clothes and began working the shoe like a dog with a bone.