Indulgence (129 page)

“Poor girl.” I’m picking up and cleaning up from the day’s
work as we talk. “So what are you doing for the rest of the day?”

“I’m driving back from St. Louis. I should be in by seven.
Want to come over?”

I think for a second. “Why don’t you come to my place? I can
start cooking and by the time you get there, it’ll be done and waiting. I’ll
try to have it ready by seven. If you’re late, it’ll keep; if you’re early, you
can wait!”

I love the sound of his laughter. “Works for me! Want me to
bring anything?”

“Your gorgeous smile.” I can see it now, and I’m almost
giddy thinking about it.

“Got it with me. I’ll see you around seven. Can’t wait.”

“Me neither. Jaz?”

“Yeah, babe?”

“I love you.”

I can hear the smile in his voice when he says, “I love you
too, Kimmie. See you in a bit.”

“Be careful!” I yell into the phone.

“Okay! Okay! I will! Bye, babe.” With that, he’s gone.

I dance around the workshop, anticipation coursing through
me, rising like sap in a maple and just as sweet. Everything in me wants
everything about him. It really seems that, for the first time since Phil left,
I have a chance to have a happy future. And I want it with Jaz. He’s everything
I’ve ever wanted in a man, and he wants me back. That makes me more than happy.

That makes me ecstatic.

There’s a rap at the door, and I turn the sauce down before
I head that way. I pull it open to find him standing there, bottle of wine in
one hand and a huge bouquet of roses and carnations in the other. Ah – my old
fashioned fantasy realized! I take both out of his hands, set them on the table
by the door, and kiss him before I ever close it. “Wow. I like that,” he grins.

“Yeah. Me too. And thanks. Let me put these in water.”
Without me having to ask, he follows me to the kitchen.

“I just wanted to bring you something. The last few days
have been busy and we haven’t gotten to see each other,” he says as he stands
behind me, his arms wrapped around my waist, and he kisses me on the side of my
neck. I feel the hair at my nape rise. “I’ve missed you, Kimmie.”

“I’ve missed you too.” I get the flowers into the vase and
spin toward him. When I do, he pins me against the edge of the countertop.
“God, Jaz, I want you,” I manage to mumble into his mouth as he kisses me.

“I want you too. But we’re not wasting this food. Let’s eat
first. I’m sure we can work something out afterward.” He pulls me away from the
cabinets, only to smack my ass hard with his open hand. “I’m going to warm that
cute little backside up tonight.”

“Promises, promises!” I giggle. “Okay, dinner first. Then
don’t make me wait.”

“Not on your life, beautiful,” he whispers into my mouth and
then kisses me again. There are no sweeter lips on earth. But he interrupts the
kiss with, “What’s that smell?”

“Oh shit! Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” I squeal out. When I
pull the roasted potatoes out of the oven, I find it was just the butter in the
bottom that was getting a little hot – the potatoes are perfect. “Oh, god. I
thought I’d ruined them.”

“Look pretty damn good to me. Can I help you with anything?”

“Sure. Open the bottle, please?” I point to the wine bottle
sitting on the counter, the one he brought in. “Opener’s in the drawer under
it.”

“So, Kimmie, I’ve been thinking.” I hear him doodling with
the bottle opener and then that
paahhhh
sound it makes when he pops the
cork out. “You asked me if we were going to live together.”

The sound I hear in my ears is my own blood whooshing
through my veins, and my heart starts to slam so hard against my ribcage that
I’m afraid it’ll break loose and skitter across the floor. “Yeah?” I manage,
breathless and weak.

“So maybe we should consider that. I mean, if we were in the
same house, we would’ve seen each other every night instead of going several
nights without. Seeing each other, I mean. Not sex. Although we haven’t . . .
well, you know what I’m talking about, right?”

I nod, trying to make words form. “Uh-huh.” I swallow a
couple of times and take a deep breath. “I mean, yes, Sir. I know what you
mean. And you’re right. We would’ve seen each other every night that way.”

I hear the
glug-glug-glug
of liquid pouring from a
bottle and a glass appears in front of me. “So let’s think about what that
would mean, if we’d want to do that, how we’d do it. If you want to, I mean.”

I nod again. “I want to.”

“Okay. Sounds good.” He leans against the countertop right
beside me, turned toward me while I cook. “By the way, Melissa called me
today.”

“Yeah?”

“Adelaide’s pregnant.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, is that right?”

“Yeah. That’s what this was all about. She’s pregnant and
wants to marry the guy. Melissa told her that it was fine, but she had a lot of
people she needed to confess to about the lies she told on my girl. I don’t
know if that’ll happen, but at least the mystery’s been unraveled. And Melissa
had nothing to do with any of it. She’s still heartbroken, but now she knows
she had no part in the breakup of the relationship.”

“Poor girl. When will she get to come home again?”

“Probably not for a couple of weeks. That’s quite a trip
from there to here.”

“Sure is. I’m glad you weren’t gone out of town the weekend
she showed up.”

“Me too.”

“So how’s work?”

He takes a sip of wine before he answers, and his face goes
flat. “It’s work. It’s not as good as my last job, but it’s a job.”

I hate the look on his face. “What did you do at your last
job?”

“Basically the same thing, only just one side of it. I found
the plants that used the products we manufactured, and I coordinated with their
buyers to develop new ones so they had what they needed, something made
specifically for them that totally covered their requirements.” Before I get a
chance to ask any more, he adds, “One year my bonus was over two hundred
thousand dollars.”

“Oh my god!” That’s more money than I’ve ever seen. “That’s
just, well, I don’t know what to say.”

“Say goodbye, because it’s gone. They let three of us go,
and then shut down. Now I do the same job, and then I have to go to the damn
factories to see what they do with the parts so I can coordinate with the
engineers to find ways to make them better. I’m doing twice the work. I’m
getting half the pay. And no bonuses – none. I was excited when Melissa got
accepted to Dartmouth. These days I’ll just be glad when she’s done and I’m
hoping I have a little savings left.” Now he’s not looking at me as he speaks,
just staring out into space.

“But the cost of living is cheaper here, right?” I offer.

“Yes. That’s true. But it’s still hard to take.” He takes
another swig of wine and looks over at me. “You know, guys identify themselves
by what they do. When a woman’s asked, ‘What do you do?’ she typically says,
‘Oh, I’m a mom and I’m married to so-and-so.’ But a man? He says, ‘I’m a
chemical engineer’ or ‘I’m a crane operator’ or something like that. He
identifies himself by his job. And when we lose that job? It’s emasculating.”
Now he’s staring back down into his glass, swirling the wine, watching it coat
the inside of the bowl.

I just put my spoon down, take the glass out of his hand,
set it on the countertop, and wrap my arms around his waist. “I don’t identify
you by your job. I identify you by
you
. And you’re a helluva guy, Jasper
Andrew Givens.” After thinking for a few seconds, I look up into his face. “So
if you could do anything in the world that you’d like to do, what would it be?”

“The truth?” I nod at him. “I’d be a farmer. I’d love to
plow and plant and cultivate. I’d love to have cows and pigs and a horse or
two.” Now I’m shocked, and I guess I look it, because he shoots down my unasked
question with, “My grandparents had a farm in Oklahoma. I loved spending time
there, feeding the chickens, going with my grandpa to drive the cows up to the
feed lot. I loved it all. I loved the dust when the combine was running in the
soybeans in the fall. I begged my parents to let me live there, but they
wouldn’t. They loved southern California. But I always wanted to go there, to
live there.”

“I assume they’ve passed?”

“Oh, yeah. Many years back.”

“And what happened to the farm?”

“It’s still in the family. The house is really run down and
I’m guessing the fields are in bad shape. Probably overgrown with weeds and
shrubs. But I remember what it looked like when I was a child, and it was a
magical place, Kimmie. The creek. The big trees. The tire swing hanging from
the big oak out in front of the barn. Magical.” There’s a far-away look in his
eyes that steals my breath because I can tell it hurts him to talk about it.
Then his face meets mine, and it’s almost like a light has flickered out in his
soul. “But I grew up, got a business degree, got a good job, married the woman
of my dreams, and watched as it all went to hell in a hand basket. My dreams,
up in smoke.” He kisses my forehead and my lips reach to his for something
stronger. Instead, he gives me a little peck and then says, “So let’s eat this
wonderful meal you’ve cooked. It smells delicious!”

“I hope it is.” I busy myself with getting everything on the
table while he pours more wine and sets our places with the things I’ve left
stacked up. I’ve made pork chops cooked in wine and shallots, roasted beets,
and roasted asparagus with my signature Hollandaise sauce, and I let him serve
me again. We eat and laugh and talk, and a firm plan entrenches itself in my
mind.

Jaz Givens wants to be a farmer. And I still have a few
tricks up my sleeve. I’ll just play along and see what happens but, if I’m
right, I may be able to make that dream come true.

With dinner cleaned up, we sit in the den and talk until
late. I didn’t realize we had so many things to talk about, but we do. We talk
about religious theories and the global market and the defunct space program –
we just talk and talk and talk. At eleven, I say, “Oh, god! It’s late. Are you
staying or going?”

“I’d like to stay.”

“Good! I didn’t want you to go!” I giggle. We’ve been
sitting there on the sofa, my legs draped across his lap, and he’s rubbed my
feet practically the whole time. His shoes lie beside the sofa, one on its
side. Even though the uppers look almost brand new, the soles are very worn,
and a pain shoots through my chest. Looks can be so deceiving, and the leathers
I made for him must’ve been quite a luxury. Then I realize: He wanted to meet
me. That’s what the leathers were about. That was Michael, telling him about
me. It was his way of having an excuse to meet me. That’s one very expensive
dating service, but it worked. I smile to myself, thinking of how much he
sacrificed to order those leathers. Probably dipped into his savings. He
should’ve just introduced himself! But I probably would’ve just ignored him.

Look what I would’ve missed. Oh, god, I look at him and my
heart just melts. We’re so good together, and I can’t wait to see where this
goes, to know what it’s like to be with this man all the time. Without
thinking, I ask, “So what about that contract?” I instantly wish I’d kept my
mouth shut in case he changed his mind.

He places a palm on my cheek. “I’m ready to sign anytime.
What about you?”

“Yes. Anytime.”

“I’ll arrange some kind of special celebration. I think we
owe ourselves and each other that. What do you think?”

“I think I love it.”

“I love you.”

I giggle again. “I love you too.”

His hand wanders up under the front of my top and when his
fingers pinch my nipple, I squirm. That gets my top pulled right off, and my
bra follows. He pulls out his belt and I wonder what he’s going to do with it,
but I don’t have to wonder for long. Making a figure eight out of it, he wraps
it around my wrists behind my back and tightens it, and a throbbing sets up in
my clit. I just sit and wait while he pulls his slacks down, followed by his
boxer briefs, and the hard, sexy object of my affection greets me with a
heartbeat-induced wave. “Stand up, sub.” When I’m standing, he stands too,
slips his pants and briefs completely off, then strips mine off so I’m bare. He
levels a smoky gaze at me. “Present, sub.” I kneel without the benefit of my
hands, and he helps me with a hand under my elbow. Then he steps directly in
front of me. “You’ll suck me until I come. I’ll be taking it deep, so be
warned. I expect complete compliance.” He steps up until his manhood is resting
against my lips. “Open wide, sub. Prepare to please me.” My mouth drops open
and in a long-practiced move, he buries his cock in my throat.

It takes me about five strokes to adjust and then I’m good.
I’m concentrating on keeping up some suction as he uses my mouth and throat,
his hands wrapped tight in my hair, and he moans out every so often as he
strokes into me. He smells of soap, his cologne, and the musk that defines a
man, a heady blend that hardens my nipples and makes my pussy weep. The faint
taste of pre-cum sets my heart racing, and I double down my sucking efforts,
longing for that moment when my mouth is flooded and I’m overcome by the taste
of his desire. And I don’t have long to wait; I feel him rise up onto his toes,
his back arching, and he pours into me with a strangled gasp of, “Fuck,
Kimmie!” I’m waiting to breathe with his hardness lodged tight in my throat as
he grinds in to wring out the last few drops, and I draw in a ragged breath
when he moves back, then start trying to swallow it as fast as I can.

His hands run down my cheeks and his fingers curve under my
chin as I lick him, lap at him, make every effort to capture every drop.
Pulling my chin up to look down in my face, he smiles at me as I lick my lips.
“Very good, baby. So good. Stand up.” He helps me up with hands under my elbows
again, then kisses me, his own hands wrapping around my bound wrists behind my
back. When he pulls back, he whispers, “Your turn.”