Meet Me (12 page)

Breathing ragged, he brought his lust sedated gaze down to
mine
. “Play with your pretty clit.”

I
wasted no time. He looked down and whispered another curse, watching
my
fingers wiggle between
my
lips.

He pulled his cock slowly out
with a
groan then slowly slid it back in. The heat in my clit finally caught up to the moment, getting hotter.

He
w
atched my face as the pleasure built, leaning in and placing soft kisses next to my mouth, open with incessant moaning from the slow stroke of his cock in and out of me as I masturbated.

When my moans became louder, his movements sped up, but remained shallow. Felt so damn good like that while I rubbed my clit.

He pulled away to watch again. “Fuck
,
you look good baby,” he groaned.

I
looked down,
moaning
at the sight. Okay, yes, it did look good.
I
was not a looker. What
I
barely remembered of sex with
John
was done with eyes closed or lights off.

Morgan’s
speed picked up when
my
cries pe
a
ked. He knew.

Oh my God,
I
came double again.
My
clit and
my
G thing,
I
guessed. During the traumatic pleasure,
I
lost hold of reality. Was that
my
voice crying out like a sex crazed lunatic?
Oh yes, it was.
Now
I
understood why in some movies, they’d portray a nirvana when a person had their first orgasm.
I
was there, in that other place that wasn’t earth
.
Now, but not here.

I
vaguely remembered it ending, all
I
knew was the taste of his sweat on
my
lips as
my
head lay on his shoulder,
panting
in the aftermath. He moved with
me
, supporting
my
limp body in his possessively tight embrace. Never removing his
softened
cock from inside
me
, he sat on the bed and
s
trok
ed
my
back.

Oh my God, would
I
cry every damn time
we
had sex?
I
fought the tears back, but those consuming emotions of a life so long without this kind of love
,
and affection
,
and adoration, refused to be suppressed.

Stupid sob escaped. He was going to think
I
was nuts.

But instead he continued to stroke
me
, adding soothing sounds.

“I’m…so sorry, I don’t mean to cry every time, it’s just…” Another sob surged and
I
held
my
breath to stave it off, all while Morgan cooed to
me.
The
more sweet
he was, the more
I
wanted to cry.

The phone rang and
I
jumped in his arms. He tightened his embrace. “Don’t panic.”

I
moved to get off and he protested with a begrudging moan.

“Don’t you need to answer it? Who can it be?”
I asked.

“Maybe it’s my wife.”

I
jerked
my gaze
to him.
“Wife!”

He chuckled and
shook his head a little
. “I’m kidding.”

I
eyed him, skeptical. “Kidding about having a wife or that being her?”

Morgan walked to the phone, mumbling, “I’m not married Tasha.
Except to you, if you say yes.”
He picked up the phone. “Hello?” He looked at
me
. “Yes, hold on.”

He held the phone
toward me
, nodding his head at the room next to us. Oh, Sheri!

I
hurried to the phone, remembering to cover
my
breasts at least.
Would take a little more than two compliments to undo a lifetime complex.
I
yanked the blanket off the bed and covered
my
front while taking the phone from his outstretched hand
. I
ignor
ed
his eye roll
over my modesty
, but
I sure couldn’t
ignore his ass as he walked away.
Mmm
-mm that man was mouthwatering.
“Hello?”

Sheri snickered on the other line
and
I
waited patiently for her to catch her breath. “Do you have
any idea
how
loud
you were?”

Oh shit. Heat filled
my
cheeks as
I
stole a glance at Morgan who stood like some god, wiping
me
off his cock with a towel.
“Sorry,”
I
whispered, turning
my
back to a grinning Morgan.

“Listen, don’t panic, but your mom called.”

“What? Why?”

“Something about one of the kids crying for you.”

Panic and guilt consumed
me
. “I’m coming.”
I
hung up, cutting off Sheri’s words, not caring what they were
at that point
.

I turned
to Morgan
sitting
on the bed next to
me
in only his jeans. Before
I
could say a word he pulled
me
onto his lap. He kissed
my
cheek. “What’s up beautiful?”

“I…I have to go.”

He nuzzled
me
with his nose and lips. “Why?”

God, how could that feel so good? I didn’t
want to leave him. “My baby needs me. She’s crying for me.”
I
hadn’t been told that, but
I
felt it in
my
gut. Made it true enough.

“When can I see you again?”
He kneaded
my
calf.

“I don’t know.”

He kissed
my
shoulder softly. “When does your bastard husband come back?”

I
slapped his leg. “Don’t say that.”

“Why not?”
He nibbled now. “I should kill him for hurting you all these years.”

“D
on’t
say
that!”
This with another slap.

“Why do you defend him?”

I
fought off guilt with a slight
shrug. “Just…he’s…well he’s the father of my kids and…and he provides for us…”

“For them.
Not you.
You.
H
e neglects.”

“Well, I don’t think it’s altogether intentional.”

“How can you even say that? Please don’t defend him, it sickens me.”

It was adorable how offended he was.
I
regarded him th
oughtfully
for a second
. “I know I’ve seen you before, but I can’t place where. Please tell me you haven’t seen me before
looking like a dishrag
.”

“
Mmm
.
”
He
leaned
and
angled his soft lips over
mine
. “
You’re
definitely a dish, but not a rag
.”

He eased
me
down on the bed with his kiss. “Marry me.”

Chapter Eight

“Joe is coming over. Why don’t you get ready for company, he’s bringing his wife and kids.”

I turned from the dishes at the sink. “What? Why didn’t you a
sk me if I wanted company?” Anger hardened my jaw. That’s how it was with him.
Everything for his charity projects and nothing for me and my friends and family.
The rare occasions my friends or family came, he’d be scarce till they left.
Rude asshole.
He even did it with my daughter’s fiancé. Every
time he came, he was suddenly absent. Guess he thought: my daughter, my friends, my family, my problem. Well, same to you bub.

Not to mention his so called friend was a real weirdo. He had crotch issues. The man would stand there talking to you while he pressed his wrist in little jerky tics against his pubic area. It was
really
difficult to pretend like he wasn’t doing it, nodding and smiling pleasantly while he
openly bragged about how he liberated his twenty-two year old wife from her prison of stupidity in religious matters.
The woman he forced to live i
n
a
camper prison with two kids,
insisting it
was just
perfectly fine and yet
complaining about how she didn’t keep the shoebox clean.

What a hypocrite. Wonder if that’s why my husband got along so well with him.
And to hear the two of them get together with his brainwashed wife
while their
two kids ran wild
during their
“visit” was jaw grinding. Not to mention
our
kids hated when they came over because not only did they have to entertain them, they had to clean after the little bastards.

God forgive me, but I hated other people’s ill-behaved kids
.

I hurried to the room to “get ready”, locked the door
,
and grabbed my lap top. It’d been a week since I’d met with Morgan and
my friends
knew all the dirty little details. Lois was
proud,
Gloria was…I think torn between proud and convicted.
Her and I both.
I was having one hell of a time with my conscience. And Sheri was all
you better be careful, he’ll likely show up at your house.
Lord, like I needed to worry about that.
But h
e swore he’d never do that when I confronted him.

My
insides jolted when Morgan’s box popped up.

Morgan:
Is it wrong that I can’t get the memory of your clit off my tongue?

Oh my God.
The pleasure member between
my
legs twitched
at his words.

Morgan:
When can I see you again? I can’t stop thinking about you. I’ve jacked off three times today, fantasizing what I want to do to you.

I rolled my
eyes as
heat filled me
. They’d had cyber sexting via PM. And it always started like that, with
me
asking questions and him telling
me
what he’d do while
I
masturbated. It was so amazing because
I
could easily imagine his words no
w
that
we’d
been together. And always
after
my
orgasm
he finished
with
I love you.

Of course
I
cried every time.

A knock sounded on the door.
“They’re here. What are you doing?”

I
shut the laptop, feeling like
John
could see.
“Getting dressed
.
”
Dumb ass.
I
h
urr
ied
to change. Shit
,
I
hated this
.
I
shouldn’t cater to his bullshit ways like this.
This had to stop.

“I made coffee.”

Of course he did.
Cause ole Joe loved his coffee.
Everything
John
did had other people
attached to it. Never just
us
, always somebody else and we got the fringe benefit of whatever that
was. After all, ministering was priority. Funny how what I did on the computer was considered neglect to the family, while what he did was considered God’s will.