Calendar Girl (19 page)

‘You’re naked,’ I said.

‘I know.’ He stepped in to me. His bulk and warmth pressing to my air conditioned cooled skin. I took his cock in hand and just squeezed him, gently but firmly so that he stilled. Paying attention to my hand on his skin. ‘I like that. The feel of you touching me. Hell, the
look
of you touching me.’

‘Condom? Hurry, hurry,’ I whispered.

He reached to a drawer overflowing with tubes of paint, papers, brushes. He really did need me in a professional capacity but that was neither here nor there. I pushed my hand past his and found the foil packet. I ripped it open, kissed him. ‘Please don’t change your mind about me,’ I said, baldly honest to the point of feeling a sharp stab of pain in my chest. I was so anxious and so eager I felt giddy with it.

He put my shaking hand to his own chest so I could feel his heart galloping. ‘Does that feel like a heart that’s changed its mind?’

I pulled my hand back and leaned in to kiss the spot where my fingers had just rested. His chest jumped under my lips with the force of his pulse. I licked at the flat of his nipple and trapped the very tip between my teeth. ‘You taste like summer and heat,’ I said.

Penn pulled me in and kissed me, his hard length pressing to my pussy lips. I was so wet I felt the dampness at the tops of my thighs. ‘You taste like sweet wine,’ he said.

‘Funny, I haven’t had a drink. Yet. But I feel like I could use a bucket,’ I laughed.

‘Not yet. Soon.’ He pushed me back and tried to take the condom from me. I snatched it back.

‘No, no. I get to do it. I want to,’ I said. ‘Please.’

He let me, thrusting his cock forward so I could reach him. I studied him for a moment, though he made needy, gruff sounds in his throat. My fingers danced along the flared head of his cock and I ran my thumb over the slick split on the head. I bent to press his length to my cheek and when he stilled, breathing hard like he’d been running, I turned and sucked the very tip into my mouth. The most sensitive part of him running over my bottom lip like velvet and rose petals. ‘I think you’re trying to kill me,’ he breathed. ‘Trust me, I’m worth way more alive than dead. At least at this point in my life.’

I smiled, finally unable to wait any more even to taunt him, I rolled the condom on and sat up straight to look at him. ‘I’ve waited a long time for this,’ I said. ‘God, I hope I’m good.’

His eyes went wide and then laughter overtook him, dark eyes flashing, white teeth gleaming as he threw his head back and roared. ‘You are too perfect. This is why I lo–’

‘Don’t,’ I said.

‘Fair enough,’ he said and grabbed my ankle, pulling me forward on the table I had sat my bare bottom on. I slid along on a fall of papers, my ass coming to the very lip of the table and when I went to stand, he pushed me back. Gently but firmly. I laid back a bit, and he parted my thighs, rubbing the slippery head to my cunt and said. ‘But at some point you’re going to have to let me be honest with you.’

‘I know,’ I said. I lost the rest of my words when he pushed into me. His thrust rough and gentle all at once. He took me like I was his, entered me like he had the right. And I welcomed him, legs spread, eyes open, lips parted as he slipped deeper into me and stilled. Hovering over me, dark eyes studying me as I was pinned there. A butterfly secured to a velveteen board. I had never felt more naked than when his eyes were on me that way.

‘You’re going to have to accept my heart. Or break it,’ he said, moving. His movements so subtle and fluid that it felt like a tide rocked us. Like the earth was swaying and we were simply holding onto each other.

He fit in me perfectly. He touched all the right places in me. His lips touched mine and I felt unglued and safe all at once. He kissed me again, moving deliberately but gently and tears pricked my eyes. ‘Why are you crying?’ he asked, kissing my eyelids, licking at one salty tear as it broke free.

‘I don’t know,’ I sobbed.

‘It’s OK. I sort of feel like crying too.’ He kissed my lashes and my nose. He kissed my lips and my chin. His lips travelled my neck and my shoulders and he took my nipple into his searing mouth and sucked so that the humid sweetness of his tongue made my pussy clutch up around him. ‘I feel that. How good you feel. It’s not even describable. It defies definition, the soft perfection of your pussy.’

‘You’re making me blush,’ I gasped. I was trying to open for him and enfold him at the same time. My body a gasping, grasping oxymoron.

‘You’re blushing all over,’ he said. ‘Your face, your neck ... your chest.’ Penn dropped kisses on the skin he mentioned until he pulled free of me and I sobbed. ‘Your belly and your ...’ He trailed off as his tongue found me. Pushed into me and then sucked my clit. He moved his mouth and tongue on my pussy until I grabbed handfuls of his papers and cried out, coming long and hard. It has been so long. Too long. And all that time I’d had a head full of him. Of Penn and this. So his mouth on me was just too much and his soaked tongue was enough to push me over that edge, plunging me into release.

‘Come back. Back up here. In me. Penn, come on,’ I reached out for him with every word, my hands blindly seeking the firm flesh of him under my fingers. His baritone chuckled laced itself with a foreign tinge, warmed my belly and sent my heart into another erratic dance. My fingers found his forearms, big and strong from stretching canvases and hauling gear and working. He worked this land, I’d seen that when I drove up. Huge gardens more like sections of farm land. He was a peasant, an artist, a man and a god all in one.

He thrust hard so my bottom scooted across his work table. Something cool smeared along my skin and something tacky caught in my hair. I didn’t care. I pulled at him with my legs, forcing him deeper, yanking him closer. Closer to my skin and my heart.

He pulled out again and I yelled something mindless, but it was only to flip me. My upper body pinned to the table, my legs spread wide and my hips yanked up just enough so that when he bent his legs he was able to drive into me, pushing my belly to the lip of the table. He said in my ear, ‘Look there.’ He pointed to a nearly hidden section of mirror and I could see us.

Me pinned almost flush to the workspace, at his mercy, under his jerking body as he fucked me. My loose and tangled brown hair brushing my flushed face. My own big blue eyes staring back at me, caught somewhere between intensity and submission. He fucked me and I watched him. His eyes met mine in the mirror. So dark they were hard to read, but I could read his body. The joy and the war within. He wanted to come and he wanted to wait. He bent, eyes still on mine in our reflection. He bit the back of my ear and said to me, ‘I want you to come with me. I want you to come at precisely the moment I do. I want to feel you go tight and ripple around me. I want you, Merritt, to milk every last drop of come out of me. I want to see you come while I come. Can you do that?’

‘God, yes, I want to. I will. I will try.’

He found me with his fingers, rolling my clit between thumb and forefinger before starting in on circles that pressed that rigid bit of flesh so that my whole pelvis filled with pure pleasure. ‘Come with me, Merritt. I can’t hold on much longer. You’ve been in my mind all this time. Front and centre. The star of the show.’

He gave one more gruff thrust and he was coming and I was coming with him. Watching his gorgeous, perfect face.

He kissed the back of my neck, holding me there. His lips trapping me so that I had to stay right there and see us. See us in the mirror. Together.

‘Did you change your mind?’ I breathed.

‘You are a special kind of crazy, you know that?’

‘So they say.’

Chapter Twenty-nine

‘G
IRL, YOU
’
D BETTER SPILL IT
.’ Jeffrey was filing his nails. I could hear it over the damn phone. The man could be at a funeral and file his damn nails.

‘I’m here. I couldn’t wait. I took matters into my own hands.’

‘I bet you did,’ he said. I heard Jack laugh in the background.

‘Do you have me on speaker, Jeffrey?’

‘Of course I do. My cuddle bunny needs to hear too.’ He said.

‘Cuddle bunny?’

‘You know it.’

‘Gag,’ I said.

Jeffrey laughed and Jack yelled what I thought was
don’t be a hater!
I rolled my eyes. ‘It was–’ I blew out a deep breath. ‘Wow.’

‘Where is Captain Transylvania anyway?’

‘Romania,’ I corrected.

‘Whatever. Where is he?’

‘In the shower,’ I said. I rolled to my back on Penn’s bed, the ceiling was painted with oversized lilacs and irises, hints of filtered sunlight and that deep navy of a summer sky was wound all through the mural. Breathtaking.

‘And you’re not with him?’

‘We tried that,’ I said. I grinned. ‘It didn’t work.’

‘How did it not work, Merritt?’ Jack yelled from the background.

‘We couldn’t get to the getting clean part. We just ended up doing it. All soapy and slippery and–’ Jack was now yelling
Lalalalalala!
and I laughed. Mission accomplished. The phone beeped as Jeffrey picked up the receiver.

‘So you went and now he’s there and you are calling to tell me he’s hung like a god and made you speak in tongues?’

I nodded and rolled back to my belly. I wore one of Penn’s tees and a slouchy pair of white socks. I felt small and secure in his tee. Silly but true, it was only cotton steeped in his scent but it made me feel a rush of emotion. ‘Pretty much.’

‘Good,’ he said, sounding satisfied.

‘Good what?’

‘Good you sound happy, Merritt. You really do. You sound glowy and content and
peaceful
and that’s just through a hunk of plastic.’

‘How would you know?’

‘Hello, it is I, Madam Jeffirina, the fake psychic here to predict a very, very long happy life with your tall, dark, Transylvania bloodsucker.’

‘Jeffrey, he’s not–’

‘A life of fun and laugher and art. Drag shows and red wine. Sex and some sex and a smattering of sex. Good food, organisation, smart, brilliant children with accents and big dark eyes. Madame Jeffirina predicts joy.’

I paused, my throat closing up just a bit with my feelings. ‘Shut up, Jeffrey,’ I said, trying to laugh it off.

‘You know, honey, I think this time, I might be dead on the money.’

‘I’m really nervous,’ Penn said.

‘Don’t be. My mother should have already eaten today. Therefore she won’t thirst for your blood or want to crunch your bones.’

He paused, one foot out of the car, bouquet of fresh flowers clutched in his paint-stained hands. ‘Pardon?’

I bent low, laughing, holding my belly and snorting like a pig. Such a pretty picture of lovely lady-ness. ‘Come on, Penn. I’m just fucking with you. My mother is practically crawling out of her own damn skin to meet you. She has called me six times to ask what to wear. To meet you! You’re fine. She might faint, but you’re fine.’

‘What if she doesn’t like me?’

‘Are you straight?’

‘Yes.’

‘Are you fertile?’

‘I ... um ... I assume I am, yes.’

‘Are you hungry? Will you eat?’

‘Of course.’

‘Do you like me?’

‘Nope. Even back at home I had already fallen in lo–’

‘Ahhhh!’ I yelped. ‘Do you
like
me?’ I nodded so that he got the hint to just say yes.

He frowned at me but nodded. ‘Yes.’

‘Are you a serial killer?’

‘No!’

‘Any plans to make a girl suit out of me?’

‘Merritt! God, no!’

‘Then you’re in! Let’s go!’

My mother didn’t faint but she did bat her lashes so forcefully and often I wanted to ask if she was having an allergic reaction to her own makeup. She also said, ‘Enchanté’ which made Jeffrey snort blush wine up his nose.

The six of us, my mother, my aunt, me, Penn, Jeffrey and Jack had wonderful Filet Mignons, baked red potatoes, fresh salad and ripe fruit. Gooey butter cake, a throwback to my mother’s growing up down South, and vanilla bean ice cream. Jeffrey gave Mom Lucite wedge heels that contained fake butterflies and I gave her a beautiful locket I knew she would assume was for pictures of future grandbabies, I meant for it to be a place for a future love’s photo. My mother needed a man. I just couldn’t find one willing to be wrapped and presented as a gift.

When Jeffrey started making his signature drink (a Drunken Cow) I wandered to the back of the property hand in hand with Penn. ‘So how did I do?’ he asked, pinning me to a tree with his big hands and kissing me hard.

Fire shot through my body at his touch. I was warm and pliant from just one kiss. Penn sensed it and he slid his palms up the insides of my thighs, pushing my little blue sun dress up as he touched me, He pushed his fingers under my panties, blocking me from view with his body. ‘You did ... oh, yeah, you did fabulous.’ I shimmied against him. Enticing him to want me, wanting him right there in the purple summer light in the small cluster of trees. My mother had a weeping willow way out back and it shielded us from the house. We could hear the laughter and loud music; I was sure my mother had pulled out Tom Jones by now.

Penn pushed down my panties and I shook my hips as they fell in a soft drift of cotton down my thighs. I dug in his jean pocket for his wallet, flipped it open and without looking found the condom. He was faster than I was, so I handed it over as his lips crushed down on mine, my loose braids snagging on the rough bark. ‘Part your legs for me, Merritt. Show me how proud I made you. Make me believe I did good.’

‘You did good,’ I said and raised my leg so he could hook his arm under my knee. Parted my thighs so he could find the slippery seam of my pussy. Arched my hips so he could drive into me and I nipped his earlobe when his lips found the hollow of my throat.

‘You feel so unbelievably good,’ he said. ‘Watching you eat that gooey cake, with the crumbs all over your rosy, full mouth was enough to make me insane. I wanted your mouth. I wanted your hands on me.’ He drove into me harder, his voice rough. ‘I wanted this, to be in you, more than I can even describe.’ His ‘r’s rolled off his tongue and my pussy went taut, catching up around the thrusting heat of his cock.

‘I can imagine,’ I breathed.

Penn put my hands above my head, pinning me there. He still held my knee over the other arm. I could feel my pulse beating in the back of my knee, at the base of my throat. It roared in my ears and Penn pressed his lips to my ear. ‘I can’t take my time with you here. We have to get back. But I can take my time with you later. And I will.’

On that, we both came. The cries we stifled were swallowed by the night song of crickets and cicadas. By distant thunder and sudden stormy winds.

When Jeffrey kissed me goodnight, he said, ‘Madame Jeffirina spoke the truth.’

I pinched him so he squealed like a pig but I smiled. ‘Hush, boy.’

‘I’m just saying!’ he said, rubbing his bicep like a big giant baby.

‘Drama queen,’ I said and kissed my mother goodnight.

‘You know it,’ Jeffrey laughed.

My mother did not prostrate herself or dissolve when Jeffrey and Jack kissed. My Aunt Helen seemed more curious than anything else. Penn laughed softly and meant it when he said, ‘It was very nice meeting you all!’

‘We’re all going to the Flamingo tomorrow night,’ my mother said. ‘All of us. Seven o’clock,’ she said, pointing to me and slurring only a little. ‘Be there.’

I glanced at Penn who laughed. ‘Of course,’ he said and kissed my mother’s hand before we left.

‘Wow. Now I think that time she actually almost did faint.’

At home he did have his way with me. Took his time. He kissed every inch of me, licked me, made me come. Babbling and begging for him to never take his tongue off of me. To let me just rest. But he didn’t let me rest. Penn licked me straight to orgasm, lapped me to a second. Put my hands to the wall above his bed and took me from behind. Moving softly against me at first before pushing me onto all fours and holding my hips, slamming into me. Saying my name like a plea as he came. He did take his time with me. And then he took his time holding me close all night. Covering me when the storm rolled in, watching me sleep when he woke up, which was often. I could feel his eyes on me and it made me feel safe.

The queen with the heart dress a la Lucille Ball and the big red wig was singing
Wind Beneath My Wings
. I hung up the phone in my hand and put it in my pocket. ‘Who did you call?’

‘No one,’ I said, turning to kiss Penn. The next act was to be my brother. He was dressed as a bad ass rocker with skinny jeans, boots, chains a punk do and his song, did you guess,
Love Is a Battlefield
. ‘Just checking in on someone.’

‘Jack is still angry that you won’t do backup for this one.’

I rolled my eyes. ‘I’m here to watch. Show off my man. Drink some drinks. That is all.’

Bubbles, decked out in cotton candy blue, waved at me and when Penn turned toward the stage, she fanned herself like she was going to catch fire. Her dress was a studded evening gown the colour of January ice, her heels some strappy flashy numbers I’d kill for. I gave her a thumbs up and she grinned, primping her ice blue flip wig like she was going to steal him from me.

‘Who was that,’ Penn whispered in my ear.

‘That was Bubbles and she is fabulous. She thinks you’re pretty hot.’

‘So’s she,’ he laughed.

‘You know it.’ His hand slipped up my thigh and even in the packed and crowded bar I shivered.

‘I want to get you alone. Very much,’ he said.

‘Me too, but my mother will be here in a moment. Let’s get her settled. Oh, here they come!’

And here they did come. My mother and Aunt Helen decked out in their very best summer suits. Their little straw purses clasped in their hands and the patrons and performers alike greeted them, smiling. I waved. ‘Here we go,’ I said, pointing to the purple flamingo festooned table up front. ‘That’s Jeffrey’s table. And Jack’s too. They share.’

‘Of course they do,’ Aunt Helen said, beaming. She looked as if she’d been beamed aboard the mother ship but was perfectly fine with it.

I snagged my mother’s arm and said, ‘There’s someone Jack wants you to meet,’ I said.

‘Who?’ She touched the locket I had given her. Maybe that was a good omen.

‘Oh, ask him. Here he comes.’ I waved to my brother, decked out in his best impression of petite Joan Jett.

Jack was ushering an older gentleman next to him. The man looked mildly stunned but he was a tall, handsome man, not stooped by age but enhanced by it. ‘Mother, this is Stanley. Stanley, this is my mother, Ellen.’

They greeted each other and Stanley said to my mother, with a bit of befuddlement, ‘My son is just turned gay.’

‘Oh, my. I was just there,’ my mother said patting his arm.

‘I don’t mind much,’ Stanley said. ‘Whatever makes him happy, but this is a lot of ... interestingly dressed men. Women? Men.’ Stanley shook his head.

‘Oh you poor dear, mine is going on an all-gay cruise soon.’ She still whispered
all gay
like it was a secret, and Bubbles, who was passing, laughed loud and long. I grinned. ‘It will be fine though. The important thing is that they’re happy.’’

‘I lost my Margaret about five years ago. I’m not good with change.’

‘I lost my Henry ten years ago and I’m still not good with change,’ my mother said, giving Stanley her arm. She ushered him up to our table.

Penn grinned. ‘You’re like Cupid, only hotter,’ he said.

‘Nah, that was Jack. I just approved and helped herd them in.’

‘Merritt!’ came a loud voice. We turned to see the MacDonalds rushing at us. ‘Thank you so much for inviting us!’

I hugged Trudy and Jim and introduced them to Penn. We got them seated at a green flamingo bedecked table (courtesy of Bubbles) and when a queen named Taffy LaPull took the stage I grabbed Penn’s hand and pulled him to the back. I could see Jeffrey and Jack watching the show, talking like an old married couple. My mother was talking Stanley’s ear off, Aunt Helen looked mesmerized and the MacDonalds were holding hands like teenagers.

‘Everyone is happy,’ I whispered.

‘Are you happy, my Merritt?’ he asked me as I tugged him into an old spare dressing room no one used because they all complained it was too small. We didn’t hit the light, the closet light was on and it gave me plenty of glow to see the handsome man in front of me. ‘I am very happy. My heart is happy. Other parts of me are happy,’ I said, pulling him in by his shirt collar and kissing him.

Penn pressed his cock to my pelvis. I felt the hard ridge that showed his desire for me. His want of me. Feeling wanted was important, but feeling wholly wanted was crucial. ‘Parts of me are happy too,’ he said. He caught my wrists up in his hand, bound them behind my back with his big fingers. He pushed his fingers under my skirt, into my panties.

‘I felt that,’ I said.

‘But the parts you can’t feel are my mind. My mind is happy. You make me see colours I’d forgotten.’

I liked that. My head fell back and he fingered me and rubbed my own juice along my clit and my swollen sex. ‘That feels good.’

‘My heart is happy. I love you, Merritt,’ he said. His lips flush to my lobe, the moisture from his words snaking into my ear. I froze but then accepted it the same way my body accepted his fingers. His touch.

‘My soul is happy. You make it feel light.’ He pushed my panties down, let my hands free. I looped them around his neck and he lifted me enough that my cunt was flush with his cock. I wriggled so he would have to cave.

He was a blur of hands and denim and rubber and then in me. My back smashed to the cold plaster wall with some famous queen smiling over my shoulder, her headshot more glamorous than my prom pictures. Or my wedding pictures, for that matter.

My toe hit the sofa arm of the ugly green ancient love seat. I secured my foot, looping my other leg around Penn’s narrow waist. He smelled so good. So fucking good I felt high when he was near. ‘Tell me you love me, Merritt,’ he said to my throat.