His One and Only (13 page)

More silence, but then the bed creaked, which he assumed meant she was actually doing what he said. Just the thought of her touching herself was enough to turn his morning wood into top-of-the-day steel. “Don’t forget to narrate, darlin’,” he said.

“I’ve got my fingers on my kit kat,” she said.

“Just on?” He let his hand descend to his own nether regions and found his dick nearly standing up straight it was so hard. “That’s not good enough. I want you to do a thorough exploration. From the inside. Put your index finger in.”

The bed creaked again, and he imagined her opening herself up and putting one finger into her wet snatch.

“It’s in,” she said, her voice tremulous.

“All the way in.”

More movement, and her voice rose in pitch when she answered, “Yes, all the way in.”

“And what are you findings?” he asked, stroking himself.

“I’m wet,” she answered.

“How wet?”

“Very wet.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m very sure,” she answered.

“Just in case, put your middle finger in there, too.”

This time she made a small smothered sound. “It’s in there too, now.”

“And it fits?”

“Yes!”

“I’m still not convinced,” he said. “Go ahead and put those other two fingers in there, too.”

Her knee fell against his side, and he nearly came in his hand knowing it was because she was opening her legs wider to do what he said.

“I’m wet,” she said. “I’m so wet.”

It was no longer safe to keep stroking himself, so he said, “I’m not so sure your fingers aren’t too small for the job. I’m going to need to perform the check myself.”

Josie’s hips jerked when he removed her hand and replaced it with his own.

“Oh, God,” she said.

“I don’t hear you narrating.”

“I… you have your first two fingers inside of me.”

“Be more specific, Josie. The details are the best part.”

“You’ve got them kind of hooked in there and you’re… you’re rubbing your hand over the rest of my kit kat.”

“And what are you doing, Josie?”

“I don’t know,” she answered. “I guess I’m trying to rub back.”

“And why are you rubbing back?”

“Because,” she had to stop for a moment, even as her hips ground up against his hand. “I’m trying to get more.”

“More what?”

“More of your hand. More of… I don’t know! I don’t know.” Her breath was coming out in short spurts now.

“I think you do know,” he whispered in her ear. “I think you know exactly what you want. I can feel your clit getting bigger, darlin’. It knows what it wants, even if you don’t.”

“I—oh, God…!”

He felt her pussy clench and then there was a rush of liquid over his fingers.

“
Now
you’re ready.” He waited until she was done before pulling his fingers out. He put them into his mouth and tasted her cum. “I’ll need you to hand me a condom, then I want you to get on top, darlin’.”

She let out a few ragged breaths before answering, “Whatever you say, Mr. Prescott.”

He heard his nightstand drawer open and close, then he felt her climb on top of him, settling her butt right above his pelvis. He could feel her soaking wet pussy on his abdomen and his dick spasmed, threatening to go off right then and there if he didn’t get inside of her.

He barely managed to get the condom on his pulsing dick, yet he couldn’t resist continuing to toy with her. “Final test. Put me inside of you.”

“You want me to…? Um…”

She sounded a little stymied, and that surprised him. Had her husband never let her get on top? If Beau could see, he’d take every opportunity to watch Josie Witherspoon coming on top of his dick. If he’d been married to Josie—

He stopped himself right there. Josie hadn’t liked him enough to agree to so much as a date in high school. And now that he was blind, the only reason she was in his bed was because he’d agreed to pay her an exorbitant amount to be there. He doubted there was any amount of money that could convince her to marry him.

But he could imagine it, he told himself. “That’s exactly what I want, darlin’,” he said out loud, picturing her with a big diamond ring on her finger that announced to the world that Josie Witherspoon belonged to him.

There was a pause, then he felt her tentatively take hold of his dick.

“I don’t hear you talking.”

“I’ve got your thing in my hand… again.”

His cock spasmed when her fingers slid over it. “Fuck, Josie, I wanna hear you call it a dick. Or a cock. Or anything but those candy-ass words you keep subbing in for it.”

“I’ve got your dick in my hands,” she said. I’m…”

He felt her lift up, and the next thing he knew the head of his cock was enfolded within her sweet pussy. “I’m pushing it in.” Her voice strained, and it was easy to picture her sitting on his cock, sucking in her breath as she pushed him into her slick tunnel until he was all the way in.

She wiggled on top of him, and there was wonderment in her voice when she said, “I didn’t think it would fit all the way in from this position.”

He was surprised, too. She fit so tight around him; it was like she’d been custom made to sit on his dick. Custom made for him.

He groaned. It had been fun letting Josie take the lead for a little while, but he couldn’t stand it anymore. He grabbed her delicious ass with both hands, and pulled her hips forward.

She moaned above him, but he wasn’t letting her off the hook that easily.

“You had better not have your eyes closed,” he said.

“Your hands are on my butt and your dick is going in and out of my kit kat.”

“Tell me how it feels,” he said.

“Good.” Her hands splayed on his chest and she leaned forward. But she must not have realized that action would not only make him go in deeper but also bring his cock in direct contact with her clit, because she cried out in surprise. “Oh, my God! So good…”

The tips of her breasts grazed his chest as he moved her up and down on his cock. He was glad when her breaths quickened above him, because he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold on.

She came with a broken cry only a few seconds before he exploded inside the condom. “Fuck, Josie, fuck…” he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her down, holding on to her with fierce tightness until he was empty.

“I can’t believe…” Josie said. Then, “…I can’t even form a sentence.”

A knock sounded on the bedroom door, causing Josie to let out a squeak of surprise.

“Mr. Prescott, it’s me, Mac.”

Josie began to squirm above him. “Oh, no!” she whispered.

Why were older black people always trying to interrupt whenever he was in the sack with Josie?

“Go away, Mac,” he snarled.

“I can hear you’re… busy, Mr. Prescott, but I wanted to make sure you didn’t need my services today. I could run out and get us some breakfast, since from what I heard, Miss Josie is, er…also busy.”

“Oh, my God, oh, my God. I can’t believe this is happening.” On top of him Josie tried to wiggle free but Beau kept her right where she was, on top of his cock, even though he was now fully spent.

“Go away, Mac,” he said again, even surlier this time. “And don’t come back.”

“Don’t come back?” Mac said. “Are you firing me, sir?”

“You can’t fire him!” Josie whispered. “This job is how he puts food on the table for him and his wife. It’s not his fault he caught you banging the help.”

Irritation prickled inside of him. Apparently, Josie was still in the habit of defending other people against him. And she obviously thought he was in the habit of firing people. Beau harrumphed. Fire someone once before you make her your mistress, and you’re labeled a mean boss for life.

“No, Mac, I’m not firing you,” he called back. “I’m giving you most of the week off with pay. Now get and don’t come back until the big appointment on Friday.”

“Are you sure, sir?”

“Yes, I’m fucking sure,” he answered. “Now get out of here.”

“All right, see you Friday morning.” Apparently Mac knew better than to look free vacation days in the mouth, because the next thing they heard was the sound of his receding footsteps.

“Happy now?” Beau asked Josie.

“Well, you didn’t have to be so rude about it. I mean, cussing? That man’s old enough to be your father.”

He grinned. “Who do you think taught me how to cuss? If you’ve got a problem with how I handle business, you need to take that up with Dad’s ghost.”

She went still above him. “I was sorry to hear about your daddy’s passing.”

Beau finally released her from his hold, the mood effectively killed. “Don’t be. He was a bastard. You knew that, everybody did. And at least we were finally able to take the company public, and fill dad’s vacant CEO position with someone who, unlike me, actually gives two shits about the company.”

“Maybe so, but I should have made it back for his funeral. I mean, you came back to Birmingham for my mother’s funeral. I should have done the same.”

Her voice sounded far away now, like she was talking to him but giving her full attention to something else.

“Why don’t you run down and whip us up some breakfast?” he said, trying to get her back. “Something good like pancakes.”

That did it. He could hear the smile in her voice when she said, “Mac wouldn’t approve.”

“Well, Mac isn’t here, is he?”

She chuckled and said, “Whatever you say, Mr. Prescott.”

CHAPTER 12

“
WHATEVER
YOU SAY, MR. PRESCOTT
”
was a phrase Josie became very familiar with over the course of the week, during which they fell into a comfortable but intense routine of amazing sex, followed by meals that definitely weren’t on Beau’s diet plan.

She whipped up as many of his old favorites as she could, given the challenge of having to use whatever ingredients were in the house. But eventually she told Beau that she had to go to the grocery store.

“Does that involve you leaving the house?” he asked when she introduced the subject over a breakfast of grits smothered in butter, cream, and cheese on Wednesday morning.

“You know it does,” she answered, fingering the lace trim on the black satin nightie she was wearing. She’d overnighted it to herself a couple of days ago, thinking he’d like the feel of it, even if he couldn’t see it. She’d been right. It was eleven in the morning, but they were just now eating breakfast because he’d kept her up well into the night “breaking in the nightie,” as he called it.

Now he shook his head, in denial of her grocery store request. “What if I need you while you’re out?”

A shadow crossed her heart. By “need,” she knew he didn’t mean need her help. He still refused to accept that from her. In fact, she’d yet to see him walk any meaningful distance by himself, because he found a reason to send her out of the room whenever he wanted to go to the bathroom or take a shower.

However, when she came back from whatever errand he’d sent her on, she’d see the evidence of his struggle in the messes he left behind: overturned furniture, drawers of clothing in complete disarray, a shower littered with cleaning products he’d accidently knocked over.

And despite her attempts to stay cynical and detached from his situation, his helplessness worked at her heart. She wished he would let her help him, and hated that she had to stop herself from offering after he’d snapped, “No, Josie, I don’t want your help. That’s not what I’m paying you for, so stop fucking offering. ”

Reminding her of their arrangement was his way of shutting down the conversation any time she tried to broach the topic of his blindness. Otherwise, he treated her more kindly than she ever would have expected. He complimented her food, kept her laughing with his NFL stories, and kept her coming more times than she would ever have imagined could be physically possible.

Thinking about how he had thanked her for the nightie by dipping his head between her legs and licking and kissing her down there until she begged him to stop because the back-to-back orgasms were becoming too much, she crossed her legs and tried to focus on the grocery store issue.

“Imagine these grits with shrimp and some green onions. Maybe bacon, too.”

“God, you fight dirty, Josie Witherspoon.” He threw down his cloth napkin. “Go on then. I got to take a shower anyways and now I got a hankering for shrimp and grits I know won’t be going away until you break out Miss Loretta’s old recipe.”

Josie took advantage of his blindness to pump her fist in triumph. At least she thought it was a triumph.

But when she went to clear the dishes, Beau caught her by the arm. And one arm was all he needed to pull her into his lap. Soon his other hand was under her nightie and inside her womanhood, exploring her wet folds with rough curiosity. And her pussy, despite being a little sore still from last nights’ sexual Olympics, nonetheless rallied, the bud between her legs standing at attention.

“Well, look at this,” he drawled in her ear. “Josie Witherspoon, were you sitting over there with no panties on, getting wet, thinking about what all we did last night?”

Since that had been exactly what she’d been doing, her only answer to that was to blush.

He was massaging her clit now. “You know, I was going to leave you alone this morning, but it seems to me you might have one more orgasm in you.”

He still had on the sweatpants he wore as pajama bottoms, but she could feel his rod, so hard and heavy against the back of her pussy, he might as well have had it pulled out.

Now his fingers were relentlessly plunging into her tunnel while the ball of his palm made circles over her clit with a steady rhythm.

She bit her lip and cried out, the satin material of her nightie gliding over her body while his hand brought her to rough climax.

Bubbles of pleasure rose through her kit kat and then exploded inside of her, turning Josie into a sack of liquid bones as she slumped forward on the table.

“Now you can go to the grocery store,” he said from behind her. “And pick up some condoms so I can welcome you home good and proper.”

Despite his promise to welcome her home, when she came in with the groceries, she found him in the kitchen fuming in front of the open refrigerator.