Montana (Modern Mail Order Bride Book 2) (16 page)

“My, you have such a way with words,” she said, still moving her hand.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.  He is a feisty fella,” Billy Joe told her.

Pecola didn’t care, she wanted to please him during his lunch break.  Tonight, she planned to do even more. Billy Joe Johnson was a man who was stealing her heart. Loving him was far easier than she had ever imagined.

B
illy Joe never imagined how wondrous making love to a woman who was in tune with him could be. Dinner was a quiet affair, his mind centered on ways to approach making love with her tonight limiting the conversation over the meal.  The replacement bed was so much better than the squeaky coils from before, which made slumber a lot easier.  It also made lying next to her tougher for him.  The longing that he felt to be inside of her was a new sensation for a man filled with too many words 

Anytime before when he wanted or needed a woman, he showed up, picked one from the crowd, and handled what came naturally. Dating was not one of those things in which he liked to participate.  The conversation was usually awkward, leaving him in an uncomfortable position.  It didn’t take him long to figure out if he didn’t talk, but just used his hands, the women understood what he wanted and gave it generously without those long weird pauses when two people had run out of words to share.  He never seemed to have enough time to tell his wife all of the words filling his head throughout the day while he worked. Since corresponding with her over the last year, there were so many things he’d learned to say, not only to his staff and team but also to his brother.  In the past week, he’d learned to watch her understand all of the things she was telling him without saying a word.  Tonight, he understood so much more.

The scent of gardenias from the shower gel she loved to use filled his nose as she slid in between the covers.  It clung to her skin like a sweaty child who’d run through a meadow of wildflowers.  Soft spikes of fragrance blossomed with each movement, driving him to the point of starvation as he stood before a bounty longing for his touch. “Pecola,” he whispered in the darkness.

“Yes, William,” she answered, her throat tightening with her desire for her husband.

Gently, he took her hand, pulling it under the covers. Fingers with calloused tips touched her abdomen, rubbing in small circles as he spoke into the darkness in French, telling her of all the ways he planned to please her.  Kisses, feathery light, landed on her cheek, her neck, the base of her throat as he switched over to English.

“Lying beside you each night is a gift, a blessing that I do not take for granted,” he said moving closer to her.

“The subtle scent of gardenia on your skin clings to my every hope of making love with you as if each petal was broken to create an infinite moment in time to capture my desire for you,” he whispered.

“Oh wow,” she said with a dry mouth. The rise and fall of her chest increased with every word he spoke. Her body, hotter than it had ever been, produced fine beads of sweat between her breasts.  Her nipples, taut in anticipation, responded like a wanton woman at his touch.  One fingertip ran over the bud as Pecola’s breath caught.

“Tonight when I take you, each movement, each stroke, and each plunge will be to cement our union,” he told her.  Her hand stroked him under the covers faster each time he talked. The light sheeting was pulled back from their bodies as his hand slid up her thigh, pushing the nightgown upwards and bunching the fabric around her waist. Pecola had anticipated this night and wore no underwear to bed.  Exploratory fingers soon discovered the same thing, only this time when he touched her there, moisture greeted him.

“Oh, Honey,” he said, gently circling the nub of flesh with his fingertip.  Pecola gasped as her hips pressed into the mattress, her grip on his manhood tightening as she stroked him.

The beautiful dark head of hair grazed her chin as he lowered his head to her breast to suckle at the nipple. “Holy Smokes!” she cried out as he moved quickly over her.  Billy Joe’s mouth found hers as he positioned himself, pressing forward to connect their bodies.

He inhaled deeply as each nerve connected to her body tingled. “I can feel you, Honey.  I feel everything in you, Pecola,” he said to his own amazement.  He moved slowly, methodically as if he had a plan to take them on a journey.

Pecola raised her knees higher up his sides, taking him deeper into her love, each movement more fantastic than the last, each stroke more intense, and every movement erotically sensual. “I love it, William.  Give me more,” she said clinging to him.

Without words, he moved incrementally, not faster, not harder, but purposefully.  It was driving her insane.  She began to buck wildly underneath him, but he used his body to slow her pace. “Not yet, Honey,” he said, still moving.

He disconnected their bodies, turning her onto her belly, shoving a pillow under her abdomen, while he kneeled behind her, then pushed hard, entering her from the back.  Pecola moaned loudly, raising her hips, pushing against him. She rolled her hips downward, making little circles as each push of him inside her stroked her g-spot.  Her hands clung to the mattress as she bit into the pillow, gnawing hard like it was a giant marshmallow.

“I am so close, William, so close,” she said.

Billy Joe took to a push-up position behind her, using only his hips stroking long, and deep. He moved as if he had all the time in the world to take her there. Languid movements of longing, loving, languished in his mind as if each slide inside of her body as a love note from his heart.

“Dayummmmmmmm,” she cried out.  Pecola came to her knees, her ass stuck in the air as she took the slow torture he unleashed upon her. The feel of his sac upon her hood each time it slapped against her nub of flesh was driving her insane. “Oh...my...goodness!!!!!” she yelled out as he drove deep, forcing her to come undone.

The movement was fast; she was uncertain how she ended up on top of him. The sensations coursing through her were intense to the point that she crouched over him, bouncing up and down over the connection that hardwired them together. She was beyond the point of taking her time. She lowered her hips, the hardness of him protruding into her, the walls of her love clinging to him as she rocked slowly against crotch.

“This is so good...so good...so damned good, William,” she cooed as she rocked harder.

A first inclination was to lick his thumb and stroke her until she exploded.  That was his old way of making love.  This time, he gripped her hips, bent his knees, and performed short upward thrusts. Pecola screamed.

Her back was arched, her face contorted in the darkness as she rode him hard, tears streaming down her face at the freeing of the orgasm that ripped through her. Billy Joe sat up, his arm coiling around her as he flipped her to her back, withdrew, and plunged as deep as he could go.

“William!!!!!” she screamed as her second orgasm exploded, pent up tension oozed out of her as he pumped harder, finding his own release, holding her tightly, grinding into her pelvis while riding the waves of pleasure. No words came from his mouth as he lay spent on her sweaty body.  The fabric from the nightgown was sweat- saturated, matted against her skin.

“Shit hell, that was good,” she huskily said.

He laughed lightly; he was too tired to do much else.  Pecola had drained him of almost everything, including reason.

“That was so good; my body is ready for another round, but I think I am too tired to actually do it,” he told.

“I’m not; you just lay there. I got this,” she told him.

“Have your way with me, Honey,” he said as he lay back into the pillows.

There was no longer any doubt in her mind about how she felt about her husband.
I love this man.  I am so in love with my husband
. All of the years of longing for a man to love her had come to a head.  The loving they shared tonight would solidify their relationship as well as their marriage. The selfishness that once controlled everything she did, that echoed of thoughts of saving for a rainy day was about to take on new meaning.  Her life with Billy Joe was going to be an all or nothing endeavor. Learning to love unconditionally also meant sharing. 

Pecola was going to learn that community meant sharing so much more than a plot of real estate.

T
o say that Billy Joe was nervous about the flight to New York was an understatement. Avery’s enthusiasm filled Billy Joe’s gaps of uneasiness when they boarded the plane for a non-stop into LaGuardia.

“Is this your first flight, William?” She asked.

“No.  I flew into Paris, but I took the Eurorail into Milan then onto Madrid. I just don’t like to fly,” he said to her.

“Would a drink help?”

Billy Joe place his Stetson in the overhead bin. “Drunk and scared is never a good combination,” he said as he took a seat by the window. 

Pecola parked her sleek frame in the middle seat, giving Avery the row seat. Billy Joe was fidgeting so much it was making Pecola anxious.  To calm him, she removed a small note tablet from her bag with her favorite Mont Blanc pen.  On the paper, she wrote the simple words, “Katelyn sauntered into the Lazy S Saloon desperate to find a man.  The dusty establishment was filled with desperados, cutthroats, and bandits; one of which was her estranged husband, Frederick.”

The considerate gray eyes sparkled as the dark head of thick hair lowered, focused on the paper, the pen poised in his hand, and he began to write. He didn’t even look up when the plane began to taxi down the runway. Billy Joe stuck to his story while the plane achieved an altitude of 30,000 feet and drink service began.  He declined a beverage, although they were in first class.  Avery tried to drink everything that came down the aisle. 

She was a pretty young woman, in her late 20’s with that same thick dark hair that sat beautifully on Billy Joe and Chad’s heads.  The same kind gray eyes on Avery gave her an exotic look, almost like a wicked witch that was happy.  Many of the men on the plane began to flirt with her after she got up to go to the bathroom in the tight Wranglers that should have been outlawed.  Pecola understood a girl having a camel toe, but Avery had a moose knuckle that seems to knock on every skull in first class.  It was disgusting the way the men were ogling her, but she didn’t seem to notice.  Even more shocking, she didn’t seem to care.

Avery looked over at her cousin fixated on the paper and smiled.  “Aunt Eloise used to do the same thing to him when he was a kid. Whenever he got all worked up about something, she would stick a pen in his hand and give him five sheets of paper.  He had to stop writing when the five sheets were full,” she said.  Her attention quickly went back to the drink cart.  More drinks meant she would have to get up again. If she got up again, the men in the cabin were probably going to shoot their loads.

“This is exciting,” Avery said and then actually squealed.  She had begun to squirm in her seat like Billy Joe.  In Pecola’s bag was an adult coloring book with various hued pencils.  She removed these items and gave them to Avery.

“Oh, is this like some kind of coloring book for grown folks or sumpin?” Avery asked.

“It is,” Pecola said softly.

“Cool,” Avery said as she lowered her head and began to fill in the corners with bright bold colors. An artist’s eye was paid to every detail.  Details of the flight crew, details of the airplane, details of the landing.  Nothing missed Avery’s attention as the plane finally landed in LaGuardia. A commonality between her husband and his cousin was uncanny.  The same detailed eye Billy Joe also possessed as he carefully watched every single detail of the trip to her brownstone in Brooklyn.  The first thing he noticed was people recognized his wife no matter where they went.

The car service was waiting for them at the curb, but the sudden burst of noise leaving the airport to the street was overwhelming for not only him but Avery as well.  She froze on the sidewalk.  He began to shudder, holding his ears.

“In the car, you two.  In the car,” she said.  The 35-minute ride into Brooklyn reminded her of summer vacations in the rental car headed to the beaches in Virginia.  She and her brother could never sit down or sit still as they rolled down the windows to enjoy the change in the smell of the air.  The smell of New York air led to Billy Joe begging Avery to let the window back up.

“It smells like debauchery and death out there,” he said without an expression on his face. The bumper to bumper traffic made him more agitated and by the time they reached the brownstone, she thought she was going to have to sedate him.

Neighbors sat on their stoops watching the arrival of the newly formed family when the black town car pulled up to the front of the building. Danessa, the blind lady who lived in the basement of the building, sat staring at the street.  Pecola slid out of the back seat of the car to be greeted in Danessa’s usual fashion.

“I smell gardenias!  Hot damn!  Pecola Peters, is that you, girl?” Danessa asked.

“Yes, it is. Hello, Danessa,” she replied.

“Girl, you have been gone for over a week. I was starting to get worried...hold up, I smell a man...wait, I smell a man on you...did you get away and get you some?”