My Number One: Kasha & Knox (18 page)

~

Not only had I fallen asleep in Knox’s arms, I woke up there too. He held onto me as if I were the ultimate, the better part of him. I lay quietly in his embrace, while the sound of his light snore formed the perfect lullaby. When did things suddenly turn around for me? Since when did I deserve to be happy? I couldn’t help but feel like this was the calm before the storm. Maybe one day I’d wake up and there would be a helluva disaster, something that would come at me for being naive enough to believe I’d ever achieve the desired happily ever after.

I snaked out from his embrace. Knox’s eyelids flashed open. Leaning forward, I kissed him sweetly.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“Nothing. I gotta run to the bathroom.” My palm paused over his heart. The steady beat gave me chills.

He’s real, Kash.

But how? This hot guy with an incredible aura to match my less than powerful one gave himself to me. He professed a love for me that I never thought would manifest. But how? Moreover, he had real issues.

I never imagined I’d be number one. God, was someone playing a trick on me? Over the course of a few days, we’d gone from this incredible friendship to an even better love.

I fled for the bathroom. The sobs came all at once, with a flush of fresh tears. Nothing else was capable of frightening me as much as this newfound love of mine. I loved Knox in a way I could never explain. My heart would one day explode because each second of his tender love and each moment in his presence only grew in intensity. There was no uncertainty with Knox, and that scared the crap out of me.

“Kash.” His voice swirled around me. I barely had enough time to grab a hand towel and shelter my face. That was minor because the tears had swarmed down over me—all of me. My cries were still loud; possibly the reason he’d sought me out. “Come here.”

The little towel dropped to the floor.

“I need to feel you. All of you. That includes what’s out here.” He placed two fingers to my temples. “I promise, I’m not letting anything come near you. No drama. No pain. No hurt.”

“You can’t promise that.”

“Why not? Kash, this is over with.”

“Knox.” I blew out his name, gave my back, and walked to the far end of the bathroom. “I come with my own set of drama. I ran away from home after graduation. My dad had just died and my mom channeled her anger over things to me.”

“Kash—”

“No. Please, let me finish.” After cupping my face for a couple of seconds I let things go. “I fell in with a club owner. He wasn’t my boyfriend or anything.”

“What kinda club?”

“After hours.” I searched out his reaction.

Nothing.

“One day some horrible shit went down. I saw something I shouldn’t have, Teagan kicked his ass and we had to run from Florida.” By the time I ended my sentence, I could’ve collapsed and died. As much as I’d fought to hold it all in, letting go felt great. Knox appeared right next to me, as the structure of strength to help me sustain this life.

“Kasha, why didn’t you tell me all of this? My drama, your drama means nothing.”

“But—”

“But nothing.”

“Yes! I was ready to condemn you for Erika and the money—”

“You said her name.” He chuckled, then brushed his lips to mine. “We both messed up. Our distant past, even recent past. But we’re here, right now.”

I understood his meaning. We were here, now as one. “Start over fresh, like the day outside of Nora Lee’s.” I smiled, sniffled and slid my lips in.”

“Yeah. Like complete strangers?” Knox’s voice dropped low. I followed his lead.

“Almost,” I mumbled to the center of his chest. Along the carved depth, I nibbled lower and lower. He was beyond perfect, far greater than exceptional and truly, infinitely mine.

~

~

“Damn!”

Kasha’s tiny fingers pressed against my thighs, while she fought to shove my legs apart. Trust me, this was not an easy task, but I gave her just enough room to maneuver beneath me. She wasted no time in grabbing my erection and wrapping her lips round the tip of my hard-on.

“Mmmm,” she mumbled. “Perfect.” She palmed it right before shoving it into her mouth and making that mind-blowing popping sound when she sucked from shaft to tip, only to let it go.

“Knox . . .” she blew out. Her back slumped. She drew closer. For a second, it was like I wasn’t there; instead, it was just her and my hard-on. She breathed, licked, sucked and caressed my erection. To hell with food or any kind of sustenance, I was her drug of choice, means of survival, and nourishment for the soul. I never asked for this, but it happened.

Her thumb went on to caress that sensitive split at the head with one hand, as the other palmed my sac. Our eyes connected, and even though the light was dim, I saw the shine in her honey pupils. Her lips were full and quivering.

My fingers reached down to her thick hair. I tugged and pulled her even closer to my erection. She took in my flesh once again, and I helped her out by thrusting my hips forward. I felt the opening and grip of her throat as I slipped further down, so I braced for the gag reflex. She let it glide deep. My hands maintained hold on her hair, grasping tighter.

I was capable of holding my own. I was not a wimp to any degree, but Kasha was out to take me down. I couldn’t help but stare at her. The movements, the desires . . . What the hell was I gonna do if I was ever forced to walk away? I grew all tingly and shit like I’d been plugged into the wall. My limbs set on fire.

She was such a tiny little thing and close to a whole foot shorter than me. I could’ve literally crushed her with little effort. But all I wanted to do was pick her up off her knees and fall at her feet.

I wanted to carry her away. We had a rough enough of a time getting together.

She straightened up and whispered, “I can’t live without you.” Her voice cracked. I could answer, but her words were more like a vow than an in-the-moment sex thing.

Seriously!

Kasha was somehow placed into my world, similar to the way her head was gliding at my feet.

Had I actually found someone to love me for all the right reasons? And suddenly, a frickin’ blowjob just wouldn’t suffice. I felt the need to get lost in her aching pupils and swim inside her warmth. I swooped down and took her into my arms. Her entire body melted into mine; legs spread and wrapped round my sides. I needed this, needed her . . . needed to make her know how much.

“Take me,” she begged, her voice breaking apart midway through. “Please,” she continued, all the while her fingers gripped onto the muscles of my arms.

I didn’t answer; instead, I gripped tighter onto her ass and moved from the wall in the bathroom.

“Please, Knox,” she quivers. “Take me . . .”

Do I want to?

Of course!

More than want, I needed to fully know the only girl that could make me forget everything bad that had ever happened to me. She had given me the ability to hope.

She wanted to be taken. I would oblige. But for right now, I needed her to feel the depths of my love. I laid her body on top of the bed and started raiding. I kissed her plush lips and explored lower.

“Ummm,” she cried out. “Yesss!” Her chest shot up from the bed, blessing my lips and tongue.

My fingers slipped lower into her goodness. Her hands glided down in an effort to direct mine beyond the outside and deeper within. She even gyrated her hips around and rode greedily. I knew what she desired, but I wasn’t ready.

“Easy,” I warned. I shifted my efforts lower and lower still, until my tongue replaced the rawness of my fingertips. I fed, calling out her juices. Her clit met me with urgency as she squirmed beneath my mouth. I made it harsh enough to let her know I meant business, yet feeble enough to treasure her. She eventually answered my command, and flooded my tongue with her sweetness.

“Aghhhhh! Aghhhhhhhh!”

And only then, only then did I take her. I allowed her to remain on her back, while fitting on top of her. My erection felt out her entrance and proceeded. I penetrated her walls, pumping deeper and claiming her body in the process. The entire time, her inner muscles pulsated and clenched on me. But I felt her become liberated and in the process give me permission to make a claim. Whether she knew it or not, I had already staked claim, wholly and solely from her inside out.

Kasha was now and would always be my number one.

~

Stay tuned for more with Teagan and Rory’s story,
“Too Bad for Love
” . . .

Janice was born in Guyana, South America and migrated to the USA in 1980. Although her citizenship certificate now reads the United States of America, she considers herself a citizen of the world. Sure she has not physically been around the world and back, but she’s traveled in her mind and dreams.

Janice enjoys reading and is drawn to stories with distinct characters that she can love or hate, characters she can form alliances with or characters that she can swear off and despise. She is also weak for a good cultural tale, preferably in the form of historical fiction. Janice loves to be taken off guard by clever language and settings.

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Too Bad for Love (Rory & Teagan)

Anyone can say they’re completely fulfilled with life. They can say all the right words and even behave as if not a darn thing is wrong even when their insides are hollowed out. And eventually they’ll search, dig, pry and perhaps bargain for a chance at satisfaction. If I can’t be satisfied, then I guess I’ll settle for what I can get.

Right?

Maybe?

Jezebel Jones and Jason Marks have been the rocks in each other’s lives for years. No one knows Jezebel as well as Jason, and vice versa. As Jezebel comes to terms with being alone, she decides to settle for her ever-faithful friend. Although she has never loved him romantically, Jezebel wants to make a try for a real relationship with her dear friend. This isn’t a natural thing, just something she is reasoning through. She can’t help but wonder if their friendship will be able to withstand the changes.

When Jezebel least expects to be swept away by anyone, she meets Aidan Broder. He stimulates her mind, body and soul. Even as Jezebel gets closer to him, she’s afraid to dive in and finds herself in the middle of two men. In the end, Jezebel will have to make a choice between a man that has always loved her and a man that wants to love her.

I’ve never been one to believe in love at first sight. As I’ve grown older and become engaged in life, I find myself seeking this happily ever after that so many people talk about. In many ways, I was once Jezebel—unsure of what the future would hold and still hoping for something, anything that would allow me to believe. Although many of us don’t know what that something might be, we do know that we want more. Jezebel Jones is about letting go in order to truly love.

~~~~~

Jezebel’s hair spread across the red satin pillowcases. Bare skin shone under a couple of specks of sunlight, giving her a polka dot design. The dark blinds were raised, while the drapes carried heavy circular designs that changed the ambiance of the room. Even as she considered her houseguest, she was comfortable in her loneliness. There was no need to rush about, preparing breakfast or gathering a household for Sunday brunch.

This five-bedroom home was all hers, a major fixer upper. Her father had purchased it for her because she didn’t want a typical manufactured one. They’d spent just over a year making it flawless and inhabitable.

Jezebel’s mind drifted to Jason Marks. Jason had helped every step of the way. He was always concerned with making her happy, as Jezebel was always concerned for his happiness. He was the sort of guy that you had no choice but to admire. She adored his brilliance and determination. He had become successful by channeling his love of music and the music scene into a serious entertainment company, Jay Marks Promotions. Whenever there were concerts to be promoted on the East Coast, Jason pulled together the greatest team of experts to exceed every client’s expectations.

Jezebel had to admit that he was quite a catch; with the exception of one annoying detail . . . Jason was rough.

Seriously rough around the edges.

He was born into a difficult life, but through hard work and perseverance, he made an exceptional name for himself. Unfortunately, at twenty seven, he hadn’t grown out of that pesky roughness and lacked some refining qualities. Many people disregarded him on first appearance, but she accepted and loved him for simply being her Jason. Clarification . . . her very good friend Jason, who might become more someday. She was willing to try again, just in case this day would be the day.

Jezebel sighed, turning to the open space on the bed. Last night she had banned him. He was now in the guest room. She was funny that way. This room and this spot, was her haven. Her sanctuary, sacred. Very few could get in, especially in that way. Getting too comfortable, or rather too freaky, was unheard of.

She threw off the sheets and swung bare limbs from the bed. As she stood and walked to the door, a voice encouraged her to let her guard down. She hadn’t been with a man in two years. The desire was no longer there; moreover, she had grown tired of the emotional stress of relationships. Jason had always been there to assure her that she would find the one someday, even interjecting himself at times. The love she had for their friendship was too important. And then there was the issue of his unrefined behavior.

But now she was starting to feel bad . . .

“Jason?” she called out before entering the basic bedroom two doors down. He was still half asleep and grunted in response. He had on the same white tee and gray boxer briefs from the previous night. His body was somewhat exposed, like provocative molasses flesh and muscles waiting to be taken advantage of.

“You wanna try this again?” Jason asked in a raspy voice, his head hung low. He appeared to be purposely avoiding eye contact with Jezebel.

She cleared her throat, remaining at the center of the room. The swivel mirror to her back exposed the caramel flow from neck to calves. She flipped around, pausing several seconds to silently critique her medium-sized breasts.

“Jez.” He flipped onto his side, propping himself up on an elbow. An overeager bulge stared at her. On his lips sat a wicked grin.

Did he know that I would come? Jezebel wondered. “We can,” she replied, repeating a mantra to “live free”. After all, this was a man she trusted with everything. Standing in front of Jason, in the nude, wasn’t disheartening but quite comfortable. Jason was one of the few people she could expose to her insecurities, physically and emotionally. He knew her depths, as well as her simplicities. Much of what she was showing had been displayed years ago. So she moved to the bed, drawing down on her friend for morning playtime.

Jason reached to the ground for his jeans pocket, pulling out a silver wrapper. Jezebel smiled. When their eyes connected he nodded down to the jolting of his growth.

“Sexy, you gonna let me in?” he asked as she rested her hands against his chest. She threw her right leg over his lap. His hand slipped across her moisture. “Jez, why are you the only one without clothes on? Strip me, girl.”

Jezebel was picky.

Easily annoyed.

Jason knew this. He was trying not to do the street slang thing. She made note of the effort. That was a plus because she wasn’t crazy about Ebonics.

At least he didn’t cuss, she considered. And even as her mind replayed his normal way of speech, she rolled her eyes. She refused to be critical any longer. Not today. Jezebel told herself that she needed to focus on Jason, and at least give him a shot.

Jezebel ran her palms down the tight ridges of his chest, tucked her fingers beneath his top, and slowly unwrapped his upper body.

“Damn girl! You wet off this?” His fingers deepened inside her.

She cringed.

“Jason, I don’t mind you talking dirty to me but please do it right.” She paused at the elastic of his snug underwear.

He blew out steam. Jason was no dummy, Jezebel squinted and twisted a warning that she was on the ledge, just like she did last night. He nodded in defeat.

Her right hand moved into his boxers. She stiffened as the corners of her mouth tightened. Next her nostrils flared. Still, Jezebel forced herself to touch and ravish, rubbing her free hand past his nipples. They were small and hard. He was ready for her. Probably still from the night before. But when she looked at his face, his head was extended down, focusing on his valued member.

“You gonna take it deep, sexy?” his words broke Jezebel’s concentration.

Her fingers gripped his erection and she noted the fullness in her palms. She rubbed along the smooth base, squeezing gently from the shaft up the full length. At the tip, her fingers teetered around the edge.

“Would feel even better with your mouth,” he encouraged.

This was one woman that believed within herself that she would never go there. She allowed his words to mull around. After brief consideration, she didn’t bother to change that part of her, nor did she respond. In fact, she was somewhat pissed.

Jason knows me better than that! I’m not doing that to him. Never have. Never will. Well . . . at least, not until I meet my future husband.

“Girl, you and your rules.” Jason knew her well enough to pull out the specific thoughts. Moreover, she had always been vocal with those feelings. “Just climb on!” he demanded, reaching down toward his groin. Jezebel knew he’d wanted this long before, his body showed his eagerness.

Jason eased up. She removed his boxers and ripped open the package so that he could wrap it up. This was further than they had gotten last night. She bit her tongue in an attempt to stop the thoughts rushing out of her mouth. She coaxed herself, warning against moving too quickly . . . be careful.

Before she could get situated, he got up in her face. His lips touched hers, but she refused to open up.

I don’t kiss, Jezebel wanted to scream. Jason apparently didn’t feel her contract and freeze up. He only continued to slobber on her neck. She fought to convince herself that it felt okay.

Jezebel’s mind was further stressing over his buddy, yes the one that had darn near doubled in size since she touched it. Or maybe the boxers had hidden it?

Next he kissed her breasts, while she enjoyed the stiffness of nipples against his tongue.

This too felt decent . . . better.

He trailed down to her belly button and stuck in his tongue. To Jezebel it was a formality. She knew what he was after—the goodies!

Once he found her inner thighs, his mouth felt tender and innocent.

“Jaaason.” She gave him that much since he really was trying. There was a tingle, a building sensation. His tongue flickered, plunged, and sauntered.

“Ohhhhhhh!” she yelled, considering that she might let him spend the day, another night.

“That’s what’s up, girl,” Jason declared, and leaned up on his elbow.

Does he think I came? she asked herself and was on the verge of asking him the same question.

“I got skillz. Flip over so I can hit it from behind.”

Her eyes rolled just before swiping over the length of him.

Jason flashed it off.

“You either break me off or let me take it from the back.”

No need for consideration, Jezebel turned.

He palmed her curves and slapped each side, then tried to enter.

“Ahhhh!” She wanted to explode, even welcomed the idea of death. What the heck is he trying to put inside of me?

“Yeah girl! Ah shit! You fat like that?”

Now, she didn’t mind talking dirty but was getting annoyed with Jason. Before she could scold him, there was more pain. Too much. She pulled away, slipped sideways, and leapt to her feet.

“You can’t dig into me like that, Jason. I’m a lady.”

“Jez, are you for real? You’re tryna break my flow?”

“I’m serious, Jason! And no, I’m not trying to break your flow.” She emphasized the words because he was pissing her off.

“Don’t belittle me, Jez!”

Belittle? Where did that come from? Jezebel blinked. She lifted two fingers and waved in his direction. Let me try again.

“Sorry,” she offered, turned away, and then shoved her backside against him.

He held onto her waist, plunging in deep . . . too deep.

“Not this one,” Jezebel yelped, pressing him away. She kicked toward his groin, but missed. Hopping up on the bed, she was livid. “You aren’t going to brag about making me walk bow-legged. You’re not even going to scar my insides by digging up my tenderness.”

“Girl, cut out that foolishness. Women love this stuff. Be screaming out my name. Begging daddy to make them feel it. Give them their medicine.” Pushing up in her face he added, “Want me to stamp my name all up in there?”

“Then you know what?” Jezebel scrambled away. Grabbing Jason’s clothes, she flung them at him. “Jason, I’m not gonna let you ruin me for my future husband. When other women are walking around the place dropping organs from out of their crotch, I plan on keeping it tight. You know why?”

Although Jezebel had become confrontational, Jason ignored her. Her words seemed to have little effect. She wasn’t even sure if he was paying attention. Jason focused on getting dressed, taking to his slacks both legs at once. His manhood was still firm and bumped against the zipper. He flinched.

“Jason, I will not be the one to lose a man because he’s dropping out of me. Furthermore, men like you aren’t spoiling my insides. Let my future husband do that.” This was a sentiment Jezebel had voiced time and again.

“Damn Jez. It’s me, your boy . . . Jason. I’m not some man.”

“Then why are treating me like I’m some woman?”

Jason shook his head. He then nodded upward and headed for the bedroom door. He hadn’t yet put on his sneakers and his slacks were loose.

Jezebel ran to her room. She grabbed a tiny cami and shorts, pulling them on as she caught up and followed behind, in silence for the time being as they raced down the stairs.

“I’m leaving. You don’t have to patrol me.” Jason stomped to the exit. “Jezebel, I’m done with you. I’ve been your friend for how many years now?” The sun’s rays barreled down from the ceiling spotlight, touching Jason’s close-cropped head. For a moment, Jezebel wanted to touch him and smooth away the pain of their fifteen-year-old friendship gone wrong.

He’s my Jason, my friend. A comfort at times. An excellent listener. I thought that I could make it more, especially since he’s been smitten by me for all these years.

“We’ve been friends forever, Jason. I don’t want things to end over this.”

“Jez, you’re worried about losing a follower. F U Jez.”

“Whatever Jason. You can’t even cuss me all out. F U too, my friend.” She grabbed for him. He sensed the movement and spun around.

“Let me clear this up.” His eyes were bloodshot and brows furrowed. “You’re dogging me out, but it’s all good. I won’t disrespect you. But leave me the hell alone. Wish you all the best with finding Mr. Perfect . . . Mr. Pencil-Ass-Dick-So-He-Can-Keep-It-Tight-Perfect.”

Jason left.

Jezebel stepped out of the door with near nothing on. She had few neighbors. This was an extension of her zone.

Jason’s music blasted on. He turned it louder, while the chorus for Talk Dirty to Me by his namesake filled the front yard. He screeched off. Smoke and dirt swirled at Jezebel. She didn’t duck away or try to hide, but instead stood there in defeat. Jason sped up the path and out of her life indefinitely. Wiping away a teardrop, Jezebel tried to shrug off her misgivings.

She remained outside, not wanting to return inside right away. She loved feeling the sun against her skin. Strolling down the steps, she sighed.

Jezebel wanted to believe that relationships were meant to be good. They appealed to her. What didn’t help was going through the drama of meeting someone, only to find out that they were phony. As for Jason, she knew he was genuine, although a complete mismatch. She spent the remainder of the morning sulking in the front yard, gathering flowers and reasoning through the mistakes of another failed attempt.