The Fight Within (64 page)

S
ometimes the most
dysfunctional scenarios can set a man’s heart ablaze, make him find love in the most unlikely places. The world is a strange place where nothing is certain, nothing is promised. Sometimes, the very woman a man falls in love with can turn out to be his friend before his lover, and he didn’t even fucking know it until things lined up just perfectly and the opportunity for full disclosure was presented.

Sean slid his iPod out of his jacket pocket and looked around the majestic room filled with white and clear furniture, everything posh, modern sophisticated. It reminded him of a damn dollhouse. He used to be afraid to even breathe in the woman’s home, lest he knock something precious off her vanity and shatter the tiny world in the globe covered in authentic white gold flecks.

“Can you hook this up?” He waved the tiny mp3 player around before handing it to her.

“Yeah…over there.” she said urgently, no doubt wanting him as much as he wanted her at that moment.

He flung his shirt over his head and cast the thing across the room. The woman stood several feet away from him, tearing at her robe and underwear.

The shit felt so forbidden. Funny. Frightfully right.

She took his breath away…

He made his way across the room and hooked the iPod up to her two silver and black speakers, the brand of which he didn’t recognize.

Koi’s, ‘Critical Hit’ began to blast—the song he was listening to as he sped over to her damn house with nothing but kisses down her spine on his mind. Shoving his white boxers down his legs, he tossed them and rushed to her, covering her like fresh rain, mounting her on the bed, and eliciting a series of light, airy giggles from the woman.

“What’s so funny, huh?” He smirked as he kissed the tip of her nose, then swallowed her voice with a shove of his tongue.

“Ahhh…” With eager hands, she clawed at the flesh of his back. Knocking her legs apart with a sleight of hand, he reached between their writhing bodies, bunching the sheets beneath their wiggling forms.

“Mmmmm…” He slid up and down her body, teasing her over… and over…and over again. “Mmmm, baby…” He could barely contain himself as he grinded against her, his dick slick with her saturations. “You want me to put my dick inside you? Tell me you want it!”

“Yes! I want it. Put it in me!” she panted, breathing harshly as she took them both in—their naked bodies flush together, touching, rubbing, bumping, arousing…smooth perfection.

“I know you do! Uhhhh!”

“Ahhh, shit, yes!” He pushed deep within her, filling her to the limit, then moved in and out, unable to release, let go, breathe, die, be born, or live without her heartbeat against his own. “Sean! Ahhh!”

He stared the woman in the eyes, unflinching, ran his fingers through her hair, then gave a gentle yank to her tresses, causing a soft moan as he continued to rock his cock back and forth in the wetness of her drenched love.

“I got you now!” he screamed into her ear as his grip on her hair grew tighter, forcing her head back.

She released a guttural moan and arched her back. His hips worked overtime as he rammed himself between her shaking legs, fighting the pussy with left and right dick hooks. “Fuck! Uhhh! Uhhh! You make me feel so good, baby!” Unable to control himself, he released her hair and grabbed her ass with both hands, squeezing her to him, immobilizing her, forcing her to feel each and every heavy, heart-pounding thrust he ushered inside of her body.

“Ahhhh! Oh God! Ahhhh!”

Like the professional that he was, he glided and grinded against her with each shove, bumping against her clit, over and over again.

“You’ve got the best pussy, baby, goddamn it!” he blurted as he neared his destination, an unstoppable force within him ready to explode. His sweat stung his damn eyes, but he peered through, watching her, getting off on her helpless expressions and the way her eyes rolled as she came beneath him.

“Ohhhh!” He gripped her around her waist, holding her tight, and watched her jerk and shudder from multiple orgasms. “Ahhhh, Oh my God…” Slowing to a crawl, he administered sweet, sensual kisses to the front of her neck, his forehead resting against her chin as she drew quieter beneath his form.

“…Treasure, you’re my everything, baby. I love you so much.” He choked on his words as the woman ran her fingers tenderly through his hair.

“I love you too, Sean.”

“Yeah,” he paused, “but do you hear me?”

She looked up at him in confusion. “Yes baby, you said you loved me.”

“Nah, yes, I said it, and I’ll keep saying it, but understand that I will never give you a reason to doubt that, do you understand me?”

A well of tears filled the woman eyes, paired with a beautiful smile.

His heart pounded faster as her body shuddered a bit more, a possible aftershock of the orgasm she’d just had, and perhaps because of her being touched by his vulnerability. His dick continued to throb within her, waiting for its chance at bat. Swallowing hard, he closed his eyes for a spell as they held each other so tight, he could barely breathe…just how he wanted it.

Safe.

Sound.

Secure.

“Sean, you and my kids are my world… I love you so much, baby. No man has ever made me feel the way you do.” He traced the side of her arm, loving the silkiness of her soft skin.

“You smell like roses and cotton candy…”

She stared up into his eyes, smiling.

Framing her face with his palms, he layered her lips with gentle kisses, one after the other. None of them wanted to miss a thing, a moment, a tender touch. Slowly, like a train moving away from port, he began to thrust within her. Building momentum, he propelled forward, making the woman coo and moan in the way he so savored.

“You sound so sexy… I want to hear that
all
night.”

“Sean… God, Sean… love me.”

She kept right on, moving to his tempo, matching every thrust. The soft wetness of her pubic hair brushed against his groin as they grinded into one another, their essence mixing and creating love and life.

“Your pussy is a cascade… I wish you knew how you make me feel right now.” He smiled tenderly, and so did she. Pausing for just a moment, he pressed his lips to hers, then increased his thrusts. He gripped her wrists as if she were under arrest, raising her arms above her head, stretching the sheets, keeping her prisoner in her own bed… He pinned her down, right where he wanted her to be, preparing her for his undertaking.

“Uhhh! Uh! Uh!” The mattress shook beneath them, rocking and dancing against the headboard, daring to stay afloat beneath them. “Uhhh!”

Treasure twisted in his grasp as he pounded and pushed and propelled within her, balls deep, getting all she had to offer and then some.

“Uhhhh! Don’t move! Don’t fucking move! Ahhhh, oh baby! Here it is! Uhhhhhhhhh!”

“I feel you! I feel you, baby…”

His essence flowed within her as he continued to move faster and faster, sticking and shaking, his cum filling her to capacity.

“Jeeesus!” His rose from her, his dick still within her, dancing and jerking in her honor. “Woman, damn…”

His muscles constricted and crawled beneath his flesh. Sweat trickled down the woman’s face, collecting in her cupid’s bow. Without a thought, he slicked his tongue against her face, collecting the salty perspiration. Her warm possessive embrace soon followed as she crossed her arms behind his neck, bringing him down against her soft breasts.

“Mmmm…” she moaned as he nibbled her ear and caressed her hip, unable to let her go just yet. He closed his eyes and tightened his hold.

“What time do you think it is?” he asked, wishing he could freeze the clock for an hour or two.

“Probably like four…”

“You ready to go again?” He grinned, traveling his lips along her jawbone.

“So, when will we have time to sleep?”

He slowly opened his eyes and looked into hers. “No worries. I’ll fuck you to sleep. My dick will be you favorite lullaby.” Resituating himself, he embraced his new erection and thrust deep within her.

“Ahhhh, ahhhh… Yes, you’ve got that
good
dick…” she cooed, wrapping her thighs around his waist.

“Sweet dreams, Sapphire Storm…”

*

It was raining.
Again.

For seven days in a row, New York City had turned into London. Gray manic-depressive skies and thick, angry fog hovered above the metropolis. The brisk coolness and taste of a miserable state coated the locals’ tongues. Jackson sat in his car, staring up at the house that he’d built on dreams…the one he was no longer welcome inside. The one in which a man came and went as he pleased, and stayed over while his children slept. A deep seeded nasty resentment entered his bloodstream, poisoning him to the point where he’d become a tyrant in his own dwelling. Jennifer threatened to leave the previous week, and became jaw locked when he told her to get the fuck out. He made it clear she wasn’t getting any damn ring, and she let it be known that his son was a degenerate, smart-mouthed bastard and his daughter weird—her true colors emerged after he cancelled her credit cards. So he thrust himself into his work, but to no avail, for everything he looked at reminded him of all he had lost.

If he saw red ink across a court docket, it brought to mind Treasure’s infamous silken robe…

If he heard a boisterous laugh, slightly on the obnoxious side, it reminded him of her, too.

Some bastard had left a catalog in his waiting area, one detailing special designs for the spring. He looked at the shit, flipped through it, knowing his woman could decorate circles around some of the photos he saw… and he hated that he gave a damn. After his run in with Sean Mahoney at his sister’s wedding, he’d laid low for a while, gave it some time. He was sure this shit would run its course, but instead, he became obsessed. He drove over to the house late at night, time and again, only to see that piece of shit black car in the fucking driveway. Then, his heart would always pound in his damn chest when he’d witness Treasure’s bedroom light go out…

He knew that bastard was still fucking her…

He’d never experienced such jealousy in all of his life, and it had him by the goddamn throat. Regardless, he’d gotten lucky that evening. Asia let it slip that the fucker had some fight that night, so the coast was clear. Regardless, he sat there for a good thirty minutes before building up the nerve to approach the front door, gave the bell a ring.

He had no umbrella, only the sky crying upon his head, baptizing him in the name of the bad father, the wayward son, and the holy garbage man who’d stolen his spirit. The door swung open ever so slowly, revealing the woman that had his damn soul in the palm of her small hands. This time, she didn’t curse him out. This time, she simply stood there, holding a bottle of water in one hand, and the invisible key to his heart in the other.

“Treasure.” He lowered his head, feeling ashamed, suddenly realizing how he appeared. The rain beat down even harder now, saturating his clothes. He didn’t even care. He coughed a bit, sure he’d catch cold, but not even that made him turn away and retreat. “I, uh, wanted to stop by. Not to ask you for anything, but just…just to tell you what I should have said the very first time you told me I broke your heart.”

She remained quiet, simply looking at him, her face emotionless. No judgment, but no love, either. Those dark brown eyes simply focused on him and the only sign that she was alive came when she crossed one ankle over the other.

“I should’ve told you I was sorry, and meant it. For forty-two minutes, I’ve sat in that car.” He pointed behind himself. “I sat in that car, debating on what I was going to say. This was my last ditch effort to get you back, make you give me another chance. I didn’t want to believe what I saw last week, the week before that, and even the month before that.”

“And what was that?” she finally uttered, surprisingly no attitude laced in her tone.

“That you really,
truly
,” he dropped his head once more, then faced her, forcing himself to be a man, “don’t love me anymore.”

“Jackson, step out from the rain, please.” She opened the door farther, and stepped aside. He hesitated for a moment, then peered within the dwelling. The cozy fire was lit, and the mantel covered in glossy, framed photos of his children. Taking a deep breath, he crossed the threshold and entered. His bones held the chill from the outdoors, refusing to give up the ghost. He watched her walk away; her hips swaying in their customary way, making the silk of the robe bounce about and catch the orange-hued, warm lights. Her toasty, russet legs and bare feet moved about almost in slow motion until she’d disappeared inside the kitchen. When she returned, she had a mug with steam rising from it.

“Here, take this before you get sick.”

Wrapping his hands around the heated cup, he seized the thing and took a seat on the nearby couch. The warmth from the burnt orange ceramic container soothed him a bit, but his heart continued to break nevertheless.

Treasure sat across from him on the overstuffed white love seat. She crossed her legs and leaned back, torturing him by the simple beauty of her movements. They sat there for a while, the rain hitting the windows the only sound, reminding him that the house was not his home, but his children’s shelter.