Between Want and Need Ch. 02

Jerome couldn't tell which side of consciousness he was on, dreaming or waking. Not that he cared. It was enough to have Cheyanne's willing softness in his arms again. She didn't resist when he pulled her closer. He sighed; she was so soft. His arms tightened around her. He groaned as her thighs bumped his erection. But she didn't seem to have done that on purpose.

Jerome remembered how she had been on fire for him just three days ago and dimly wondered why she was holding back. But they were in bed now, and perhaps their intimate position made it clear how much bigger than her he was.

He pushed her back onto the mattress, taking care to be extra gentle so she wouldn't be scared. She seemed to relax in this position: her arms encircled his neck and her lips began to return his kisses with the fervor he'd come to expect. So she liked it when he was on top, did she, he thought in sudden amusement. He'd never have guessed.

She let him run his hands slowly over her body. She felt so good in his arms, toned and tight but with a definite jiggle in all the right places. He squeezed her ass with a groan then slid a hand up her front. His hand closed over a lush breast - a breast a deal fuller than he expected.

Jerome's mind jolted to complete wakefulness and he broke the kiss. He opened his eyes and looked down right into Ebony's hooded eyes.

"What is it?" she whispered, her voice a little thick.

"Nothing," he replied, while his mind raced to connect the events that had led him to this point - in bed with the freakin' girl of his dreams!

"You're just so beautiful," he muttered as he let his disbelieving eyes roam over her face. Ebony lowered her eyelids and even in the gloom of the bedroom, he could tell she was blushing. The second time this week he'd made a lovely woman blush from his kisses.

The thought was sobering. He hadn't juggled girlfriends since high school, after the girls had found out about each other then given him very good reason not to repeat it. Between that situation and the present one, there were fewer differences than he cared to admit; was he reverting back to the rat he'd been back in the day?

"Jerome...?"

Giving himself a mental shake, Jerome summoned his most boyish smile to allay the uncertainty he heard in Ebony's voice.

"It's alright, baby girl," he whispered back. "I'm just trying to remember where the condoms are at."

"Condoms?" she repeated with a hard edge in her voice. Oh fuck.

"Not for right now," he rushed to placate her.

"Then why mention it?" Ebony demanded. He recognized the trace of hurt behind the outrage. "To let me know what's expected of me in the near future?"

"Of course not! Come on, girl. I'm not trying to put the pressure on you or anything. The condoms, that's just... I'm telling you what you can expect of me, not the other way around," he explained. His obvious agitation must have made his words believable because he felt the stiff tension go out of her body.

"Alright," Ebony murmured, restoring his hope then dashing it in the next breath. "But I want to go home now."

Fixing him with her big gorgeous eyes, she awaited his answer. Pushing down a callous groan, Jerome nodded and released her breast.

"Alright. I'll take you."

At her doorstep, he was given a chaste peck on the cheek before Ebony hurried in and closed the door. On the walk back, Jerome imagined all the comforting things he could have said to ease Ebony's mind. By the time he got home and kicked off his sneakers, however, he was glad he hadn't been smoother.

Just how hypocritical would it have been, making love to her when he'd believed her to be another woman? If he'd managed to persuade her into staying the night, the guilt the next morning might have been hideous. Or worse, he might not feel any at all.

No, it was better this way, his imposed celibacy was good for him, for his integrity.

So he told himself three nights later. It was late. Going to midnight, and Jerome lay in bed resisting sleep. He couldn't close his eyes without Cheyanne's orgasm face appearing behind his eyelids. She pervaded his thoughts, turning his most innocent reverie into steamy, pornographic scenes. Especially when he was in bed.

This was getting ridiculous. Here he was, a grown man, experienced, comfortable with his sexuality, and right now, damn near afraid of his own hard-on. What the fuck?!

It was clear what the problem was. He was hard for the wrong woman. It was Ebony who should be occupying his mind, he'd been committed in his pursuit of her forever. There was a time he'd thought she was perfect for him. He still did. She was just his type, and more. She had been through enough shit to give her a permanent aversion to drama, just like him. Something he could say of very few women in his life.

Nonetheless, it was Cheyanne's bouncing titties running on loop in his memory, her hungry moans, the fragrance of her aroused pussy that he obsessed over.

Jerome recognized a vague resentment beginning to form in him. He dismissed it at once as irrational, or tried to. Cheyanne was affecting him like this against his will. And the thought kept recurring that she should be more demure, like Ebony. It would be easier to put her out of mind if she was.

But Ebony had her own reasons for keeping to herself. With her sweet smile and voluptuous body, she was the wet dream of every slavering male in a twelve block radius - and they never let her forget it. Whenever they took walks together, Jerome invariably ended up checking some moron who yelled across the street his opinion of her body, for his friends' entertainment and Ebony's humiliation.

The poor girl had also learned to be wary of the fork-tongued Lotharios she was beset with. She knew full well that a seemingly kind gesture could turn into a nightmare; even if she resisted all the pressure and lustful urgings that followed, she could yet find herself the subject of much uncouth bragging and false rumors.

It was a horrible situation for any woman to find herself in. Ebony's reserve was the obvious result of that, so he really had no business wishing it on anybody else.

Not even the carefree Cheyannes of this world. He still couldn't shake the sense that something wasn't quite right with all that aggressive sexuality in a woman - and a pregnant woman, at that.

But he'd gladly slam her into the next wall in a semi-public place and dry hump that sleepy-startled look back on her face. It might be vulgar and adolescent, but hell, he was a guy - what was her excuse?

Jerome grit his teeth and a rumble of malcontent sounded from his throat. He hated that he could be such a hypocrite. On the one hand, Cheyanne was too forward. On the other hand, he was bemused by Ebony's continued aloofness with him. They were cool, yes, but she still kept him at arm's length and truth be told, it was starting to chip at his confidence.

So what the fuck did he want?!

Jerome threw the covers off him with an abrupt motion. He swung his feet to the floor and reached for his cellphone. He scrolled past the numbers of his old jumpoffs; they would be game, yeah, but they were also Ebony's girlfriends. He had no intention of having his dirty laundry aired in some salon in Ebony's hearing. So he stopped at a number he had saved against his better judgement.

Not letting himself think it over, Jerome dialed then waited. At the very least, there was no chance of Ebony learning of this tryst and possibly writing him out of her good graces for good.

"Hello?" a sleepy voice mumbled.

"Cheyanne." That was all the greeting he would give. "It's Jerome."

"Oh!" Her voice sharpened. "Hi!"

"I wanna come over," Jerome said as he got up to flip the light switch on. "Is that alright with you?"

"Uh, yeah! Yeah, I'd love-"

"Give me your address." He located a pen and scribbled what she said. "I'll be there in a half hour," he said before hanging up.

Jerome followed her directions until he pulled up in front of a cozy-looking home with the lights shining on in welcome. His perfunctory knock was answered almost immediately by a smiling Cheyanne.

"Hi. Come on in," she invited. A touch of breathlessness was evident in her voice, but Jerome didn't think it was calculated. If anything, he was struck by the lack of garter belts, leopard print and the usual hallmarks of the try-hard temptress.

She wore a satin top which showed off her slender midriff, coupled with loose satin pants, all the same gentle gray as her eyes. The matching negligee she had donned as an afterthought was the only see-through garment in sight.

She didn't even appear to be wearing any make-up and her brown hair fell in soft, tousled waves to her shoulders as though she'd just got out of bed. Her expression was so thrilled, it was almost enough to make him feel at ease with being here.

"You actually took almost an hour to get here," she was saying as she pushed the door shut behind him. "But since I've been waiting a week for you to call, I guess it's-"

He halted her progress to the living room by hooking his arm around her waist and yanking her back to him. "Where's the bedroom?" he whispered in her ear.

"Right this way."

Cheyanne tried to take a step but he did not loosen his hold of her. She half-turned toward him.

"Jerome?"

"Take this off for me, first." He snapped one thin shoulder strap and gave her the necessary room as she moved to take off the top. Then with her back still to him, Jerome cupped the silky undersides of her breasts and began to massage their enticing softness in his hands. He was just enjoying feeling her body once more, but her husky moan let him know he wasn't the only one.

His thumbs curled up to pluck her nipples until they grew hard and erect. Then he lowered his hands to the waistband of her trousers and pushed them down with Cheyanne's assistance, so she was now dressed in just a gray silk thong.

"Like this," Jerome whispered, skimming his hands over her shivering nakedness. "This is the way I want you when I come over."

"What?" she laughed. "How in the world am I supposed to answer the door like this?"

"You'll figure it out," he murmured as he nuzzled her cheek. "If you want this dick on the regular, you will."

Cheyanne groaned in protest as he turned around in his arms. "Jerome-"

His kiss cut her off and in seconds she was returning his kisses with that potent blend of sweetness and boldness that was all her own. Whatever else he might think of it, he couldn't deny that it was fucking hot. If she kept this up she'd have him breaking down her door every other night. He could definitely get used to this.

Her hands were at his shoulders, pushing his jacket off. But for all her impatience, his own needs were more immediate. He groaned from the insistent throb between his legs and broke off the kiss.

"Get on the couch," he rasped.

Cheyanne complied, leading the way so he admired the sultry swish of her hips as she walked. But right now, it was her pretty face that interested him most.

When she'd sat down, Jerome stood in front of her and unfastened his trousers. His engorged dick spilled out. Her eyes widened slightly at the sight of it and he actually found this first sign of trepidation gratifying.

"Jerome, you're-"

"Don't talk. Suck," he ordered softly.

Licking her lips, Cheyanne leaned closer and opened her mouth over his waiting cock. He watched the length of his cock disappear into her parted lips, then slowly reappear, then get swallowed once more. As she got more comfortable with his size, her pace got faster. She planted her hands on his buttocks and suckled his erection with firm, massaging movements of her mouth.

"Yeah... Oh yeah," Jerome gasped as he frowned down at the erotic view. "Don't stop. Fuck."

Cheyanne was frowning, too, as she sucked him off. Every now and then, she released a tortured whimper and glanced up at him with begging eyes. A brief flicker of a smile broke the grimness of his countenance as he recognized her problem. Fellating him made her hot. Too hot. She was ready to get fucked right now.

"It's alright, Chey," Jerome murmured, trailing his fingers through her hair. "You know I'll fuck you real good. I'll fuck you as hard as you can take it."

Her muffled cry came in quick response, and assured him that that was exactly what she wanted. He watched her bobbing head move on his black cock in a blur for the next few seconds. As he felt his knees weakening, he then gripped her hair and began fucking her face with barely leashed violence.

She made a surprised sound, or perhaps it was a pained one. The incredible vibration it produced along his sensitive flesh made it hard to care. He cursed and thrust harder and faster down her throat, wild with lust.

Cheyanne soon started making sounds again, and these were definitely heated, horny whimpers.

"I like it, too, baby," Jerome panted as he face-fucked her. She was barely doing anything to him, just holding on as he rammed in and out of her mouth. She was making him crazy!

He needed to know he did the same to her. Goddammit, he would make her crazy for him, just as he was for her.

Abruptly, he halted his rutting motions and pulled all the way out of her mouth. Cheyanne looked up at him, her surprise (and disappointment) evident.

"Beg," Jerome ordered softly. It suddenly occurred to him that it might have been the wrong thing to say, the wrong approach to use. But then her eyelids grew heavy once more and she made a soft whimpering sound that had nothing to do with refusal.

"Please," Cheyanne breathed. "Let me suck you off."

Her hand slowly stroked his cock as she spoke, and he had to grit his teeth to keep from erupting on her fingers.

"I'm so thirsty for your come," she complained softly. "Please Jerome. Gimme a taste. Just a sip."

Jerome would have loved to draw this out even longer and made a mental note to do so in a subsequent encounter. But right now, his needs were more immediate.

He parted her swollen lips with the head of his cock and slid back into her mouth. He picked up his frantic pace, grabbing her hair and fucking her face with a vengeance. Before he could warn her or even acknowledge it to himself, his orgasm hit, making his cock spurt repeatedly into her mouth, coating her tongue and throat with his hot seed.

He stood on trembling knees as he ejaculated endlessly, his head lolling back on his shoulders in mindless ecstasy. When he was done, he stood panting in the silence, too overcome to open his eyes just yet. He wanted to luxuriate in the incredible pleasure he'd just experienced, that Cheyanne had given him. He couldn't even bring himself to let her go; she still had her nose to his pubes, her hair clasped in his fist.

Jerome became aware of a strange texture among the soft locks. He uncurled his fingers and ran his thumb over it. It was fabric. Opening his eyes again, he looked down and saw that it was indeed the fabric of a bandage on her left temple. Much smaller than the one she'd sported in hospital, but if she still had one...

Sanity returned in a cold wave, and with it, a stab of guilt as he remembered how rough he'd been with her. Jerome stroked the small white patch, his chest expanding in a quiet sigh of regret. He'd forgotten she'd been injured, as well as pregnant.

But looking down into her face, it became clear her mind was very far from her hurt or expectant condition. She had an irresistibly impish smile that had his own lips curving in answer. Looking further down, he saw her hand inside her gray undies, which now bore a large wet patch. His smile deepened into a grin.

"That was so hot," Cheyanne said, her voice a tad croaky now. "Gimme a sec, I just gotta...finish...up..."

Jerome could see her fingers moving beneath the wet silk. She was pleasuring herself. Before he knew what he was doing, he had sunk to his knees before her, his hands reaching to tug off her thong. Like a man in a trance, he got the last of her clothing off her then placed her ankles on his shoulders and leaned in to sniff her damp heat.

He was somewhat surprised to find she waxed her pussy completely bald - why, exactly, had he expected an untamed wild bush? - but he had no complaints. All he wanted was her taste on his tongue, nothing in his way. She smelled sweet and powdery, a warm welcoming scent.

Jerome heard her startled gasp as he tongue-kissed her clit once. Then he focused on the swollen wetness surrounding it. He heard a muttered through clenched teeth. He ignored it. Cheyanne was going to have to learn to beg prettily for every little thing she wanted him to do. It was primeval and incredibly egotistical of him, but he would not have it otherwise.

Cheyanne had never felt so ready for a man, so swollen and tensed up. On the other hand, she had never had a man who was a bigger tease. Jerome mocked her obscene lust, flung it in her face at every turn - a chaste peck on her erect clit, an almost clinical brush of his fingers along her engorged labia, a fleeting penetration with his tongue before quickly retreating.

She heard herself in faint disbelief as she issued explicit pleas to him. But he made it necessary, because he would not act without her instruction, detailed and graphic. She wanted him to lick her clit up and down, and had to put it in just that way to get it done.

"Don't stop," Cheyanne now gasped, holding his head so he wouldn't get away. His tongue was warm and tireless on her oversensitive flesh. As he went on pleasuring her, he began to show signs of initiative at last, when he licked a downward trail to her taint.

Her eyelids flew upward when that agile tongue snaked over her anus. As if to confirm it had not been accidental, the caress was repeated at an audaciously languid pace. A violent tremor ran through her body as Jerome began to gently nibble at her sphincter.

It felt strange, wrong...and utterly delicious. Her hips lifted up in reflex, offering him full access. She hooked her arms under both knees and held steady so her puckered hole would be upraised to his mouth.

A long, incoherent groan left her parted lips as he went on eating her ass. Her eyelids fluttered shut and a line appeared between her winged brows. God, she was going to lose her mind if he kept this up. Her thighs already were trembling in anticipation of it.

Jerome had his eyes closed and seemed focused on eating her ass. She had not expected the caress his callused thumb gave her clit.

Cheyanne wailed in utter bliss when she climaxed, spraying his face as she shuddered. She lay shivering in the aftermath, allowing her arms to slip through her bent knees so her feet came thudding on the floor.

She found Jerome looking down at her with a satisfied smirk. He knelt before her surveying her body's reaction. Something like calculation lurked in the hooded depths of his eyes.

She arched a questioning eyebrow but he was already on his feet, surging to his full height before reaching down to swing up into his arms. Ignoring her startled exclamation, he bent and gave her a long, leisurely kiss that restored her surrendered languor.

"Where's the bedroom?" Jerome whispered into her bemused eyes. Her voice thick, Cheyanne directed him. He made his way there with short steps, impeded by his jeans around his ankles. His belt buckle dragged on the floor with every step, making scraping metallic sounds.

For some reason, the act of him gently laying her on her back made her blush wildly. It seemed such a romantic gesture, bridal even, when the truth was, there was nothing even approaching romance on either side. She wanted him and he wanted her back, and that's all there was to it.

Nonetheless, Jerome watched the blooming color on her cheeks with a slow smile. Then holding her gaze, he smoothed her wild hair back from her face in a tender motion.