Black's Magic

Things were getting out of his control again. He wanted her to stay. He wanted to take her to bed. He wanted to see if her underwear actually said what she said they did.Andhe wanted to know if that was flavored lip gloss or just regular lip balm.

"It's seven," she said. "You should lock up."

But that wasn't who he was. He wasn't good with women or with words. He was good at haggling. He knew how to run a business. He could sing and play guitar, but everything else was beyond him.

It was ridiculous!She'ddone the hard part; she'd made the proposition. He just had to say "Yes." What was so hard about that? Saying "Yes?" Admitting need? Declaring want? Exhibiting desire?

She slid on her gloves then walked over to the door.

Alicia still haunted him. Even when she'd said "yes," everything else about her demeanor said "no." But Mecca was practicallybegginghim for it, and what would she really get out of it?

She had her own place. She managed her own restaurant. She paid her own bills. She didn't do drugs. From his understanding, she had quite an expansive liquor cabinet, . . . So there really wasn't anything she could get from him that she couldn't get for herself, unless you counted his cock.

"Hey."

Her hand was on the door handle. "Hey what?"

"Stay."

She felt her knees about to go out. "What?"

"Stay for a minute. We'll uh, leave together."

"Oh?"

He slowly made his way to the door, reaching over her shoulder to slide the sign from Open to Closed. "You've . . . never been to my place, have you?"

"No. You've never invited me."

He placed his bare hand over her gloved one, inhaling deeply as his nose came dangerously close to that space between her neck and her ear. "Wasn't sure what you'd think if I did."

Mecca laughed. "I'd think you wanted me to see your place."

"That all?" he asked.

"What else?"

He moved her hand from the door handle to rest in the palm of his own hand. "Nothing ulterior?

"Please!" she laughed. "From someone as prudish as you? You probably would've spent the whole night sitting on the couch with a pillow in your lap."

"Yeah," he scoffed.

She turned to face him, her hand still in his. "I'll bet I could drop my pants, shove my cooch in your face, dripping wet and ready to go, you'd turn bright red, take hold of my pants, pull them back up, give me a tap on my ass, tell me I need to 'Quit it,' and then send me on my way."

"I'm a gentleman," he argued.

"Gentlemen don't get busted for B&E, possession, or reckless endangerment." She smiled as his face visibly paled . . . as if he weren't pale enough already. He'd told her about the B&E from his high school days, but Terri had told her about the possession charge (roughly 10 years old) and his dad, of all people, gave her the heads up about the reckless endangerment charge, which happened when he was 16. He was drag racing (of all things) with some other dumb kid, he took a turn too fast, flipped his car, nearly broke his neck and had his license revoked till he was 18.

She brought his hand up to her mouth, running his index finger along her lower lip. She felt him shudder as she drew the digit into her moist interior, licking it from base to tip before releasing it with a playful nip. She watched as his eyes glazed over and the flesh of his face went completely flush.

She then pressed her hips again him and smiled. "I can guarantee that I willalwaysknow more about you than you'll know about me."

"And why's that?"

She relished the rough quietness of his voice and rewarded him with a quick lick to the tip of his index finger. "I have more resources than you do. You can ask people things about me, but unless you hear it from me, you'll never get the whole truth. Privacy is my middle name."

"I thought it was Deidre," he half laughed, half smiled.

God, she loved his eyes: bright, shining, deep, playful. Then there was the curve of his lips, the arch of his eyebrows, the point of his nose, the chubby cheeks and that cute, little chin. He had a total baby face, which sent her motherly instincts into overdrive, making her want to coddle and coo over him, then there was the baser beast inside of her that wanted nothing more to swallow him whole and feel him fill her slit with his scorching spend.

"Daniel?"

"Yeah?"

"We need to go."

* * *

Three minutes flat. It took him three minutes flat to lock up the shop, get her to his car, drive ten miles up town, unlock his door, drag her inside, then shut the door behind them. She was on him the instant they were inside. Touching and teasing, gripping and groping, feeling and fondling, licking, kissing, and sucking any and all exposed flesh.

It had been too long, and herfirstand last encounter with a man had left her lacking . . . unless you counted a pain in the ass and a bad taste in her mouth. Seeing how eagerly he responded to her, she had nothing but the highest of hopes for Daniel. His hair was feather soft, his lips silky smooth, his hands somewhat uncertain, but strong, and his entire body just seemed to melt into hers, perfectly molding to her contours, jutting into her recesses, resting on her hills and valleys. His touch was electric, his scent intoxicating, and the feel of his warm breath blowing across her already fevered flesh . . .

She closed her eyes and forced it back down. Shewantedhim before she experienced that particular pleasure.

"It stinks in here." She kept her lips latched onto to his throat.

"What?"

They bumped into walls, stumbled over furniture, tripped over odds and ends left on the floor. She had the feeling he was trying to fumble around for the lights, but she didn't like the light.

"Too many scented candles," she said. "All blending together. It stinks."

"Sorry."

She stripped off his coat and tossed his baseball cap to the side. "Just trying to cover upanotherscent, right?" Beneath the aromas of vanilla, cinnamon, pumpkin pie, apple pie and raspberry was the overly sweet, slightly musty scent of herb, and it clung to Daniel as a second skin. The exotic scent sent her back to a different time when she was younger, freer, less jaded, "It's all right. I don't mind."

She felt his hand at the nape of her neck, giving the tight curls a slight tug, urging her to tilt her head back as his mouth planted itself in the hollow of her throat. She took the opportunity to slip out of her own coat and kick off her shoes as he blindly led her to some unseen destination. It didn't really matterwhere, as far as she was concerned. As long as she ended up on a flat surface of some type, him above her, behind her or beside her, she could bring them both to their desired end . . . As long as she didn't have to be on top. Shehatedbeing on top.

She found the fasteners to her skirt, undoing them, then letting it fall to the floor.

At last they reached an open doorway, and he guided her to what she assumed was his bed. Made or unmade, she didn't know, but the moment his mattress met her back, she wrapped her legs around him and pulled his shirt off over his head.

"Hey . . ." He twisted and turned in her grasp, trying to keep the garment in place.

"Don't be shy." She kissed his right cheek. "I wanna see all of you."

He shook his head. "I don't care how dark it is in here. That's just not somethinganyonewants to see."

"Iwant to see."

"Why? So you can go to the bathroom and throw up?"

She gave him a light slap. "That's mean." She reached up under his shirt and grabbed his left pec, her thumb ghosting over the erect nipple. "There's nothing wrong with man-boobs. If they're part of you, I'll take 'em."

"Right."

"C'mon . . . take it off. You're gonna get all sweaty."

"Mecca . . ."

"What if I . . . take mine off first?"

He still seemed unwilling to comply.

"Hey," she slipped her hand under his chin, tilting his head upward, "I'll make a deal with you. I'll show you what I like by doing it to you, if you show me what you like by doing it to me."

He huffed lightly. "It's been so long I don't think I remember what goes where . . ."

"It's like riding a bike--"

"Without a seat?"

"Sure. Why not?"

"I'm uh . . . kind of . . . big."

"So you've put on a few pounds . . ."

"No, uh,bigbig. Down there."

She followed his glance, then felt herself color slightly. "Oh. Um, okay."

"Some girls have trouble with that . . ."

"So, you'll have to loosen me up a little first . . . or a lot."

"So . . . you're not gonna back out?"

"I never back out of anything."

"No?" He grabbed hold of her hand and forced it to wrap around him.

She drew in a short, sharp breath, then pushed it out. Her handbarelyfit around him at the base, and she doubted very seriously she'd be able to take all of him inside her this time around. He was a good ten inches . . . if not twelve. "What do they feed you white boys?"

He shrugged. "Chicken."

"Well, I've seen a few before you . . . mainly due to figure drawing, but I can honestly say they couldn't have eaten much chicken if any at all."

His eyes fell, and she watched as he reached behind him, trying to unhook her ankles.

"Now, hold on, I didn't say we were gonna call the whole thing off. I just . . ."

"Scared?"

"Concerned," she corrected him. "I probably wasn't too clear about this in the beginning, but . . . uh . . . you're number 2. There was . . . you know,thatguy, and now you. I just . . . have to get in the right mindset, you know."

At that point he came down and kissed her, softly, slowly, purposefully on the lips.

After she caught her breath, and her eyes regained their focus. "Wow."

He gave a slight shrug as if to say, no big deal. "I feel like I'm crushing you."

"No," she shook her head. "You're fine. You're . . . very fine." She gave him one slow stroke from the base of his shaft to the tip of his manhood, through the fabric of his track pants.

"Shit . . ."

She rolled them over, relieved him of his shoes, socks, and pants, then positioned herself between his parted thighs.

He swallowed hard.

She slid her hand over, around, then under the plain blue cotton of his boxers. The man beneath her hissed.

"Can I make you feel good, Daniel?" She felt his stomach muscles twitch. "Can I suck your cock and lick your balls then rub 'em between my tits?"

He looked down at her, eyes heavily lidded, his own musky scent over-powering the artificial aromas of the scented candles. "You are a dirty, dirty girl."

"Nuh-uh. I told you. I'm just a horny, little devil trying to have a little fun."

"Mecca . . ."

She licked up the front of his boxers, then took the tip of his clothed erection into her mouth.

"Damn girl . . ."

The boxers came off and the oral pleasures continued. "Tell me you like it."

"What?" His eyes were closed; a dopey, but endearing smile etched across his face.

She took one, long lick up the underside of his shaft, then circled the tiny opening in the head with her tongue. "Tell me you like it," she repeated. "Tell me how good it feels and what you want me to do to you."

"Do," he panted, "to me?"

"Tell me what you like," she whispered.

"Like?" Dear Lord in heaven was she actually going to put that beautiful body of hers in his unsteady hands?

He felt a hand creep up his left thigh, over his stomach, under his T-shirt, around his left nipple and along the side of his neck.

"I want you to be on top," she said. "Men are supposed to be dominant, and women are supposed to be submissive . . . if they want to, of course. You know, submit. It's something theychooseto do; not something they'reforcedinto doing."

Force? his mind idly echoed. Was he a wicked stepsister? An evil vizier? A jealous queen?

No. He was the lovelorn beast smitten with a too-charitable beauty.

"Daniel.Saysomething. I'm starting to feel a little ridiculous down here."

He looked down at her and grabbed a handful of her hair. It wasn't rough at all. Or tangled or brittle. It was quite silken and smooth. When he pulled lightly, the curl straightened, and the instant he released it, it recoiled, returning to its natural state. His hair was curly when short; wavy when it had some length to it. But it didn't doanythinglike hers.

"Come up here." He held onto the back of her head as she made the short climb to meet him eye-to-eye.

"What?" Her voice held a smile, her eyes bright with challenge.

He brought her down to him: her lips to his mouth, her tits to his chest, her legs along his thighs, her cloth-covered core to his exposed groin. He probed her with his tongue, caressed her with his hands and stimulated her clit with the rocking of his hips.

"Daniel . . ."

He slipped his hand down the back of her panties, squeezing her right butt cheek, then sending his finger along her crack. She visibly tensed as he neared her asshole, but he coaxed her into a more relaxed state with a few lingering kisses and some carefully chosen words.

A few minutes later, her panties were off, her shirt had been discarded, her back was against his mattress, and her legs were spread wide, her slit slick with her own moisture. Her clit was erect and receptive, and what little hair she had, had been shaved into the shape of an arrow.

"Don't make me wait," she pleaded. "I can take it. Make me take itall."

"Is that right?" he asked her, finally ridding himself of his cumbersome top.

"Yeah."

"Well, you're gonna have to wait just one minute more." He rolled away from her and reached for his nightstand. He certainlyhopedthey were still good.

"Aren't you presumptuous," she laughed. "Or have you been fucking some other filthy bitch in this stinkhole?"

He gave a light chuckle. "Never fucked a chick up the stinkhole."

"And you never will," she proclaimed. "Unless . . ."

He glanced over his shoulder at her, unopened and unexpired Magnum in hand. "Unless what?"

"You marry me," she said matter-of-factly. "I guess I'd sort ofoweit to you at least once . . . seeing as how you'd be forsaking all other women."

Daniel shrugged. "Eh. I don't think I'd want to." He tore off the top of the packet and secured the latex in the appropriate place.

"No?" she asked.

He rolled back over to her, assuming his former position above her, then lowering himself to press a wet kiss in the crook of her neck. "You said you didn't like it, right?"

"So?"

"Why would I wanna do something Iknowyou don't like?"

"Curiosity," she shrugged.

"Fuck it. Ass-banging is for homos and porn stars . . . You're not a porn star, are you?"

She stuck her tongue out at him. "No."

"Then it's settled."

She spread her legs to receive him; he positioned himself at her entrance. "Just go slow, okay? I'm pretty sure my hymen got torn to shreds last time, but with my luck, who fucking knows."

He slipped his head inside her, pressing his lips to hers. "It'll be all right."

She looped her arms around his neck. "Yeah."

In his younger, vainer days, he once took a notion to time himself. He spent all of 18 minutes staring at a digital alarm click, mindlessly thrusting as the LED display marked off one minute after the next. If the female beneath him enjoyed herself, he honestly couldn't say. He only knew it took 18 minutes from entrance to exit, and he was sweaty, tired and sore once it was over.

Of course, 20 minutes later, he was ready to go again. Such is the insistence of youth . . .

With Mecca, he didn't know how long he lasted. Not that there wasn't a clock in the room, there were just . . . more important things on his mind: the fine sheen of sweat on her skin, the dazed look in her honey-colored eyes, the bounce of her breasts as he pounded himself inside her, the scent of her musk as it mingled with his own, and the sound of her panting and moaning, whimpering and sighing, pleading and shrieking, her head thrown back against the mattress, her nails digging into his triceps, and her heels indelibly pressed into his lower back.

Indeed, she took him all, but there was no force involved. Initially, there did seem to be some type of resistance: not a barrier or a blockage, just averytight squeeze. Then, as if by magic, he seemed to find some hidden treasure deep within her, a tiny bump that, when properly scratched, produced a preponderance of liquid that greatly aided his endeavor, allowing for wonderfully tight slides that increased both their pleasure immeasurably.

"Mec-ca . . ." His hips finally ceased their motions, his body slumping against hers.

She continued to grind against him till her entire body shook with the force of her orgasm, her arms and legs wrapping tightly around him till her tremors ceased and she could, again, breathe normally.

"Ow!" He felt a sharp pinch at the juncture between his neck and right shoulder. "Did you justbiteme?" he laughed.

She shook her head. "Couldn't control myself."

"It's not a vampire bite, is it?"

"Fuck no. I hate blood. I just felt the need to bite down on something, and your neck was right there. Sorry."

He rolled off to her side, careful of the contents of the used condom, and ran his hand over his neck. "I guess I'll live."

Mecca shrugged. "You can bite me back if it makes you feel better."

"Nah. I'll just come on your face after you fall asleep."

She punched him in the "injured" shoulder. "Eww! That isbeyondgross. Cream pie isnoton the menu. Duck or swallow. Those are the only two options in my book."

"And you saidI'ma prude," he laughed.

She rolled to his side and kissed his left nipple. "And you finally took your shirt off. It's not so bad," she smiled. "So you've got a bit of a gut and some man-boobs. Big deal. You're still fuckin' cute."

He hoped the room was dark enough to hide his blush.. Not that hewasblushing. Men didn't blush, after all.

"And forget horse. You're hung like a fucking rhinoceros. If you'd been the first guy I'd slept with, I guarantee you, I never would've done it again."

"Didn't hurt, did it?"

"A little, at first. Like I was stretched too tight, then . . ."

"Magic."

"Magic?" she laughed.

"Everything just fit," he said.

"Yeah, but I'd hardly call that magic. It kind of hurt, then it just stopped. The strain went away, and it was just . . ."

"Magic," he said again.

"What is it with you and magic? I know you don't believe in that shit. That's for little girls who believe in fairytales and all that. Or little boys with black wands, red capes and top hats."

He wasn't trying to be sentimental. Romance wasn't a language he had any sort of handle on. Every poem he knew had the word "fart" in it, and the only cards he dealt with were either playing cards or sports related. But . . . he did do what he did, and he did say what he said.

He grabbed hold of her hand, lightly brushing his thumb over her knuckles. "Or," he said, "two people who've had a really shitty time finally find each other, and suddenly, things don't seem as bad as they used to."

He kept his eyes focused on her face, and was mildly amused and, somewhat embarrassed, that it wasnotdark enough to hide a blushing face. "You're ridiculous," she finally said.

He shrugged. "You gonna . . . sleep here tonight?"

"Do you want me to?"

He shrugged again. "If you want."

"You don'tsnore, do you?"

"No one's ever told me I have."

"Guess I'll stay, then. For tonight anyway."

His hold on her hand tightened. "Promise not to turn into a pumpkin?"

"Only if you promise not to slip any peas under my mattress."

He pulled his hand away, and finally moved to dispose of the used condom. "Smartass."