Knox County Ch. 07

He said nothing, watching her slide down him and stop at his pants. She looked back up at him, her head just above the growing bulge in his crotch, her hands set to unbutton his pants. He looked from her eyes to his pants then back again, seeing her raised eyebrows. He sat still, his lips parting, staring at her. He watched her hands unbutton his pants, then draw down his zipper. He watched her tug on the waist, and he lifted his hips, watching her pull his pants off of him.

Aimee's eyes didn't leave his until his pants were off, tossed behind her. Then he saw her eyes go to his cock and widen. Her hand appeared, reaching around him, and he felt the warm, smooth skin of her fingers and palm squeeze his shaft as it grew in her hand. She pulled the skin down, carefully, lovingly, then leaned in and flicked her tongue through her lips, licking the underside from the base to the now exposed head.

Sean felt shivers as her hot, wet, tongue made its slow journey. He felt the small bumps through the thin skin of his hard on, pressing into him, savoring him. At the tip, he saw her eyes flash at him for a moment before lowering. His breath rushed out in a gasp as he felt her mouth encircle the head. It was wet, but more cool than just her tongue. He felt the edges of her teeth lightly scrape him, her hand rising back up some then going back down, her head leaning from side to side on his cock. There were sucking sounds, and he felt the pressure of her mouth around his head.

He was mesmerized, unable to speak. He couldn't look away from the deep red hair moving slowly between his legs, turning and going up and down further. He reached out and brushed his fingertips against the top of her ear, feeling her hair, moving to her shoulder. She moaned at his touch, and he felt her break contact.

Aimee stood before him, between his parted legs. Her eyes were back on him as she unbuttoned her blouse and pulled it off. Her stomach was flat and pail, sprinkled with a few freckles, and he could see the jutting of her hipbones. He could see she was fit by the trace of musculature on her tummy, the tone in her arms as she reached behind and unclasped her bra. He leaned forward and unbuttoned her jeans before unzipping them and pulling them down.

"You're beautiful," he whispered as the jeans traveled over her slender hips and well-toned, smooth legs. He looked up and saw her breasts. They were pale, swelling and pointing outward, her areolae and nipples small with a pale pinkish hue. He looked back down and watched as she hooked her thumbs into her panties and pushed them down, stepping out of them to reveal a small, trimmed thatch of pale red hair.

He reached his hand around her hips and pulled her into his face. He could smell her. It was clean, the smell of the ocean on a windy day, the tang of saltwater mixed with clear waters. He sniffed her in, both hands kneading her smooth, taut buttocks. Her legs parted for him, and he kissed from the top of her cleft to under and around her hood, circling his tongue and tasting her.

Sean felt Aimee's hand on his head, pulling his face into her as her hips lifted to afford him better access. He heard her approving murmurs as his tongue continued circling. One of his hands left her ass and roamed over her skin to her breasts, stopping when one was in his palm. They weren't large, they weren't small, he realized. They were a perfect fit, and he rolled it with his palm, his fingers seeking the nipple he felt growing in her hand. Her hand went atop his and guided him in pleasuring her.

"I want you," she whispered. He looked up, back to those eyes. They were dancing now, the sadness of before replaced now by pleasure and anticipation and . . . my God, he thought, by excitement.

"Tell me you want this," she said.

Sean leaned back into the chair, pulling her with him as he went. Aimee's legs straddled over his, and he felt the heat from her lips pressing against the underside of his cock. He looked back to her eyes.

"Tell me," she repeated, her moist labia riding up and down his length.

He reached underneath and grabbed, lifting himself. "I want this," he said, feeling her shift and help him in placing his cock at the entrance to her. She slowly pushed down, throwing her head back, squeezing her eyes shut, and biting her bottom lip in concentration as she did so.

Sean's breath abandoned him, and he leaned back and groaned with the sensations rushing through him. She was soaked and on fire, enveloping him in an incredibly tight sheath of molten lava. He heard her moan as she went, a long, low, continuous expulsion of pleasure.

After a minute, he felt her reach his base. She held it there, leaning into him. Sean opened is eyes and looked at hers, watched her lips part as she leaned into him. They kissed, slowly, deeply, and he could feel her breathing her pleasure through him.

His hands went to her. One sought out her breast, palming it and squeezing, and other caressing her smooth ribs and belly, feeling the writhing of her abdomen as the sensations ran through her. Her hands were on his shoulders, and he felt her raise back up, then slowly return, then do it again . . . and again . . . and again, slowly picking up speed with each penetration and withdrawal. She leaned back into him, her mouth seeking his, her tongue going in frantically as she pressed her warm breasts into his skin. Her hips started rolling back and forth, the thrusts not taking his full length, but the movements causing friction. Her hands were stroking his jaw, his hair, his shoulders, and his went to her ass. He squeezed her taut cheeks, guiding her and moving her faster on him.

"I'm so full," she panted. "So . . . Oh my God, yes." He felt a small orgasm ripple through her and looked to her face. Her mouth was a perfect circle, her eyes shut, her concentration locked on the feelings he was giving her.

He felt his own orgasm rising, being coaxed from him by her impossibly tight, fiery core. "I'm getting close," he whispered. He felt her hips buck faster in response, and his hands roamed over her ass, trying to pick up the speed and get him there.

He heard her breathing increase as well. "Come on," she encouraged. She leaned forward and looked at him, her tongue flicking from her mouth, her eyes ablaze with the feelings he was giving her. He no longer saw the innocent little pixie, but a lusty, erotic fantasy returned.

"Oh yes, just a little more," she said, still staring at him, her breath coming in short grunts as she started traveling his full length, slamming into him with every thrust. Then he felt her fingernails dig into the sensitive flesh of his shoulders. She started shuddering, grinding against him, and he felt himself explode, leaning in to suck a nipple as he did so. Her hand went to the back of his head and forced him in harder, her voice one long stream of yes, yes, oh yes.

Sean went dizzy with the force of his explosion, but still he sucked in the nipple. His teeth were grazing over the hardened nub, and he felt her muscles quivering beneath his lips, her hand still holding him tight.

When her orgasm was spent, he released her from his mouth and leaned back. She was looking at him, her eyes now a mix of concern.

He smiled. "Sorry. It's been awhile."

She smiled in return. "There's nothing to apologize about. That was . . . oh my God."

He pulled her in close and heard her whisper in his ear. "Are you okay with this?"

He hugged her tightly to him in response, enjoying the closeness he'd lacked for more than a year. * * *

She had been loitering at the Piggly Wiggly most evenings between five and six when her schooling permitted, trying to dawdle over buying food she didn't really need while keeping Brandon entertained with the boredom. She didn't know what to do. Their last moments together had been awful. The moment he'd torn out of her driveway and sped away, she'd started crying and didn't know what to do.

She'd phoned Cynthia, seeking advice from the one person whose advice she trusted at this moment. Cynthia had told her to call him, to try talking things out. She'd mulled this over for a day, then phoned his cell, leaving him a voicemail message. That was more than a week ago, and her two subsequent messages had gone unreturned.

Elizabeth remembered the look on his face throughout the argument. His initial happiness--hell, outright elation and joy--followed by how hurt he was when she'd taken offense so lightly. And then, when she wouldn't let it go, his anger and--she wasn't sure, but it looked like it--contempt at her actions. It tore her apart, not letting it go and hurting him. But what really hurt her was the contempt, as if he was disappointed in her petty reaction. She didn't think it had been petty, at least at the time. Looking back on it, she realized he was right. Will would never do anything to demean her. That's what she'd liked in him all along; that's why she had been drawn to him from the first. And that's why she realized she still may not be ready for a relationship with him.

Yet, Cynthia had been right. Elizabeth needed to deal with her issues, and deal with them quickly. Will had bent over backwards showing his feelings for her, his commitment to giving it a shot. She knew she couldn't expect him to bend over backwards forever. Sooner or later, he'd declare defeat and move on. And given their last meeting, she was afraid that moment would arrive sooner.

She looked at her watch. Ten after six. He wasn't coming, she realized, and went to the check out lane. She was helping Brandon pick out a lollipop when she saw him enter the building, thirty feet away and heading toward produce. He didn't look her way, hadn't seen her. She watched him.

"Ma'am?" the clerk said. She turned back and placed the lollipop next to her groceries and started writing a check. She tried to take her time, but he still hadn't appeared when she finished. She went to her car, slowly loading the groceries and taking her time getting Brandon in the baby seat. Then she got in the car and waited.

Brandon seemed content in the back seat, sucking happily on the lollipop. She was nervous, though, her eyes locked on the exit of the supermarket. It was nearly ten more minutes before he appeared, head down, walking straight to his car. She wasn't sure what to do, approach him in the car or follow him. She looked at Brandon in the back seat, knowing she couldn't leave him alone. Yet she didn't want a scene with Will in front of her son.

Will's car pulled out, turning onto the highway. Elizabeth followed far behind, knowing he was going home. A few minutes later, and a block and a half ahead of her, he pulled into his driveway, closing the garage door behind him as he went.

She parked out front, trying to decide what to do. She didn't want to knock on his door, afraid he wouldn't answer. Also, she couldn't leave Brandon alone to go in. What was she trying to do here? she thought. She tried his cell phone again, but it went straight to voicemail. Seeing no other alternative, she told Brandon to wait for a minute and went to the door. She knocked.

A woman answered the door. "May I help you?" she said. Elizabeth was stunned. She was maybe a year or two older than Elizabeth, long brown hair, brown eyes, and pretty. Very pretty.

"I'm sorry," Elizabeth said. "I was just lookin' for Will. I didn't realize he had . . . ." She couldn't say more. The situation was making her nauseous.

The girl smiled. "He's just putting groceries away." She stood back. "Come on in."

Elizabeth looked over her shoulder at her boy in the car. She turned back and shook her head. "No, I'm sorry. I've got to be going."

"Who is it, Sue?" she heard Will call out.

"There's a woman at the door for you," she called back. She turned to Elizabeth. "What's your name?"

Elizabeth shook her head, now totally unable to speak. She tried to flash a smile and backed off the porch. The woman moved as if to follow her. Seeing this, Elizabeth panicked and moved quickly to her car.

As she opened the door, she heard Will's voice. "Elizabeth, stop." She turned, looking at him while getting in the car and closing the door behind her. They'd fought less than two weeks ago, and already he'd moved on.

She pulled away from the curb and saw movement, turning in time to see him sprint off the porch and toward her. She heard him shouting after her, trying to block his voice out of her mind as she hit the gas. Two blocks down the street, she glanced in the rearview mirror. He was in the middle of the road a block back, waving his arms at her.

Elizabeth drove straight home.

"What's wrong, Mommy?" Brandon said around his lollipop a she lifted him from the car seat.

"Mommy's just having a bad day, sweetie," she replied, kissing his cheek through her tears.

"Are you mad at Will?" he asked.

She shook her head, trying to choke back her sob. "No baby, Mommy's not mad at Will."

She carried him into the house and returned for the groceries. As she approached the door, she hear a car door slam behind her.

"Elizabeth," she heard Will shout, "would you like to meet my sister?"

Elizabeth froze. His sister? Sue, the pretty brunette, was his sister? She remained frozen, listening to their approaching steps. "Well?" he said, just behind her.

She shook her head, afraid to turn and face them.

"You sure? I made her bring her driver's license in case you didn't believe me." His tone was cutting, and she winced.

"You didn't return my calls," she whispered.

"What calls?"

She heard Sue's voice further back, near the curb. "Will, I think I'll take your car, okay? Let you two talk for awhile?" She heard Will tell her to go ahead, then his voice was directed back at her. "Are you going to look at me, or am I going to stand out here freezing--again--and talk to your back?"

She opened the door in front of her. "Come on," she said, not looking back, but holding the door open with her foot.

She saw Brandon's face light up when he saw Will. "Will," he bubbled, running awkwardly on his chubby little legs toward her. She watched him as he passed her, then followed his progress into Will's outstretched arms.

"Hey, tiger," Will said, smiling and picking Brandon up.

"Mommy's mad at you," Brandon said.

Will nodded. "I suppose she is."

"What did you do to her?"

"I don't know yet. Can you do us a favor?" The boy nodded. "Can you go to your room for awhile and play in there so me and Mommy can talk about things?" The boy nodded again.

"Don't make her cry anymore, okay?" Will nodded, placing the child back on the ground and rubbing his fingers through his hair. Brandon trotted to his room.

Elizabeth walked into the kitchen. She heard Will's footsteps following her, but she didn't know what to do. She'd just made an ass of herself, of that she was sure. But she didn't want a repeat of last time. Worse, she was afraid to look at him, afraid she'd see the same looks he'd had the last time.

"So, you mentioned some calls?"

She nodded, putting the groceries away. "I phoned you. Three times. I left you messages, but you didn't call back."

Elizabeth heard Will rustling in his pocket, then heard some beeps as he dialed a number. "Is this the number you called?" he said, putting the cell phone to her ear. She heard an operator tell her the number was no longer in service.

"But that message wasn't there when I called." She looked at him, watching him put the phone back in his pocket.

"I just thought I'd misplaced it. I didn't check my account until yesterday, and I saw a bunch of activity since I last saw it. That's when I realized it was stolen, and I canceled the account."

She nodded.

"Is that the only number you tried?"

She nodded.

"You didn't try work? Home? Maybe dropping by?" She shook her head.

Elizabeth heard the disappointment in his voice, and she raised her head to meet his eyes. They were sad and weary. "I'm sorry," she said. Her tears returned, and she leaned into a corner of the counter, wiping the tears away. "I didn't want to bother you. And when you didn't return my messages, I didn't want to . . . if I called you at work . . . or at home and you didn't want to talk to me . . . I didn't want to create a scene or anything."

"Like just now? At my house?"

"I'm sorry."

"You thought I'd already moved someone else into my bed, didn't you?"

She nodded, crying aloud now.

"I take that back," he said, his voice taking a nasty tone, "not someone else, because you were never in it."

Elizabeth looked at him, her face a mask of anguish. She could see looking at him, though, that her obvious pain and embarrassment had no effect on him. He looked nonplused, arms folded and legs crossed as he leaned against the counter. His face was a mask, neither angry nor sad nor contemptuous, but impassive. She realized that this was the lawyer side of him she'd never seen. Before her was the Will who could, and did, question impassioned witnesses without himself showing a trace of emotion.

"Please, Will," she said, "don't treat me like this. I'm sorry. I've said it a hundred times. Why won't you listen? Believe me?"

He said nothing, just continued staring at her, his face unmoving.

"Say something," she pleaded.

"Nothing's changed in the past two weeks," he said. "Two weeks ago, you flew off the handle over an innocent remark. Tonight, you fly off the handle again. And again you turn your back on me and refuse to talk. You just ran away. Again."

She was nodding. "You're right. You're right, and I'm sorry. I'm-- "

He shook his head. "You're not sorry. You don't trust me. I've been thinking this over since last time, thinking maybe I was wrong. But no matter how I play it, I can't . . . I don't understand why. Out of all people, why not at least me? You trust me to watch Brandon, but that's it, isn't it? You trust me about as much as any teenage babysitter."

She swiped a handful of kleenex and blew her nose. Then she pressed more kleenex into her eyes, trying to staunch the flow of tears.

"Yeah," he said, walking toward the door, "you've nothing to say to that."

She chased after him, getting in front of the door pushing it closed with her back. "It's not like that, Will," she said. He stood, staring at her. "I wasn't upset today because I figured you'd already run out and found someone else. I was upset because I thought I'd lost you. I couldn't blame you for that, not after last time. You were right, I overreacted. And you were right--and still are right--that I'm too defensive. But that's my problem, Will, not yours. I'm too defensive because I'm embarrassed. About what I was. And I know you don't really, deep down, understand why I was a . . . an escort."

Her tears were subsiding, and her words were pouring out. In response, she saw his face was softening, and his hands thrust into his pockets. Still, he said nothing, just continued to stare at her. After catching her breath and waiting in vain for him to say something, she continued.

"I fucked up the last time, okay? I know that. And I'm sorry. I'm really, really, really sorry. I won't do it again--try not to, at least. And you can slap me if I do. But tonight, tonight had nothing to do with not trusting you. It was about the realization, whether true or not . . . when I saw her there, this pretty girl, I thought I'd lost you. And I was terrified. That's what that was about. Really. You can move on. I wouldn't blame you in the least, and God knows you have every right to go with-- "

Will was on her before she realized he'd moved. His lips pressed against hers, and his hands were on her arms, pulling them tight to his sides. Elizabeth was startled and continued talking as he pressed against her, trying to get the words out and let him know how she felt.