Page 13 of At Last

He only gives slight acknowledgment with a quick smile before he moves his hand to unfasten the back clasp. Then he tugs the straps until my bare breasts stand exposed, my nipples at attention. My breasts aren’t huge. They aren’t mosquito bites either. Mostly pert—I’d had a baby, after all—and proportional for my size.

The perusal he gives them is so much different than that of my bra.

“What?” I ask, wanting to cover up, yet not making the move to do so.

“I’m not gonna fuck you today. Though Doc, I gotta taste you. Been dying to taste you and that peaches and cream skin for so fucking long.”

“Taste me?” I’m hesitant. Partially from being out of breath from his kisses, and partially unsure of what parts he wants to taste. Oh, but I find out.

Duke reverently plumps my breasts together before sucking on one of my nipples, deep and hard. The nip he gives it surprises me, and I jolt. He releases it, and blows delicately over the heated red mark he’s left, swipes his thumb over the whole areola, and then switches to give the other attention. It. Feels. Good.

I thought the burning tingle before, on the counter, was good—and it was. But this, if he keeps it up, I could orgasm. From nipple stimulation. Over two years since a man’s mouth has touched me, and that man is Duke, and his mouth feelsthatgood. My breaths come in pants. Shallow. “Oh god,Duke.” I sigh.

“Think you’re ready for me.” He grumbles then, “Gonna fucking taste you.”

Before I can register what’s happening, he releases my nipple with a pop not bothering to soothe the sting of that nip, because his hands suddenly become busy when herips my elastic-waist shorts down my thighs, along with my panties. Then he kisses my lips hard one more time and removes my shorts and panties the rest of the way, tossing them to the floor.

He flips me so I’m no longer angled partly on the bottom cushion, but so my back presses firmly against the back cushion of the sofa, drops to his knees in front of me and spreads my thighs, holding me wide open with his hands at my knees.

“Carpet matches the drapes…” he murmurs. “Trimmed not waxed… thank fuck…” And then he, no other word for it, digs in. I’ve never had a man go at me with such relished, reckless abandon as Duke. The feeling so intense, so overwhelming, my thighs strain to snap together, to give me some relief from his tongue assault, though Duke is strong and keeps my legs splayed wide.

“I… oh god,Duke.” A tinny feeling fills my head, my breaths no longer come in pants as I gulp to try and fill my lungs with any air at all. There’s a loud ringing in my ears, and I close my eyes, pressing them tightly together. So tightly that black spots pop behind my eyelids. His tongue assault is relentless. He drops his hand from one of my knees to fling my leg over his shoulder, then takes his free hand, trails two fingers along the slick wetness he’s created, and plunges those two fingers inside me to compliment his cunilingual ministrations.

Even without enough air in my lungs, I gasp at the intrusion. He crooks his fingers forward, hitting a spot no man has ever hit before. My entire body seizes up, and it happens. Iexplode. He growls, feasting through my climax. Continuing to pump his fingers. Continuing to draw out my orgasm.

I shake uncontrollably when he finishes. Maybe from the shock, since my body has never experienced such an extreme orgasm before, or maybe… maybe because it’s Duke who gave it to me. Can I even allow that thought to take root?

Then surprising me further, Duke stares at me a beat before he hollers, “Fuck.” And then pushes up from his spot kneeling on the floor, which means my rubber band legs flop from his shoulders awkwardly.

I pull my knees together, my skin suddenly flushing a self-conscious bright red, redder than my hair, as he sits to slide his boots back on. Focusing on whatever he’s decided to focus on so he doesn’t have to look at me, Duke stands and walks into the kitchen.

I hear the scrape of him grabbing his keys from the counter and the swish of moving his cut from the chair, then he walks back through my living room and out the front door without even saying goodbye. Leaving me naked and confused on my sofa.

What just happened?

He said he wasn’t going to fuck me. Only wanted to taste. I thought that meant he wanted more with me. Well, his actions tell me where I stand with Duke. Men like Duke Ellis don’t want to start things with a single mother. It hurts. Though, in my experience, that’s all I can expect from a man. Hurt. They suck down all the fun parts of life and then leave you without any inclination that this had been the plan.

I’m an educated woman, yet there I go, falling for it again. The problem is, I don’t know what about me drives them away. I’m not clingy or whiny. I even told Duke I’d sleep with him without any attachments. Though, no attachments doesn’t mean no goodbye. No, ‘hey thanks fora good-time, we should do it again’, or even a pat on the knee in passing to let me know all’s well. Aiden asked me out. Aiden told me he wanted me to move in with him, and when I told him I was pregnant, acted over the moon. But it was all a lie. The truth of the matter is, I repel men.

The tears, unfortunately, begin to pool in the corners of my eyes.

How can one woman be so unlovable?

Reaching down, I pluck my shorts and panties from the floor where Duke had tossed them, and shimmy them back into place. Then pull my Tee over my head, not bothering with the bra. It’s not like I’m leaving the house with Jade on bed rest for the next couple of days. As if sensing that I’m thinking of her, Jade’s buzzer goes off.

“Coming,” I shout to her, jogging up the stairs to her room, entering with a fake plastered-on smile. “Hey Princess Jade.”

“Peaches, Mama.”

I wince but shake it off. “That’s not my nickname for you. I call you Princess Jade. You know that.”

“ButI wike Peaches.” She wobbles her bottom lip after drawing out the word peaches, meant to really put a point on that little girl whine of hers. She’s a pro.

But I’m a mom and thus immune to lip wobbles and little girl whines. Though, my baby girlisinjured, so I refuse to argue with her over this. I pinch the bridge of my nose, then sigh and change the subject. “What did you need?” I move closer to place my hand on her forehead and stroke her hair.

“I’m hungwy.”

“You want some chili?” I ask.

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