When September Ends (9 page)

By the time Jesse arrives, I’ve taken a quick shower and pulled my damp hair on top of my head. I’m wearing jeans and a tee shirt, and have just put a pot of coffee on when I hear a knock at my door.

My belly clenches as I open the door to him. He hasn’t slept well, that much I can tell by the dark hollows underneath his eyes, but he is still so fucking beautiful to me.

“Hey,” I greet softly, swinging the door wider to allow him in, “I’ve got coffee ready, would you like a cup?”

“Sounds good,” he murmurs, taking a look around my apartment, his eyes scanning the living room and finally returning to mine.

“I know it isn’t much—” I start.

“It’s fine, babe. I just wish things were different is all.”

I nod and head to the kitchen, returning with two mugs of coffee, handing him one where he is now sitting on the loveseat. I take a seat in the only other place to sit in the living room. An avocado and gold plaid easy chair. I sip my coffee and peruse him from beneath my shuttered lashes.

He seems out of place here. He’s tall and muscular, and his whole aura is one of strength and masculinity, but amongst the scant furnishings and garage sale knick-knacks adorning the walls of my little apartment, seeing him sprawled out on my loveseat seems foreign.

“Fuck this,” I say, setting my mug on the coffee table. His eyes immediately flash to mine. “We both know why you’re here. Let’s get to it.”

His eyes flare as he looks at me, leaning forward and placing his coffee mug next to mine on the table. “I’m here to discuss this current
situation
with you, September. We didn’t get that chance yesterday, with everything happening so quickly.”

“There’s nothing to discuss,” I reply getting up and moving over to the loveseat. I lower myself down next to him and, immediately, I feel my sex clench at his nearness. I need Jesse to not talk. There’s nothing he can say that I want to hear right now—maybe ever. “Mama’s coming home. I always knew you didn’t really belong to me, but she’s not here yet,” I finish, my hands moving to the crotch of his jeans where I can see that he’s got a semi going on. “Let’s fuck, Jesse. It’s our last chance.”

His blue eyes have darkened, and I see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows, “Baby, that’s not why I’m here,” he argues softly, but he makes no move to remove my hand that is now rubbing the growing bulge in his jeans, and then my fingers pluck at the tip of his cock, and he releases a soft groan. “September…”

“Shh,” I purr, leaning in to him, breathing in his scent, the one that will forever be ingrained in my brain. It’s the smell of soap and a trace of woodsy pine in the mix. It makes my belly tingle, and my eyes are now focused on his mouth, his full sensual lips, and as he flicks his tongue along the bottom one.

Seconds later, we’re melded together in a passionate kiss, both of us hungry for what we know, and what we’ve denied ourselves for too damn long. I won’t deny Jesse this any longer, nor will I deny myself.

My pussy is already damp, and this incredible primal need within me has instinctually taken over, pushing any doubts or second thoughts from my mind. I’m living this minute and fuck if I’m going to analyze it for the sake of the big picture.

I want Jesse. My body is doing the thinking for me because I’m allowing it, and I need more than anything to mate with him right here, right now, because my mother will never have what I have at this moment with Jesse, no matter how long she stays with them on Juniper Drive.

His cock is mine, and my feminine wiles are now working in overdrive to quash any reluctance he may have in giving me what I want.

I pull my lips from his, “Fuck me, Jesse. I need you to fuck me hard,
now
” I rasp, as I fumble with the fly on his jeans, and manage to free his erection.

He pulls his shirt up and over his head; all signs of reluctance on his part have dissipated. I do the same, and his hands are immediately palming my breasts, his fingers bringing my nipples to hard pebbles, rolling them between his thumb and index finger, and squeezing them firmly causing me to moan in pleasure.

I pull back for a few moments, raising my hips off the loveseat, and tugging at my jeans. Jesse helps to pull them off, and now I am naked with the exception of my thong.

His lips are back on mine, and he’s claiming me with his mouth, tongue and hands, as he pulls me onto his lap. His mouth now descends on a breast, suckling hard on it as his hands brace my hips and raise me up.

He is as frenzied as I am, so we’re skipping the foreplay and going for the gold here. “Fuck, I need to be inside of you,” he growls, positioning me over his hardened shaft, I spread my thighs, and my one hand pulls aside the silk thong to make way for his engorged cock. He lowers me down onto his shaft as he thrusts up at the same time. I feel my body shiver as I am now completely impaled on his cock.

Jesse’s eyes are squeezed shut and, for a moment, he doesn’t move. He’s ready to come and I know that he’s totally focused on making sure that doesn’t happen. “Don’t move, babe,” he growls softly. “Give me a second here because fuck if I’m not about to blow my load already.”

He takes a deep breath, and I do the same. Then slowly, with measured strokes, he begins to pump inside of me, his hands braced on my hips, rolling me up and down onto his erection in a deliberate rhythm.

I moan. He groans.

With each thrust, I lean forward allowing my swollen clit to rub against his pelvis. I roll my hips in a circular motion, grinding against him, and his cockhead is now tapping against the special sweet spot inside of me that swells with each stroke.

“Ah, that’s it baby,” he croons, rocking into me harder. “This pussy is mine and only mine, do you understand?”

“Mmm, yes, Jesse,” I reply, my eyes meet his, and I can see the truth in them. “Love me harder, please?”

I arch my back a bit as he bucks up against me harder, deeper and the tempo increases deliciously. I begin to feel the warm flush wash over my skin, starting at my extremities, and the tingling sensation of my impending orgasm begins to wash over every nerve ending and muscle within me.

“Fuck me, baby,” he moans, and I know that we’re going to come together, as I mewl in pleasure, saying his name over and over as my orgasm releases within me, and I rock into him, my sex contracting around him.

It is so fucking intense that I’m not sure if I can handle it without screaming, and just then his hands capture my face and he pulls my mouth down to his as we both feel the wet release of our love spilling out against our damp skin.

I shiver as he stills, and I feel the throbbing of his cock as the last of his climax empties into me.

“Fuck,” I rasp, peppering kisses all over his face, “I’ve missed you so much, Jesse.”

“Oh baby,” he rasps, clasping his fingers under my chin so that my eyes are locked with his, “I love you and I promise you that we will get through this.”

I nod, and then bury my face against his neck, breathing in the sweet, musky scent of our sex. I want so much to believe what he’s saying but, as always, the nagging feeling that my mother isn’t finished with him yet comes back to haunt me.

When Jesse leaves my apartment later that Sunday afternoon, I realize we haven’t done much talking. We spent that time alternating between fucking and making love, and it hit me then that it could be awhile before our bodies connected so perfectly again.

Looking back, I see how prophetic that realization turned out to be. My mother would be in Fort Smith the following day, and things wouldn’t be the same.

I spot Libby immediately as she steps down from the Greyhound bus in the terminal. She’s looking around as if she’s nervous or concerned that no one will be there to meet her.

“Sarah,” I call out, getting her attention, “Over here.”

Her face relaxes, and a shy smile makes an appearance as she walks toward me rolling a piece of luggage behind her. “Hello, Jesse,” she greets softly. “Did Scout come with you?”

“Ah, no,” I reply, “She’s at school.”

“What was I thinking? Of course she is.”

“Is this all you have?” I ask, nodding toward the suitcase she’s pulling.

“No, I checked a bigger suitcase. I mean, Mama wasn’t sure how long she and Daddy will be gone,” she explains with a slight frown. “I’m so worried about them.”

“I know,” I reply, not knowing what more I could possibly say. “Let’s go claim your other bag. I’m parked over there,” I finish with a nod towards the lot.

The ride to the house is spent in strained silence. I mean, what the fuck is there to talk about?

“Scout is looking forward to seeing you,” I finally say, breaking the silence. “She’s got some difficult puzzles out if you’re still into that.”

She glances over at me and, for a second, there’s a flash of familiarity in her eyes as if she actually
does
remember me from her past. “Oh yes, I still do those when I have time,” she answers, “But Mama has me doing a lot of other things now. I cook and I sew and, eventually, I might even get a job.”

“Is that right?”

“Yes, Mama says I have a knack for sewing and mending so I might be able to work at Fitch’s Dry Cleaners. They need someone to do alternations and repair work. Mama knows the owners real well. When she and Daddy get back, I’m supposed to start part-time there.”

“Well that’s a good thing,” I reply, “I mean, it’s nice to have a means of income.”

“Yes,” she says, nodding. “Like Mama says, she and Daddy won’t be around forever, so I’ve got to learn to make my way.”

If the last remark was intended to send a stab of guilt my way, no matter how innocently stated, it succeeded. Why the fuck should I feel guilty though? Christ, Libby is the one that walked out on us. I never wanted her to go.

As I glance over at her, I see that she’s gazing out the window again and I realize that the guilt comes from the fact that this person isn’t Libby.

Not in her current condition anyway.

Sarah is a much different person, and the fact that it is a result of a near death experience as Libby, for some reason gives me pause to feel compassion for her. Her looks only vaguely resemble the Libby that left us going on six years now.

She still has the chocolate brown eyes—the same as September—but that’s about the only thing that hasn’t changed. She is scrubbed fresh, but she doesn’t bother with make-up, which, in a way, makes her appear younger than she is. Her style of dress is more conservative, and though she’s put on some weight since I last saw her in Meridian, she still is thinner than Libby was back then.

Her hair is long and shiny, pulled back in a clip. No highlights or blond tints like before. Her demeanor is softer, and more reserved than Libby’s.

“Is there a particular church where you worship?” she asks, breaking the silence as she turns to face me again.

“Uh, well, we don’t attend church,” I start and then feel more guilt seeping in. “I know that we should and all—”

“Jesse, I don’t judge people. No need to explain but, if possible, I would like to find a church for Sunday worship, that is, if you won’t mind dropping me off and picking me up. I don’t drive yet.”

I nod. “Not a problem. No shortage of churches in Ft. Smith. Any particular denomination?”