This is fan fiction.  Though the characters involve real people, this does not recount real events.  The rating on this story is NC-17.   If you are not 18 years of age, please do not read!




N O W   M A R Y

p a r t s   o n e  -  s i x


© Radiantbaby, 2003



*    *    *





Jack Gillis wasn’t a very popular kid in his school.  He always seemed to follow his own sort of lead and people like that often don’t have many friends.  Still, though he was probably much more forward thinking than most of the others in his school, he considered himself rather ordinary.  He didn’t know that day, though, walking into class, that his “ordinary” life was going to change forever.


He settled in the back of the class as he always did - him and the teachers never quite getting along, so he always tried to keep his distance.  He found himself often just trying to hide in the back of the class, getting as far as he could from the sharp words of the teachers and his ever-jeering peers.  He sat at his usual desk in the far back left and began to pull out his textbook and paper, when someone caught his eye at the front of the class. 


She had long fiery-red hair, cut in an almost Betty Page-esque style, and she wore a green and black baby doll dress which emphasized her eyes so well he could practically see them all the way from where he sat.  She was speaking with the teacher, Mr. Barclay, who then pointed her towards the seats of the class.  The mystery girl looked around and towards the back, catching Jack looking at her.  Jack quickly looked down at his book in embarrassment.


She smiled at him, though he could not see it, and lifted her backpack to her shoulder and made her way towards the back of the class.  Jack snuck a glance at her coming towards him, his heart beginning to race and her movements now seeming to be in slow motion.  She was right next to his desk, as he gripped the sides of it to steady himself, still looking down at the book before him, though certainly not reading it.


She sat down next to him.  It was the only open seat in the class.  For a moment, he was both thankful and absolutely terrified.


“Hello, my name is Mary,” she whispered to him, tilting her head to try and make eye contact with him.


Jack held tighter to the desk, his palms sweating, and forced himself to look at her.  Her green eyes penetrated his very being, seemingly able to see right into his soul.


“I’m…I’m…” he stammered.


“Jack!” Mr. Barclay scolded, now standing between them. “Stop talking. Its time for class to start.”






It was like that on that first day he met her and he could remember it all in every little detail.  The funny thing was, even though almost ten years had passed since he’d last seen her, he still felt the very same nerves just thinking of her. 


He wasn’t sure what brought him there that evening and what force in the universe caused him to absently pick up a local music magazine and not only see there was, amusingly, a local blues bar named after one of his great idols, but that a girl who’d made such a deep impression on him was playing there that very night.


Blind Willie’s, there it was, with her name Mary Lee on the door.  He could have brushed it off as the name was far from uncommon, but he couldn’t deny it was really her, when beneath her name it stated “Accompanied by Garrett Lee on piano and drums.”  Her brother Garrett -- yes, it was all coming back. 


The last time he had seen her, she was boarding a flight to Georgia with her family.  She had pressed her lips against his cheek and pressed her phone number into his palm.  He’d looked down at the numbers scrawled in that artsy script she’d had.  “My aunt’s house,” she had said, “We’ll be there the first few weeks. Please call.”


He’d stuffed it in his jeans pocket, going home miserable that evening.  It was a Saturday, he remembered, because after coming back the next afternoon from hanging out with his brother Joe, his mother had tossed those same jeans in the Sunday washing.  Panicked, he’d rushed to the machine, but it was too late – her number was wet, smeared, and incomprehensible.  It was his last connection to her and his tears smeared the ink of the numbers even more.


Back in the present, he paid the cover for the evening, pressing his finger to his lips to quiet the doorman as his eyes had widened in recognition.  “No cover for you, man,” the man said nervously, trying to hand the $5 bill back to Jack.


“Keep it, really.” Jack said awkwardly, trying to get as quickly past the man and into the safe darkness of the bar before anyone else spotted him.


“Thanks,” the guy said, “Great show last night.”


“Thanks, man,” Jack replied, tipping his black newsboy hat at him, and walked towards the back of the club.


He looked towards the stage, watching the equipment getting set up by a large, tall red-headed man.  He focused his eyes a bit.  It was Garrett, most certainly.  He smiled, remembering the good times he’d had with Garrett.  He was a “gentle giant”, even carrying Jack around on his back when he’d gotten too drunk once or twice.  It was like he was another big brother to Jack, except he was one that didn’t beat him up.


Jack sat in a far dark booth, lighting up a cigarette.  He pulled the brim of his hat down and the collar of his shirt up.  He was terrified that he was going to be recognized again and made to be a spectacle.  He didn’t want that, he just wanted to observe.  The trouble was he’d played a sold out show with Meg as the White Stripes the night before, so he was fresh in a lot of people’s minds.  He wondered for a moment if perhaps she had been there at that show.


The waitress came by and he ordered a beer, trying hard to hide himself in the shadows.  It seemed to do the trick, as she served him barely batting an eye.  Once he began to drink, he had to slow himself down, as he caught himself trying to drink quickly to quell his nerves.  What would she look like now?  Would he even have the guts to go up and speak to her?  Would she even remember him?


After what seemed like forever, the lights finally dimmed, and there, walking on the stage, was her.  Her hair was still as fiery red as he’d remembered, but now it was cut in a “lulu” bob.  She seemed to be taller, all legs in her short velvet dress.  She used to say she loved playing the blues in a dress, that it just seemed so right and wrong at the same time.   She picked up her guitar, a black Gibson Les Paul, and nodded back to Garrett who was sitting at the piano.  They began to play.


Jacks heart almost lurched as all of the memories had come rushing back to when he’d first seen her play.  It was the weekend after he’d first met her at school.  Since they’d met, they had shared some minor conversation, but generally Jack would get a bit tongue-tied around her, making it difficult.  He had just started to discover the blues around that time and his brothers and he would often sneak into gritty blues bars on the weekends.  On that weekend, the bar they’d snuck into held a great surprise – her.


Much like today, before him at that bar, played her and her brother and they played some of the sweetest Delta Blues Jack had ever heard.  He never knew that so much passion and range could come out of some girl he’d simply met at school - a girl who should have just been a delicate 18-year-old like his other classmates. 


“That girl,” he’d stammered, pulling on his brother Joe’s arm, “That girl goes to school with me.”


“Lucky boy,” Joe had said and forced Jack to go up and speak to her afterwards.  A few days later she gave him a cassette of Robert Johnson b/w Son House.  He was truly, utterly in love.





Mary’s set lasted about an hour, the place, as usual, mostly full of older men leering at her.  She didn’t really mind though, when she played it always felt like there was no one else in the room anyway.  In fact, if Garrett weren’t there as her rock, she always felt the music might consume her completely. 


Mary had no idea that something was different about that night.  You would think when fate would play you such a hand, you’d know about it somewhere in your bones.  At least that was what it was like in the Blues.  No Mary didn’t know a thing about it, though, especially when it came to the spectre from her past in the far corner of the bar.


She finished her set, packing up her gear with her brother.  While turned around, preparing to load out her amp, she heard behind her, “You still always nail ‘I Want a Little Sugar in My Bowl’”


It was a voice so familiar, as if from a dream. She turned to see the speaker, now curious, and saw before her Jack White.


Of course he wasn’t “Jack White” back when she knew him.  He was simply John or Jack Gillis.  Still she was struck by the presence he had acquired with his fame, the aura of genius that surrounded him.  She’d always seen his potential, even when he was just plucking away at the Blues for the first time in her bedroom.  It never surprised her to see him plastered across every paper as the “New Hero of Rock.”  Somehow she knew way back then, that he was going to do something big.


“Jack?” she smiled.


Jack was blushing at his unintentional double-entendre.  “Hi…Mary,” he stammered, reduced to a schoolboy again with one look from her.


“What are you doing here?” she asked, looking a bit perplexed, but then laughed.  “That sounded rude.  How are you?”


“Good, good,” Jack replied awkwardly.  He was at a loss for words.  All the years of carefully crafted conversations in his head for such a reunion were quickly fading from his memory.


“Jack Gillis?” he heard a deep voice bellow.  It was Garrett.


Garrett rushed over to them, grabbing Jack’s hand and shaking it.  His hand still made Jack’s look so small in comparison.


“Hello Garrett,” Jack smiled back.


“Great show last night! Mare and I caught it!” Garrett exclaimed, causing Mary to elbow him. 


Jack raised a curious eyebrow at her, was she embarrassed?  He wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen her embarrassed before.  “Did you like the show?” Jack asked, hanging on her response. 


He’d wanted to know for years what she thought of his music, wondering if she’d even heard him or liked him. There was so much of her in his songs, did she even know?


“It was great, of course,” she smiled.  “The crowd was terrible, so we hung back.  The set was really good though.  It was a big change from when you played the Echo Lounge two years ago.”


“Where you there as well?” Jack asked, surprised.


“Of course!” Garrett replied, “Mare’s a big fan.”


Mary covered her face with her hand, now definitely blushing.  Jack just felt this overwhelming need to embrace her at that moment, but he stayed his feelings.


“Well, I am honored,” Jack told them.  God, I sound like a total cad, he thought.


“So…what brings you to Willie’s this evening, Mr. Gillis, or should I say White?” Garrett asked.


Jack laughed, “Just Jack is fine.  As for Willie’s, well, lets just say it was the strangest little twist of fate.”  He was looking right at Mary. 



*   *   *



“That was amazing,” young Jack Gillis exclaimed the next day at school after Mary had given him the infamous tape.


“That is the real stuff, forget about what is on the charts these days, that is the heart of music,” she’d replied.


He loved to hear her talk about the Blues.  Her father had been a bluesman himself, playing all around Georgia when he was younger, often dressed in a Confederate uniform for a gag as his name was Robert Lee.  Mary and her older brother Garrett probably knew the Blues before they knew how to speak.  It made her profoundly cooler than the Paula Abdul wannabes that filled their class.


It was then he began to write about her, secret songs in his room about wishing she was his and that they could kiss and do what other teenage boys wanted to do. He never let her hear them though, but small pieces of them could be heard in his later writings.



*   *   *



“This is just the oddest thing,” Mary said, sitting across from Jack, sipping some coffee at a local Waffle House.


Jack had helped her and Garrett load out and Garrett headed home in the van to “pass out.”  Mary was left in her car and offered to take Jack out for coffee.  How could he refuse?


“Isn’t it?” he replied, smoking a cigarette.


“I can’t believe you remember me,” she said, shyly looking up at him from under her bangs as she stirred her coffee. It was absolutely devastating to Jack.


“How could I forget?” he said, almost breathless.  The looks she was giving him were killing him softly.


They spoke for hours, coffee after coffee, cigarette after cigarette, trying to fill in the gaps of the last ten years.


“I’ve missed you so much,” Jack finally said, an awkward silence falling between them.


Mary’s eyes saddened a bit and she finally spoke. “You never called me,” she said quietly, looking out the window beside them.


“Oh Mary,” Jack sighed, “I really wanted to, but my mother washed your number.”  Jack went on to tell the story of what happened, omitting the part about crying for days over the incident.


She looked at him with a suspicious glance.  It sounded a bit far-fetched to her, but did it really matter anyway?  Things must not have been meant to be, she thought.


“Mary, really.  I even tried to look you up the first time I came down here.  Do you know how many Robert Lee’s there are in Georgia?  Besides, as time passed, I didn’t even know if you’d gotten married and changed your name…”


She looked back at him again, his face full of sincerity, and she softened. “Bygones,” she whispered.


“You never came up to me either, you know?” Jack added quietly. “You never spoke to me again either. The Echo Lounge, last night…”


“I was terrified.”


“Of me?” he asked.




Jack looked at her confused.


“I just didn’t want to set myself up alright? You’d already broken my heart once,” she said almost angrily, wrapping her arms around herself.


Jack reached across the table and placed his hand on her arm.  “Trust me, I never meant to. I would have given the world to see you again.  We are here now, though.  Perhaps it’s to finally clear up any misunderstandings.  I can’t have you hate me, Mary, please.”


“I don’t hate you Jack.  That is the problem.”






“You’ve got great charisma for this,” Mary told Jack after her played her some pieces of few songs that he’d written. “Perhaps one day you will be gigging like me.”


They were in Jack’s bedroom, both of them still teenagers, sitting on the bed – Jack with his guitar on his lap. 


“You think so?” he blushed slightly, shifting the guitar to lie on the bed beside them.


“Oh certainly!”


“Mary?” Jack said, suddenly feeling awkward, kneading his hands.  There was so much that he wanted to tell her he almost felt his heart would burst. “I know that we hang out a lot and I…well, I think that is really cool, but I was wondering if maybe one night we could just go to dinner, like just you and I?”


“Are you asking me out on a date, Jack?” Mary asked surprised, but inwardly delighted.


“Well, um, yes, sort of.  I mean, we don’t have to, I was just…” he stammered.


Mary stopped him, placing her hand on his.  “I would love to.”



*   *   *



Jack silently regarded her across the table that evening at the Waffle House in Atlanta. He was mulling over the last thing that she had said to him.  What did she mean by it?  Did she still have feelings for him?


“I don’t understand, Mary,” he offered, unsure of what to say.


Mary took a drink of her coffee, her eyes barely making contact with Jack’s for more than a second at a time.  “I just,” she paused, shifting uncomfortably in her seat, “I just sometimes wish we took a different path, you know?”


Jack exhaled deeply.  Never in a million years did he think that he would be lucky enough to be this close to Mary again, his ideal, and here she was confessing her feelings for him.


“Me too,” Jack said, taking her hand.  “You don’t know how many times I wished I hadn’t forgotten your number in my jeans and washed them.  Mary, it was like a part of me died that day and I have been trying for years to get it back.”


“I should go,” Mary said nervously, everything happening far too quickly for her mind to process.


“Don’t go away again,” Jack said quietly, caressing her hand with his thumb.


“Then come with me,” she offered.


“I’ll go anywhere with you.”


“Come home with me…we should talk more…privately,” she said, looking around at the other people in the restaurant, suddenly feeling as if everyone was looking at them.  They weren’t, of course, but something inside her felt her world caving in a bit, like perhaps she had to outrun fate to get Jack this time.


“Of course.”



*    *    *



“I had such a great time,” Mary said, leaving the restaurant with Jack on their first date. 


Jack sighed, smiling so wide his face almost hurt.  “Me too, it was wonderful.”


“I have an idea.”


“An idea? What?” Jack said, following along with the conspirital tone Mary’s voice had taken on suddenly.


“Dad works near here and the view from the roof is amazing.  I know the code to get up there, how about we go?”


“To the roof?” Jack said, a bit nervous at her proposition.


“Come on Jack, let’s live dangerously,” Mary countered, grabbing a hold of his hand and pulling him down the road.  She’d gotten a hold of Jack’s heart as well, he was just too afraid to tell her.


They sprinted down the road and came upon the office building where her father worked during the day.  Mary smiled at Jack as she pressed the code to get into the building and the two of them made their way inside and to the elevators. 


“Are we going to get into trouble for this?” Jack asked, as Mary pressed the up button for the elevator.


“Nah, my father comes up here at night all the time to do work.  Sometimes I’ll bring him dinner, that’s why I have his code.”


The elevator chimed and opened and the two teenagers boarded.  The elevator had a glass wall so that they could view the lights of the city as they went up and Mary pressed her palms against the glass excitedly taking in the panorama.  “Beautiful,” she mused.


“Yes, very beautiful,” Jack added, though really he was speaking more of her.


Mary turned around to look at Jack practically huddled in the corner.  He wasn’t sure if he was finding himself more nervous about the dizzying heights or simply being so close to Mary.




“Yes?” he asked, his voice a bit lower and terse as if he were trying to seem very masculine in the moment.


“Are you ever going to kiss me?” 


Mary was dead nervous to ask, but she knew if she didn’t say anything, she would never truly know how Jack felt about her.  She was hoping he’d not turn her down.


Jack’s eye widened in surprise, his throat going a bit dry.  “Yes…I…” he stammered, caught off guard by her candor.


“When?” Mary purred, excited by his reaction.


“Hmmm,” he stepped towards her, steadying himself as he walked across the moving elevator, “Now?” 


He pressed his lips to hers. The kiss began with a tentative brushing of the lips, but soon gained fervor as his tongue came out to meet hers and it became more passionate.  Mary could feel the butterflies in her stomach rise, added by the centrifugal force of the rising elevator.  She didn’t want the kiss to end, but the elevator soon jerked to a stop and chimed with the opening door.


Jack pulled from her, his eyes a beautiful brown as they looked into hers.  “We should get off,” he said, wrapping an arm around her waist and leading her out of the elevator into the attic.


Mmm, yes,” she sighed, her knees still a bit weak from the kiss.


“You lead,” Jack said and she took his hand and lead him up the stairs and out onto the roof.


“Sometimes I like to just come up here and think, it is just so peaceful up here.”


Jack smiled down at Mary, her face aglow in the moonlight.  His heart was racing.  All he could think about was holding her all night.  He moved to kiss her again, this time a bit more sure of himself.  He could feel the gooseflesh rise on his arms when Mary would sigh against his mouth.  He was definitely in trouble.  He was in deep.






Mary drove Jack over to her place, an old mill house on the artsy side of town.  There was a bit of an uncomfortable silence between them on the way there, the two of them wanting to say so much, but unable to speak.   This was broken though once inside her home.


“This is really nice,” Jack commented.


“Thank you,” Mary said, tossing her keys onto the table near the door. “It’s not much, but it is home.”


Jack walked over to one of the paintings on the wall, a striking mix of colors and objects.  “This is great, where did you get it?”


Mary walked up behind him, “It’s one of mine.”


“Do you paint?” Jack asked, suddenly remembering the little sketches she would do while he played guitar for her back in their youth.


“A little bit,” she replied, suddenly a bit shy about her work. 


“It’s beautiful,” Jack said, lightly caressing the thick paint on the canvas with his fingertips and then turned to Mary, “just like you.”


Mary blushed and looked down, but Jack lifted her chin with his fingertip.  His dark eyes focused intensely into her green ones and then, like a fire being lit, the two of them moved together in a passionate kiss.


Jack could feel his body almost shudder, so many years of longing finally manifesting itself.  So many years he had fantasized about a moment such as this, though his daydreams paled in comparison to how wonderful it really felt to kiss Mary again.


Mary softened in Jack’s embrace, letting all the years of insecurities she’d let fester about him slowly dissipate.  Kissing him felt like home to her, as if every other man she’d kissed otherwise was a fraud.  It felt as perfect as when they’d first kissed years before on the elevator in Detroit, if not better, and she even felt her stomach twist a bit like it had with the movement of that elevator so long ago.


Jack pulled from her, his eyes a bit glassy from moisture. He caressed the side of her cheek, smiling sweetly at her.


“You don’t know how long I dreamed of doing that,” Jack whispered.


“Same here,” Mary replied, caressing the nape of his neck.


Jack shook a bit with the pleasure of the caress and then leaned forward, pulling her to him again in another kiss.


Neither of them could really tell how long they had been standing in the middle of Mary’s living room just kissing, letting themselves reacquaint each other with the soft caresses of their tongues and lips.  It was as if time was standing still, as if time had ceased to be the enemy that tore them apart and instead was placing them together at last.


“Oh, my dear Suzy Lee, how I’ve missed you,” Jack whispered, kissing Mary’s ear.


Mary laughed lightly, “So I am Suzy Lee, then?”


Jack moved to look her in the eye again.  “Writing about you was the best way to keep you alive here,” he told her, placing his hand over his heart.


“I thought it was me, but I didn’t want to presume,” she said, her features filling with the red of a blush.


“You’ve always been my muse, there is a bit of you in every song.  I used ‘Suzy Lee’ to not be so obvious.  Don’t you remember I used to call you that sometimes?”


“Yes, I just…didn’t think you even remembered me.”


“Mary,” Jack said, caressing her cheek again, “I could never, in a million years, forget you.”


“Jack,” Mary paused, shyly darting her eyes to the side. “Make love to me.”


“Oh Mary,” Jack said, turning her to face him again. “I’m afraid.”




“I’m afraid that if I make love to you now, I’ll be in love with you forever.”


As foolish as it sounded, it was how Jack had really felt.  Forever Jack had dreamed of consummating things between them, especially when things got a bit close years before.  He wanted Mary to be his first, but fate had changed that and it ended up as Meg (someone who, startlingly, always looked a lot like Mary, save the hair color).  A part of him was afraid, though, afraid to let himself be engulfed by the dream of what could have been.



*   *   *



Jack opened the letter from Mary as he sat down on his bed.  She had slipped it in his bag on the way home from school and rushed off to her own house instead of his, but he just figured she was busy.


There were little hearts drawn about the paper and sweet little words from her.  She confessed to “falling in love” with him and ended the letter asking if he’d felt the same. 


Did he?  He wasn’t sure.  He certainly felt more for her than he ever had for anyone.  He thought about her all of time and felt absolutely empty when she was not around.  Was this love?


“Steve, how do you know when you are in love?” Jack asked his older brother that night.


“I don’t know, man, you just know.  Why?” Steve replied, strumming his guitar in his room.


“I think I’m in love with Mary, but I’m not sure,” Jack confessed shyly.


“More like lust,” Steve laughed.


Jack frowned at him and started to leave the room. Whoah, whoah there, Jacky.  I was just kidding.  Come back,” Steve called after him.


Jack turned back and leaned against the doorframe, still holding Mary’s note, and sighed.  “I just don’t know what I feel.  I don’t want to lie to her.”


“What do you think you feel?”


“I don’t know. I love to be around her, and her smile, and the way she always makes me feel special.”


“Special?” Steven tried to stifle a laugh.


Jack glared at him.  “I mean, she cares about what I think and what I do.  She cares that I exist.”


“Well, that could be love, Jack, but only you know the truth.”


“Thanks anyway,” Jack moaned, wandering back to his room and laying down on his bed.


He wished he knew how to reply to her, and sadly, years later, he still barely knew just the right words to string together for her.  Jack never talked about the note with Mary, instead opting to never breach the subject.  Mary, in turn, never mentioned it again either. 


Years later, he would lay in his bed in much the same way and regret that he never told her how he really felt about her.  It was love.  He didn’t know it yet then, but it was a love more powerful that he had ever felt and would ever feel.



*    *     *





“We’ll just have to take that chance,” Mary cooed, taking Jack’s hand leading him back to her bedroom.


They walked down the long hallway, Jack’s heart racing a bit.  She opened the door at its end, flipping on the light to expose her colorful bedroom.  The walls were painted a deep red and little paintings dotted the walls.  She had a futon, with Chinese inspired sheets, in the middle.


Jack felt like a nervous schoolboy, performance anxieties quickly creeping up on him.  What if he did not impress her as a lover?  What if he disappointed her after all of these years?


They stood before the futon bed and Mary pressed her palm to Jack’s chest.  “You’re shaking,” she whispered, “Are you alright?”


“I must be fine, because my heart’s still beating,” he said with a chuckle, quoting a lyric from one of his songs, then added, “No, I’m alright, just a bit nervous.”


Mary exhaled deeply, “I thought I was the only one who was nervous.  Let’s just take things slow and if things don’t happen, they don’t happen.”


“Agreed,” Jack said, pulling her to him in another kiss. 


Jack leaned back, moving them both down to lie back on the bed.  They embraced each other, entwining their limbs around one other as they continued to kiss. It felt so right lying there together, just lazily kissing and caressing each other’s bodies.


Mary slid her hand to caress Jack’s inner though, delighting in the resulting moan from him.  In turn, he inched the ends of her velvet dress up over her hips and began to stroke her thigh as well.  She, feeling uncharacteristically bold, used her free hand to take Jack’s from her thigh and move it to the wetness between. 


She wasn’t wearing any panties and Jack was quite pleased with the surprise.  He was also turned on by her fresh act, his own self trying to fight between wanting to take things slowly and also wanting to satiate the strong desires he had for her.


He pressed his thumb lightly against her clitoris and used his other fingers to lightly, teasingly, caress up and down her.


Mary arched her back against his touch, shuddering with pleasure.  She slipped her own hand between Jack’s legs, and began to caress his hardness.  He whimpered in delight as her fingertips rubbed him through the confining material of his pants. 


Jack nuzzled his head into Mary’s shoulder. “Oh yes, Mary, oh yes,” he murmured.


Mary simply moaned in response, gasping a bit as she felt one of Jack’s fingers softly slip inside her, his thumb now lightly rubbing her clit in sweet circular movements.


She was quickly becoming delirious with pleasure, her body finely tuned to the surprisingly expert manipulations Jack was bestowing on her.  She rocked her hips against his penetration, groaning as he masterfully slipped another finger into her as well. 


“Does that feel good?” Jack whispered, moving to nibble her earlobe.


“Oh God, yes,” she sighed, “I hope I’m not doing too terribly for you.”  She looked down her own hand almost absently caressing him, so lost in her own feelings she was having difficulty concentrating on him.


“Just wonderful, you’ve got me so turned on right now just watching you,” Jack replied sweetly.


Jack shifted, taking her pleasuring hand from himself and lifting it to kiss.  He then entwined his fingers in hers and moved to press himself against her leg, quickening his caresses of her below.


Mary could feel his hard arousal against her leg, exquisite as she felt him lightly grinding himself against her, perhaps absentmindedly.  Like Jack, seeing him aroused was completely turning her on, her belly simply burning with desire for him.


She sighed and moved her body against his touch, shaking and quivering as he brought her closer and deliciously closer to her climax. 


Mary held onto his hand, cueing Jack by her grip’s pressure what actions were delighting her most. He played her like an instrument, pulling music from her sighs and moans.  This was how it always was for him – music – and it was never more satisfying when it was with such a beautiful woman, especially one so embedded in his heart.


Mary’s staggered breath rising and falling in quick bursts gave way to her impending orgasm, a pleasurable shock that shook her body to its core, leaving her calling out Jack’s name again and again with each spasm.


Jack still held tightly to her hand, moving now to plant a sweet kiss upon her lips.  Mary grabbed at the snap of his pants, unfastening them quickly, and let Jack help her push them off.  He smiled over her, kissing her again, and then slowly, delicately, pushed himself inside her.


His entry felt amazing and she found herself wanting to pull him in as deeply as she could, as if doing so would lock him inside her heart forever, just as he’d warned.  Jack moved slowly in and out of her, bucking his hips sensually so that the two of them felt every inch of the sex and penetration.  It was exquisite.


Mary curled her fingers around Jack’s back, stroking the sinuous muscles as they rippled below his skin with each movement.  He just placidly watched her below him, his sweat-laden black curls falling in his face, showing just glimpses of his deep brown eyes and sweet smile hiding beneath. 


She lifted her hips to meet each of his thrusts, pushing herself more and more against him.  He whined in response, a shudder passing through his body.  “You feel so…wonderful,” he panted.  “I just want to get deep inside you…all of the way…deep inside your brain and heart forever…”


She was a bit surprised he was feeling the same as she was about their union, but she pushed it aside in her thoughts and let herself be loved by the stunning man inside her.   It was odd how they felt so mentally linked, but that is how it had always been with the two of them. They had always finished each other’s sentences and seemed to share the same thoughts.  Mary had thought the connection might have faded over time, but she was seeing it had actually only strengthened.


Jack began to move against her quickly, his own breathing becoming as staggered as hers had been earlier.  Mary slipped her hands down to cup his buttocks, pulling him harder and faster against her.  The ecstasy between the two of them quickly rising to a fever pitch, before his body stiffened and he pressed hard against her in his own orgasm.  


Then he collapsed against her, caressing her hair as he buried his face in her shoulder.  “I love you, Mary, I love you,” he whispered.


Both of their hearts seemed to stop.  Had Jack said that he loved her?



N A V I G A T I O N :


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