Disclaimer:
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
* * *
[1]
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.”
[2]
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
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.
[3]
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
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
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.
“Yes…no…”
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.”
[4]
“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
“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.
“Jack?”
“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.
[5]
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
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.”
“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.
*
* *
[6]
“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 :
More to come – keep your eyes peeled
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