Jamise L. Dames

Kennedy Jacobs eased off her lover, Michael Montgomery, enjoying the delicious ache lingering between her thighs. If Simone could only see me now, Kennedy thought with a tad bit of guilt. Her sister would kill her. Kennedy knew Michael was off-limits and of course she understood why, but when it came to Michael, she was powerless to control herself.

Michael had taken Kennedy to heaven and back with just his mouth. He was everything any woman in her right mind would need or desire. Simone must be crazy if she thinks that she can keep me away from this man, Kennedy thought and smiled to herself.

She gathered her clothes from the floor, wondering how the hell she’d fallen asleep on top of him. Michael hadn’t even penetrated her, and still, she’d be sore all day. Every step she took would force her to think of Michael and how he’d orally pleased her to ultimate climatic heights. Carefully she tiptoed into the bathroom, determined not to wake him, although it was doubtful he would hear anything over his satisfied snores. Checkout time was at one o’clock. She decided to let him sleep until noon, and let his alarm clock be the sound of the hotel room door as it closed behind her.

She really hated sneaking around, especially to hotels. In a way she wanted to be found out. So tired of lying and making up excuses, she wanted everyone to know that she and Michael were together. Hell, her best friend Miranda didn’t even know who Michael was, only that he existed and that Kennedy was not telling.

She noticed Michael’s burgundy silk boxers lying on the cream-colored marble-tiled floor and picked them up. Crushing the suede-like slick fabric between her fingers, she pressed the boxers to her nose and inhaled his scent. His masculine essence overpowered her, washing over her in succulent waves. Damn. Even the man’s underwear smelled good. She was hooked. Who had ever heard of such a thing? A woman smelling a man’s underwear? Her smelling a man’s underwear? She heard the sheets ruffle and then the bed creak, and immediately threw his boxers back on the floor. Pulling back the shower curtain, she turned the chrome spigot and allowed the rush of water to cascade over her freshly manicured hand. She adjusted the dial until the temperature was on hell as Michael would say, referring to how scalding hot she preferred her water. A swishing sound made her pause and listen. Michael was dragging his feet on the carpet. When the swish grew louder by the second, indicating his closeness to the bathroom, she jumped into the shower as if she’d been there all along.

Above the sound of the water, Kennedy heard the distinct beeping of Michael’s pager. Hers was in her purse, on vibrate. Seconds later, she heard his voice, low and smooth, apparently talking into the telephone. Concentrating on the soothing baritone whispers coming from his mouth, she gradually decreased the water pressure to almost a trickle hoping Michael wouldn’t notice, and listened intently to his private conversation. Who had the gall to page him and interrupt their lunchtime rendezvous? Like anyone would know that lunchtime was Kennedy’s time. She heard him say Simone’s name and cringed. Damn, didn’t the heifer know when to stop? She was always calling or paging or something. Anything.

Kennedy knew her sister had every right to contact Michael, but whenever she did, somehow Kennedy still felt betrayed. The stolen afternoons belonged to her alone. Michael was on her time, not Simone’s! The mere thought of Michael made Kennedy’s jealousy dissipate into steamy lust, and before she could stop herself, she reached between her legs and began a slow, sensual soaping of her throbbing triangle.

Caught up in her rapture of self-pleasure, Kennedy spread her legs, then leaned weakly against the marble shower wall. She never heard the end of Michael’s call. Never heard him enter the mist-filled bathroom and close the door softly behind him. As he pulled back the shower curtain, a gust of chilly air caressed her, making her nipples harden. Her eyes shot opened and her jaw dropped, embarrassed by being caught in the act.

Instead of teasing her, Michael covered her mouth with one hand and fingered her parted lips with the other. Grinding slowly, he pressed his naked body against hers. His hardness moved back and forth between her legs. Shuddering and bending slightly forward to accept him, Kennedy invited Michael into her temple to be baptized by her heat and soft wetness. Declining the invite, Michael turned her around and kissed her passionately. His hand never left her spread; his fingers delved deeper as he touched, rubbed, and explored her until she literally screamed, but her scream was muffled by his full lips and expert tongue. Thank God for Michael’s kiss because hotel security would’ve been banging on the door. Kennedy began sliding down the wall, drained and limp. Reaching out to catch her, Michael washed and rinsed her and himself off and stepped out of the shower smiling. Apparently satisfied with his work, he never uttered a word. Dazed and dizzy, Kennedy reluctantly turned off the shower, got out, and began to dry off.

“Kennedy, I’m sending my pants down to be starched and pressed. Do you want me to send down your dress?”

“No thanks. It’s not really necessary.”

Michael laughed as he walked into the bedroom. “Are you sure? Did you see it?”

“Yeah, I saw it. But it’s okay. It’s linen, and linen always wrinkles. Besides, no one will ever be able to tell the difference between me walking around in it or rolling around in it. Don’t you just love linen.” Kennedy playfully batted her eyes. “Oh, before I forget, did someone call here? I told the front desk that we didn’t want to be disturbed, but I could’ve sworn that I heard you on the phone.”

“No, no one called, but Simone paged me and I had to get back to her, it was important.”

“Damn, Michael, it’s like she knows when we’re together. I mean I could put money on it and win. She never stops. I hope you haven’t given her any indication. Have you, you know, about us? Because I don’t know how I would explain. I don’t want to have to try to explain. I mean, I know that I should feel guilty—and I do, in a way. She is my sister and I love her, and I know she loves me but she would never understand or accept it. If I was in her position, I can’t say that I would either. But I can’t help myself. Even if I could, knowing you the way that I do, I still don’t think that I would even try to restrain myself. Maybe I’m wrong, but I just wish the wench would get a grip and stop paging you on my time.”

Michael raised his eyebrows, exhaled loudly, and rubbed the stubble growing on the side of his face. “Kennedy, don’t call her that. You know that’s not right, she’s just doing her job. Simone and I work together, not sleep together. Anyway, she was just calling me to give me an important message about a meeting we have tonight, that’s all. Okay?” Michael grabbed her chin and kissed her.

“Fine, but remember there are only seven days in a week. And if she can have you the majority of the time, I feel that I’m entitled to at least the weekends, most of them anyway, and when you’re on your lunch break. Remember, Michael, I am a client, too, even if I’m not a paying client, I’m still in the books.

Michael’s pager went off again. With pleading puppy-dog eyes he looked at Kennedy, then down to his pager, then back at Kennedy, and back down to his pager again. He shrugged. As he was reaching for the phone Kennedy rolled her eyes in disapproval and turned and walked back into the bathroom, picked up his boxers from the floor, and stuffed them into her overpriced, black Chanel purse. She made a beeline to the front door and Michael reached out to stop her but the phone cord wasn’t long enough. Immediately she looked down and stared at his privates, which were no longer private but fully exposed and hanging, and then reached out to grab his penis. She squeezed it, bringing life back to it. She kissed the tip of it and blew it a kiss just to make Michael stutter during his conversation with Simone. She walked toward the front door.

Michael stammered and quickly told Simone that he’d call her right back just as Kennedy opened the door. “Kennedy, wait. Don’t leave, not like this.”

Kennedy rolled her eyes, turned around and seductively licked her mahogany-glossed lips. “I bet you wish you hadn’t of sent your pants down to be pressed,” she said as she walked out and slammed the door behind her, hard.

Leaving out of the hotel, she reached inside of her purse for her car keys and saw Michael’s silk boxers. She laughed out loud. He thought that she was going to do him while he was on the phone. Surprise! The only blowing that he’d get was when he was free and swinging in the wind. Besides, one was never supposed to leave a man the same way that one met him.

In the car she reached into her purse and pulled out his boxers and rubbed the silk. Again she inhaled his scent and shivered. Even the man’s dirty drawers smelled good. Her chest heaved as she collected herself, and threw them on the passenger seat. “A token, just a token,” she said and started her car. Her cell phone rang.

“Yes, Michael,” Kennedy answered.

“Who in the hell is Michael?” Jared Reid, her daughter’s father, asked.