Page 17 of Still Her

I stare her in the eye and she stares back through her lashes, want written all over her face. Without looking away, I keep one arm around her and reach for her body wash with the other. I give the bottle a firm squeeze, letting a huge glob fall to her chest. She gasps at the initial cold shock of the thick liquid making contact with her hot skin, but quickly recovers with a small sigh. Dropping the bottle to the floor, I slather the smooth and slippery substance all over her chest, her boobs, her stomach… until it turns into a thick white foam against her skin.

Feeling like I’ve finally got a grip on my drive, I bring my hands down and shift so that I’m holding Mayzie behind her legs, before finally pushing inside her, her tightness gripping my cock.

I was wrong. It feels too fucking good, and I have to hold us there a moment. She groans, dropping her head back as I slowly draw out to the head and just as slowly push back in again.

“Mmmm…” I moan. “Right there. That’s what I want,” I rasp as I repeat the motion. When it comes to my wife, there is no better way to come than inside her, and I won’t do it any other way. I like full contact with her tight warmth squeezing me hard, not having to break rhythm, free to get lost in her and feel her spasm around me when she gets there. And the emotion I get from the unionization just magnifies the experience. I won’t settle for anything less, every time.

I press my body against hers as I adopt a steady pace, the clean scented foam making our bodies slip and slide against each other. I give my hips a snap against hers, just enough for her ass to hit the wet tile wall with a smack before moving a little faster against her. She cries out in response, further revving me, and she slides up and down the wall as I give her my cock over and over again.

Most of the time when Mayzie and I come together, I try to take my time, making it last as long as possible. I like to savor every touch, kiss, and feeling, making her feel adored and worshipped. I love the euphoria the long, tender lovemaking creates. But every now and then, I have nothing on my mind but making her scream.

“Jack… oh my God,” she moans, and I roll my hips upward to reach her deeper, making a loud cry escape her. I can feel her tightening, and I want her to explode. We’re both covered in the excessive lather now, making our movements so fluid and easy. It’s coating my chest and shoulders and running down my abs. I kiss her again, swallowing her moans, and feeding her some of my own.

“You like when your man gives it to you good?”

“God, yes.”

I’m panting as I continue to thrust inside her, “Whose girl are you?” I fix her eyes intently with mine.

She barely squeaks out on a breath, “I’m yours, baby.”

“That’s right,” I whisper, kissing her neck. I move faster yet, pushing harder inside, really making her lose control of her vocals. She’s crying out harder and louder the closer she gets. Since we’re not alone on the bus, I gently bring my hand up the side of her face and then over her mouth, letting her bite down on the side of it.

“C’mon, baby,” I grunt, trying to coax her to let go of her orgasm and let me have it. Her eyes squeeze shut and she lets out a hard cry mixed with a grunt against my hand as she bites into my skin, knowing from previous times that she can’t hurt me. If anything, it’s a rush and I explode at the exact second I feel her walls spasm around me. Her chest heaves as she gasps, her breathing trying to keep up. The heat from the shower combined with the heat of the moment are making me lightheaded, as I jerk and unload inside her. I curse at the peak, and groan as it begins its decline. I continue to pump long and slow, easing us back down together, before leaning my body fully in to her and pinning her gently against the wall, letting go of her thighs so they can slide down my sides.

I lean an arm against the wall and let it hold me up as my other one stays around her waist to do the same for her. I blow out a long hard breath before pulling her weak and sated body against mine, kissing her forehead, then her lips. She wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me back. Eventually, we release each other to finish cleaning up, and head back out to join Matt before the bus pulls out of Houston, heading to the next city.

9

Mayzie

Two weeks later,we are on the road heading from Orlando to Jacksonville. We will be there for two nights; the guys doing a show for one, and the other they have off. At least, that’s the plan until Ron reminds them that there is a fundraiser event to open an inner-city community center that focuses on introducing kids to music; the one Eli had mentioned when we last saw him.

The night of the fundraiser rolls around, and while I’m bummed that our night off has to be spent with the guys essentially working, they are only making an appearance, and it’s for a great cause that they fully support.

We also get to stay in the swanky Westingham Hotel where the event is taking place in one of their lavish ballrooms, so there’s that.

I’m in a merlot colored midi dress with a lined lace bodice and cap sleeves that barely pass the tips of my shoulders. I’ve paired it with simple gold jewelry and black strappy stilettos. I’ve left my hair down but in luscious curls swept to one side and held with a gold barrette. Jack is in a black suit and a crisp white shirt with the first few buttons undone. He’s sporting his usual chain, and he’s handsome as hell.

We take the elevator down from our room and wait for the other guys and Ron in the lobby. When the rest of them show up looking all dashing and dapper, we head in to the ballroom that has a décor of reds, golds and creams, brilliantly lit by elaborate chandeliers. There are a hell of a lot of suits and pearls wandering around, and it’s easy to say this is not our usual scene. I’m all about raising money for good causes; I just never understood spending so much in order to do it. I can’t imagine what it costs to throw this kind of shindig, although I’m not hating the four-piece band set up on a small stage in the far corner of the room. They’re playing instrumental versions of top 40 hits, so of course I hear a Turn it Up song now and then.

Eli is, as usual, in a ridiculously expensive power suit, working his way through the crowd, glad-handing and schmoozing before greeting us when we’ve made our way to the middle of the room. Jack plays nice, but his shoulders are stiff and his jaw is tight, clearly wary of him. And he’s not the only one. After our stop in Houston, he filled Ron in on all of Eli’s off-putting behaviors. I had just wanted to put it behind us, and Jack assured me we would, and that he was just being cautious. Nevertheless, Eli is oblivious to the side eye he is getting from both Jack and Ron. He is here with a petite brunette, who looks uncomfortable in more ways than one as she gazes around with a pinched expression, and occasionally tugs at the bottom hem of her little black dress. She looks insecure with the length, like she’s not used to showing so much leg. It’s almost as if someone told her to wear the garment and it was far from her first choice. Every few minutes, Eli puts a hand on her back and steers her to the next group of people, and I can’t help but look at her face. I’m curious to see what might be going on in her mind, being here with him. She has a small smile in place, but her eyes look like they’re a million miles away. They light up and her smile brightens when Eli leans in to whisper to her and give her hip a squeeze, but her expression slips back to one of vacancy shortly after his attention is diverted again.

When I look from her to Eli, his eyes land on mine. There’s a look of serious interest on his face and I feel sheepish for gawking at his date. I quickly look away, turning my body towards Jack and trying to focus on the conversation he and Matt have picked up.

Chris, being the rowdy one of the group, has to work extra hard to keep a composed demeanor, and it’s amusing as hell watching him struggle to stand still and not pull at his tie.

The evening is mostly one of cocktails and chatter. In some ways, it’s a lot like an after party, and by that, I mean that people come up to us and talk to us like they’ve known us forever and they’ll see us again next Thursday, when in reality we’ve never met them before and we’ll never see them again.

We are seated at a round table that seats about ten people. I glance around the room and notice a few familiar other musical acts, including a gorgeous up and coming R&B singer with her famous quarterback husband. Jack and I do our best to amuse each other by people watching, but when it comes time for several speeches, though I try to be respectful and pay attention, I am bored out of my skull. The one speech that I’ve actually enjoyed so far is the one made by the R&B singer, whose name I now find out is Shawni. I liked hearing her talk about how music made a difference in her life when she was younger and kept her grounded. I find myself alternating sipping from my water and my cocktail just for something to do, and feeling a total kinship with Chris at the moment. Unfortunately, it all catches up to me by the time the speeches conclude.

I need the bathroom. Bad. I’m about to excuse myself to find one when Eli takes the podium and insists that Turn it Up come up to say a few words. The guys are totally caught off guard and don’t have one prepared, but smile politely as they head up to the front. I smile proudly at my guys as they let Matt do the talking, and he does an amazing job at winging it, talking about how creativity in such things like music can keep a young mind on track.

When they make it back to the table, I cannot put off nature any longer.

After telling Jack I’ll be back in a few, I make my way out of the main partition door and down the hallway that leads to a door with the restroom symbols on it. When I let myself through it, I find myself in something of a lounge with fancy armchairs and end tables. On the left is another door leading to the men’s room and on the right… holy shit. A long-ass line to the ladies.Why?!Night clubs, sporting events, concerts, and apparently fundraisers… Always a line. I fucking hate lines. I turned Disney World into hell on Earth for my parents when Ian and I were little because I hate lines so much. Even if the damn weren’t about to burst, I wouldn’t wait in this line. It’s a huge-ass hotel, there are plenty of other bathrooms and I’m going to find one, even if it takes longer than waiting through this clusterfuck.

I take off in the other direction down the hall and stop when I see the elevator. I’m sure there is another bathroom like the one I just saw in the same place on another floor. I push the down button and hop on when the doors open, hitting the button for the floor below us.

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