Chapter Nine
Two months later
Josephine ran her hair through her damp curls and held the towel around her wet body as she looked at the coordinated outfits across her bed. She scratched her scalp and briefly looked over her shoulder at the sun filling the window and streaming in through her sheer curtains. It was mid-Spring, and the East Coast weather could still be fickle. Sunny one day and blistering cold the next.
Looking back at the bed, she surveyed the clothes she had purchased the day before Lorenzo’s grand opening party. Having three pairs of eyes look at her and find her a dull replacement of the old version of herself had spurned the makeover.She had meant to turn up the sexy and make Lorenzo eat his words. The look he gave that night said he wanted to eat something else!
But things have changed since then.
Gone were Lorenzo’s long stares, flirtations and innuendos. His ardor had cooled. Where he once seemed to fight his attraction for her—barely able to contain it—now he treated her as nothing more than a friend. A co-parent. Not his once great love.
And she didn’t know whether to be glad or not.
“I need to move on from wanting you, but that’s pretty hard to do when I can’t get hard for anyone but you.”
Those words he spoke to her often returned, as did the way they sought and found their own explosive releases for their desires.
“I guess he moved on,” she said aloud, making a comical expression. “Maybe his secret lover can get it hard now.”
A vision of Lorenzo’s strong and muscled body atop some faceless woman, stroking away, caused a slight pain to grip her chest. As did the idea of him whispering words of praise in the foreign languages he spoke as he brought her to a climax.
Josephine hated that she could almost hear the mingled cries of their release echo mockingly around her. “Shut up,” she grumbled as she dropped her towel to get dressed. Her choice was a monotone look with a lightweight V-neck sweater dress, riding boots, and cropped leather jacket all in oxblood.
Lorenzo had called last night and asked if her Saturday was free. When she agreed, his only hint as to where they were going was for her to wear comfortable shoes. She was curious about the day’s events and assumed it was an outing with him, Zoie, and maybe his mom.
When her doorbell rang, Josephine was dressed, smelling sweet, and had applied light makeup to accentuate her long lashes and heart-shaped mouth. She grabbed her matching crossover purse and left her bedroom to descend the stairs and cross the living room. When she opened the front door, the warm scent of Lorenzo’s cologne reached her as she tried to fake not being affected by seeing him wearing the darkest blue leather and suede baseball jacket and another of his fitted sweater caps. His slightly unbuttoned denim shirt clung to the hard contours of his chest and was tucked inside matching jeans with a brown leather belt and turquoise belt buckle. The weathered leather boots completed his casual look that was effortless and sexy.
She ever did love his style.
“Uhm,” Josephine said, struggling to find her center after being bowled over by the sight of him. “Hi.”
Lorenzo gave her a smile. “Let’s ride,” he said.
She turned and locked the front door, allowing herself a moment to release the breath she had been holding. She wanted to grab a fistful of his hair and guide him down from his tall height to lick his mouth.
“Any hints on where we’re headed?” she asked as they descended the brick steps together.
“You used to like surprises,” he reminded her.
“I used to like many things,” she said, crossing the sidewalk.
He reached to open the passenger side door of his pickup but didn’t respond.
Josephine saw the empty rear seat through the window as she got inside. “Where’s Zoie?” she asked as he bent his tall, broad frame to get behind the wheel.
“My sister is in town to help me decorate Zoie’s bedroom,” Lorenzo explained as he started the vehicle. “It’s just you and me today.”
“Curiouser and curiouser,” she said, putting on her seat belt.
He gave her a brief look and grinned before leaving the parking spot.
“Won’t your friend mind you being alone with me?” she asked, pretending nonchalance as she looked out the passenger window at the homes in the neighborhood.
“Friend? Which friend?” he asked.
“Your girlfriend,” she said lightly.
She saw him frown in his reflection in the window.
“Don’t have one,” he said. “You were the last girlfriend I had.”
“Please,” she drawled in disbelief.
Lorenzo pulled the truck to a stop at a red traffic light and settled back in his seat to look at her. “It’s true,” he insisted.
Her heart skipped a few beats as she looked into his eyes. “Then who is the one who couldn’t get you hard that night?” she asked, hating the annoyance she felt at the very idea of him with someone else.
“Ah,” he said.
“Ah hell!” she snapped.
Lorenzo laughed a little and bit back a smile as he glanced out the driver’s side window before looking at her again. His handsome face was lined with amusement.
She felt a bit foolish for her anger. “I have a right to know who I helped o get you over the finish line,” she told him.
“Trust me, you didn’t need help. That was all you,” he assured her.
Josephine flushed with heat.
“I was in Paris that day, and that is where she is still,” he told her as the light changed and he accelerated the vehicle forward.
“Oh,” she said, tucking her wavy hair behind her ear as she looked away from him.
“You’re going to feel bad for snapping at me when you see where I’m taking you,” he chided her.
She shrugged one shoulder. “Maybe,” she said. “Maybe not.”
His chuckle filled the air as he sped them towards their destination.
And soon, she discovered that he was right.
His surprise was an art exhibit of Black sculptors at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. With wide eyes and a pounding heart, she impulsively raised up on her toes to press an enthusiastic kiss on his cheek outside the institution. She fought the urge to wrap her arms around his neck and hold him tightly but settled for stepping back and squeezing his upper arms instead.
She did take note of the muscles she felt.
For the next hour, they leisurely strolled through the museum, pausing at each piece to admire each artist”s skill, technique, and message. She kept her hands in fists to keep from stroking the pieces crafted from wood, clay, stone, or metals. She felt the wonder and joy of a child at a circus. A warm glow in her belly spread across her body and gave her shivers of delight. She marveled at artwork by Edmonia Lewis, Augusta Savage, Jean-Michael Basquiat, and Kara Walker. When she noticed Lorenzo leaning back against a marble column, quietly watching her, she felt a little embarrassed by her adoration. “Thank you,” she mouthed.
She was blessed with one of his charming smiles. He seemed pleased by her enjoyment.
With reluctance, and after seeing the entire exhibit, Josephine walked beside Lorenzo to leave the museum and go to the nearby parking garage. The sun was high and bright in the sky, offering some relief from the slight chill. The sounds of New York traffic fell into the background, but the scent of food being cooked in nearby restaurants caused her stomach to grumble. Still, her hunger couldn’t top her excitement at the exhibition.
Josephine followed a solid urge to spread her arms wide and tilt her face to the sun–something she hadn’t done in years. It wasn’t a park, but it would do. She wanted to claim a piece of who she used to be.
“You’re getting stares, Josephine.”
She opened one eye to find him standing there watching her in amusement.
“And you don’t care, do you?” he asked.
She shook her head.
“Success!” he exclaimed. “Welcome back, Josie.”
Josephine lowered her arms and faced him. “Is this a part of reconnecting with my gift of creativity?” she asked, leaning this way and that as a crowd of people walking down the street blocked their view of each other.
Lorenzo weaved through them and took her hand in his. “Yes,” he admitted, hurrying them into the parking deck to take the elevator. “And there’s more.”
“Another surprise?” she asked. “Better than this?”
“I think so. Sí,” he said with confidence.
“Thank you, Zo,” she said as they left the elevator and walked over to his parked vehicle. “So where next?”
Over the top of the pickup, he looked at her. “Soho,” was all he said before climbing in.
She followed suit, thinking it would be impossible for him to top the exhibit. “I do feel different,” she admitted as he drove. “Like a door I closed a long time ago was opened. A little.”
“Perfecto,” was all that he said.
They rode the rest of the way in companionable silence. And when he slowed down in front of a four-story brick building to turn the corner, her curiosity was completely piqued. She noticed a clothing boutique and a restaurant on the ground floor. “Is this lunch or the surprise?” she asked, turning in the seat to eye a beautiful gold dress on display.
“Both,” he told her with a playful wink as he drove inside an underground garage.
As they left the truck and walked over to the elevator, she held on to her questions, knowing he would only offer up info when he was ready. Still, she was very intrigued by it all. When the elevator door slid open on the top floor, she took in the exposed brick walls and expansive windows, allowing for plenty of light. Many units were on the floor, each with a metal rolling door.
Lorenzo removed a key from his pocket.
“I thought you bought a townhouse in Lenox Hill?” Josephine asked, thinking it was his condo.
He briefly looked back at her. “I did,” he said as he rolled the door to the side to open it before he stepped away for her to enter first. “This is for you.”
Josephine looked up at him as she passed his body to enter the space. Her sharp intake of breath and then slow exhale only hinted at her surprise to see an art studio. A beautiful one with polished concrete floors, exposed brick walls, black metal details, and tall windows filled with luminous sunlight. With slow steps and a pounding heart, she walked across the sizable space and past a leather sofa to the art supplies lining both walls. Paints, canvasses, easels, and brushes. Sketch pads and colored charcoal pencils. Clay, tools, and everything else she needed to sculpt. Even a new digital camera.
She felt lightheaded as she touched everything to ensure it wasn’t a mirage. With her hands clasped against her chest, she glanced over to find Lorenzo leaning against a commercial double sink on the far wall opposite the windows. Feeling choked up, she focused her gaze back on the supplies. “You purchased all of this for me?” she asked softly as her heart sped. She lightly stroked the polished wood handles of paint brushes, which were her favorite brand.
He remembered.
“Sí, Josie. For you.”
She found the courage to turn and face him as she nervously licked her mouth several times. Here’s the thing. She honestly couldn’t remember not loving Lorenzo Léon Cortez; at that moment, she couldn’t imagine loving him more. Breathlessly. Endlessly.
“Does it open the door a little more?” he asked, referring to her earlier observation.
“Yes,” Josephine said as she slowly closed the distance between them and stopped in front of him. What she didn’t add was that the door was to more than just her creativity; it was also to her heart. Every bit of it.
I love him. Always have. Always will.
How could she not?
“It’s yours. Six-month lease paid in advance,” Lorenzo explained, crossing his muscular arms over his chest. “I think Zoie will get a kick out of seeing you here working on your art. I want her to experience that part of you and be inspired.”
“Me, too,” she agreed.
“And I had the sofa delivered. It”s brand new and a sleeper if you ever want to paint or sculpt long into the night and just sleep here.”
She tilted her head to the side to look up into his eyes.
“If you want it,” he said, looking down at her.
“Thank you so much, Zo,” she said, pressing a hand to one of his overlapped arms to squeeze. “I want it.”
And you.
He smiled, and his face beamed. “I believe in your talent, Josie. All I ask is that you create something amazing. Go for your dreams.”
She nodded as she removed her crossbody purse and set it on the edge of the sink. “I agree. Last night, I dreamt we made love,” she said truthfully, removing her leather coat to slide to the floor around her booted feet. “I’d like to go for that.”
Lorenzo’s eyes widened in surprise.
She’d lost his heart. That she knew. What about his desire for her?
She inched her dress up over her legs and hips. “Just once, Lorenzo,” she said after disrobing to stand before him in nothing but her boots.
His eyes devoured every bit of her–lingering on her clean-shaven mound–and filled with the heat of his longing.
There it is.
And it matched her own.
“Josie,” he warned, low in his throat.
She released a small grunt of pleasure, having always loved his deep voice. “Just. Once,” she whispered, reaching up with one hand to stroke his cheek and then lightly dragging her thumb across his bottom lip. With the other, she stroked the length of his hardness straining against his pants.
He swiftly turned his head to capture her thumb in his mouth, closing his eyes and releasing a deep grunt as he sucked it. She gasped. Pulling her finger free, she raised up on the tip of her toes in her boots as she guided his head down to her cleavage.
Deeply, he inhaled the sweet scent nestled there.
Her entire body trembled. With want. With hope. With desire.
She felt his pause. He resisted the chemistry whirling around them, pressing against them and willing them to surrender. Her breasts rose and fell with each deep breath through her mouth as she waited for him to make his choice.
And when he opened his mouth against her smooth brown skin and released a cry that seemed wrenched from him, she flung her head back just as he turned his head to the left to latch onto one of her taut brown nipples. So intensely.
“Yes!” she cried. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”
Lorenzo reached his arms around her to tightly grip her soft buttocks as he shifted from sucking her nipple to torturing her with featherlight flickers of his tongue. She arched her back as far as her spine would allow and opened her arms wide as she gave in to his passionate skill. It felt like the years between the last time they made love and now faded like mist. It was all so sensually familiar. So decadent.
With ease, Lorenzo stood and lifted her. She wrapped her arms and legs around him as she pressed her face against his neck, loving the feel of his skin against her lips and the scent of his warm cologne. He walked them over to the sofa and lay her down on it. She felt the loss of his touch but spread her legs before him as she watched him shed every bit of his clothing. She found him so beautiful, with the light streaming in from the windows and framing his sculpted body and flowing hair. Sexy. Tempting.
She loved how he was enjoying the sight of her nudity as he wrapped his hand around the thick base of his stiff inches to slowly stroke himself. She teased her own nipples before easing one hand down to play in the folds of her intimacy.
“Mariposa,” he whispered, dropping to his knees as if sapped of his strength.
She closed her eyes and rolled her hips as she nearly brought herself to a climax. She didn’t give in. Instead she stretched her arms across the back of the sofa. The heat of his look and the draft that breezed against her hard nipples was a steamy contrast that pushed her closer to the edge. She anticipated the feel of Lorenzo inside her again.
It had been far too long.
He flung his hair back over his shoulder before he lowered his head to stroke his tongue from the meeting of her lips and up to dip inside her before making a slight shift to suckle her swollen bud. She released a cry as she pressed her feet to the edge of the sofa’s seat and thrust her hips up to meet his mouth. Her hand wildly and blindly gripped at the leather as he feasted on her. Slowly and thoroughly. His moans of pleasure added a lowkey vibrating against her flesh.
He slipped his hands beneath her to lift her bottom off the sofa again. “Look at me,” he whispered to her before reclaiming her quivering bud between his lips.
She did.
The intensity in his eyes, as he sucked her to an earth-shattering climax, intensified her tiny explosions. A fine sheet of sweat coated her trembling body, and she cried out until she was hoarse. Just when she thought she could take no more, Lorenzo dropped her buttocks to the chair and used his hips to guide his dick inside her with one thrust.
They both cried out.
Lorenzo was deathly still with just half his length inside her while she writhed her hips, seeking more. “Don’t make me cum…not yet,” he pleaded in a deep guttural voice.
She reached up to press her palm to his cheek as she forced herself to wait for his climax to recede.
Lorenzo shifted her body so that she lay down on the couch. He lowered himself onto her and stared down at her before he kissed her softly. He began to deliver small strokes inside her heat. As his thrusts deepened, so did his kisses. He tasted her tongue in sync with the in and out motion of his hardness. She whimpered in his mouth as he struck her clit. Again. And again. And again. She clung to him, matching the fervor of his kisses and his strokes that quickened in pace. Hard, fast, and furious. Seeking their release.
The wait was highly pleasing but not long.
It took no more than thirty glorious thrusts–forty max, but it was enough for them to quickly climb the mountain and reach the apex until they were blinded and lost in their climax. Clinging to one another. Crying out in harmony. Trembling and sweaty, their hearts pounded wildly. Pure electricity crackled around them.They were relentless in their pursuit of pleasure until they were satisfied.
Deep breaths echoed into the quiet as they lay on the couch, still entangled.
With the side of his face pressed against her cleavage, Josephine stroked his hair and looked out at the sunlight, regretting that the love she had for him was not returned. And it was her doing–or rather, undoing. She had no doubts that Lorenzo once loved her deeply.
For her, their coupling was about more than sex.
Just once more, she had wanted to connect with him. Feel and enjoy his passion—their passion. It was a unique one created just for them and by them.
“Just once,” she reminded him, wanting him to know she expected nothing more.
Lorenzo raised his head to look down at her before softly kissing her. “I know,” he said.
“Good?” she asked, tucking his hair behind both his ears so the long strands didn’t cover his handsome face.
“Excellent,” he assured her, pressing a kiss to the space between her flattened breasts. “Still the best?”
She smiled although her heart was breaking. “Absolutely,” she agreed.
“I wasn’t expecting this today,” he said.
“I know,” she assured him.“I’m on birth control.”
He nodded.
They stared at one another, both lost in their thoughts. Josephine saw a new fire spark in his eyes, and his once-spent inches began to stir. “Technically, you’re still inside me, so it”s still…”
“Just the once,” they said in unison before he shifted his body up to kiss her again as she clenched and released his tool with her walls to help prime him to hardness.
Soon, they were lost in their hunger once again. And this time, they took it slowly to savor every delicious moment. With ease, they shifted positions on the sofa. And with each, Josephine allowed herself to go with the flow and resist nothing. Whether she was beneath him, riding him, bent over in front of him, or pressed to a wall, he brought her to numerous small climaxes with his mouth, his clever fingers, and his hardness. Each time they switched maneuvers, he held off from his own release, pausing and swearing as he focused on her pleasure. He softly praised the feel of her sheathing his hardness in fiery foreign languages that she didn”t need to understand.
“Cum for me,” she whispered against his mouth. She sat astride him with her legs bent and flapping like butterfly wings as she rode him.
He spread his muscled arms atop the sofa and bent his head back with his hair flowing behind it. She leaned forward and lightly bit down on his chin as she slid each of her hands against the contours of his arms before clasping his hands.
“Make me cum, mariposa,” he said, his Spanish accent thicker.
With a soft smile and a little grunt, she did just that, enjoying the look of his face soon twisted in pleasure. She felt the explosive jolts of his dick against her walls as he climaxed. His roar of pleasure echoed. The muscles of his body flexed as he gripped the sofa”s leather, and his entire body went straight. She kept her movement languid and sensual, wanting to drain him slowly.
He whimpered in Spanish. “Mariposa, por favor. Por favor, mariposa,” he begged as she rose up higher on her legs to just lightly bounce on the most sensitive part of his hard inches. She clenched and released her walls on the tip like a kiss.
Lorenzo bit down on his bottom lip as the high-pitched cry he was trying to hold seemed caught in his throat. Still there. Still wanting to be freed.
Biting back a smile and feeling slightly high as if she had blazed a blunt, Josephine sat down on his lap, leaving him still deep inside her. Carefully, she turned and set her feet on the floor on either side of his legs to take in the sun. She beamed, remembering how much she used to let the light fuel her.
“What are you thinking of?” Lorenzo asked before pressing a warm kiss to her spine.
“That first day we met in the park and how you stood framed by the sun, just like today,” she observed. “You’re a beautiful man, Lorenzo. Beautiful enough to be sculpted.”
He paused in the kisses he was planting across her back. “What’s on your mind, Josie?” he asked.
“Just finally feeling inspired,” she said, lightly biting down on the side of one of her index fingers.
He chuckled as he reached around her to settle his hands atop her thighs. “If this is your way to ask me to pose for you–”
She smiled. “It is,” she said eagerly.
“Then I will.”
“Gracias,” she told him, rising and freeing his spent inches before she turned. She eyed his glorious physique, which she knew he worked hard to maintain in the gym. And even at rest, his member was still of impressive length and thickness. “Nude?”
Lorenzo shook his head. “No,” he said emphatically. “I want something Zoie can look at.”
“Okay,” she conceded, knowing how much he wanted their daughter to be inspired by her artistry. She stepped back and continued to eye him. “I’ll think of something else.”
“Josie.”
“Huh?” she said, focusing on his face.
“Are we tempting fate by me posing for you?” he asked.
“No,” she lied. “We said just the once. Right?”
“Right.”
They shared a look.
“Right?” she asked again.
“Yes. Right. Just the once.”
“Just the once,” she agreed with a firm nod.
∞
Two weeks later
Lorenzo eyed Josephine as she circled where he stood posing, taking photos of him to help catch the details she could work on once he no longer came to the studio during her sculpting process. She let the camera dangle from the leather strap around her neck as she stepped back to turn on a small floor fan that gently lifted the ends of his hair. He stood at an angle, holding a bed sheet to hide his privates with it draped between his strong legs and in a puddle on the floor.
“You okay?” she asked as she continued to circle him slowly and take more photos.
“Yes,” he lied.
For him, a lot was going on.
Being nearly nude with his backside exposed to the windows was a little daunting, but not responding to Josephine touching his body was far more unnerving.He was thankful for the sheet that hid he was fighting being fully aroused by her.
She paused behind him. He looked back over his shoulder to find her looking at his buttocks.
“Clenched or unclenched?” he asked in amusement.
She looked up at him and then smiled. “Unclenched. It’s already hard relaxed,” she said in fascination, moving her hand from where she had been stroking her chin to trace the sides of his bottom.
Lorenzo closed his eyes and hung his head at the gut punch her innocent touch gave him. He was stirred. His member grew an inch and snaked against his upper thigh.
“What exactly is your exercise regime, Zo?” she asked as she eased her fingers down his leg to outline his lean but firm rear thigh muscle.
He felt goosebumps race across his body.
“Are you cold?” she asked, sounding distracted.
“No,” he said stiffly.
“Something wrong?” she asked.
Lorenzo turned and released the sheet. It got caught on his erection.
“Oh,” Josephine said sincerely through pursed lips before she cut her eyes up to meet his as she reached for him.
Quickly, he caught her wrist in his hand and stopped its movement towards his hardness. “We said just once,” he reminded her. “And we’ve done it twice since then.”
The studio had become a haven for her to create art and a den of pleasure where they couldn’t resist the temptation to have each other.
She snatched her hand from his to yank the sheet away. His dick bounced up and down from the move. She watched it for a moment before she gripped his steely hardness and stroked the full curving length of him.
Lorenzo released a fiery expletive when she dipped her head to gently suck the smooth tip. He dug his fingers into her curls to grip tightly as he tilted his head to the side to watch her through the long strands of his hair.
“Just the one last time,” she mumbled with her mouth full before circling him with her tongue and causing him to release a deep guttural moan of submission.
∞
One week later
Josephine was well aware that she was digging herself deeper. How could she find her way out of the hole filled with loving Lorenzo when they kept being intimate. Each steamy encounter caused a renewed burst of her feelings for him.
More longing and wishing things could all be different. But they weren’t.
Hoping Lorenzo would rediscover his love for her. But he didn’t.
Wishing they’d never agreed to that rule. But they had.
As she lay beneath Lorenzo on the pull-out sofa bed, playfully sucking at his tongue as he stroked deeply inside her, she had no regrets. Those she would save for later.
After I cum.
She looked into his dark eyes filled with heat and felt pure love for him. Deep and profound. Wanting it to be returned. Aching because it was not. With each sweet, slow, and deep stroke, as he held her tightly and whispered softly in her ear in Spanish, she bit down on his shoulder and blinked back emotional tears. She swore that it was absolutely the last time.
It had to be.
∞
The following Saturday, Spanish love songs played through the sound system of her art studio as Josephine used the flexible blade knife to cut away a large piece of water-based clay. She’d decided to make the sculpture of him life-size. She worked from the base up and then would go back over the entire form to add the fine details. She swiped away a loose curl from her already messy top knot before setting the sculpting tool down. With the backs of her hands resting on her hips, she viewed her work so far in the oversized overalls she wore with a yellow bikini bra. All the sketches and photos she’d taken of Lorenzo were on the walls of the area where she worked. She eyed one that she blew up to nearly life-size and then looked over at the sculpture to compare the positioning of his feet, ankles, and the end of the draped sheet.
Satisfied, she nodded in approval before she picked up the spray bottle to mist the clay and keep it from drying out. When the music flatlined, she paused. Her phone was attached to the speakers via Bluetooth. As it rang around her, she wiped the clay from her hands with damp cloths before removing her phone from her large back pocket.
“Zo,” she said, seeing his number on the Caller ID.
Her heart set right off to racing as she answered the call. “Hey you,” she called out.
“Good morning. I hope I’m not interrupting you. I figured its Saturday, and you were at the studio,” he said, his deep voice echoing out the speakers and seeming to press against her body.
She bit down on her bottom lip and shook her head like it was a shame for him to sound so sexy. “I am,” she said.
“Do you need me to pose some more today?” he asked.
It was the posing sessions that always, always, always led to sex.
With an exhale of breath that deflated her shoulders, she found her courage and felt her disappointment. “No. I’m all set, Zo,” she said, looking up at the high ceilings.
The line went quiet, and she imagined it was filled with his surprise.
“You sure?” he asked.
No.
“Yeah,” Josephine lied. “I’m good.”
“Okay. Well, get back to it. Zoie wanted to come by the studio, but I told her we shouldn”t disturb you, and now I know I was right about that,” he said with amusement.
She chuckled. “Right?” she asked, agreeing with him.
Again, the line went quiet.
“Zo?” she said, not sure if the call had ended.
“I’m here,” he said.
They fell silent again.
“So that’s it, huh?” he queried.
“Yeah, that’s it,” she said, sounding resigned as she pressed the back of her hand against her mouth.
It had to be. She was steadily falling deeper and deeper in love with him. Unrequited love with the added complication of really incredible sex was more than she was willing to put herself through.
Not anymore.