This week I have “zombie posts,” as I’m out of town. I don’t know yet whether I’ll have internet…

A bit of product placement in today’s installment. I am very fond of this stuff. For some reason, the characters in my stories have a habit of consuming ice cream after sex…

NB: Adult content.

20. Enchanting Ravishment

Jennet hobbled into the kitchen, following Jonathan. How embarrassing that she had allowed him to leave for the store without any money. His arrival had been a complete surprise. Just the sight of him getting out of his Land Rover was enough to make her heartbeat speed up and her mouth go dry. He would leave now, she knew, with hardly a word spoken. He finished unpacking the groceries, and took the money she slid across the counter. His eyes met hers and they stared at each other wordlessly.

“Jennet,” he said. Her heart lurched and skipped a beat. It was the first time he had ever used her name.

“Yes, Jonathan?”

“You should be in bed,” he said, taking a few steps toward her. He had a light barn coat on over an oxford shirt, and no gloves. He was from Minnesota, she reminded herself. Thirty degrees wasn’t that cold to him.

“Bed?” she said. “I don’t see why. There’s nothing for me to do there.”

He moved very fast. Now he had her by the shoulders. “Drop those crutches,” he said, sounding hoarse. She raised her arms to his neck, letting the crutches clatter onto the floor. Her fingers touched the soft curls at his collar. He stooped and lifted her in one sweeping motion, his left arm supporting her back and his right under her knees. Ahhh, I’m to be ravished, she thought. Good.

He carried her down the hallway, keeping her head and feet away from the walls and doorframes. “It’s at the end of the hall,” she murmured helpfully. He pushed the door open with a foot and laid her on the right side of the bed, lowering himself onto her. At last. It was different from their encounter at his house, more intimate. Instead of having the wall at her back, she felt the weight of his body against her chest, her thighs, her feet. His mouth was on hers, insistent but gentle. His hips… she could already feel his erection, and the way he involuntarily drove himself against her. Her hands moved downward of their own accord, caressing and gripping the sweet, muscular cheeks of his ass. She pressed him to her as hard as she could. He broke the kiss and groaned, “Jennet… What…?” He didn’t finish the question, but got up and took off his barn coat, letting it fall to the floor.

She knew what he looked like in his swim trunks, but about what the parts they concealed? At his house, she hadn’t had a chance to see him, and she hadn’t shown him her body. She pulled her thick sweater over her head, and unbuttoned her shirt as he watched. His shirt and undershirt were already on the floor, and now he was bare chested, untying his boots. She wrestled a bit with her long gathered skirt, which had seemed the most practical thing to wear with her brace. Socks weren’t sexy. She ought to take off her knee sock and the wool “sock” on her brace. But as this thought was going through her head, she looked up to see Jonathan standing naked in front of her. He was so beautiful, he took her breath away.

He was very aroused. His pubic hair was dark brown, not jet black like hers. She stared at his penis, unable to take her eyes from it.

“Come here and lie down,” she said, making room for him on the bed. Somewhat to her surprise, he didn’t demur at being told what to do, but lay on the bed and leaned on his elbow, facing her. She took him in her hand, exploring him with her fingers, and then, without a conscious decision to do so, lowered her head to lick him. He drew a sharp breath, but after a few moments, lay back and allowed her to continue. Jennet hadn’t particularly enjoyed going down on her last lover, Tim, but with Jonathan it seemed like the most natural thing in the world. Something necessary and right, in fact. She took her time, tasting and savoring his scent and the velvety feel of his skin. She licked the length of him, nibbled and kissed him gently, and ran her tongue around the ridge beneath the head of his penis, then slowly closed her lips about him, sucking gently. Eventually his fingers moved to her shoulders, lifting her away, and then to her bra. Are his hands shaking?

After a bit of fumbling, he opened the clasp and drew away her bra, his eyes on her breasts. He traced their shape with two fingers, wonderingly, and slowly weighed each one in his hand. How long since he saw a woman? Now he helped her lift her pelvis so he could pull her panties down. Not particularly sexy ones, she thought regretfully. But at least not my granny pants. Then he pulled off her right sock and kissed her foot lightly, but left in place the makeshift one that she wore over the brace. She held her arms and legs open to him in silent welcome, and he slid inside her.

“Ahhhh. I can’t brace myself on the bed,” she whispered. She couldn’t use her left foot. “I want to move with you.”

“No. You don’t need to move at all,” he said, so she relaxed her body and simply focused on the sensations he was producing inside her. So good. So perfect. There was no one like Jonathan. He rode her slowly and gently at first, and then his strokes became harder and more insistent. Once again, she felt close to a climax, but didn’t quite get there before he sighed and tensed, emptying himself as she wrapped her legs around him. Only a few seconds later, he pulled away from her.

“This isn’t right,” said Jonathan. He sounded agonized. “I can’t keep doing this.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t be what you want.”

She didn’t turn to look at him, but kept her eyes on the ceiling. “And how do you know what I want, Jonathan?”

He thought about that, and then said, “Don’t you want a relationship?”

“I want you to keep making love to me.”

“But if I can’t love you…” he didn’t finish the sentence. His words gave her a wrench, yet she managed to say evenly, “If you can’t make love to me, then I want you to fuck me. That is, if you want it too.”

“But…”

“It’s all right.” As she said this, she asked herself whether she was being honest. Somewhat to her surprise, she realized that it was true. Whatever Jonathan had to give, she would accept.

After a while, he said, “Why did you come to my tournament?”

“Oh Jonathan, don’t you know?” He was silent, so she said, “I love you. I’ve been in love with you since the day we first worked on the tenure files.”

Again, his voice sounded strained. “Jennet, I can’t make you happy.”

“Don’t presume to know what makes me happy. Now, you know what would make me happy right now?” she said, to change the subject. “Some Ben and Jerry’s Super Fudge Chunk. I have a pint in the freezer, but I can’t get up because you made me drop my crutches.”

“That’s right,” he said, brightening. “You’re trapped. You may have to stay here for days.”

“And I thought there was nothing for me to do in bed.” She was smiling now, hoping he could hear it in her voice. He got up and retrieved the ice cream and one spoon. He didn’t bring her crutches, she noticed.

They took turns eating. After a while, she said, “It’s funny. I always used to think that men’s genitals were ridiculous.” He coughed a little, as though choking on one of the chocolate chunks in the ice cream, and she went on, “You know, hanging out there, all dangly and vulnerable. And yet, men are so proud of their penises.”

“Aren’t women proud of their tits?” he said.

“Some are. I was always ashamed of mine.” And then ashamed of feeling ashamed. “Except when I was pregnant and breastfeeding, and gained a cup size.”

“Are you crazy?” he said, reaching to caress her right breast.

“No. But as I was saying, I think I finally understand why men are so in love with their dicks.”

“Well?” he said, looking at her over the pint of ice cream. She glanced down at his penis. It was lying quiescent now along his thigh, but looked hopeful, as though being made the subject of a conversation might revive it.

“What’s not to love?” she told it.

They napped for a while and had sex again. She knew he was getting ready to leave when he brought her crutches back and leaned them carefully against the bed. Then he dressed, gave her a kiss of parting, and went without another word.

***

Sebelius drove away from Jennet Thorne’s house in a daze. He couldn’t understand her. Women used sex as a currency to bind men to them. If a man revealed his love, his weakness, he risked the likelihood that the woman would lose respect for him. Then she would be free to use his weakness against him. His thoughts drifted to Lorraine, and the way he had laid his heart at her pretty, stiletto-clad feet. My biggest mistake was loving you too much, and letting you know…

But Jennet Thorne didn’t fit any of his preconceptions. Instead of enticing or hectoring him to reveal his weakness, she openly declared that she loved him, and asked for nothing in return. Every time the intensity of his desire started to scare him, to remind him of his weakness, she gathered up all of her accumulated power, wove it into a shining gift, and freely handed it back to him. Today, seeing her body naked before him, he had wanted to weep. This was much more intimate than the bout at his house. It brought back sweet, painful memories… It’s been such a long time. And then, instead of demanding his adoration, basking in it, she had lowered her head to kiss him. She had licked and caressed and sucked his dick as though the sun rose and set on it. The sensation was beyond description. Only one other woman had ever gone down on him. Certainly Lorraine never did. She said it made her gag.

Touching Jennet’s firm little tits reminded him of the feeling he had in high school, whenever a baseball hit home in the palm of his mitt, or whenever it nestled snug in his hand, and he suddenly knew that he was about to throw a perfect pitch. She said she was ashamed of her tits. He thought they were perfect. He wanted to touch them again.

He was torn. How could he continue like this? He was damaged goods, his heart long since battered and slashed beyond repair. He couldn’t risk a repetition of Lorraine. He wouldn’t survive that. And yet he couldn’t stay away from Jennet Thorne. Even Swetnam’s warning voice was fading to a faint murmur. Yes, he would be back in the Woman’s bed soon enough. God help me. 

Then, Sebelius began to wonder how good a lover he was. He was like a teenage boy, so overwhelmed by sensation that he had barely given a thought to whether the experience was pleasurable for her. From the noises she made, she certainly seemed to enjoy it, but did she have a climax? If their interactions with each other were to be purely sexual, the least he could do was be a gentleman. He remembered Stefan teaching him manners. A gentleman always sees to a lady’s comfort before his own, he’d said to the fourteen-year-old Jonathan, when they were on their way to his first school dance. Then later, when they had one of their man-to-man talks, his father had cleared his throat and said with a certain emphasis, You’ll do fine if you remember that the lady always comes first.

Copyright 2015 by Linnet Moss

Notes: Sex is always difficult to write, and more so given that I set myself the challenge of the double point of view. I made Jennet’s perspective slightly wry. She’s delighted with the ravishment scenario and a bit amused by it. Jonathan takes things much more seriously, passionate soul that he is.

There is a bit of realism in the fact that Jennet doesn’t have an orgasm. Most women need a little extra help with that, and it isn’t something Jonathan knows much about, not having a wide experience of women. The baseball metaphor is something I took from a lover I had in high school. He was a pitcher, scouted for a professional team, but sadly, he threw his arm out and had to go into the import/export business.

The vocabulary is also a difficult decision. Usually I don’t prefer “ass” (or “dick”) but I thought they were the best words for Jennet, who is very matter-of-fact and forthright about sex. I have noticed a gender difference in the use of sexual vocabulary. American women tend to say “breasts” or “boobs,” especially when referring to their own anatomy, whereas men say “tits.” “Dick” is used by both genders but more often by men. One word I avoid is “cock.” I used it once in a story, but I had a good reason, and it was spoken by a man in the heat of the moment.