Fired From His Shed, I Married His Brother and Became His Landlord novel · Chapter 6 of 24

Chapter 6: The Porch Swing

I knelt on the porch boards in front of the swing and took him in my mouth.

The screens around us were black with night.

Out in the grove the crickets were loud and steady.

Jesse sat back against the slats with his jeans open and his boots planted wide.

He made a sound I would have crawled across the county to hear again.

"Susie."

I took him deeper.

He was thick and hot on my tongue, with a taste of salt and soap.

I closed my lips tight around him and drew back slowly to the tip.

I swirled my tongue under the head.

His hand came down and cupped the back of my head.

He did not push.

He rested it there, heavy and warm, and his thumb stroked behind my ear.

"Look at that," he said, hoarse. "Look at your mouth on me."

I hummed around him.

His whole body jerked.

"I told you I'd tell you what I was going to do," he said.

"I haven't done one thing yet, and you're already making me forget my own name."

"Promise?" I said, and went back down on him.

He let out a groan, and his hips lifted off the swing.

I set a rhythm, slow and wet.

I used my hand on the base of him where my mouth could not reach.

I watched his face in the light from the kitchen window.

His eyes were half shut and his mouth was open.

I let him slide deep until he touched the back of my throat, and held there, and breathed through my nose.

"Oh, hell," Jesse said. "Susie. Do that again."

I did it again.

He swore, long and low, and the swing jerked on its chains.

"You have no idea what you look like," he said.

I pulled off him and looked up.

"Your lips are stretched around me and your eyes are on mine. You are the best thing I have ever seen in my life."

I ran my tongue down the underside of him, slow.

I took one of his balls into my mouth and rolled it with my tongue.

His fist closed in the swing cushion.

"Susie, stop. I'm close. I mean it. I don't want to finish like this the first time you do it."

I let him go with a wet sound and sat back on my heels.

"What do you want?" I said.

"I want to be inside you when I come."

"Then I'll make it last."

He looked down at me, wild-eyed, flushed to the roots of his hair.

I had never seen a man look at me while I did that with his whole heart in his face.

I slowed down.

I laid my cheek against his thigh and kept my hand moving on him, lazy, and let him breathe.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Resting," I said.

"You're torturing me."

"A little."

I looked up the length of him.

"Can I tell you something?" I said.

"Anything."

"When my mother was in the hospital, the last week, I sat in the family lounge for nine days."

His hand went still in my hair.

"A woman left a paperback on the table," I said. "It was called Magnolia Row. It was the first book in a series."

"Did you read it?"

"I read it twice that week."

I turned my cheek against his thigh.

"I bought the rest of them after the funeral," I said. "Every one. I read them in the break room at work and in bed."

"Which one do you carry?"

"The sixth. I carry it everywhere."

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