Between Want and Need Ch. 01

He stood before her, wiping his hands on a worn orange rag. He showed no outward sign of exertion, despite having just lugged quite a bit of heavy equipment into her trunk. Still, her first instinct was to offer him some kind of relief.

"Trish is bringing back donuts," Cheyanne remarked, rising from her chair. "I hope you like donuts."

Jerome shook his head, his eyes on his soiled hands. "Finger food's not really an option for me," he said, holding up the grease-stained rag.

She almost kicked herself. "Of course. Sorry." She hesitated then continued, "We can go get something else."

Jerome whistled through his teeth as he walked to the end of the shop. She couldn't help noticing the wide berth he gave her. "I just had lunch, thanks."

Cheyanne walked straight up to him with determined strides. He looked up and she held his gaze. She instantly noticed the wariness therein. "Then let me take you to dinner," she persisted.

Recognizing that she wasn't really asking, Jerome's expression turned grim. "Look here, Cheyanne-"

"No, you look, Jerome," she interrupted with enough heat to startle him. "I don't know what you think I'm trying to do here, but I just want a chance to thank you properly."

"That's not necessary," he rejoined swiftly.

He was maddening! "I say it is," Cheyanne growled through clenched teeth.

To her complete astonishment, Jerome began to laugh. Disarmed by the abrupt change, she stared at him, dumbfounded. He was always good-looking, but when he laughed he was... well, he simply took her breath away.

"And I don't get any say in it?" Jerome asked, his eyes dancing with mirth.

"Well... of course, you do," she muttered in bemusement. "It's just that I thought we'd never meet again and now... here you are."

"And you're not gonna let me get away?"

He seemed to find this amusing but Cheyanne answered in all seriousness, "No, I'm not. Not after all the trouble you've gone to for me. It wouldn't be right."

"You sure that's all it is, Chey?" She fought an idiotic elation that he'd shortened her name for the first time, in that low, suggestive tone. "Because I could've sworn you thanked me already, when I visited you in hospital."

She met his gaze directly. Her voice just as soft as his, she replied, "That didn't begin to cover my gratitude."

"Uh huh." He knew as well as she did that they were discussing nothing so innocent as "gratitude". "Well, I can't let you wallow in your appreciation, sweet pea. That's exactly the kind of thing that gets a lady taken advantage of."

"Then I suppose I'm completely at your mercy," Cheyanne murmured, leaning her body close to his. Her breasts made light contact with his chest. Her eyes searched his face for a moment, and then her hand lifted to his jaw. "You've got a little-"

Before she could wipe the black stain, his fingers circled her wrist in a painless but unbreakable clasp. "You need to stop this, Chey," he said, the laughter in his eyes extinguished.

"No. I don't want to."

"Well, you have to! Think about your baby, his father-"

"His 'father'," she cut in impatiently, "is for all intents and purposes, a test tube!"

"What?!"

Cheyanne smiled at the naked hope that suddenly shone in his eyes. "You heard. I'm single, Jerome, and very, very grateful."

Before he could get away, she stood on tiptoe and kissed him right on the lips. The contact was charged with electricity, leaving her whole body atingle. Slowly, Jerome released her wrist and his hands descended to her hips. His lips slanted across hers with growing passion, teasing them apart before reaching within with his tongue. He tasted her with bold skill, making her moan for more.

Abruptly, Jerome lifted his head. Cheyanne opened her eyes to find his glare upon her.

"What do you want from me?" he growled. He seemed almost angry with her, was even shaking her a little. "Huh? This what you want? To get banged in a chop shop?"

Cheyanne flushed, feeling the first belated bite of self-consciousness. "What I remember asking is if I could take you out to dinner," she pointed out. "And all I did was kiss you right now-"

"Which you shouldn't have done!"

In stark contrast to his stentorian tones, her voice was soft and timid. "Why?"

He seemed to hesitate, then went on in a calmer voice, "Because... you've got your own life, a baby on the way... I'm not gonna fit into all that."

"Then don't. I'm not asking."

"Oh no?" Jerome challenged, and the edge in his voice made her wonder if she had not offended him. "You do realize I got a life of my own to live; you think I'm trying to shove it aside just to be your blue-collar crush?"

"I'm not asking that either," Cheyanne said hastily.

"Look, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't flattered. But look at these hands, Chey! Another reason I shouldn't be touching you-"

"I don't care. Get me dirty." All at once, the heat flared up between them again. She leaned in and nibbled his throat, making him gasp.

His restless hands ran up down her hips and thighs before mashing her body tight against his. His erection was a blunt statement of his carnal needs against her belly. She couldn't resist rocking her hips against it, earning a subtle tremor in his hard body.

"And for the record," she breathed, still tasting his throat, "you're not my blue-collar crush."

She eased her head back to give him a mischievous smirk. "You're my black crush."

Jerome made a sound between a laugh and a scoff. "Is that a fact?"

"Second, it's not a crush. I'm not sixteen, Jerome, I'm a grown woman!" Her stern lecture ended in a breathy whisper in his ear. "So we can bang here, or anyplace you like."

Before she knew what was happening, Cheyanne was stumbling after the man who was now gripping her hand. He led her to a nook in the corner that might have been a storage space, but was now empty. More important, it offered them some modicum of privacy.

Jerome more or less threw her against the wall. Her gasp was muffled by his blistering kiss. His hands hiked her skirt up and, palming the backs of her thighs, lifted her up. Instantly, her legs went round his hips.

As their kisses grew feral, Cheyanne felt as though her limbs were melting. Her sex, even more so. When Jerome ripped his mouth away, it felt like a devastating deprivation.

Shushing her sobbing protests, he worked the buttons on her blouse free with nimble fingers. The garment hung open, revealing her round breasts. Not too large, they were just right for her petite frame. He yanked down the cups to reveal the soft mounds, crowned with erect, pink nipples.

"Oh yeah," Jerome said, his voice deepening in sexual appreciation. His head dipped to her heaving chest, taking a taut nipple between his teeth. He flicked his tongue over it again and again, making her arch into his mouth with a tortured whimper.

"More," Cheyanne implored.

He gave a dark laugh then began to suckle hungrily. She went mad against him, but he easily overpowered her bucking body with a single thrust of his hips. Thus pinned against the wall, she was forced to endure every skillful lick, suck and nip on both her breasts till her nipples glistened.

"Keep it quiet, now," he whispered, lifting his head as her moans became cries.

"Don't stop, Jerome. Please," Cheyanne choked out, her hands running over his short, curly hair. "I'm wet."

Her hips thrust once against his. The bulge in his jeans tantalized her beyond endurance. But he was still holding back.

"I wanna fuck," she whispered, shocking herself with her own blatant horniness.

With a low growl, Jerome straightened and reached for his belt. In seconds, his jeans hung loose around his thighs. All that shielded that hot, hard cock from her was his tight black boxers. And her panties, too; they were soaked to transparency, the wet white silk revealed more of her pink, swollen slit than it hid.

The slick fabric exaggerated the slightest movement into ecstatic friction against her clit. As a result, Cheyanne already felt incredibly tense, her nerves too taut, overstretched in anticipation.

"Jerome. Please-"

His kiss might have silenced her if it had not been accompanied by the jolting impact of his cock against her clit. Cheyanne screamed her shocked pleasure against his lips as she climaxed, but that did not stop him, didn't even slow him down.

Growling his lusty enjoyment, Jerome rubbed himself hard against her mound. His groin went up and down, grinding into her in hard, demanding friction. It was less than she had asked for, but astonishingly satisfying all the same. She hadn't finished recovering from her orgasm before the next one pulled her into its inexorable orbit.

Cheyanne shoved her hands underneath his damp vest. Her hands explored the tactile scenery, loving everything she found: the rippling shoulder blades, the smooth, long back, the lean waist, the jerking hips and when her hands slipped beneath his underwear, the round, flexing buttocks. Trembling, Jerome moaned at her touch.

The impassioned sound just excited her more. Taking firm hold of his thrusting tongue between her lips, Cheyanne began to suck. His entire body shuddered in response but she held on. Her suction broke, however, when he humped her silk-covered clit for the umpteenth time.

Her head fell back against the wall with a loud cry. Her small body shook with the force of her orgasm, convulsing as the paroxysms of ecstasy took over. Jerome's grip on the backs of her thighs bruised the soft skin there. His breath came in steamy puffs against her shoulder as he abruptly went rigid and still.

Cheyanne felt the unmistakable jerks of his cock as he came into their soggy underwear. She purred her contentment. Oh, he'd earned it. That was better than she had believed possible. She stroked his hair as he rested his head on her shoulder.

He'd made her come twice! From dry humping! He had not even used his hands, caring more than she about sullying her. What would it be like if they had sex for real?

At the thought, her hips made a slight involuntary thrust against his. That seemed to snap him out of their sensual daze.

"Jesus, Chey, let's get you back in your clothes," Jerome panted, scooping her breasts back into her bra cups. Then he lowered her feet to the floor.

Cheyanne eyed him with naked intent as she buttoned her blouse. He took one look into her eyes then whirled around and began pulling up his jeans.

"Trish will be back soon," he muttered.

"So will I." There seemed no point being coy about it. "That was amazing. You were amazing."

"Thanks," Jerome said absently. "But this was a... a heat-of-the-moment thing, Cheyanne. It probably won't happen again."

"I'm pretty sure you don't want to stop after this, Jerome," she argued with gentle conviction. "And I already know I'll want you again."

"Maybe. But this still can't happen."

"Well, why not?!" Cheyanne smoothed her skirt back into place, but nothing could be done about the accordion pleats now across her lap. "Why are you being like this? You don't do white girls?"

"Yeah! That's exactly what the problem is! It don't faze me being fuck buddies with a pregnant lady, but the white thing is just weird!"

She narrowed her eyes as she watched him tighten his belt. "Don't get sarcastic with me," she warned.

"Sorry," Jerome said, still avoiding her gaze as he pulled at his belt. "I wouldn't want to upset you - you know, on account of you being pregnant?"

"Oh, come off it," Cheyanne snapped in annoyance. "I never said I wanted you to be involved with my pregnancy, did I? I am a grown woman and pregnant or not, I can have any type of relationship I want! But you obviously don't see it that way, do you? Well, I won't convince you to change your mind, so why don't you just sit here and congratulate yourself for dodging a bullet!"

Cheyanne stormed out of the shed without a backward glance, leaving Jerome staring after her in the sudden, oppressive silence. After a brief moment of indecision, he sighed and followed her outside.

He found her sitting behind the wheel of her small plum-colored car, her door dangling open. He walked over and placing his forearm along the roof, bent down to speak to her.

"Listen, Cheyanne, I didn't mean to-"

Cheyanne seized his hand and pressed a square of paper into his palm. Jerome looked down and saw the phone number hurriedly scribbled on it.

"Call me," she urged, an earnest appeal in her eyes. She looked past him and deliberately brightened her expression as she saw a returning Trish.

"Oh, there you are," Cheyanne called. "Where'd you go? I've been sitting here for ages waiting for you, I'm starving! Let's go grab some donuts!"