Saturday, March 19, 2011

Wanderlust Part 5

Probably won't be back until Monday, folks. Have a lot of edits and fam stuff this weekend. We are out to dinner later. Wahooo! Gonna try a burger on an HONEST TO GOD bun! I could be in heaven--figuratively or literally. Only time and the bun will tell. Now, why are you here? Part 5 awaits...

Part 5
by Sommer Marsden

“There was really no need to behave that way,” Jackson said. He cleaned his glasses as he watched me undress. I didn’t like when he watched me. I didn’t like that I could feel his gaze on my skin.

“What way? Like someone who’d rather chew off an arm than stay there any longer?”

We’d managed to extricate ourselves from daddy’s shindig by pleading a migraine for me. At first my father had bucked the excuse, but once I threw in the word nausea it was a done deal. Nothing would mortify my father more than his daughter vomiting in the middle of new clients and investors. He let me go with a wave of his hand.

I had been hoping Jackson would stay but no such luck.

“Yes. You need to show a certain sense of decorum.” He untied his blue tie and draped it over an armchair. Jackson undressed in the same way he did everything—slow, measured and deliberate.

“Not screaming at the top of my lungs and punching anyone was me showing a sense of decorum. I really don’t like those things, you know. Everyone spouting off about deals, investments, mergers and all that jazz. It’s about as appealing as seeing a bunch of men slap their dicks down and measure them. It’s the same thing. Just with money.”

He shook his head and pulled on a pair of pajama pants and an old college tee. The closest thing that Jackson got to casual wear. “Scotch?”

“Ick. Every night it’s a no. Are you expecting one day I’ll wake up and magically love that stuff. Or maybe you’re hoping for amnesia.”

He shook his head. “Merlot?”


He paused on his way out of the room. I was standing there in just my panties. Panties that probably still smell sweet and musky from my Johnny-coaxed orgasm. “What happened to us, Really?”

“What do you mean?”

There was a certain amount of emotion swelling up in me and I didn’t like it. My throat grew tight like I might cry. Once upon a time Jackson and I had been friends. We had laughed and gotten along and attended a few classes together. I knew that he sang karaoke when drunk enough, loved marshmallow candies and bought them by the case at Easter so they’d last the year and that his favorite song ever was Bernadette by The Four Tops. I also knew that the moment we’d gotten married, he’d become my father’s soldier in my eyes and I had turned on him.

Maybe that was wrong, but it was true.

“We used to be close. We used to be friends. I may not be the love of your life, Really, but you used to at least like me.”

I shrugged. I truly didn’t want to answer him, because when Jackson was this way—buttoned down and softly spoken, I remembered why I’d agreed to do to in the first place. He was the only one I could imagine it working with—which was why daddy had picked him. But it hadn’t worked.

He watched my face. “So?”

“So what?” I dropped the panties and stood there naked.

“So what did I do?”

“You said I do,” I said and turned my back on him.

* * *

The frosted glass door growled in its track as Jackson pushed it back. “Your wine.”

I sighed. “It can wait.”

“Take a sip. It’s the 1997 Cab.”

“I thought you were giving me Merlot.”

“We were out.”

I didn’t want to break it to Jackson but to me wine was wine. Box, bottle, a homemade copper still from your back garden—I didn’t much care. I was raised to care about all that shit. Maybe that’s why I refused to.

I took a sip and handed it back. “Thanks. Now go.”

He shut the door but I could see his frosted distorted form on the other side of the glass. I knew what was coming but I started to wash my hair anyway. The door slid back again and there he was, naked and erect.


“Come on now, I don’t ask often. Is it that hard to do your wifely duties?”

Guilt flooded me and I washed the lather from my hair. Hot water kissed my skin, beat over my scalp, heated my body. “It’s just—“

“I know you don’t love me.”

“Jackson—“ He knew under my bitch-shell I carried around enough guilt for ten people. He knew that if he hit the right buttons I would cave because it wasn’t his fault. It hadn’t been a shotgun wedding. It had been a business relationship.

“I know you don’t even lust after me.”

I sighed, stepping back further to let him in all the way. He slid the door shut and trapped us away from the rest of the world. The water and heat and muted light let me forget all of it. The party, Johnny, my excitement mixed with fear. All of it.


He traced my nipple with the tip of his finger and the dusky pink flesh knotted up and grew pebbled under his touch. A simple chemical reaction. A physiological chain of events. Nothing more.

He dipped his head and sucked it into his mouth—the heat there rivaling the heat of the shower. “I know, however, that I am decent at sex and that you come when I fuck you.”

Hearing Jackson—white wine with fish, keep track of your mileage, no white after Labor Day Jackson—say the word fuck was enough to turn me on. “I never said you weren’t good.”

“So is it so hard to do your wifely duties, then? Just once in a while?” He pushed a finger into me and I was still wet and plump from earlier. More confused and aroused by this whole fucked up scenario, too. And he had me right there on the head of his little pin of guilt, spinning like a top with the whole wifely duty shit.

I sighed out as he kissed me and he swallowed my sound. His fingers flexed deep and he triggered all those little nerves in my cunt that made me grab his shoulders to steady myself.

“Turn around,” he said, voice low and gruff and so un-Jackson-like.

I had never hated him until he married me. I’d even had a few fun nights with Jackson before daddy had claimed him as one of his own. I turned, spread my legs when he nudged me. I even arched my back to take the fingers he pressed into my pussy, flexing them just right so I felt my body ratchet up another notch—ready, willing and able to do this.

He pushed the head of his cock to my entrance, tapped me gently so that I had to anticipate when he’d enter. If he’d enter. And when I splayed my hands on the wet tile he thrust deep, the water impeding him for just a moment, but then my body opened, took him and I was wet enough for the both of us.

He gripped my hips, bent to lick my shoulder blade and fucked me in slow even strokes. Very measured, very Jackson.

“It’s okay that you’d don’t love me and that’s okay. But I love you, Really. So just once in a while, act like you like me. Okay?”

I nodded, his fingers stroking wet circles over my clit as he held me tight and almost painfully hard with that other hand.

“Aurelia…Really,” he said over the white noise hiss of the shower.

He groaned and pressed my clit and I came with him. My forehead had joined my spread hands on the tile wall. I forced myself back on the last few thrusts, welcoming him into my body and taking him deep.

It was the least I could do.



  1. Sexy stuff. Didn't know Jackson had it in him, uh in her, well you know what I mean. Still rooting for Johnny. Can't wait for Monday.

  2. Oh, that's sad. Adds more intrigue to the mix!

  3. Dayum. Just when I thought I knew how this was going to go, you throw a major twist in there. Monday cannot come soon enough.

  4. Woohoo! Just found this, a little slow as usual., lol. This is rocking my socks, Mz. Sommer, can't wait for the next installment. :)

  5. ha! you guys are awesome :)

  6. WOW - wasn't expecting that - nice twist. And yeah, got to agree with Jo - kind of sad too. Made me swallow a tear.

    Glad today is Sunday - which means tomorrow is MONDAY!!


What sayest thou?