Ineffable by Sherrod Story

Author:Sherrod Story [Story, Sherrod]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Literature & Fiction, Erotica, Romantic, United States, African American, Women's Fiction, Romance, Multicultural, Multicultural & Interracial
Amazon: B00RNIWVVS
Publisher: Sherrod Story
Published: 2014-12-30T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter twelve

At some point, even when you’re still high on that fire, love can became a chore. It stops being about companionship, hot sex, laughter or togetherness, and becomes painful. Or, there’s discomfort, irritation because you want something to happen, but because you’re in love you don’t have the guts to make it so.

Margot couldn’t tell Nori that she waited for his call, and sometimes waited at the window like some bored, 1950s housewife until he appeared in the evenings. Half the time she was only pretending to be hard at work when he let himself in, and then, as if in a magical flash his presence brought on a surge of inspiration.

She couldn’t tell him she now marked time with before Nori and after Nori references. She certainly couldn’t tell him that his presence, his scent, the sound of his voice, the memory of his taste on her tongue made her feel calmer, safer, somehow more like herself.

To admit any of that would be the beginning of the end. But sometimes she wanted to get it over with. To say, I love you, and see what happened. But they hadn’t talked about love. She’d had a few confession type conversations under the soothing cover of darkness, but beyond a few sweet remarks in bed, he hadn’t.

She couldn’t blame him. She’d been in so called love before. It hadn’t lasted. In fact, it had quickly turned to hate, and it hadn’t been nearly this intense. Not even when that bitch George was beating the hell out of her. He’d certainly never touched her soul, never soothed her spirit or spoken so easily to her body with his own.

It might not even be reasonable to expect something this good to last. Nori was not the average man. Like the black and white outline of a picture colored by a skilled hand, he enhanced her life.

He seemed to think she hung the moon. She didn’t know where she’d read that particular phrase, but it was the perfect way to describe the way he watched her. And his touch, well. That would need a sonnet or two to properly convey, and she was no poet. If she had to describe the sensation of making love with Nori she would equate the experience to being hit by a car: sudden, intense and out of control.

The danger was obscure. An automobile could knock you down and all the way out. But if it hit you in just the right way, you could easily get up again.

He didn’t know it, but Nori was the reason she’d gotten so much work done lately. The sound of his voice talking to his assistant or one of other direct reports was enough to spark an idea, to send her scrabbling through beads and baubles and books, to prompt her to work until her shoulders, back and fingers balked at the abuse.

Then he’d step in. Not content to leisurely massage out her kinks himself, he had a gift card delivered to the house for her and her friends for a spa.

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