Flowers for Jill Ch. 07


Author’s Note:

First things first, I’m soooo sorry about the long wait. I feel terrible about slacking off like this, but I’ve had some of the busiest months at work, add hockey season and traveling to that, and you have a verrry busy girl. I meant to finish this earlier, but I had to go to D.C. for the Winter Classic and spent some time there. If you were at the game and you ran across a tall, slim brunette in a Toews t-shirt, then you probably ran across me, and you should’ve said hi. ­čśŤ

Anyhow, this is the last chapter of this story. I promised the readers who took the time to email me and make me feel super special to finish and post it before February, and I kept my promise!

I hope you enjoy it!

Let me know if you want me to work on future projects.



“How can you hate something if you’ve never tried it?” Jillian added for emphasis, “If you refuse to try it?”

“Jillian, no.” Simone, Jillian’s best friend, focused her golden gaze on her, “I’m not playing food bully with you.”

Swallowing a gulp of her lemon water, Jillian said, “It’s not just about food -even though food is the most fitting thing for this theory; you take a bite, and that’s it! Tried it, judge it!”

The other woman sat back in her chair, “How do you feel about cannibalism?”

Catching her friend’s drift, Jillian argued “It’s not the same thing, humans aren’t food.”

“I saw a documentary about cannibalism once, and they said humans taste just like chicken.”

She snorted, “They always say that ‘oh it tastes like chicken’, but it never does. If it’s not chicken then it doesn’t taste like chicken. I’ve tried a lot of weird ass food that I was told tasted like chicken, but it never did.”

“Well, I’m not eating any asparagus,” her friend insisted, “Even its name is yucky; it sounds like Asperger’s, and I have a rule against food that sounds like mental disorders or diseases.”

Tamara, the third musketeer at their table started to laugh, “Ass burgers!”

“No, it’s Asperger’s.” Simone corrected as Jillian started talking again, “That’s ridiculous, you have to keep an open mind. I can’t believe you won’t try it.”

“Stop pressuring me. I don’t. Want. To.”

“Oh, just shut up. The both of you!” Tamara cried plucking a stem of grilled asparagus from the serving plate, and dripped it in Jillian’s half-boiled egg before biting the tip off, “Here, nothing to it, Simone.”

“You’re daring me to try it, is that it?” Simone reached for the plate and Jillian shook her head, “No, never mind.”

“Oh, screw it.” the woman said repeating the same dipping routine Tamara did then tasted the asparagus.

The three women were loud, their mere conversation bordered on causing a scene, but that didn’t bother them. The day was surprisingly nice for early February in Chicago. No snow hindered the traffic, and the sun was generous with its warm rays; hence the three friends decided to luxuriate in taking advantage of the opportunity and hang out together all day Friday. In the low forties, it was actually warm enough for them to sit outside the restaurant, and they did Simone’s appetizer sampler idea where they ordered a variety of appetizers to share.

Simone chewed thoughtfully, and the other two stared at her expectantly until she declared, “It’s not bad.”

“See? No need to call me a bully.”

Under her breath, the hairstylist murmured, “Even when you’re being bitchy?”

In agreement, Simone observed, “You’re not yourself lately.” And Tamara backed up the claim, “Yeah, J.Z. what’s up?”

She laughed, “J.Z.?”

“Don’t change the subject, ever since you and that guy from the party broke up, you’ve been…discombobulated.”

Simone almost shrieked, “A guy? Wait, wait, hold up, what guy?”

Speaking simultaneously, Jillian and Tamara said in turn “No one.” And “Her boss.”

“I didn’t know you were dating anyone, not to mention your boss.” Simone was from the Cayman Islands, and had a light melodious Caribbean accent that she didn’t always remember to hide, “I thought we were cl├│ser dan dis.”

She was being reprimanded by her best friend, that should’ve got her to defend her situation, but Jillian merely shook her head frowning and trying not to cry. Tamara, on the other hand, was already on her phone pulling out ├ëlsi Dussant’s instagram account and scrolling for pictures from the Christmas party.

“This yummy hunk o’ man meat!” She presented Simone with a picture in which Marc had his arm around Jillian’s waist and was saying something that had her complete attention.

She couldn’t remember what it was, and wished she could conjure the conversation that must’ve been important enough to distract them from the obtrusive camera guy.

“That’s your boss? He’s gorgeous!” Simone was attuned to Jillian’s moods, and had the tact that Tamara lacked. Hence, after her loud exclamation, isve├žbahis she caught herself and enquired softly, “What happened with him?”

Jillian blinked then swallowed “He wants to see other people, and it’s all my fault.”

“The jerk! How could he blame this on you?”

But he wasn’t a jerk; he made his intentions clear and offered her an option while giving her complete freedom to decide.

“No, no, it’s not like that,” she shook her head resolutely, “he’s the sweetest, most considerate guy I know, and I just…I don’t have the guts to…” she looked away, eyes falling on a lanky guy across the street who was struggling to hold on to the handful of birthday balloons and large bag he was holding and press the walk button. “To try to keep everything together while diving in for a chance to…cross.” Fearing that what she said only made sense in her own head, she added, “Once I find my comfort zone, it’s hard for me to leave it, and he wants me to do just that.” She didn’t mention that he suggested she speak with someone about her anxiety which she tried to deny.

The man across the street lost one of his balloons, its string slipped out of his fingers and the bright pink heart went up, up flying in a squiggly line. The guy gave it a quick glance, before crossing with a grimace and a snort.

“It takes sacrifice.” She found herself saying before she turned to look at her companions’ bewildered expressions. She then glanced up at the soaring balloon then dropped her gaze to the guy that lost it who was looking up too, and had started to laugh.

Clearing her throat, she turned back to her food, “I don’t wanna talk about it.” but it was a fib, because somewhere deep inside her, she did want to discuss it with someone. To touch up on the things she’s scared of, and why she always found a safe corner and backed herself into it until she couldn’t bear the monotony of her choice, and just forced herself to pretend it’s fine. And what would she do if she went back? She signed a twelve-month lease for her apartment here, and her old position was already filled by her competent prot├ęg├ę Ryan -whom Helga called Adam Lambert.

After a period of silence, she said out of nowhere, “I mean, I can break the lease -there’s a fine or something that I’d have to pay- I can probably find another apartment in New York, but my job situation-” she caught herself as a wild plan started to plant its seeds in her head, and she waved a hand dismissively, “Never mind, I’m just thinking out loud.”

After lunch, she declined a ride home from Tamara deciding to walk and window-shop since she didn’t have a particular thing to do. That’s why she didn’t take off-days, because she never really made plans beyond a meal, a game, or some sort of musical event. She didn’t need to buy anything, not really, any purchase she’d make would be born of boredom and thus, a waste of money, so she just looked at things with slight interest.

Indecisiveness plagued her as she stared unseeingly at a Valentine’s Day store display. She was so scared of talking to someone about her problems and inner struggles. That mental hurdle that slowed her down like a ball and chain that she had to drag behind her everywhere she went. When did it get that bad? She asked herself meeting the glassy eyes of a smiling plush bear with a huge heart in its lap, and realized that it’s been building and growing unnoticed -or more like ignored by her until Marc wormed his way into her mind and heart breaking her inner dams and releasing the floods that swept her.

The details of that last night with him were tattooed on the walls of her memory. The finality of their situation made him infinitely amorous, desperate even in a way that mirrored everything she was feeling then.

They barely talked, choosing to communicate their affection and need for each other physically. No words uttered, she took his hand and guided him to the bed pushing him down then prompting him to pull back as she crawled closer until his back hit the headboard.

He was hard, the velvety skin stretched tight over his straining solid erection, but she wanted him harder, thicker, and pulsing in her hand. Wrapping her fingers around his dick, she stroked him, giving his beautiful cock a number of tight tugs and pumps that made his breath come out in short fast gasps. She didn’t want to stop; the feeling was addictive, the sight hypnotic. They both watched her dainty fingers manipulate the thick shaft rolling his foreskin up and down the steely hardness, and she felt her pussy cream at the mere feel of his cock in her hand.

He mumbled something unintelligible and she tightened her hold on him sliding his foreskin up and around the head until it formed a little cup where his copious precome gathered like clear syrup. Wanting -needing a taste, she inched her body backwards then leaned down pressing her pursed lips to the slick tip and just moved her head in a circle smearing his precome isve├žbahis giri┼č on her mouth. Looking up, she met his gaze and pulled his foreskin down before taking his engorged glans in her mouth without breaking eye-contact.

Marc cupped her cheek with his right hand. His fingers fanned over her ear and into her damp hair as his thumb stroked her cheekbone absently. She sucked sharply, her lips making a lewd wet noise on his cock, and his thumb stilled for a minute pressing under her eye before he seemed to notice what he was doing and went back to caressing her.

She wasn’t the devious sort, otherwise she would’ve used this to press what he would be missing once he got back to New York, but she did give him everything just like she always had and always will. Jillian focused her attention on the tip of his dick, licking around it and suckling it, and slurping every drop of pre-ejaculate he gave her waiting tongue while keeping her gaze trained on his face. She pulled back to kiss his frenulum and lap at the sensitive bundle of nerves making him moan before swiping her mouth over his leaking tip again.

His fingers tightened in her hair urging her to take his cock in her mouth, but she wanted him in her dripping pussy so she rose slowly, clear lines of precome stretching between his penis and her lips that she had to cant her chin forward breaking the two thin strands on her skin. The slippery, slightly salty fluid dripped between her breasts, and she took his hand from her face, kissed the palm then pressed it to the left side of her chest as if to say, I keep you right here.

He smeared his essence on her twirling it around one of her nipples while she straddled his hips and grasped his cock by the root. His erection was so rigid, the tip a dark angry shade of reddish purple, the balm to her sex’s moist swollen folds. He inched his hips up indicating his impatience, but she hummed soothingly while rubbing the mushroom head along her slit. Her clit was engorged and throbbing, and it sent a jolt of electricity along her legs everytime his cock touched the distended nub making her squeeze her eyes shut letting out ragged, choppy exhales that matched his.

“Please.” She heard him whisper difficultly, and when she opened her eyes to look at him she thought she imagined it as his expression was the same -tormented and on edge, but the same. Her thumb pressed under the head of his cock, and his eyes shot open to meet hers, “Jill…” he breathed, and she couldn’t keep him hanging.

Spreading her legs farther apart, they both looked at the parted petals of her sex, dark pink and glistening with her juices and his. She parted them with the head of his cock before sinking low and popping the tumescent tip into her cunt. They both groaned, and she felt his left thigh jerk and shudder under her as he schooled it still. She felt his heartbeats pulsing wildly along his thick veined shaft as she impaled herself on him, and took her sweet time, letting his girth stretch her softness inch by agonizing inch.

She wanted to tell him how good her felt inside her, how right it was for them to be together, and how they fit perfectly, then beg him to consider her proposal, but didn’t want to ruin the moment. She couldn’t risk poking the matter, the beast in the room and rousing it bringing forth another argument, so she just showed him. Taking him all the way inside her, the deepest of penetration, she squeezed her cunt around his dick rhythmically in long pussy kisses that made his hips jerk and sent his hands to the tops of her thighs holding them and digging his long fingers in them.

Yet, she wanted him wilder, out of his mind. Spreading her thighs wider still, she burrowed closer to him, his hairy thighs scraping against the inside of her soft ones, his pubic hair rubbing against her bald pussy. He mumbled something again, and swallowed banging his head back against the headboard in frustration before slapping her on the ass to urge her to move. The look he gave her was pained, and she grinned at him teasingly, leaning forward to kiss his lips, her movement sliding her pussy up over his cock. He was quick to tighten his hold on her thighs and press her down ramming his cock deep inside her and eliciting a cry from her that he was quick to muffle with moist kisses.

His hands slithered around her thighs to hold her by the ass cheeks spreading them and digging the tips of his fingers in that sensitive area around her anus. Up and down he moved her, fucking his cock with her pussy like she was his personal sex toy, only she was responsive and feisty instead of placid and passive. She let him use her body and enjoyed it as much as he did, biting back as she sucked at his lower lip bruising it, and tweaking his flat nipples until he groaned and writhed, his back sliding a little lower on the headboard.

Somewhere in the room, the automatic air freshener went off sending a Christmassy scent through the air to fill the isve├žbahis yeni giri┼č room, and she pulled back a little looking at his face. His golden hair was damp and looking silvery blonde in the dim light that escaped the half-open bathroom door and the combination of streetlights and moonlight that streamed through the big window. She plunged her fingers in it, combing through it as she whispered, “My Christmas Dussant.” and kissed him on the lips, on both cheeks, on his eyes, then his forehead.

“Oh, baby.” He ground out, and she hugged his head to her chest rising on her knees.

“Nutcrackers, reindeer, hot cocoa, and Marc.” She rubbed her right breast against his mouth enticingly, touching the nipple to his lips then withdrawing when he opened his mouth to suckle it, “Santa Claus, wrapped gifts, snow dusted wreathes, and Marc.” She pressed her thumbs on his cheeks prompting him to open his mouth and stuffed her pebble-hard nipple in it, “Candy canes, decorated trees, snow angels, and Marc…”she moaned throwing her head back when he started to suck on her tit, “My Marc.” She heard her voice declare before she could stop herself.

His mouth stilled momentarily as his fingers squeezed her ass almost painfully, and she had to wriggle her hips to get him to ease his grasp on her. He was hers though. She knew it as she rolled her head on her shoulders and studied him through half-lidded eyes. His lips parted around her nipple and pressed into her puckered areola, sucking and licking the velvety nub as his eyes moved under his closed lids that squeezed tighter everytime he suckled harder. The alarms in her head -those vexing flashes of reality that popped out of nowhere during the most inconvenient of times- bugged her about how he was the perfect guy for her, and how she was going to have to find a substitute since she was losing him after that night. No one compares, no one’s as good as he is. The nagging voice of wisdom in her head prodded her, and she swore she was going to make every second count, every sound, every touch worth their -hopefully temporary- farewell.

She placed her hands on the headboard over his head and followed the movement of his hands, slamming her pussy down on him everytime he urged her down. When he moved his mouth to her other breast, she started to move faster, her body smacking against his in loud slaps that sounded like moist little spanks. Slack, slurk, slack, their sweaty thighs smacked and clapped together while his teeth tugged at her nipple digging into it when she moved up or slammed down in her frenzied fuck dance.

And it was just like Marc to slide his fingers along her pussy lips from behind, pressing the wet folds that spread around his thick penis. She cried out an “Oh God!” and he started to massage them slithering his fingers back and forth aided by her slick juice that lubricated his ministrations.

Just like the first time she learned his name, it was stuck on her lips, a mantra that she repeated ceaselessly and incoherently each time his cock stroked inside her and bumped the entrance of her cervix.

Fingers massaging her labia, cock sliding in and out of her, and mouth suckling alternately on her nipples, she was so close to exploding in a massive orgasm and dissolving into a pile of need all over him. But she didn’t want to come so early, she wanted an agonizing buildup until they both could climax together. Sliding up, she dug her fingers into the headboard keeping only the tip of his cock in her cunt, her tightness holding and squeezing the large spongy head. He murmured something and tugged her nipple with his teeth rather harshly, and she cried out jerking which caused his teeth to clamp tighter onto her breast.

“I need a minute, Marc.” She entreated sitting back on his dick and wiggling her hips slightly to feel his cum-laden balls against her ass.

“And I need you.” He kissed her throbbing tormented nipple then spread wet kisses along the inside curve of her breast over to the second one, and encased her other nipple in his mouth rolling it with his tongue and teeth, “I need all of you, Jill.”

“You already have me.” she whispered holding his head with both hands and stroking his thick hair, “Never doubt that.”

He didn’t fuck her though, with his cock seated to the hilt in her sex, he reached for her asshole and inserted his middle finger into the tight opening. Despite it being slathered with her juices, his finger still felt big, the delicious invasion that she’s come to anticipate and crave made her head roll back on her shoulders.

He was slow and deliberate, even more so than earlier that night, his ministrations making her pussy soak his cock with yet more moisture. He pulled his finger out to gather some of her wetness onto the tip then circled her anus with it, pressing the puckered star and relaxing her before sliding in again.

The next time he inserted his middle finger it was joined by his index, liberally lubricated with her essence, gentle yet relentless. The sensation was too much when his fingers stopped, second-knuckle deep, and just stretched her back hole for a few seconds. She whimpered and he wriggled them in response.

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E-posta hesab─▒n─▒z yay─▒mlanmayacak.