This wasn’t casual; it was something more, something unexpected but real. I wasn’t sure if it was lasting, but it felt right. And almost too good to be true.
The calluses of his fingers scratched my skin just right, his lips and stubble tickled my face, and the unspoken message caressed my heart.
I was a poor girl in a rich person’s world. Did I really think I’d end up with the stand-up, conservative lawyer type? No, they only wanted me for a quick lay. Like the guy back at the lawyer meet-and-greet. But Jake was different.
He was a tough guy, rough around the edges, but he wasn’t the bad guy he believed himself to be. He was gentle and kind, especially when no one was looking. He was like the quarter you found lying on the ground. Dirty, but the best-found money after you shined it all up, the state you’d been missing in your coin collection. Maybe Wisconsin? Or Kansas? The one damn quarter you’d been looking for everywhere, but had no idea it would turn up in the puddle next to your boot on a rainy day.
Jake tugged at the zipper on my boot, sliding the left one off and then the right. I slipped off my stool into his arms and soon found myself spread out on the couch, Jake shimmying my jeans off. He kicked off his shoes, throwing them in the corner, and slid my underwear to the side.
When he brought his mouth to the edge of my thong and breathed in, I whimpered. “Jake,” came tumbling out of my mouth in a hoarse whisper.
“I got you, Aly-cat,” he said, and then brought the tip of his tongue to my spot. The spot. With a firm grip on my hips, holding me in place, his mouth assaulted my folds, his tongue dug deeply and he paid special attention to my clit. When I tried to lift my hips, he wouldn’t allow it. “Take all of it, Al. Come hard,” he mumbled, his mouth barely leaving me.
I brought my hand to his hair and tugged. He kept threatening to buzz it like I’d seen in old photos of him, but he didn’t.
“Harder,” he demanded, and I pulled his hair with more force. Locks of his hair were tickling my hip bone, and I gathered those and yanked. He never let up, the soft cotton of his shirt rubbing my inner thigh, his tongue on an all-out assault of my clit—a good kind—and his fingers digging into my hip.
When I came apart, his name ripped from my throat and reverberated around the room. In that moment, my whole world was this man, a diamond in the rough who taught me how to bowl and . . . how to live life.
“Good, baby?”
He sat me up and kissed me, his mouth tasting like me down there. I’d thought I would mind the first time it happened, but there was something strangely erotic and intimate about it. He pulled away to rip his shirt off, exposing his broad chest, mostly smooth and hard with a small smattering of hair.
“Suck me a little before I get inside you.”
It wasn’t a question but more of a gentle demand. His tone was rough, but his blue eyes were full of something more passionate—warmth, caring, a touch of tenderness. It was such a weird dichotomy. To be aggressive in bed—or on the couch—but the motivation behind it all sensitive or something touchy-feely. I couldn’t exactly make sense of it, but I liked it.
Getting on my knees, I undid his jeans and quickly pulled them off. He turned to the couch and sat down, his erection reaching for me. Straining for me. I stayed on my knees and dipped my mouth to his length. I licked him from tip to base and back up, stopping to suck on the tip and taste his pre-come before taking the same path again.
“Suck it, Aly.”
I brought my mouth around the top and took in as much as I could. He bunched my hair in his hand and guided my head. The pace was slow at first, and I dragged my tongue along with my mouth up and down.
“Scrape me with your teeth. Lightly,” he said, his voice almost hurting with want.
I allowed my teeth to softly graze him, and a loud rumble made its way from his chest. We stayed like that for a while, me teasing him with a delicate lick or nip, and softly sucking his dick, until he nabbed my hair a touch harder.
“Suck me harder. Hard.” He led the faster pace and knew exactly where to halt me before I gagged. “Jesus, fuck, does this feel good. I don’t want to blow, though.”
I rested my mouth at his tip, swirling my tongue at the hole, a tiny bit of salty substance seeping out.
“Come here.” He guided me to his lap, holding me above him as desire coursed through my body. When I hesitated, he whispered, “I’m clean.”
“I’m on the pill . . . to regulate—”
I didn’t have time to finish. Jake brought me down on him quickly, filling me up and making me whole in a way I’d never dreamed about. Even when I’d sat daydreaming in the corner while my mom cleaned the mansions, or when I stayed up late studying in graduate school, I never dreamed of needing a man in the way I’d come to need Jake.
With him, I wanted to live.
He guided my hips faster, lifting my pelvis and pulling me back down on him, his quads doing all the work as his mouth sucked on my breasts, one after the other. A second orgasm built inside me and I panted as I tried to move with him. When he circled his hips, hitting me in the G-spot he’d found so easily, I shouted. I didn’t even know what came out of my mouth, but it didn’t matter. I was floating, soaring, flying . . .
Living.
We fell into a tangled heap together on the couch until Maverick whimpered. Jake got up to let him pee and said, “Stay there. Don’t move. I’m going to clean you up as soon as I get back.”
I must have dozed off because the next thing I remember was being half-asleep when Jake got out of bed early the next morning to go work out.
Sadly, I didn’t get a chance to see Jake for the next few days. I even missed bowling night. My mom had taken a turn for the worse and between running to check on her and keeping up with work, I was spent. Jake was so sweet, texting every few hours to check in on me, sending Mom a matching hydrangea to the one he’d sent me, even offering to visit her with me.
I didn’t want him to see my mom like she was or my face when I was visiting. Most of the time, it was tearstained from staring at my mom with a feeding tube. The thin piece of plastic tubing now wound over her face and disappeared into her nose, tan-colored liquid pumping through it to keep her body alive. Over the past weekend when I’d been busy falling for the guy, she’d given up eating.
Guilt took up residence in my heart and lungs. Right next to love—or lust?—whatever it was that I felt for Jake.
Barry kept giving me weird glances at work, as if he was worried about me. I’d kept the whole thing about my mom to myself. I couldn’t afford to have him think I’d dropped the ball on the case, so I plowed forward.
Like now, I sat in my mom’s dreary room studying my case notes as she rested, her eyes closed. I was going over holes in the case when Jake texted.
JAKE : I’m outside, let’s go! Time to eat and relax.
I didn’t answer. Instead, I tossed all my crap in my bag and ran out the front doors, reveling in the fresh air and fading sunlight of late afternoon. And Jake.
Seeing him in his usual ragged jeans with a white dress shirt made my blood pulse and my heart beat harder. The sleeves were rolled up, revealing his corded forearms and tanned skin. His hair was slicked back, still wet from the shower, and I knew it would fall all around his face when it dried, and I’d want to push it away from his blue eyes. He was stunning, handsome, rugged, tough, and oh so sweet.
“Hey! You didn’t have to do this,” I said, feeling totally out of place in my black leggings and oversized sweater next to this Greek god.
“Yeah, I did.”
He opened the truck door for me and helped me up, his hand riding up my leg and pulling away my sweater, then pinching my rear. I smiled to myself.
“Hungry?” he asked.
I didn’t get why he saw himself as so evil. He’d been a young kid, and I wasn’t sure who had convinced him of his guilt. The babysitter? Although I could never imagine someone doing that to a kid. Jake had explained when we’d talked over the weekend that Shirley had been an alcoholic back then and drinking heavily. Still, it didn’t make sense.