by JB Salsbury
“I don’t regret it. I only regret not doing it more.”
Our mouths come back together, and I pull at her shirt and slide my hand underneath it. She arches her back, offering her tits to me. I can’t stand the barrier between us, so I slip the shirt over her head and toss it aside.
I take a moment to watch my hands play with her perky breasts. “I love this bra.”
“Really?” She looks down as if to see what I’m seeing.
No lace, no padding, just a thin covering of tan fabric, so thin I can see the tight, protruding tips. I dip down and suck one over the fabric. Her head drops back and a long sigh falls from her parted lips. I slip my thigh between her legs, putting pressure against her so she knows she can use it if she wants to get herself off. I lick and suck at her nipple until her bra is soaked through. She rocks against my thigh, and as much as I wish it was my dick she was using to fuck herself, I know I’d come in my pants, and we don’t have enough time for the cleanup.
I move to her other breast and give it the same treatment, licking, sucking, and biting with the perfect pressure. She seems to love the shit I do to her body as she rocks harder against me. My jeans feel as if they’re going to burst into flames from the friction.
I lean back to watch. Her nipples are hard and piercing against the wet see-through fabric of her bra, her hips rolling and her lips parted. “You’re burning up, aren’t you, Bethany?”
“I am,” she says breathily in a way I feel in my balls.
“You wanna come?”
She bites her bottom lip and nods.
“Yeah, you do.” I pop her tits from their cups and pinch her nipples. I dive into her neck, where the scent of her hair and skin combine, and fuck, she smells so good. The need to be covered in her overwhelms me. I want to wear her scent like clothes and be soaked in her gasping breath. “I have to feel you. Tell me I can touch you.”
“Touch me.”
I slip my hand into her shorts, past her panties, and into her wet pussy. “Oh fuuuck.” She’s so slick. “I want to fuck you.” I thrust one finger inside. She’s so tight I don’t want to risk two. “I’m gonna open you up for me.”
Her muscles coil.
“I want to use my tongue, my fingers—shit, you’re so tight.”
“Jesse, please.”
I lick up her neck to her mouth and whisper, “I love you.”
Her breath hitches, and she falls apart in my arms, my thigh between her thighs keeping her from falling. I cup her between her legs to feel how hard I made her throb for me.
“Jesse?”
“Yeah.”
“You said… you love me.”
I kiss her softly. “I do.”
She smiles against my lips. “Really?”
“Yeah, of course.” What a stupid question.
“I, uh…”
I grin, thinking of how good she must feel having come so hard it shook the fucking walls. “You love me too.”
16
Bethany
The Friday night rush hits earlier than usual because of a football game at the nearby high school. All my tables are full of teenagers who want separate checks and don’t tip, but even still, I can’t wipe the grin from my face.
Jesse Lee is in love with me.
“Bethany!” Leon’s voice calls me from my thoughts. “Your order’s up.”
I blink at the six plates of food that I swear weren’t there a minute ago, but judging by Leon’s scowl, I’ve been daydreaming for longer than I thought.
“Sorry, Leon.” I pile the plates on a tray and hoist them up for delivery.
My chest feels too full in the best possible way. I’ve been trying to sneak away to call Ashleigh and tell her before her shift at the bar, but it’s already after nine o’clock, so it’ll have to wait. I know I’ll be getting no sleep tonight, waiting up for her so I can share my exciting news.
No, I can’t wait. I’ll text Ashleigh and tell her to call me on her break.
I refill sodas, drop a couple checks, and bring extra syrup to buy myself a five-minute break. “Natasha, can you keep an eye on my tables? I need to run to the bathroom.”
“Sure thing,” the other waitress says.
I forgive myself for the tiny white lie. I am going to the bathroom, only I’m going to use it as a phone booth. I grab my phone from my purse and lock myself inside the employee restroom.
New text message.
My heart does a strange somersault, thinking it could be from Jesse. Now that he has a new phone, we exchanged numbers when he dropped me off at work this afternoon. He suggested it, not me, but I was so happy he did. I was almost late for work because I kissed him goodbye in the car until he insisted we stop because apparently I give a “mean case of blue balls.”
My lower belly warms at the memory. I open the new text message and frown.
Hey Beth, when can we get together? There’s something I need to talk to you about.
“Wyatt?” I remember he mentioned something about getting together after church on Sunday. I was so eager to get out of there, I hardly thought about it then and forgot as soon as I walked away.
Huh… what does it mean that I forgot? This is Wyatt, for crying out loud.
Am I in love with Jesse?
He seems to think so, but I hardly know him. I haven’t thought of Wyatt much in the last week, or even in the weeks before. Jesse has been consuming my thoughts for longer than I’d like to admit.
A knock on the door makes me jump.
“You almost done?” Natasha says. “You just got a new table.”
Dang it. I pocket my phone and decide talking to Ashleigh will have to wait.
Natasha is waiting at the door with an apologetic expression. “I gave the table to you because I have to get home to my kids.”
“It’s fine. I could use the money.”
“Table thirty-two.”
I head back into the restaurant, and my gaze settles on my new table. My face splits into a grin when I spot the familiar baseball hat. Jesse.
Giggling from a nearby table catches my attention. A group of cheerleaders from the high school is staring at him, and their reaction is drawing the attention of others.
I scurry to him, realizing as I get closer that he’s wearing a short-sleeve T-shirt. Those multi-colored arms draw attention from all directions. “Hi.”
He grins wide. “Hi.”
“You have to leave.”
He frowns. “Why?”
I get as close as I can and speak under my breath. “Because there are fifty high school kids in this place right now and they all know who you are.”
He smirks and stretches one arm along the back of the booth. “You worried about my safety?”
“Absolutely. You could get mobbed, they could follow you home, or—”
“Excuse me,” a high-pitched voice comes from behind me. I step around to Jesse’s side as the teenager in the cheerleading uniform excitedly approaches. “You’re Jesse Lee.”
He grins, and she visibly melts. I don’t blame her. He’s irresistibly charming.
“I don’t mean to bother you, but could I get a picture?” She holds up her phone.
“Yeah, I can do that.” He motions for her to come closer, and she practically throws herself into the booth with him.
“I can take it,” I offer.
She ignores me and leans against him for a quick selfie. “I love your music.”
“Thank you,” he says so genuinely, as if her compliment really meant something more than “I think you’re hot.”
I roll my eyes, and Jesse chuckles and thanks her politely. They talk a little more about his music, and when Jesse is about to excuse her, the rest of the girls from her table inch forward.
“Can I get a selfie with you?”
“Of course.” He opens his arm for them to crawl into the booth next to him and get a picture.
The area around his table gets crowded, so I back away only to get flagged down by anot
her table. Their plates are empty.
I gather them onto my arms. “Is there anything else I can get you, or are you ready for your check?”
The teen boy leans in. “Hey, is that Jesse Lee?”
I sigh. “Yep.”
“Awesome. Do you have a pen I could borrow? My girlfriend loves him. I want to get her an autograph.”
“Sure.” I pull the pen from my apron and leave Jesse to his room of admirers.
I drop off checks as we get closer to closing and watch Jesse sign anything from paper napkins to body parts. Word must’ve gotten out that Jesse is here, because five minutes before closing, the parking lot fills.
I never lock the door a minute before closing, but tonight I lock it a couple minutes early so that we don’t end up here all night.
Jesse’s out of the booth and talking and laughing with his fans. He’s in his element, his smile genuine and his posture relaxed. I catch a little of the conversation he’s having with a girl about a surprise concert he held in LA, and a guy is telling Jesse he can play his entire Black and Blue album on the guitar. It all seems fairly harmless. I don’t know why, but I expected bras to fly and fangirls to break down crying.
“Who is that?” Leon asks.
“Jesse Lee.”
“No shit?”
Something about the way he says it, as though he’s shocked Jesse would be here, catches my attention. “Yeah, why?”
He wipes his hands on a towel and shrugs. “There are rumors going around that his band split up because he fucked his drummers girlfriend.”
An uneasy twinge twists in my chest. “Don’t believe everything you read. Ninety percent of what you read online is a lie.”
That’s not a real statistic, but it works to shut Leon up. I tell myself it’s probably close to accurate. Jesse wouldn’t sabotage his band or his friend and bandmate’s relationship just for sex, would he?
He would have happily slept with Suzette. I tell myself the situations are far from the same.
“I’m outta here,” Leon says. “See you next week.”
“What? You’re not going to get an autograph?”
“Nah, I’m more of a Justin Timberlake guy.”
I wish so badly Jesse could’ve heard that. I’ll tell him later. God knows after this, he’s going to need a dose of humility.
“Just five more minutes?” the beautiful teen with the Marilyn-Monroe pout asks again.
“I’m so sorry, but I have to close this place up.” I let Jesse’s fans stay thirty minutes extra while I did all my side work, but now I’m exhausted and ready to go home.
“Come on”—another teen squints at my nametag—“Bethany. Just a little longer?”
I hate saying no, but this will go on all night if I let it. “I’m sorry.”
“Bitch,” one of the girls says beneath her breath.
“That’s enough,” Jesse barks at the girl who said it. “She said you need to go. You need to get the fuck out.”
The girl shrivels under his glare, and they all scurry toward the door.
I unlock it and prop it open for them to shuffle outside. A couple of them thank me as they pass, but the one just keeps her eyes down. I close the door and lock it, noticing there’s still a decent group of people outside, most likely waiting for Jesse to leave.
“Sorry about that,” Jesse says, his voice close. “Teenage girls are vicious.”
“Yeah they are.” I turn around and he’s right behind me, his hands shoved into his pockets and a half smile on his perfect face. “We might be stuck here all night.”
“Fine with me.” He doesn’t take his eyes off mine.
“You seemed really happy talking to your fans. It was nice to see that side of you.”
“Being surrounded by people who love my music is a great feeling. Feels even better sober.”
“How so?”
He shrugs one shoulder and lets his gaze drift to the crowd in the parking lot before coming back to me. “When I was fucked up, I was always thinking about my next drink, my next high. Shit like what happened tonight got in the way.”
“You know you won’t be able to hide anymore, right? Word’s out you’re in Surprise. The place will be flooded with media by sunrise.”
He closes the space between us with slow, measured steps and a predatory glint in his eye. “Don’t care. I’m sick of hiding.”
I suck in a shaky breath and press my back to the locked glass doors. “I hope you weren’t hungry. The kitchen is closed.”
He smirks. “Oh, I’m hungry.” He slips his hands around my waist and dips his face to my neck. “But I didn’t come here to eat diner food. I came for you.” He licks a path up my throat to my ear. “You taste so fucking good.”
“I…” My mind scrambles, and I struggle for coherent thought. “Thank you?”
His chuckle is dark and delicious. He nips at my ear.
A roar of applause comes from the parking lot. He pulls back and looks out over my head. “I think they want a show.” He looks at me, his gaze smoldering. “What do you say we give them one?”
I open my mouth to answer—or rather, to ask if this is really what he wants and how will Dave feel—but it’s too late. His tongue slides against mine, rendering me completely incapable of speech. I push my hands up his ripped abdomen to his chest, where I grip his shirt in two tight fists. He groans and tilts his head, delving deeper, sucking my lips until I’m sure they’re bruised.
The crowd erupts in a symphony of hoots and hollers that have us both laughing.
“I think we should move this to somewhere more private,” he says. “Why don’t you let me take you home?”
Jesse
After twenty minutes of hanging out in the kitchen, where Bethany refused to make out with me—something about it being unsanitary—I decided I couldn’t wait for the parking lot to clear and made a call to the local police. They had the area cleared out in five minutes and we were able to get to the car.
The drive to Bethany’s apartment seems to take for-fucking-ever, but I’m sure that has everything to do with the fact that I’ve been dreaming about crawling into bed with her since I made her come this morning. I’ve been half stiff all day, and despite my efforts to relieve myself, my body told me to fuck off, that only the real thing would do.
We park in an assigned spot, and I don’t wait to be invited up. Bethany doesn’t seem surprised when I hop out, lock the car, and grab her hand. We get to her door on the top floor of the two-story complex, and she lets us inside. The place is simple—newer than similar apartments in Los Angeles, but generic. Her space is clean—couch, television, coffee table, and an indoor plant.
“Is your roommate asleep?” I ask as we pass a closed door.
“No, she works at a nightclub.” She opens a door into her dark bedroom. “She usually doesn’t get home until just before the sun comes up.”
“My kind of girl.”
The light clicks on and Bethany’s frowning.
“Shit, that’s not what I meant.” I reach for her, and she comes willingly. “I mean she’s a lot like me. Or the old me. You know what? Let’s strike what I said from the record. I wasn’t thinking.”
She pats my chest. “It’s all right, I know what you mean.” She drops her purse and points toward the bathroom. “I need to grab a quick shower.”
“Want company?”
She chews her lip.
Fuck. I’m going to need to be more aware of the things I say around her. She’s not some Hollywood starlit or stuck-up socialite. I need to handle her with more care.
“How ‘bout this, you take a shower and I’ll wait here.” I drop onto her bed with my phone in hand.
“Okay. Yeah. I’ll just be a minute.” She grabs a few things, closes the bathroom door, and I don’t miss the click of the lock.
She doesn’t fully trust me. I’m sure after what happened tonight, she’s not secure about where she stands with me. I’ll have to remedy that.
To take my mind off the fact that she is buck-ass naked and dripping wet on the other side of a couple flimsy pieces of drywall, I shoot a quick text to Dave. He’ll be pissed when he wakes up to all the photos taken tonight at the diner. I do my best to cushion the blow.
I hit Send then spend some time studying Bethany’s room. Her bed smells like her—clean and sweet. Her dresser and side tables are white but mismatched styles, and I imagine she got them from consignment stores. A cross hangs on the wall by the door, and her Bible on the bedside table looks well-loved. Her bookshelf has everything from CS Lewis to Stephen King, and she has a signed photo from Korn framed on her wall. At first I’d say the space is pure and light, but looking a little deeper, I discover the dark rebellion hanging out in plain sight. An accurate representation of the woman who lives here.
The lock clicks, and Bethany emerges wearing a pair of soft shorts and a tank top. Her hair is wet, and drops of water make her mint-green top nearly transparent in places.
“Get over here.” I hear the husky lust in my voice, afraid it might scare her, but when her eyes light up and she crawls onto the bed, I see I’ve underestimated her.
I grab her hips and move her to straddle my lap. Her dark eyes are big and bright, her lips the same shade as her nipples, and her skin glows. I wonder why she never considered modeling, because she’s better-looking than a lot of the models I’ve fucked.
“Jesse? Can I ask you something?”
I run my hands up her soft thighs and under her shorts, where I grasp her hips. “Anything.”
“Earlier today, when you told me you love me…”
The heat of her thighs seeps through my jeans and I’m practically salivating to feel how hot she is under her panties. “Yeah, what about it?”
“Did you, I don’t know…” She digs her teeth into her plump lower lip.
“Mean it?” Is she crazy? She’s straddling my rock-hard dick and asking if I love her? “Yes, of course I meant it.” I flex my hips. “Feel what you do to me?”
Her face flushes a gorgeous pink, and she smiles. “Okay, I get that, but—”
“Do you know how long I’ve been waiting to fu—” Careful, Jesse… I clear my throat. “I’ve fantasized about what it would be like for us to be together? How cool it would be to have someone like you in my life for more than just a few fun fucks?”
