by Raquel Belle
He reaches up and pinches my nipples, and my journey to the peak accelerates. My breathing is ragged, and I’m losing control.
“Fuck, Trip… Don’t…don’t…don’t stop!”
His tongue works faster, and I scream when I explode on his face. I grip his head tighter as my body bucks and shudders.
He continues kissing and licking me, long after my body is calmer. Then, he raises onto his knees, tugs his shirt over his head, and shimmies out of his shorts. I stare at his cock, and I gasp at the veined masterpiece in front of me.
I reach out and touch it, and he crawls forward on his knees. I’m hypnotized by it, and I grip it and take it into my mouth. He fills my cavity, and my eyes close like I’m drugged. I move back and forth, covering him and swirling my tongue over him.
He’s grunting above me, and I move faster, propelling him to a climax. He pulls back before it happens and presses me back onto the quilt.
He gently spreads my legs, and takes a deep breath before he guides his cock into me. My mouth pops open as he glides inside me, filling me up in every way possible.
His jaw clenches when he’s inside me, and he starts fucking me slowly at first – sliding in and out, like he’s gauging me.
I pant and dig my nails into his arms. “Harder!”
His grunts get louder and he raises up like a titan. He shifts my body so I’m resting mostly on my upper back region, and he has my ass cheeks in his palms. I’m off the ground, and when he thrusts inside me again, I grab his arms as my body rocks.
He’s moving hard and fast, touching every surface inside me. I gyrate under him and feel his cock, as it swirls inside me, marking every inch, and making me his again.
He’s pressing against my sweet spot, and I scream for him to go faster.
He does, and I’m sweating. He fucks me so hard that I can barely take a breath. I don’t want him to stop, but my body is barreling towards a climax.
“That’s it!” I yell as my body bursts like fireworks on the Fourth of July. My legs feel weak, and I’m glad he’s holding onto them. He continues to fuck me, in that same position, until his grunts get louder and longer.
“Oh, fuck, Jazz!” He cries out and he tenses as our bodies slap against each other. He’s coming, and his eyes roll back before he throws his head back like a wolf.
He remains like that for a couple of seconds, and when he looks back down at me, he’s smiling.
He lets me down onto the quilt before he falls next to me. We’re both breathing hard, and his hand moves over my stomach, back and forth, as he caresses me still.
“Wow!” he says, mostly to himself.
I smile and roll over onto my side. His chest is bare, just the way I like it, and I trace my finger over his pecs. “Wow,” I say. “Never expected that when I left home.”
He grins. “Me neither. I thought we’d just drink wine and eat bread.”
I laugh. “You’re such a liar. You had every intention of winning me over.”
“I had intentions of trying,” he says and toys with my hair. He lunges forward and kisses me on the lips again.
“I’m glad you did,” I say.
“Is that so? Does that mean…?”
I place my finger on his lips. “Don’t even say it. Let’s just enjoy the moment.”
“Okay,” he says and pulls back. “In that case, we should probably eat before the ants and the birds think this is a buffet.”
I laugh. “Yeah, good idea.”
I had to stop him. I know what he was about to say. I want to hear it, but I don’t think I should. For tonight, he’s mine. That’s as far as I can allow myself to think at the moment.
But when he looks at me, under the pale moonlight, I can see it’s not just a quick roll in the hay for him.
He expects more, and I’m scared that I won’t be able to give it to him.
Chapter Eleven
Trip
The house is empty and devoid of life.
It’s why I don’t stay here much anymore. It’s like a bed and breakfast to me—or more like just a bed—ever since Pops died.
Growing up it was always filled with the kids from the neighborhood waiting by the window sill for Mom’s pies to cool…or for her to finish making some kind of snack or other.
She loved doing it too—she’d always wanted more children, but, by no fault of her own, I was the only child she was able to have.
So, she adopted the town of Willow Creek. It was a joy to her, minding everyone else’s children. I never felt like an only child, but now, being in the house, alone, it’s exactly how I feel.
I sigh and wipe my hand down my face and slide out of the bed. My feet touch the once vibrant, scarlet-colored plush rug by my bedside. Now, it’s flattened from my repeated stepping on it coupled with blatant neglect.
The room in general is a shadow of its former self—the beaten-down and scratched posts of the four-poster bed match the chest on the other side of the room. The full-length mirror next to it is cracked at the top, but there’s no reason to upgrade it.
It still has the Pokémon stickers I’d traded back in elementary school, and the chip in the bottom left corner where I’d thrown my Transformers toy when Pops had grounded me. It also still had the faded picture of Mom and Pops on their wedding day.
No, it’s not a relic—it’s a cornucopia of some of the best times of my life, even the crack at the top.
The wood creaks under my weight as I grab my phone and walk to the bathroom. Jazz is on my mind, and the ache in my groin together with the steadily rising bulge pressing against my boxers is a constant reminder of how her walls had clung to me last night.
I wish you were here with me, I text her, and place the phone on the counter next to the sink before I step out of my underwear.
The phone rings before I even get into the shower, and I smile and grab it. It’s not her though, and my heart hits the bottom of my stomach.
“Trisha?” I say and stand in front of the mirror, examining the fresh stubble on my cheeks and chin.
“Hi, Trip. Are you up? I didn’t wake you did I?”
“No, I’m up. You need help with the boys?”
“No, not the boys,” she says. “It’s just that, they’ve been bothering me about setting up the tree. I wasn’t gonna, but you know how they get around Christmas time.”
“Oh, yeah, I know. Christmas is for kids,” I say and rub my chin.
“So, if you’re not doing anything else, like going to the shop or nothin’, can you give us a hand? I’d appreciate it.”
“No problem. Just let me get sorted and I’ll head over as soon as I can.”
“Okay.”
I replace the phone on the counter and stare at it, as if doing so will make Jazz automatically call. My eyes catch the time in the upper right corner. It’s only 8:12—she might not even be up yet.
I sigh and shake my head. So different from the early riser I remember, or maybe she doesn’t—
What the hell are you doing, obsessing over her? My subconscious hurls words of reproach at me, and I chuckle as I turn on the shower.
A half an hour later, I’m dressed in jeans, a T-shirt, running shoes, and I’m sporting a piece of burnt toast in my mouth. I hope Trisha has something better for breakfast. I hop into the truck and take off.
The boys are waiting for me on the porch when I pull into the yard.
“Uncle Trip!” Kyle grins and jumps over the two steps as he races towards me.
Trisha opens the door and smiles. Her hands are folded across her chest and she smiles and watches the boys while they hurl themselves at me. She’s a pretty sort of woman, but life in a small town and more responsibilities than she can bear have given her premature worry lines at the corners of her eyes and creases in her forehead.
“Thought Tuesdays were your day off,” I say and juggle one boy under my arm—the other locks himself around my leg.
She giggles when she sees the spectacle of me walking towa
rds her like a zombie. “It was, but Sandy asked for a switch.”
“Oh. Well, here I am.”
She holds the door back for us to pass, and I smell the delectable scent of pancakes, eggs, bacon, and strawberry jam. She smiles. “Oh, breakfast is served.”
I grin broadly and walk over to the already laid table. “Expecting company?” I turn to her. The boys are still clinging to me.
“No,” she says and leans against the kitchen counter. “Just thought I’d make something nice for my family like I do every day at the diner.”
“Hmm,” I say. “Boys, you hear that? Mommy made an awesome breakfast, so how about we go and mess it up, huh?”
“Yay!” Conrad squeals and lets go of my leg. He scrambles up onto the table just as Kyle does the same.
I turn to her. “Shall we? Or is this just for the men?”
She laughs, a low, sweet sound, and for a second, I wish Derrick was here to see her. He’d be proud of her. “Yeah, I’m coming.”
It’s a lot of chatter as we get through breakfast and the boys are animated when they talk about what they want for Christmas. As soon as we’re done eating, they both hold my hands and pull me into the small living room. Trisha has a six-foot tree that’s leaning against the pastel wall.
“This here is the monster knocking you down, huh?” I say and head over to the tree.
“Very funny,” she says, as she comes up behind me. “It might be easy for you. Anyway, I have tinsel and stuff to hang all over.”
I hold up my hands. “Say no more.”
She walks over to the small table under the window and picks up a box. “Hey, you’ll be here for Christmas, right? I plan to make your favorites.”
“Uh…” I say. “I didn’t have any plans.” Actually, the original plan was to have dinner with her and the boys—it beat buying dinner at Nana’s on Christmas day. But Jazz is in town, which makes it harder for me to commit to dinner plans.
She smiles. “Well, now you do.”
My phone buzzes before I can say anything else, and I set the tree down and turn away from Trisha when I see it’s her—Jazz.
“Hey, sleepyhead,” I answer.
“Hey…” she says. “I’m trying to get all the sleep I can get before I get back home. Besides, I remember someone wearing me out.”
I laugh loudly as happiness grips me in a bear hug. “Is that so?” I start walking around the room, which is when I notice Trisha eyeing me suspiciously. I turn back around and lower my voice. “What are you doing today?”
“Oh, no. Don’t tell me we have another excursion.”
“Excursion? Since when do we use that word?”
Jazz laughs. “Since it’s become a thing with you.”
“Okay, well, I have no excursion planned, but—” I happen to come face to face again with Trisha, and an idea pops into my head. “Say, how do you feel about me, Trisha and the boys joining you for Christmas dinner? We don’t have any plans.”
I see the horrified look on Trisha’s face, and I smile and hover my hand over her mouth to keep her quiet.
“That’d be great. I’m sure Mom wouldn’t mind. She’s cooking for the entire town, as you know.”
Trisha is shaking her head, but I ignore her. It’s the only way I can be with them and Jazz at the same time without disappointing anyone. It’s genius, if you ask me.
“Great. We’ll be there, then,” I say, and ruffle Trisha’s hair like she’s one of the boys. She pulls away and takes up the box angrily. I sigh and switch the phone to the other ear. “Jazz, I’m going to call you back.”
“Okay,” she says and hangs up.
I turn to Trisha. “What’s wrong?”
She drops the box to the floor and turns, her disheveled hair flying loose over her face. “Why’d you do that?” She’s breathing sharply, and her nostrils flare like a bull’s.
“Do what? You mean the dinner thing?”
“Yes! I don’t want to go to Jazz’s house for dinner on Christmas.”
“Why not? I thought it would be good for you to have a break from all the work.”
“Me? You did this for me?” She asks and laughs in disbelief. She folds her arms across her chest. “So, this isn’t about you wanting to spend more time with Jazz?”
“Of course, I want to spend time with Jazz, but I’m not going to just leave you guys either. This way we all get what we want, right?”
She sighs and picks up the box again. “You shouldn’t have,” she says, and I’m not sure if it’s condescension or a rebuke—maybe half and half.
Kyle and Conrad are staring at us, wondering what’s going on. I creep over to them and whisper, “We need to cheer up Mommy.”
They both place their index fingers over their mouths, as we sneak over to Trisha, who is leaning over the same box, rummaging around inside. I start to tickle her, and the boys grab her and start doing the same.
“No!” she screams and slaps at me. “Stop!”
“I think she means we should keep going,” I say and encourage the boys.
“No, I don’t!” Trisha cries and falls to the floor, her hands in front of her. “The next person who touches me is getting no lunch.”
That’s all the boys need to hear to stop. “Traitors!” I tell them.
“Let’s go put the popcorn on the tree!” Kyle screams and runs back to the tree.
“Popcorn?” I look down and ask a still red-faced Trisha.
She scrambles to her feet, and I take her hand and help her up. “Yeah. I strung a box last night, after fighting to get any on the thread at all.”
I laugh. “I bet they liked that.”
We spend the next two hours getting the house looking jolly. It’s pretty decent by the time we’re done, and Trisha’s in a much better mood.
“Think I’m going to head out now,” I tell her.
“Already?”
I grab my keys. “Yeah, I want to go check in on Jazz.”
“Oh,” is all she says and walks over to the kitchen sink. “Guess you won’t be back for dinner then.”
“Probably not. See you later, Trisha. Bye, boys!”
“Bye, Uncle Trip,” they shout, but without really looking in my direction. They’re too caught up with eating the popcorn off the tree again. I chin-nod at them, and Trisha turns and chases them down as I walk out the door. I can hear her yelling at them even as I get into the truck.
I love being with them—it gives me something to focus on other than the shop. But with Jazz in town, and leaving in another two weeks, I don’t have much time to get her to come around to my train of thought. I know she already feels the same way, but it’s going to take a little more convincing to break down her defensive wall.
I pull up outside her home and walk to the door. I’m rocking on my heels as I ring the doorbell.
She opens the door and steps out, and I see the way she gasps for breath. “Trip? I wasn’t expecting you.”
“I know, I’m heading over to the shop. Bubba needs a little help with a customer. Want to come with?”
“Uh…” she says and glances back inside. “Sure. Why not? Give me a minute.”
I sit on the step and wait for her. I can hear her yelling to her mother that she’s going out, and I can’t help but feel victorious. I might be getting ahead of myself, but she’s my girl. She’ll always be my girl, and it’s about time that she remembers that.
“Okay, I’m ready,” she says and walks back out. She has her hair down again, but with a navy and white scarf framing her head. Her curls fall to her shoulders, bouncing on her denim jacket, a perfect match to the pair of jeans she’s wearing. A white tank underneath finishes her look. She looks delicious—as she always does.
We jump in to the truck and we’re off…but it’s not long before Jazz suddenly hits me with a doozy of a line, “Don’t you get bored of doing the same things all the time?”
“Not really,” I say and look over at her. “Why? Is that why you left? You got bored?”
“You know how this town used to drive me crazy,” she says turning to face me. “There’re only so many times you can visit the same creek without losing interest in it.”
I smile. “Come on, it’s not that bad. See, you have to come back here to vacation. It’s beautiful here.”
“Yeah, but when you live here, it gets old really quickly.”
“Hmm,” I grunt and park the car by the curb outside the shop and open her door. “Come on.” There are a couple of people outside the shop, tourists—waiting for a tune up, or a wash.
“Glad you’re here,” Bubba says as he hurries from inside the garage. “I need help with some brake pads that need replacing.”
“Okay,” I say and turn to Jazz. “Will you be okay while I do this?”
“Yeah, no prob. Go do your thing. I’ll just hang back here with the other tourists.”
I laugh at her insinuation. “Okay.”
I get to work, which means changing into my overalls with the embroidered Tucker’s Autobody Shop over my right breast. I catch glimpses of her every now and then over the course of the forty-or-so-minutes I’m busy with the car.
I catch her smiling with a female tourist as they talk about something funny and it teases a smile out of me. I’m relieved when I’m finally finished. Bubba’s sitting on the stool by the door, catching his breath.
I nod towards him. “Busy morning, huh?”
“You have no idea,” he says, while I smile at Jazz and finish up with the customer.
She’s walking back out when she stops by Jazz. “You know, I’m headed to the salt cave later this evening. Maybe you should go there, too.” She nods, and her loose, silver hair falls cascades off her shoulder.
“That’s not a bad idea,” I say, and the woman turns to me and smiles.
“Tell her that,” the woman says and gesticulates.
Jazz giggles and blushes. “Not listening…”
“Not a bad idea at all,” Bubba says and stands when the customer drives away.
“She can be a stubborn one,” I tell Bubba, and then make a lunge, grabbing Jazz around the middle.
“No!” she wails. “You’re greasy!”
