by Raquel Belle
“Oh, for crying out loud!” I say louder. “Let’s go!”
It was as if she wasn’t even listening to any of the music—just watching us so that every time our lips moved, she could shush us.
“Right,” Trip says and starts setting his chair upright.
“Enjoy!” I lean over and say to the woman as I’m walking by.
“Jazz!” Trip says, right before I burst into laughter.
“Shh!” I laugh as we hurry out of the room, checking behind me to see if the attendant is waiting nearby to bill us extra for being noisy.
“You just reversed the whole therapeutic effect,” Trip says, as we hurry to the car. “I’m pretty sure I’ll never be allowed in there again.”
I laugh even harder. “We weren’t that bad. We barely said anything. If they have a problem with people talking, maybe they shouldn’t book couples.”
The words slip out before I realize it. It didn’t escape Trip, either. “Couple?” He says, and walks right up to me. “Is that what we are?”
I clear my throat. “Slip of the lip.”
“Hmm…” he says. “I bet. What else will these slip on?” He leans in, lightly brushing his lips against mine. “Maybe they need some therapy of their own.”
“Maybe,” I say. My throat is suddenly dry, and I gulp. I can’t take my eyes off of his lips, and I reach in and kiss them lightly.
They part as he smiles, right before his hand touches my waist and all of a sudden, I’m pressing up against him, wedged between him and the truck.
He moves his lips over mine and then he kisses my neck. He whispers in my ear, “Isn’t there any way you can stay here longer?”
“I’m not so sure Trisha would approve,” I say, and I feel it when his lips stop moving.
He looks up. “Really? We’re back to that?”
“Yeah, because you must be the only one who doesn’t realize she has a thing for you. She wants you.”
He laughs. “You’re just seeing things. She’s never said anything to me.”
“You have such a thick skull,” I say, and tap his temple. “No wonder you got into the Army so easily. You wouldn’t need a helmet.”
He laughs harder. “Come on,” he says, and steps back. “Let’s go before someone comes out and accuses us of loitering.”
“You’re right. They have a very New York vibe here. Small-towners are supposed to be nicer.”
He laughs. “Aren’t we? Maybe in New York someone would have called the cops.”
Now it’s my time to laugh as I slip into the truck and Trip closes the door. “Have you ever been there?”
“Once or twice,” he says, and my eyes pop. “Don’t look at me like you think I’ve never been anywhere.” He laughs. “I was in the Army, which means I got to visit a lot of places when we returned from our tours.”
“You never looked for me,” I say, softly. Why do I feel sad about that?
“I couldn’t. Leave arrangements were a little complicated. Mostly we just did a night out on the town here and there, a bit of sight seeing and then we were back at base. Besides, what good would that have done? I’d be gone again in a week, and we’d have to do that whole goodbye thing all over again.”
I sigh. “I guess you’re right. Life sucks.”
“Doesn’t have to,” he says, and strokes my hair.
I don’t even notice that he isn’t taking me home until the car veers off the road and turns into the lane leading to his place. “Wait, we’re going to your house?”
“Yep,” he says without looking at me. “You got a problem with that?”
I tilt my head. “Trip, is that really a good idea? I’m going to leave soon. Maybe we should start putting some emotional distance between us so it won’t be so hard when I leave.”
“Fine. We can watch a movie and drink beer,” he says. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”
I’m not convinced. Any time I’m alone with Trip, my hormones run wild. My heart is already racing when I get out of the truck and follow him to the door.
“You could always change your mind and ask me to take you home,” he says, as he cocks his head to the side and unlocks the door.
“Trip, we both know that’s not going to happen, so quit the pseudo-psychology and open the door.”
He laughs and opens the door. “In that case…”
We step inside, and I deliberately walk to the sofa. I hear him laughing behind me as I drop onto the worn leather seat. He falls down on it beside me and he’s so close to me that I wind up rocking into him.
“What are we watching?” I say and point to the TV.
He smiles, wryly, and reaches for the remote. “Let’s see what’s on.”
He begins searching through the channels, but it’s hard to search through the movie listings, when he’s right there—when I can smell him, touch him, and feel him so close. I nestle next to him, and he throws his arm around me. I place my legs on his, and he begins to rub them.
Big mistake.
Now I really can’t focus. The entire TV becomes a blur, and my heart begins to race. My eyelids get heavy, and I lean backwards and onto his arm, as he continues to stroke my thigh.
“Found anything you like?” He asks.
I roll my head to the side. “Yep…”
“What?”
He turns to face me too, but his eyes aren’t on mine—they’re watching my lips. “The way you’re touching me now.”
He laughs. “I meant movies.”
“In that case, no,” I say, as my body begins its hasty transformation.
He tosses the remote behind me, and I laugh when he leans in and kisses me like he’s wanted to all day. Like he’s never done it before.
I clasp the back of his head and pull him closer to me, desperate for his kiss, and for him. I slip out of my jacket and toss it over the back of the sofa, and our lips separate briefly, as we make haste to get out of the cotton barriers.
His head dips, and he circles my nipples with his tongue. My clit begins to pulsate, and I reach down and begin to massage it while he drives me crazy with his tongue. He starts sucking my nipples, and my body begins to spasm and quake, and I can feel an early climax approaching.
It’s like I haven’t had sex in a long time, and I’m not sure how he constantly does that to me.
He reaches down and removes my hand and replaces it with his own. He’s kneeling on the floor, where my legs are planted, and I scoot down on the sofa, so that most of my back is resting on the seat.
He thumbs my clit while he sucks my nipples, moving between my breasts, and I grab the back of his head once more, when I start to come.
I moan and instinctively pull my legs together. “Fuck, Trip…”
But he isn’t done. The look in his eyes tell me as much. He starts to kiss me down my body, and when he parts my legs and buries his face into my wet, sticky pussy, I almost lose it.
The heat rising from my midsection radiates around my body, and sweat droplets begin to form on my face. He spreads my legs a little wider, and I desperately try to reach for his big cock that’s bobbing and weaving just out of reach.
His tongue continues to circle my clit, and dips to lick the juice that’s running out of me. He moves back to my clit and inserts his fingers inside me. He presses on my upper wall, hitting my sweet spot, and I dig into his arms as my mouth opens, but no sound comes out.
“Like this …?”
“Uh-huh,” I manage to say as I squirm about on the sofa. I’m feeling the urge to move, yet needing to remain fixed at the same time.
He continues to lick me, all the way to the crack of my ass, and back up to my center. I’m slithering all over the sofa like a snake, yet he remains buried. But now, I want a taste of him.
I manage to force his head up, and when he looks at me, his eyes are dazed like he’s drunk. “I want to taste you too.”
He stands, and his cock points directly at me. I reach out and grip his veined ar
tistry, making circular motions with my hand, before I lean forward and slip it into my mouth.
My eyes close automatically, as I savor his sweet, salty flavor. He begins to move, making small thrusts, and I work my head backwards and forwards to match his strokes.
He groans over me and presses his hands onto the back of my head. His cock fills up my mouth, stretching it, and it turns me on even more.
“Feels so fuckin’ good,” he says above me.
That spurs me on more, and I bob my head faster. I pull back and stroke it a couple of times before returning his massive cock to my mouth.
“I want to fuck you, Jazz,” he says in a husky voice. “Let me fuck that tight pussy.”
He doesn’t need to say anything else. I can feel my pussy melting again, even before he enters me.
He sits on the sofa and guides me onto his lap. I straddle him, and he grips his cock and holds it in place while I sit on it. With every inch, he disappears inside me, and my mouth opens wider.
The sensations overwhelm me, and I grip the back of the sofa on either side of his head when I start riding him. He cups my ass and moves about under me. I can feel his cock moving around inside me, hitting the right places and pushing me over the edge.
Then he grips my hips and pushes his cock all the way into me before he starts moving me from side to side. He’s so deep I feel like it’s going to come out the other end of me. I want to come again, and I throw my head back. He must know this, because he’s moving my hips even faster. My moans begin to turn into screams, as he works my hips faster and faster and his cock twitches inside me.
It’s too much, and I rock my forehead against his, and he reaches for a kiss. I’m panting and unable to maintain the kiss, as his hands tighten on my ass, and I shoot out cum onto his cock while it’s still buried inside me.
Trip lifts me after to a standing position and turns me around. He puts my hands on the back of the sofa and nudges me down so my knees are on the seat. I obey him willingly. I spread my legs and arch my back in anticipation.
He slaps my ass before I feel him entering me again. “Fuck!” I scream, and he starts to stroke hard and fast.
Our bodies slap against each other furiously and soon my pussy feels like it’s being rammed by pistons in an engine each time he thrusts into me. Each time it’s like he’s stamping his presence there.
“You’re mine, Jazz,” he says. “This is my pussy.”
“YES!” It has to be—only he knows how to work it the way he does.
“Don’t forget it,” he says, as he begins to fuck me harder than I thought was possible. My face is resting on the back of the sofa now, and sweat is dripping down my face.
His increasing speed sends me into heated frenzy again, and when he slams into me, I know he’s coming too. We’re both panting when he reaches around my body and grabs my tits. He squeezes them and I feel his body begin to tense. With a final roar he slams deep inside me—deeper than ever before—and holds himself there as he empties himself. I feel his cum shooting into me like a pressure hose and I feel his cock swell and twitch inside of me.
We remain still, catching our breaths, and my ears begin to ring, as the world around me mutes. His fingers are still digging in to my hips…but then he lets go. He made me come—again!
He gives my ass one final slap, for good measure and then sits on the sofa. He pulls me into his arms and cradles me as our sweat combines. But I don’t care. I want to be right there, in his arms, for as long as he’ll have me.
Nothing else makes sense, except him. I feel complete when I’m with him. But whenever I’m not with him, I get confused. I wish I could remain in this moment forever as I lay against him and feel his heart beating against my face.
He kisses my forehead, and my eyes close.
I have no idea what I’m going to do when it’s time for me to leave.
Chapter Twenty
Trip
There’s too much on my mind, and not enough time to sort through all of it. If I don’t do something definitive soon, I’m going to lose her when she leaves.
Every time I’m with her, I can feel the tension so strong—she’s conflicted, not because of her feelings for me, but because she doesn’t think it’s logical for us to be together when we live in two different places.
I’m sitting in the truck outside the auto shop, twirling the keys on my index finger and staring at the place I’ve known my entire life—my legacy. The shop needs some work—a fresh coat of paint, and maybe a replacement sign for Tucker’s Autobody and Repairs. That’s all been a part of my plan for the upcoming year.
That was what my life was going to be—shopping, helping Trisha with the boys, and struggling through dreams about Derrick.
I haven’t slept much since I’ve been back because it’s been like a roller coaster with only one direction, plummeting down a steep incline with no off button or level surface.
I wipe my hand down my face and take a deep breath. I roll the window down and rub my hands together as the chilly air forces its way into the car. It’s a little colder than usual, but it’s alright. I’ve lived through worse.
The knocking on the other side of the truck gets my attention, and I turn to see Bubba peering at me through the misty glass. “You plan on coming in or what?” He says.
I nod at him and open the door. I’m not sure of much, but if I want to be with Jazz, these might be my last days at the shop. I’m trying not to think about the technicalities of our relationship—it’ll work itself out.
“You looked like you were far away back there,” Bubba says, and pulls his thick jacket around him. His eyes are curious, and he tugs on his baseball cap, bringing it further down over his forehead.
“Yeah,” I say, and look back at the truck, like I’ve left my ruminations in there. “How about we get out of this frost, huh?”
“Sure thing,” he says, and rubs his hands together. “I hope not many customers come in today.” He laughs.
I nod. “Me, too. I could use a break.”
“What break?” Bubba says, and slaps me on the back. “I’ve been the one doing all the work lately.”
I laugh and push open the large double doors to the garage. The musty air floods the outside, and collides with the frost as it tries to get in. “Whoo!” I huff and shake my head. “I’m going to the office to check up on this paper work.
“Okay,” Bubba says. “I’ll do an inventory check, see where we’re at in terms of parts and such.”
“Good,” I say, and retreat to the office.
It’s dusty, and piles of papers are scattered across the desk. I sigh when I see the load and pick up an invoice. The name on it, Jensen’s Parts, reminds me I have a bill to pay. There are more of those I’m sure, so I might as well get to it.
I sink into the old chair, and it creaks under me. Yet another thing I need to change around here.
“Okay, let’s see what we have here,” I say and pick up a pile of papers. I flip through and realize everything is a mess of invoices, receipts, requests, complaints… I begin to sort them, and reach for a box of file folders.
I sigh. My fingers are working mechanically, but my mind is not on the task. I’m picturing her—remembering the last time we made love, how her legs were draped over mine, and how her body curved perfectly to fit my form.
Harumph!
I’m smiling when I glance up. The fog in my mind clears and I see Bubba leaning against the door jamb staring at me. “She’s got you good, hasn’t she?”
I look down at the pile of paper, and realize I haven’t sorted much of anything. My mind had wandered off. I wipe my hand down my face and relax into the chair.
“That she has,” I say, and pinch the bridge of my nose.
“You know, that’s not such a bad thing,” he says and walks into the office. “I’ve seen how different you’ve been since she’s come home.”
I smile, and begin to picture her doing the same. “I’m still crazy about her,
after all this time. Didn’t even know it fully until I saw her.”
“I hope you’re not thinking about letting her walk out of here without telling her how you really feel, or what you want,” Bubba says, and sits in the chair on the other side of the desk.
His grey eyes shift rapidly, as he searches mine. I nod. “She knows how I feel. That’s not the problem.” It’s not hard to talk to Bubba, he’s like my uncle—being a long-time friend of Pops—and he’s been acting more like a father figure ever since Pops died. “She doesn’t think we can do this long distance though.”
“It doesn’t have to be long distance,” Bubba says. “There’s nothing keeping you here. I mean, hell, you need a wife and a home. Don’t get stuck here like the rest of us. And don’t lose her because of it.” The crease in his forehead thickens as he pulls his eyebrows together reasoning with me.
“I hear you, Bubba,” I say. And I do—it can be nothing but fate that made our paths cross so many years later, and fate isn’t so cruel as to bring her back only to yank her out of my life again.
My phone begins to ring, and I reach for it. “Excuse me,” I tell Bubba, and he nods and gets up. “Hello? This is Tucker.”
“Trip,” someone says—loudly—on the other end. “It’s Dave, from the school.”
“Oh, hey, Dave. What’s up?”
“I have a favor to ask you. See, we have a softball match at the field today, and our official is out sick. I know you used to play baseball, so you know the rules and how close they are and all, and I wouldn’t normally do this…”
“Say no more,” I say, and notice the odd look Bubba’s giving me. “I’ll do it. What time?”
“In an hour,” Dave says, and the excitement is audible in his voice. “Thank you, Trip.”
“No problem.”
“Heading out again?” Bubba says.
I get up and grin at him. “Guess what? You get the day off. Game’s over by the field in an hour. How about you go there too?”
“Hell yeah!” Bubba says. “I could sure use a break.”
“In that case, let’s close this up before anyone decides to stop by.”
