I wrap my arm around her back and pull her close to smell her clean scent. “This is just a little bit of a problem,” I say, pushing the fabric down her neck to move in for a kiss. I press the warm mug into her hand.
“Thank you. For the coffee, and the kiss. Not necessarily in that order.”
I see her glance around the small, but tidy, kitchen, eyes stopping to rest on the kitchen table. “Yep, it’s for you. Made a long trip.”
She rushes forward, scooping up the six-inch-tall African teak wood giraffe statue and clutches it to her heart. “I love it! It’s my new good-luck charm!”
“I thought maybe I was your new good-luck charm,” I quip, because, why not?
“Trust me when I say I need both of you!”
She walks to where she has placed her bag on the floor and carefully tucks it in, zipping it so that the head is sticking out. Crossing the kitchen back to me, she sets her coffee on the counter and wraps her arms around my waist. “Thank you. I love it!”
I let her hold me, not wanting to let go. “Are you ready for another little adventure before I have to let you leave me?”
She groans. My sentiments exactly.
“Yep, ready. What are we going to do?”
“It’s a surprise. If you are ready to go, we can just make the next train.”
“I’m good to go.”
I grab the truck keys from the counter. “Oh, you never got the tour.”
“Oh, I got a tour alright,” she says seductively.
I smirk. “This next tour should be fun, but it can’t compete.” I cup her ass and pull her in tightly, then surprise her with a loving spank.
“Oh, do not tease me with that spanking, J.T. Walker.”
My eyebrows rise. “Feel free to misbehave.” We circle each other around the kitchen like boxers in the ring, sexual tension building. I push her gently against the refrigerator, a deep kiss forcing my tongue into new depths of her mouth.
“Wow,” she pants after we have groped each other adequately. “A girl could get really spoiled by this.”
“I’m looking forward to spoiling you rotten. And I mean that literally,” I growl into her neck. “There are plenty of spankings just waiting.” I need to chill. Love-making to fantasy-making in too short a time.
Twenty-five minutes later, my dick still semi-hard from the kitchen flirtation, I am leading her up the last block to our destination. I stop, pointing upwards. “We’re going there.”
“Up there? Way up there?”
“Is one hundred three floors too high? Are you scared of heights?”
“I don’t know actually!”
We head to the elevator, which we share with another couple. Peyton stands in front of me, and reaches behind her back to grab me. Damn her!
Her head swivels backward to me and hot breath is against my ear. “Going up?”
I suppress a laugh, but feel my body writhe with her touch.
Our one-thousand three-hundred fifty-three-foot ascent above Lake Michigan soon has Peyton ooh-ing and aah-ing. The view of the shoreline is breathtaking and the people dotting the scene below look hurried as a colony of ants with a purpose. I revel in each little noise she makes, happy to be the one providing her this first. She seems young and innocent, taking it all in with awe.
I lead her to the newest invention, which has us leaning out over the city with just glass beneath us. Her eyes are big and round, her mouth wide open in a silent scream.
“Do you like it?” I ask, and she nods then speaks, “It’s terrifying and exhilarating at the same time!”
“Hmm, reminds me of something.”
She cocks her head, raising one eyebrow as if to ask what I am referring to.
“Love?” It sounds like a question, though it shouldn’t have. Does she agree?
“Definitely.”
“Definitely,” I confirm, glad we agree to the fact.
Exiting the tower formerly known as Sears, I am excited to introduce Peyton to another first. “I have something special in mind to do for lunch. I hope you are hungry.”
“Something in mind to do? Perhaps you meant to say, someone?” She points to her chest with her thumb. “Are you propositioning me, J.T. Walker? Because I am not sure that I am in any position to refuse your chivalrous offer! And yes, I am hungry.”
My head tilts back with laughter. “You have an uncanny ability to turn the simplest of statements into sexual banter of the best variety, Peyton Jennings! I love it!”
“Well, thank you, I think? You do seem to have that effect on me. So, was that a proposition or not?”
She looks like she is working to keep a straight face.
Not to leave her feeling rejected, I say, “I am anxiously awaiting our next time, but we may have already given the city enough of a show for one weekend yesterday.”
“Well, okay then. Don’t say that I didn’t offer to take you up on your offer.”
She is funny. I will give her that. “How about a consolation prize?” I ask, stopping at the street corner, though the white light of a man walking is illuminated in our direction. In a dramatic motion, I circle her waist and pick her feet up off the ground and twirl her around like no rush of a crowd is around to see. Holding her in the air, I find her lips with mine, warmth against the chill in the air. I love feeling her tongue in my mouth. I love the way our lips move against one another filling the space the others have just been occupying.
My head feels like the snowflakes being tossed about in the wind around us. I know our time together will end soon, and then what? I force myself to stay in the present. I don’t want to miss a second of our time together.
“I thought lunch was going to be my consolation prize, but yeah, I guess that kiss will do too!” she concedes, nose wrinkling cutely, with a bright white-toothed smile.
Moments later, I am opening the door to a small storefront with stained wainscoting covering the perimeter of the lower walls while old-fashioned to modern pizza images decorate the walls above. Red-and-white checkered tablecloths are adorned by mason jars filled with parmesan cheese and hot peppers. Green glass bottles painted with little white flowers on a light green vine hold oil and vinegar alongside the other accoutrements.
Welcoming scents of garlic and tomato waft through the air. Accented voices float across the room as Italian servers carry small, medium and large circular trays to tables, announcing their delivery. It’s classic Chicago.
We take seats, next to each other, in a red vinyl booth. “Can I safely presume our famous Chicago style ‘za is another first?”
“Safe presumption. And I can’t wait.”
“Deep dish or thin?”
“Yes. You know I am going to eat it all and I shouldn’t. Have you seen you naked? I can’t compete as it is!”
“That’s seriously funny. I’ve spent a lot of time taking in your body the last twenty-four hours and it’s more than fine. It’s damn fine. It’s beautiful. Everything is beautiful. Your hair, your eyes, your smile. You on the inside. I should stop. I could keep going but I should stop before you think it’s creepy.” I laugh but see I’ve made her blush. Her eyes dart to the floor.
“The good stuff is pretty hard to believe,” she mumbles, and I feel a twinge of guilt for surfacing this.
“What makes you say that, Peyton?” Please let me in. She gazes into the distance.
“I’m used to compliments as currency. I always wanted to believe so badly it was about more than getting to the bedroom, but they mostly were. When I would try to stop, the niceties became not so nice. I’ve been called a dick tease, blue-balling bitch and stupid c-word, to name a few.”
“Oh my God, I want to go kick some ass. It’s not like that. I’m not like that. You will learn that I mean what I say.” I take her hand in mine and look her right in the eyes as I say this. “You can just let it sink in and say thank you. I’ll show you it can be different.”
I don’t blame her. I’ve seen it firsthand, and I’ve heard t
he stories. But not all men abuse their power. If I do, it will be an honest mistake. I learned the true meaning of respect and dignity for a woman from Tim.
We are interrupted by the waiter, ready to take our drink order. “Miss, what can I get for you?”
“Diet Coke, please.”
“May I please have the same?”
“Got it. Back to take your order shortly.”
“You didn’t have to do that, Peyton. Just guessing pizza usually goes with something else for you.”
“Honestly, yes. Sometimes late night with more than alcohol.” She looks uncomfortable. “But it seems like it would be flaunting it and rubbing it in. That seems hurtful, and the last thing I want to do is hurt you.”
I lean over and kiss her forehead. “I know it’s a lot to think about, going through life with someone sober twenty-four-seven by three-sixty-five until death do you part.” I realize what I’ve just said. “Not that I am suggesting marriage after twenty-four hours!”
“I’ll survive this meal just fine without, thanks. As for the rest of our lives, I think I’ll have to take that as it comes.” Her lips curl up and I know her brain has gone straight to the gutter again but I don’t miss the insinuation of the future.
The waiter returns with our sodas and takes our order. We lift our glasses in a toast. “To many more firsts,” I say as I push my glass into hers.
Her expression turns mischievous. “To seconds, and I don’t mean of pizza.”
This girl. I say a silent toast inside my head. To the potential of forever.
CHAPTER 18 | Peyton
W hat if I never see this man again after today?
I am undone for the second time of the day. Breathing heavily on my back, I can feel sweat roll over my breast, dripping onto the bed. J.T.’s labored breathing echoes mine next to me.
“Holy shit, Peyton. As much as I don’t want you to leave, I am not sure I could take you one more time today. That orgasm was intense.”
“I hope you can recover quickly, because one more time is sort of my plan. I need to leave you with something to remember me by.”
“There is no chance I am forgetting anything about you.”
He strokes my hair with the back of his fingers, then tousles my blond waves gently.
“I love getting tangled in this.” He pulls a handful of my hair then releases it to fall against the pillow. “Let me tell you what is going to happen next.” He kisses the left side of my collarbone inward, fluttering his lips over the center of my neck where they meet. Kisses caress the other half. Both hands forcefully find my breasts. My back arches.
“I am going to hold you until your fingers find me and tell me it’s time again. You aren’t leaving here without another orgasm.”
“Or three,” I drawl under the spell of his lips. They continue to explore my sternum and stomach, then the crease of my elbow. His fingertips trail behind his lips, double the sensation in the same exact spot, melding into one feeling of deliriousness. “That feels so good.”
His fingers bend into gentle curls, slide down the sides of my ribcage, then hips, then the outside of my thighs. His nails scrape the flesh with just the right pressure of pleasure. Goosebumps ripple behind every inch.
“A man could get used to these curves,” he nearly slurs, and I know the cause is a worthy one.
I reach to his shoulders and slide my palms over the top, then down over his biceps. “I know what you mean.”
J.T. leans back into the pillow, my body missing his hands.
“I’m going to miss you.”
My heart does a little happy dance. “I’ll miss you too.”
“What’s next for us?” he asks, turning to his side to look me in the eye. His leg slides over mine and pulls me close.
I am happy to hear him announce there is an us. “Do you have something in mind?” Best to answer his question with a question.
“Well, I have another trip to make in a couple of weeks. Then I plan to be in Detroit somewhere around the 25th, with my mom, and Ellie.”
He doesn’t say for Christmas. Is it really too much to think he could share my disdain for trees, candy canes, and Santa?
“Do I dare ask if spending the New Year’s together could be a possibility? In Detroit, or Chicago?”
Whoa!
“Oh. Wow. Well, I haven’t thought about it yet, but that sounds great. I can’t imagine kissing anyone else at midnight.” I bat my eyelashes jokingly. “That seems like a long time away,” I say wistfully, letting him lace his fingers through mine.
“Until then, I think someone might be spending too much time in my head.”
“Well that’s not very nice. Tell me who she is and I will kick her ass.” I deliver the line without cracking any sort of a smile. He laughs.
“I love how you make me laugh, Jennings.”
“I love how you call me Jennings.”
“So, about that ‘you filling my head’ thing? You know how hard this is going to be?”
“Isn’t this precisely why God made Skype?”
He laughs again. “I think we have Microsoft to thank, but yes, I guess so. Skype it is. Not exactly my first choice, but compared to the alternative, it will have to do.”
He smirks, and for the first time I notice a slight dimple form. I’m learning more of him.
“If you ever want to share some skin, I won’t object.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” Skin makes me think of my wardrobe. Everybody sees my skin. Quick math says ninety percent of my closet wouldn’t be J.T.-approved. What would he think of me if he knew? I wouldn’t turn his head. He would assume I was a slut, or worse yet, a hooker. Those clothes are who I was but not who I want to be. I want to be better.
“I’m ready for you, Jennings. Ready to make love to you.”
I reach down to him and feel the velvety flesh of his hard penis. I swirl my fingers around the head of him, feeling him twitch with my touch. “Not quite ready,” I say nodding in the direction of the nightstand. He gracefully swings his legs over the bed and walks around to my side, opening the drawer for a condom. I lean over, wrap my arms around his thighs and pull him toward the bed. I wrap my lips around his cock, moaning as I do. This angle allows me to take him completely, and his long groan tells me he likes it. Impatiently, wait to feel him inside me again. I tickle under his balls and the skin constricts and shivers under my fingertips. He pulls himself back until just the tip brushes against my lips, and I move my head side to side, holding it against them.
He pushes my left shoulder to flatten my body against the mattress. Reaching behind my knees, he pulls my body to the edge of the bed. He is right there! His balls pushing against me cover my opening while his shaft covers my labia. He moves his hips, and every nerve below my waist comes to life. I grab behind his thighs and pull him forward. Taut balls move over my clit and he rotates his hips. I love the way it feels.
Then I panic as my past takes over the present.
The last time I was in this position was horrific. Yes, it started as consensual but how was I to know it would end up feeling like anything but making love? His heavy body leaned forward holding me down. My arms were bent like goalposts and his hands placed on top of mine forced them to remain in place. He thrust into me hard, relentlessly, painfully. I was raw from the lack of wetness. Can I do this? Should I stop him? What would I say the reason was?
Breathe. That was then. This is now.
J.T. lifts my left leg to rest on his shoulder. I wrap my right one around his back, feeling less vulnerable than when being scissored apart. He kisses my ankle, then knee. He reaches under my hips and lifts them to meet him.
“I am going to slowly and gently slide myself into you.”
Just the words I need to hear. I relax enough to let him in. My eyes close and I feel him, just as he said, slowly and gently filling me. I am plenty wet. The pressure of his hands on my hips and him inside is wonderful. I grind my hips and the sensation against my clit inten
sifies, friction on the perfect spot in front.
He reaches for my leg around his back and guides it next to the other, against his chest. He deepens inside of me and my eyes open quickly.
“I got you, babe.” J.T.’s voice is calm and soothing. His thumb finds my clit, tiny movements pushing against the fullness inside. Oh! My hips rock side to side, and side to side again, pushing myself over him more firmly. My hips rock up, and oh, down. No, I need him deeper. I push up again, hard. He is letting me control how I glide over him. I look down to see him sliding in and out so easily, wetness shining.
Oh! I like his thumb there. “Yes, there. There.” He doesn’t move his body, except for his chest jutting outward with a deep breath trying to control his ending coming too soon. I continue to thrust my hips upward, small, then larger, then small thrusts again. Oh God! Pulsing pressure in my head, I turn it side to side on the bed. I grab the edge of the bed tightly. He increases the speed. He presses my clit more firmly. I’m exploding. My fingers ache. My legs quiver. Yes!
I ride out my orgasm, hips writhing, vagina clenching and twitching. He groans. I hear him breathe in audibly again. He is holding on, waiting for me. “I want you to cum again, Peyton. I love hearing you. I love watching you. You look beautiful.”
“Thank you.” A fine time to put into practice what he said at lunch. It’s all I’ve got.
“Right answer, babe. And the truth…” His voice is intense. “…I can’t hold on much longer. You are so damn hot.”
He leans forward. He is on top of me and it’s my turn to suck a breath in. “Are you okay?” He’s listening and he cares. I don’t know the answer yet. He kisses me deeply. His hands tickle the nape of my neck while his palms cup my cheeks. His lips are exquisite. I feel the aftershocks below, and he moves more quickly. Then he stops, lifting a bit. “You didn’t answer me. Is this okay? Does this feel good?” I want to cry. It does. But more importantly, he cared enough to ask.
One Day After Never (The Second Time's the Charm Book 1) Page 16
