The Jezebel

by Dylan Allen

  He moves us so I’m on my stomach, my face pressed to sheets that smell like us. Hair sticks to my face and my muscles feel spent, but I lift my hips in shameless invitation. I moan when he answers me with one long, hard, glorious thrust.

  He’s so thick. I’ve never been so full, and I’m dizzy with pleasure and excitement as he pistons his hips. His heavy balls slap my ass with each thrust.

  His hand glides up my sweaty back and splays into my thick, unruly hair.

  The blunt scrape of his nails against my scalp as he gathers a fistful of my hair and yanks my head up with a tug that skirts the edge of vicious. The bite of pain only intensifies the bliss that is him moving inside of me.

  “God, I wish you could see what I’m seeing. Your gorgeous pussy taking my dick like it’s hungry for it,” he sounds like he’s witnessing a miracle.

  I twist my head and look over my shoulder and am riveted by the vision that greets me.

  His body is perfect, his broad sculpted chest glistens, and his washboard abs flex and ripple with each thrust of his hips.

  His eyes are closed, his plump lower lip caught between his teeth. His unbelievably handsome face is flushed with exertion.

  He’s a walking wet dream.

  His eyes fly open, spearing me. My whole heart flies into my throat at the unmistakable, and intense flash of Deja vu returns. But before I can process it, he leans over and takes my mouth in a ravenous kiss that sends my pulse into riots.

  He breaks our kiss and presses his lips to my ear, his hot breath tickling my neck.

  “Am I hurting you, Goddess?”

  In answer, I reach around to grab his thigh and growl, “More.”

  His nostrils flair and he grinds his hips against my ass, pressing deeper than I knew was possible.

  He drapes his big body over mine, presses one hand to the mattress, and wraps his other arm around my waist and drives into me, fast and hard.

  Each thrust makes my toes curl. His hand glides down my stomach and slides between my thighs,

  His fingers find my clit at just the right place. “Right there, oh my god,” I cry out and he heeds it.

  In just a few strokes of his magical fingers, I’m there.

  This time, he comes with me.

  He groans out his release and fucks me relentlessly until he’s spent. And then he falls on top of me and I savor his heavy, sweaty, hot body for the few seconds he stays like that.

  He flops onto his back and I muster the strength to roll to my side so I can take him in.

  He’s glorious in his male perfection – The corded muscles that cover every inch of his body glisten with a light sheen of sweat. His penis is still partially erect and bobs between his thick, hairy thighs.

  Without opening his eyes, he reaches over and slaps my ass. My surprised cry turns into a moan at the possessive caress that follows it. “I hope you’re going to let me fuck this ass next,” he drawls lazily.

  “Next? You want more?” I ask in delight and surprise.

  “Uh, yeah, Captain Obvious.”

  I freeze and draw back to look at him.

  Only one person has ever called me that and he was small and scrawny and wore glasses. Or at least he used to be. I turn over and peer at the man in my bed. I didn’t ask his name because I didn’t want to know. And he hasn’t asked mine…because…maybe he already knows it?

  “St—Stone?” I whisper and watch in horror as his eyes open, all hazel and beautiful, and so very familiar. My heart skips several beats as I see what I should have the instant I looked at him.

  This cannot be happening.

  I draw a pillow over my head to muffle the groan I can’t choke back.

  “Regan, are you okay?” He lifts the pillow off my face and peers down at me, his eyebrows raised in amused curiosity. When he sees the expression on my face, his amusement turns to concern.

  “You’re Stone. Stone Rivers?” I ask slowly. Each word weighed down with incredulity and disbelief.

  “Uh… yeah.” His eyes narrow in confusion, like we’ve talked about this a thousand times already.

  Panic grips me and I scramble off the bed and grab the robe I so recklessly discarded earlier. I grab the phone from the bedside and hold it in front of me like it’s a weapon.

  “If Marcel set this shit up, I swear to God, I’ll see him in hell before I let him use it against me.”

  “Wait…what?” He lurches back like I’ve slapped him. His eyes widen with shock.

  I glare at him. “Last time I saw you, you said you hated me. Now, the first time I travel anywhere by myself in ten years, you’re here?” I snarl.

  He sits up slowly, his expression completely blank, and his guarded eyes not leaving me for a second. He opens his mouth and then closes it. His throat convulses.

  “Who sent you here?” I shout in a voice strangled by dizzying panic. How could I have been so colossally stupid?

  “This isn’t what you think. Just let me get dressed, okay?” He eyes me like he might a dangerous animal as he stands and reaches for the jeans on the floor.

  I turn away from him and pace in an agitated circle and try to find something sensible to cling to inside my racing mind.

  “Regan?”

  I whirl to face him. The hesitancy in his voice is reflected by the dubious cast of his gaze.

  “Well?” I demand with an impatient wave of my hands before I cross my arms over my chest.

  “I thought you knew it was me--”

  “How? You were a stranger on the shuttle.” I point my accusing finger at him.

  He narrows his gaze and rolls his shoulders, and his nostrils flare. “Do you remember anything about me from Rivers Wilde?”

  “Yes. I remember that you stabbed my boyfriend, told me you wished you’d never met me and ran off.”

  He closes eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose and exhales a harsh breath. When he looks at me again, one corner of his mouth lifts in a sardonic, scornful smirk. “And you think that I’ve been, what? Plotting revenge because you broke my ten-year-old heart?”

  “Well, what else could you be doing here? There’s not enough coincidence in the world for this to be one.” I demand and he raises his eyebrows.

  “Didn’t Tyson text you?”

  The shock that hits me couldn’t be more potent if he’d dumped ice cold water on my head. “Tyson? How do you know Tyson?”

  “From college, U of H. We were texting while I was by the pool. He said he was going to send you a message, so you’d be expecting me to come and say hi. You waved.” He adds in frustration when I just stare blankly.

  “You told Tyson? Oh, shit. What did he say? Is on his way here?” I cover my mouth hand to muffle the scream that’s building as the full implication of this disaster starts to sink in.

  “Why would Tyson be on his way here?” he asks one eye squints at me as if he’s not sure I’m completely sane.

  “To kick your ass. He doesn’t play that shit with his friends and me. He would take this as the height of disrespect. He’s very protective. If he knows we…whatever…he’s going to want to kill you.”

  “I didn’t tell him I was here with you. I just told him I saw you. He doesn’t know about our history. And Tyson may be protective, but we’re adults and no one is kicking my ass.” He grabs his shirt and pulls it over his head in a rough motion.

  His expression when he looks at me again is…oh my God. How could I have not seen it?

  It’s him. Of course, it’s him. Even his anger is exactly the same, filling the space between us as it grows.

  He holds his phone out to me. I take it and read the exchange between him and Tyson.

  I flush. “Tyson is such a blabber mouth. He shouldn’t be telling you this stuff,” I grumble as I read it.

  But when I’m done, the smile I offer as I give the phone back is both sheepish and relieved. “You could have told me. How in the world would I have recognized you, Stone? All this time I’ve been looking for a guy who’s 5’5�
�� max with glasses that won’t stay on his nose and skin that’s pale from being in a lab somewhere all day,” I sputter. I sound stupid and I know it, but I’m flabbergasted by the way he’s changed.

  He grins. “You’ve been looking for me?”

  I scowl “I mean, not actively but I thought maybe I’d run into you somewhere, maybe.” I give him an appreciative once over. “I wouldn’t have ever imagined you’d be so…built.”

  His grin spreads as he flexes one of his impressive biceps, kisses it and winks. “I had a growth spurt. Glad you approve.”

  He’s really gorgeous when he smiles like that. But even that smile can’t make me forget what a disaster this is.

  Whatever he sees in my expression sobers him up. He sighs and walks up to me. “Honestly, it didn’t occur to me that you’d be inviting me to your room if you didn’t know who I was.”

  I throw my hands up in exasperation “Hello? I rode your dick on the shuttle?” I remind him.

  “It’s okay, we—”

  I whirl away from him and head for the door. “This did not happen. You have to leave.”

  His hands close over my shoulders before I take two steps and move to stand in front of me.

  I squeeze my eyes shut, but even with them closed, I can’t reconcile this big, fine man with the small boy that’s lived in my memories.

  “I’m sorry Regan, but it did happen. And it was pretty fucking hot.”

  “I’m married.” I blurt and then feel stupid.

  “Well, you better tell your vagina. She doesn’t seem to remember that anymore,” he says and then smiles.

  “Are you smiling? Why? There’s nothing funny happening here.”

  “I didn’t say anything was funny. And I can’t help it that I’m finding quite a lot to smile about. You thought I was a stranger. You wanted to fuck me because you think I’m hot. Not because you thought I was safe. I thought Tyson—”

  “You cannot tell Tyson, and I just… If my husband finds out...”

  “He won’t,” he says as if it’s that easy to dismiss Marcel, but some of the nonchalance in his expression fades.

  “He can’t. I won’t make excuses for myself. But I haven’t been with him or anyone in more than five years. I’m going through a lot right now and yes, I thought you were a handsome stranger who I could take home, and then…”

  “Never see me again?” He finishes for me.

  “Yes. Exactly. And that…it was amazing. If you hadn’t turned out to be…you, I’d ask you to stay.”

  “Then pretend I’m not me and give me those seconds you promised.” His hands slips off my shoulder and starts to move down my back. I yank out of his reach and raise a hand in warning, and he steps toward me.

  “That was before I knew who you were. Stone, this shouldn’t have happened. And I’m sorry, but you have to leave, now. Please,” I urge when he looks like he wants to argue with me.

  He nods, his expression neutral but good natured. “You need time to get your head wrapped around everything.”

  “No, I don’t. I already regret it,” I inform him with all the resolve I can muster.

  “Why?”

  “Because it was wrong.”

  “Why?”

  “Stop saying why,” I say through clenched teeth.

  “Stop making me say it.” He remains completely unruffled.

  “You don’t have any regrets?” I ask, confounded by his lack of remorse.

  “None. How could I? It’s you.”

  “But, you don’t…hate me still?” I ask.

  His brows draw together in surprise. “I was ten, Regan. I didn’t mean it and by the time I got my head clear enough to apologize, you’d left for college. I wanted to apologize for what I said. I was jealous because I wanted to be your boyfriend. I was too young to understand how ludicrous that was. But I have never, ever hated you. I’m here because I want to have sex with you, in every way it’s possible to have sex, as many times as you’ll let me.”

  This is too much, I am caught in a maelstrom of confusion and horror and to my surprise, lust.

  He touches the tip of that wicked tongue to mouth and smiles. “And I love the way you taste. I want more. And I know you want to give it to me.”

  I want to deny it, but it is pointless to try. So, I just walk to the bathroom and stay there until I hear him say, “See you tomorrow, Goddess.”

  I crawl into my big empty bed, and I lie there, wishing he was there.

  Can I Kiss You?

  Regan

  “What did you do to him, Reggie? He’s been watching you all night.” Matty nudges me.

  I grimace and shake my head, “Nothing that’s ever going to happen again, and he knows it.” I take another sip of my ginger beer and vodka, but I hardly taste it.

  “Are you sure he knows that? He’s sure not looking he does,” Matty teases in an amused, sing-song voice.

  “It doesn’t matter. I know.” I skewer her with a challenging glare.

  She nudges my shoulder with hers. “Oh, come on. It’s at least a little flattering that he’s looking at you like he wants to throw you over his shoulder and carry you out of here.”

  “Not at all,” I say and Matty gives me a knowing side eye, but doesn’t say more.

  She knows I’m lying. How could I not be flattered? I’ve felt his eyes on me since we walked in. Once I met his gaze, thinking he’d look away when I did, but he just smiled.

  I haven’t looked again. I don’t want to encourage him to come over and start talking.

  Between spending time with Matty and running into Stone, it’s like my past is trying to make itself relevant again. That is the very last thing I need.

  My present is enough to deal with.

  I’ve been beside myself with mortification. But when a memory of the night before randomly intrudes into my thoughts, it leaves me hot, panting, and wet.

  My body is still on fire from what he did to me with his mouth and his gloriously thick dick. God, whoever said size didn’t matter had never come across one like Stone’s. I’ve seen dildos less perfect.

  Since he left my room, I’ve been swinging on a pendulum of indecision. I spent half the day thinking about how to make sure we don’t find ourselves alone again. The other half was spent hatching frantic schemes to ensure we did.

  Which is crazy. Last night shouldn’t have happened.

  It was so wrong. But I’m very attracted to him.

  If I’m honest, my body isn’t the only part of me that’s responding to him.

  There was something about the little boy who I found hiding in the back room of the bakery that summer. He was so sad and so brave. And the harrowing experience we shared the last time he came to the bakery re-shaped the trajectory of my life.

  Last night, when he looked me in the eye and said, “See you tomorrow,” I saw it. The determination that filled the glittering depths of his eyes was the very same I saw in his expression right before he stabbed Weston in the back.

  But, that’s the only thing about him that’s the same.

  In every way, he’s a new person.

  “Well at least you won’t be all alone when I leave tomorrow.”

  I turn to her, my expression pleading. “Can’t you stay a few more days?”

  She purses her lips and shakes her head. “I gotta be at work on Tuesday. But I’m sure he’ll be happy to keep you company,” She tips her head to the side where I know he’s sitting.

  “I’ll be fine. I brought a book.”

  She laughs. “You know what? He looks like the guy from A Fault in our Stars, but ten years older because of the facial hair.”

  “He doesn’t look anything like that kid. He looks like… James Norton.”

  “Who?”

  “The hot priest in Grantchester,” I explain, knowing that she’ll get it then.

  “Oh my God, you’re right. I was gonna say no because Grantchester is blonder and not as bootylicious, but yes…I see it and definitely that mouth…
.”

  “Ugh, stop drooling over him,” I elbow her.

  “Why? You said you’re done with him, right? Why do I have to play nice just because you can’t? And if he’s into older women--"

  “Shut up, okay? I’m not that much older than him.” The words ring true. Eight years might have been a big deal back then, but now, there’s nothing to indicate the difference between his age and mine is anything but a number.

  The way he touched me wasn’t the way a man without experience would. He can’t be older than 28 or 29. But from the way he looks and how sexually relaxed he seems to be, he’s more experienced than I am.

  I didn’t know sex could be like that. I wish I could enjoy just one more night. But I’ve played with fire. So far, I’ve gotten away unscathed. I shouldn’t take any more chances. This can’t be a simple affair we just walked away from when we were done.

  He’s Tyson’s friend and his brother, Hayes Rivers, is a friend and business partner of Marcel and Remi’s. Hayes is getting married soon and Marcel is flying from Paris so we can go together. What will happen when I see him there? Just picturing it makes my stomach queasy.

  “Oh shit, he’s coming over,” Matty says in a low voice.

  My stomach drops, but I straighten my posture and take a deep fortifying breath when he slides into the seat on the other side of me. I smell the same verbena, coconut, and clean I did last night. I squeeze my thighs together to ease the ache blooming there.

  “Hello Goddess,” his voice rumbles low and hot in my ear. Just like that, I’m wet. Annoyed at how traitorous my body is, I stiffen.

  “Don’t call me that.” I keep my eyes on the bar.

  “Hellooo,” Matty reaches across me to wave enthusiastically at him.

  His smile brightens. ” Hi. Matty, right? Stone.” he reaches across over to take her hand.

  “Ah, you have a good memory,” she coos. I ignore the small flare of irrational jealousy when their hands touch. I sip my drink and the cold and spicy effervescence settle my bubbling nerves and cool my overheating head.

  I feel his eyes on me and I dart a dark glance at him without turning my head.

  “Hasn’t anyone told you it’s rude to stare?” I say and take another sip of my drink.