by Lacey Black
An old friend who still makes my body sing with just the slightest glance…
Harper and Latham finally walk away, holding hands and chatting quietly to themselves. I know she doesn’t trust me, and that’s fine. If I were in her shoes, I probably wouldn’t like the girl who broke my brother’s heart either, but there’s so much more to the story than what she knows. I just hope she gives me a chance to explain it someday.
The deep timbre of Jensen’s voice pulls me from my thoughts, and I turn to find him paying the young woman at the food truck for the small tray in front of him. They’re small discs covered in batter and deep-fried, with powdered sugar sprinkled on the top.
“Let’s go over to the seating area. These need to cool for a second,” he says, taking the tray in one hand and my hand in the other.
We worm our way through the crowd, Jensen offering greetings to those he knows—which just so happens to be about everyone there. We find one end of a picnic table open and have a seat. A family of five sits on the other side, three kids with sugar-covered lips smiling at us and bobbing their head to the music in the band shell. A small four-piece band plays a popular upbeat country number, one I recognize from the radio, though it’s been so long since I’ve listened to this kind of music, I don’t recognize the artist. My mother insisted on classical music or even original compositions from Broadway plays and musicals.
Jensen always loved country music, and that suited him. With the slightest hint of a Carolinian accent, the Southern twang and mix of guitar and banjo always reminded me of him, even when we were many miles apart. Early on, after we left town, I would listen to any country station I could find on my radio. If I closed my eyes, I could picture him sitting in the driver’s seat of his old truck, me riding in the middle, and hear him singing along to whatever song was playing. After a few weeks, Mother became tired of my morose, forlorn mood and insisted I listen to something else. My radio was taken from my room and replaced with an MP3 player already prefilled with the music she preferred I listen to. More worldly music fit for a young lady, as she called it.
I hated that fucking classical music.
“Here,” Jensen says, shoving an Oreo in my face.
I should probably take it from his fingers, but for some reason, I don’t. Instead, I find myself leaning forward just a bit and taking a bite. The moment the warm, gooey Oreo hits my tongue, an explosion of chocolaty flavor fills my senses. “Oh my God,” I groan in total sugar-coma pleasure.
“Good, right?” he says, his eyes bright and glued to my lips, which I’m sure are covered in the powdered sugar. The tips of his fingers are covered in it, and I have the strongest urge to grab his hand and lick it off.
Before I can do something as embarrassing as that, he moves his hand to his mouth and finishes off the Oreo, never taking his eyes from mine. The only time I avert my gaze is when it drops to his tongue as he licks the white powder from the corner of his mouth. The moment my eyes return to his, I see a fire burning just below the surface. The air is thick with sexual tension, and suddenly, it feels almost scandalous to be sitting in the middle of a family-friendly festival when all I can think about is licking powdered sugar off of Jensen’s abs.
Okay, maybe not only his abs…
We finish the Oreos in silence, our gazes flitting between the small stage up front and each other. The moment he pops the last one in his mouth, I’m moving. I don’t know what possesses me to, but I’m standing, gathering up what little trash we’ve accumulated, and turning toward the way we came. Jensen is behind me. Even though I don’t feel him, I can sense his presence.
When we reach the edge of the grassy area, I drop our trash into the receptacle. Jensen’s long legs easily bring him to my side, his warm hand slipping around mine as we walk. We don’t engage in any conversation as he leads me to the side street where he parked his truck.
The ride back to my home is quiet. Neither of us speaks. I wouldn’t know what to say anyway. Please come inside and do me against the wall seems a little inappropriate, but in the grand scheme of things, I’d be up for it, if the offer were on the table.
Jensen pulls into my driveway, enters in the temporary code for the front gate, and heads to the house. I almost roll down my window, desperate for a little fresh air. The combination of Jensen’s aftershave and the thick sexual tension is stifling, making it hard to breathe. He parks in front of the doorway and hops out before I can so much as thank him for the evening. The passenger opens, flooding the cab with warm night air, as he extends his hand and helps me down.
“I had a great evening,” I tell him, finally finding my words.
“Me too. It was good to hang out with you again like that.”
I stop when I reach the front door and turn to meet his gaze. My heart is pounding in my chest like a snare drum, so loudly, I’m sure he can hear it from where he stands. My mouth is moving before I can stop myself, speaking words that are as true as the sun rising in the morning. “I missed you.”
The corner of his lip tips upward ever so slightly as he steps forward, invading my personal space. I look up as his right hand skims around my side and gently grips my hip. He pulls me forward at the same time he takes a step so we’re chest to chest. His left hand moves to my neck, his long fingers sliding easily along the smooth skin until he’s cupping my jaw in his big hand. “I missed you too, Butterfly. So fucking much.”
Then his lips are on mine. The kiss isn’t soft or gentle. It isn’t tender or sweet. This is raw, unabolished lust and desire. This is more than a decade of hurt and longing entwined together. This is a kiss that preludes into something dirty, something powerful. This kiss is everything.
Jensen nips at my bottom lip causing me to gasp in pleasure. The moment I do, his tongue sweeps in, tasting and licking. His hold on my hip tightens, branding me with his heat through my clothes. My body sways in his direction, immediately coming in contact with the hard length of his erection entombed in his shorts. I’m ready to throw caution to the wind and drop my clothes—hell, drop to my knees—right here in the middle of my front porch.
Before I can loosen his belt, his lips are ripped away from mine. Gasps for air fill the night sky as I open my eyes and try to focus on his gorgeous face. He looks conflicted as hell, a heady mixture of desire and confusion. It’s like he wants me, but maybe doesn’t want to want me. That’s a sobering thought.
I take a step back, hating the distance instantly. Jensen runs his hands through his hair, his wide eyes never leaving mine. “Shit, that got out of hand quickly. I wasn’t going to kiss you.”
Well, then…
Clearing my throat, I tug down the hem of my shirt, wishing it helped cover how exposed I feel—and I’m not talking about my skin. I’m referring to my heart. “Oh, well, no harm, no foul,” I say in a shaky voice as I take another step back to the front door. Yeah, not at all confident and blasé as I was hoping for.
“Wait, shit, no. That didn’t come out the way I wanted it to,” he concedes, closing his eyes and glancing upward. “What I meant was I wasn’t planning to maul you like an animal tonight. I was planning to do the respectable thing, give you a kiss on the cheek, and then leave.”
I’m sure the look on my face conveys my confusion. “But…you had your hand on my boobs earlier.”
He snorts a laugh. “Yeah, I know, and I was about two seconds away from having my hands on your boobs again.”
A new confidence sweeps through me. He wasn’t pulling away because he wanted to. He was pulling away because he felt like it was the right thing to do. Well, maybe, for once in my life, I don’t want to do the right thing. Maybe, for once, I want to throw caution right out the window and live. Maybe, for once, I want to take something for me—because I want it.
Because I want him.
Taking a bold step forward, I gently take his hand in mine. His eyes dilate and his nostrils flare. I swear the man is a mind reader. I move my other hand to his chest, grazing my palm over the hard
planes of his abs and up to rest on his pecs. “So, let me get this straight,” I start, taking another step closer until we’re standing chest to chest once more. “You wanted to be the polite, respectable man who would make any father proud, right?”
He swallows hard and nods his head.
“Well, maybe that’s not what I want.”
“What do you want?” he whispers, his hands moving to my hips, his fingers digging into the flesh of my lower back.
“I want you, Jensen. I’ve always just wanted you.”
He places his forehead against mine and inhales deeply. “What am I supposed to do, Kate?” he whispers, his voice strained and tight.
“You’re supposed to come inside with me, Jensen. But only if you want to.”
“Fuck, I want to come inside with you more than anything,” he confesses, his fingers flexing and biting my skin.
Going up on my tiptoes, I whisper, “Take me inside.”
That’s the only invitation he needs. Jensen practically sweeps me up in his arms and takes two steps until we reach my front door. I dig for the keys in my bag and turn the lock at the same time his hand grabs for the knob and turns.
Inside, I can still smell the fresh carpet, paint, and cleaning supplies, but I’m not paying any attention to the recent updates to the house when Jensen’s lips lock on mine once more. This kiss is passionate, fierce, and dominating. He was always a take-what-he-wants kinda guy, and that hasn’t changed in the slightest in adulthood.
The moment the door closes behind us, he maneuvers me until my legs are wrapped around his waist. He grinds his erection into the apex of my legs, and I swear, there are fireworks. My body is on fire and my blood pooling centrally between my legs.
“Jesus, Butterfly,” he groans, gripping my ass and grinding into my core. “I can’t…I can’t even think.”
“Don’t think,” I beg, gliding my lips along the smooth column of his neck. Jensen had shaved right before our evening out, and while I love the velvetiness of his tanned skin, part of me longs for the bite of a five o’clock shadow.
Especially on my thighs…
The engagement of the lock echoes through the foyer before he turns and heads toward the massive staircase. His long gait eats up the ornate stone flooring and he takes the stairs two at a time. I glance over my shoulder as he stops at the top of the stairs. Our eyes both dart to the hallway to the right—the one that leads to my former bedroom. There are more rooms down that way, but most of them were guest bedrooms.
“Left,” I tell him, knowing he’ll know where we’re headed.
When I moved back into the home, I decided to take the master bedroom. There’s no reason to keep it for my mom, since she says she’ll never return to Rockland Falls, and it’s not like my dad needs it anymore, right? The bedroom is massive, complete with seating area, his and hers walk-in closets, impressive en-suite bathroom, and private balcony. Honestly, it’s way more space than I need, but it’s gorgeous, nonetheless. Especially since I had the builder start here and do a little work to update the bathroom and tear down the old planked hardwood walls. They made it too dark for my liking, even with the floor-to-ceiling windows along the ocean. Fortunately, it only took them a few days to drywall and get them ready for paint. Throw in the decorator I hired to help give the room a facelift and you can barely tell it’s the same room my parents shared when I was young. It’s amazing what can be done in a week’s time.
“Wow,” Jensen says when he steps inside.
I look over my shoulder again and take in the room as if for the first time. There’s a large bookshelf over by the seating area, where I’ve added plush gray chairs with turquoise pillows. I changed the hardwood flooring to a thick, rich carpet, and purchased a new California king poster bed with a light barn wood style headboard and footboard. The old dark walls are replaced with drywall, painted a rich shade of gray, and the bedding is a black and white chevron pattern.
“It’s nothing like it used to be,” I tell him, knowing he’ll remember how formal the room was before, even though he only saw it in passing.
“It’s so much better than it used to be,” he says, walking us into the middle of the room. “This is comfy and perfect for you.”
I smile. “Thank you.”
“Do you know what would make this room even better?” he asks, those incredible blue eyes focused solely on me once more.
Glancing around the room, I try to find what could possibly make this room more amazing than it already is. “What?”
He slowly walks toward the massive bed. “You. Naked. In the middle of this bed.”
The blush creeps up my cheeks and there’s no stopping the spread of my grin. “Then you should definitely put me on the bed,” I state boldly.
When his knees reach the bed, he gently sets me down, coming to rest on top of me. My legs are still wrapped around his waist, loving the way his erection presses in all the right places. “Stay right there,” he whispers as he moves to sit on his haunches. With firm fingers, he runs his rough hands up my legs and unbuttons my shorts. They’re gone, sliding down my legs, before I can even process what’s about to go down. Then, he moves to my shirt, helping me sit up just long enough to pull it up and over my head before tossing it somewhere into the room behind him.
As I lie back down, I realize he’s sitting there, staring at me. I’m in a light pink bra and panty set, one that probably cost more than your average computer. Money has never been an object to my family, and my mother made sure I always had the best of the best. Even undergarments. But it’s the way he’s looking at me now, with passion-filled eyes, like I’m a cool drink of water and he’s been without for days, that has me thankful for the fancy lace and satin I’m wearing.
Though, if I’m being honest, Jensen has never cared about money. Not about the cost of the clothes I wear or the house I live in. It’s one of the biggest draws I felt to him all those years ago. He couldn’t care less about the designer name on the tag or the amount that was spent on the tiny scrap of material he now stares at. In fact, I’m almost certain he’d have the exact same look on his face if my bra came from Target.
“My God, you’re beautiful,” he whispers, his hand slowly caressing up my outer thigh and stopping at my hip.
Then his lips are on me once more in a kiss that’s both fierce and tender. He claims my mouth with his own, taking his time to worship my plump lips. His hand is gentle as he slides it up to my breast, cupping the material in his large palm. My nipples pebble against the lace as his thumb slowly draws circles over the tight bud.
I’m a panting mess of hormones as his lips leisurely make their way down my jaw to my neck. They continue their southward trek down my body, stopping just long enough on my breasts to rain tender, open-mouthed kisses over the material. Then, he continues to move down, running his lips along my stomach, inhaling my skin and leaving a trail of goose bumps in his wake.
Finally, he reaches his destination. I know what’s next because, even at a young age, Jensen never shied away from his desire to taste me. He always claimed it was his favorite part, to see me completely let go under his mouth. He was no expert back then, but we learned together what we liked and what we really, really liked.
Jensen slides my panties to the side and gazes between my legs for several long heartbeats before his eyes return to mine. The rapture and intensity between his blue eyes steals my breath and sends my heart pounding right out of my chest.
Then, he moves. With our eyes connected, he swipes his tongue along the seam of my legs for the first time in more than twelve years. I cry out, the contact almost too much and not enough at the same time. I’ve never felt so exposed, so vulnerable, so…worshipped.
And this is only the beginning.
Jensen doesn’t give me a moment to breathe. He goes right after what he wants, which ultimately, is my pleasure. I know this, and yet it’s still a huge shock for someone to put me first this way. I’ve only been with a few men since
our time together, one being my ex-husband, and none of them compared to this man.
To Jensen.
His tongue slides between my folds, my body starting to quiver and shake. I can already feel an orgasm barreling down on me and he’s barely touched me. I close my eyes, lost in the feel of his mouth as he licks and sucks on my most sensitive area. I’m startled as his finger is introduced into the mix. Not just one, but two. He presses them inside, slowly stretching me in the most delicious way. I rock my hips, the combination of his mouth and his fingers doing exactly what he was hoping they’d do. My body is pulled taut, my breathing almost nonexistent, and my heart racing.
“Look at me, Butterfly. I want your eyes on me when you come. I want you watching the moment you come on my face and fingers,” he growls against my pussy. The hum of his words add fuel to the already raging inferno within me.
Again, I rock my hips as his fingers curl upward, hitting that magical spot inside of me that makes me see stars. “You like that?” he asks softly, pulling his fingers almost all the way out and making me whimper.
Just when I’m about to protest, he thrusts them inside once more, hitting that spot again and again. His mouth latches onto my clit, and that’s all she wrote. I’m flying high above the clouds, floating in a sea of euphoria and pleasure, his name spilling from my lips.
I have no clue how long I soar, but it feels like forever. “You closed your eyes,” he whispers, pulling my heavy lids open to rest on his fiery blue ones.
“I couldn’t help it,” I protest, not sorry in the least. A smile creeps across his lips and I realize it probably matches my own.
“I noticed,” he says, kissing my inner thigh as he removes his fingers from my body.
I’m sated, spent, yet more than ready to see what he has in store for the next phase of our evening. I glance down at his shorts, or specifically, at the tent formed with the khaki material, and my mouth waters. He’s thick and hard and so very ready, and I’d give just about anything to get my hands—and mouth—on him right now.
