Tessa Ever After

by Brighton Walsh

  In reality, I had a four-year-old to attend to instead of doing everything I wanted to. In the thirty minutes since putting Haley to bed, my urgency has faded, leaving behind only a subtle hum under my skin, but it’s there. This vibration of need when Jason is around that I never bothered to notice before. Or that I willingly ignored, which is probably more the case.

  Despite that, despite wanting him, I’m in the bathroom under the guise of freshening up, even though I showered just a couple hours ago. I’m stalling, and I don’t know why. Haley’s asleep, Jason’s in the living room, presumably waiting for me, and I’m hiding in the bathroom.

  Several minutes go by before a soft knock sounds at the door, sending me jumping nearly a foot in the air.

  “Yeah . . .” I try to say, except my voice comes out all scratchy and breathless, so I clear my throat and try again. “Yeah?”

  “Do you want me to just go home, Tess?”

  “What?” I whip the door open, eyes wide and frantic, because that is absolutely not what I want. Not even a little bit. Leaning his shoulder against the doorjamb, Jason’s eyes snap to mine as soon as the layer of wood isn’t separating us anymore, and in that split second when our eyes meet, the heat between us cracks and sizzles just like it did while we were playing the game. Just like it’s been doing anytime we’re within twenty feet of each other. Shaking my head, I say, “No. I don’t want you to go home.”

  His eyebrows lift up on his forehead, his expression one that clearly says he thinks I’m full of it. “You sure? Because you’ve been hiding in here for ten minutes.”

  I open my mouth to argue with him about the hiding bit, but there’s no use. Instead, I simply nod and swallow, not sure I can find the words to tell him exactly what’s going on with me.

  Mostly because I don’t even know myself.

  It’s not like I’m a virgin, and even though it has been a while, I’ve never gotten like this with any of my previous partners. Never had this overwhelming nervousness, and I don’t know where it’s coming from. No idea why there’s this swarm of bees buzzing around in my stomach. Why I’m all breathless with anticipation and anxiety.

  But then Jason steps forward, right into my space, one hand coming up and cupping the back of my neck while the other goes to my hip, his thumb slipping under the material of my shirt to graze the skin above my waistband, and I know exactly why there’s a tornado in my belly.

  “Last chance,” he murmurs, his breath washing over my lips, and I don’t think I could tell him to stop even if I wanted to.

  But I don’t. I don’t want to, so I shake my head, and finally—finally—he closes the distance between us and puts his lips to mine. The kiss is tentative at first, a question, and even though he gave me an out just a moment ago, I love that he’s not pushing it. When I don’t pull away, don’t do anything but grip the front of his shirt in my fists and pull him closer to me, he takes that as an answer and swipes his tongue across my lips. On a moan, I open to him, desperate to taste him again in a way I didn’t allow myself to think about before now.

  Jason’s grip on me tightens, his thumb rubbing in circles against the pulse point at my neck, and I know he can feel my heart flying. It’s nearly pounding right out of my rib cage. His other hand curls around my hip, pulling me closer to him, flush with him, and I can’t stop from gasping into his mouth. He’s against me, all of him, strong and solid and hard, and I didn’t realize how much I wanted this until this very moment.

  He’s already good at reading my cues, because no more have I thought it than we’re walking, fumbling down the hallway and into my bedroom. The door isn’t even closed before I start tugging up his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against mine. With a grunt and a curse, he reaches back and yanks his shirt over his head before his lips are back on mine, his tongue sliding against my own, and I can hardly breathe I want this so badly.

  In the dozen-plus years of his being in my life, I’ve seen him without a shirt on too many times to count, but I’ve never felt his bare skin. Not like this. He’s sinewy and muscular, the body of a runner, all tall and lanky, the muscles in his abdomen defined but not obscene, his biceps cut but not bulky. I run my hands over every part of him I can reach, sliding from his chest to his stomach, following the trail of hair down then hooking into the waistband of his jeans, and I want those off, too.

  “Jesus, Tess,” he groans into my mouth, and the roughness of it washes over me like a warm rain, comforting me in a way I didn’t realize I needed. He wants this. Me. Desperately. It’s reassuring to know I’m not in this on my own.

  His lips brush across my cheek, his teeth nipping at my chin, his tongue licking a line up the column of my neck, and I think I might die right here. I might actually die, because my heart feels like the pounding hooves of a thousand horses, and I can’t seem to get my clothes off fast enough.

  Jason huffs out a laugh at my growl of frustration when I can’t get my shirt over my head without forcing his mouth away from my body.

  “It doesn’t bode well for you to laugh now,” I say, abandoning my mission to get my shirt off as I reach out and cup him through his jeans. He’s just as hard as he was last night when I felt him pressing against me, and I revel in the fact that I’m the one doing that to him. “Just help me get out of my clothes.”

  Groaning, he drops his forehead to my shoulder. “You’re killing me. You’re actually going to kill me.” With urgent movements, he brushes my hands to the side and takes over on the task of getting me naked. I don’t want to think about how many times he’s done this before that in less than thirty seconds he can unhook my bra with one hand and have me on my back on the bed, wearing only my panties.

  I don’t even have time to worry about the wisps of silvery stretch marks on my hips or the slight curve of my lower stomach before he’s stretched out on top of me. The only things that separate us are my underwear and his, two thin pieces of cotton, and I can feel every inch of him against where I’m aching.

  He sinks his teeth into the juncture where my shoulder meets my neck, and I bow off the bed, my hands latching on to his hair. “Oh God . . .”

  Jason lifts himself off me only enough to cup one of my breasts, bringing it closer to his mouth. “Haven’t been able to stop thinking about these perfect tits,” he mumbles, then flicks his tongue out, tracing my nipple before he engulfs the entire thing in his mouth. He’s thrusting against me, his hips rocking into mine, his movements just as frantic as I feel. Our frenzied breathing fills the space around us, and I want him in me, now. I slide my hands down his back into the waistband of his boxer briefs, then reach around to try and pull his cock free.

  But before I can come in contact with him, he stops, freezing with his hand still on my breast. His eyes find mine, and he says, “Wait. Tess, wait . . .”

  And my whole world stops.

  jason

  Tessa’s eyes are wide, and her entire body deflates against the bed when I stop her. I don’t want to. I nearly came undone at the thought of her hand on my cock, but I don’t want this to be a rush job, either. I don’t want this to be a five-minute fuck where we both get off, but that’s it. I don’t want it to be like every other sexual encounter I’ve ever had.

  Not with her. This is Tessa.

  I lean down to kiss her, because I can. Because, at least for right now, she’s mine. “Slower, baby. I still want you. Christ, I want you,” I say as I let my hips press once again in the cradle of her thighs so there’s no question just how much I do. “I just want it slower. I didn’t get to see you last night, and I don’t want to rush it. I need to have you slower. Can we do that?”

  She exhales, her eyes fluttering closed before she opens them again and gives me a subtle nod. That’s all the encouragement I need before I lean down to kiss her. I was never much for kissing before. It was always the thing I had to do to get to the thing I wanted to do. But it’s different with Tessa. She’s so responsive, her body arching into mine with the slightest brus
h of my tongue against hers. She hums into my mouth when I scrape her lower lip with my teeth, then moans when I suck it into my mouth.

  I drop my head to her neck, brushing my lips and tongue against her, scraping my teeth along the way, spending time getting to know the spots that make her squirm in anticipation, the ones that make her shiver, the ones that make her gasp in pleasure. Her hands are restless against me, her fingers slipped into the front of my boxers, running back and forth, brushing against the head of my cock at each pass, and she’s driving me fucking crazy. I lift up and sit back on my knees, pulling her hands out of my waistband and gathering her wrists together before I pin them over her head.

  And then she’s spread out for me just like in a thousand different fantasies I’ve had of her over the last almost-year, her tits pushed up and heaving with every breath, perfect pink nipples that have haunted my dreams hard and pointed right at me, and I want to memorize how they feel under my hands. Under my mouth and my tongue. I want to know what they’ll look like, bouncing in time to my rhythm when she’s under me. What they’ll look like when she’s on top, riding me . . .

  I reach for her, my fingers brushing up the curve of her waist, up up up until I capture one of her breasts in my hand. I lean down and let my lips sweep across her chest, lick up the line between her breasts. Rubbing my thumb back and forth over her nipple, I watch as it tightens even further before I lick against it with the flat of my tongue. That earns me a sigh. Tracing around it with the tip of my tongue pulls a gasp from her, but it’s not until I suck it into my mouth and flick my tongue against the peak that she finally lets out a long, low moan, and I smile against her.

  I file that tidbit of information away for future reference.

  Her head shifts from side to side on the pillow, her eyes clenched tight, and fucking Christ, she’s gorgeous. And she’s mine. For now, at least, she’s mine.

  I press her hands into the mattress before I let go of them, a silent command to keep them there. We’ll see how long she lasts. Leaning over her, I caress both her breasts, moving my mouth from one to the other and back again. Her body is writhing on the bed, her hips rolling restlessly against nothing, and it’s taking everything in me not to rip her fucking panties off and bury myself into her in one thrust, give her what she’s seeking.

  Instead I concentrate on the taste of her skin below her breasts, how soft the curve of her stomach is against my lips, and then my hands are gripping at the sides of her underwear and I’m pulling them down her legs and tossing them over my shoulder. Tessa’s head is turned to the side, her face pressed against one of the arms that’s still over her head, prone against the bed. She opens her eyes and peeks at me when I don’t move to touch her again, too busy letting my eyes feast on the sight before me. It fucking killed me that I didn’t get to see any of her last night, and I’m soaking up every inch of her now. She’s all delicate features and soft curves, and I can’t believe this is actually happening. After months of fantasies I tried to will away, after trying to deny myself this with her, she’s here, under me and naked for me, waiting and writhing for my fingers, my tongue, my cock.

  And I’m going to enjoy every fucking second of it.

  Sliding backward down the bed, I start at her legs, lifting her foot to rest against my shoulder as I kiss her ankle, her calf. Then the inside of her knee and the inside of her thigh, and I can see exactly how much this is affecting her, exactly how much she wants me. Her pussy is wet, glistening, and it takes everything in me not to go straight for that, bury my tongue inside her, and instead brush right past it with no more than a breath and repeat my path on her other leg.

  She makes an impatient noise in the back of her throat, and her hips lift off the bed, subtly rolling, and I smile as my lips trace up the length of her thigh.

  “Not funny,” she grumbles, shifting in vain to try and bring me closer to where she wants me.

  As much as I’d like to continue dragging it out, it’s torture for both of us, so when I get to the place where her thigh meets her pussy, I don’t deny either of us any longer, licking a long line up the crease. And then I place a kiss above her clit, spreading her open with my fingers before taking a swipe with my tongue up the length of her slit. She nearly shoots off the bed, her hands flying to my hair, gripping hard.

  “Jason!”

  I groan against her, the sound of my name on her lips while she’s already teetering on the edge sending a wave of possession through me, desire coursing through my body and pooling in my cock.

  “Oh shit. Shit, shit, shit,” she breathes, her hands tightening in my hair, clamping me to her.

  Like I’d go anywhere else.

  I trace circles around her clit before I flutter my tongue against it and slip a finger inside her. Her mumbling has advanced to something completely unintelligible, and I double my efforts, sliding another finger inside as I increase my pace.

  Her legs tighten around my head, her fingers pulling at my hair, and then she’s frozen, pulled taut until she groans and squeezes my fingers, pulsing around me and coming against my mouth. As much as I want to deny it, there’s a smug satisfaction at how quickly I made her come, how much she wants this. I lick her slowly, gently, slipping my fingers out of her before I kiss her thigh and then move up her body to hover over her.

  A soft smile plays on her lips, and her eyes are closed, and I fucking love that I was the one who got to put this blissed-out look on her face. She blindly reaches out for me, her brow furrowing when she comes in contact with the material of my boxers.

  “Why are you still wearing these?” she asks as she snaps the waistband.

  “Hey!” I lean down and nip at her jaw while she giggles. Pulling back, I look down at her, all teasing gone. “I just want to be sure you’re sure.”

  “Jason . . .” She shakes her head and reaches up, her fingers along my jaw. “Stop asking. I’m sure. I promise. Now take those boxers off and get inside me.”

  SEVENTEEN

  tessa

  My words ignite something inside him, because he doesn’t even pause as he strips off the rest of his clothes, and then I hear the tearing of a condom package. I shouldn’t be staring so intently as he rolls it down his hard length, but the sight of it—how he strokes himself a couple times after he’s sheathed—is completely mesmerizing.

  “You like to watch, huh?” His words are low, just soft murmurs in the otherwise quiet room, but with how my face heats up, he might as well have screamed over a loudspeaker. He grins at my reaction, then leans down to kiss me. Against my mouth, he says, “I’ll remember that for next time.”

  Next time.

  A part of me I didn’t even realize was coiled tight, waiting for the other shoe to drop, relaxes infinitesimally. From what I’ve heard over the years—from what I’ve witnessed over the years—Jason always has one foot out the door before mutual orgasms are even achieved. That he’s already planning to be here for a next time speaks volumes, and though before I even decided I would give this a go with Jason, I hoped this was different, that I was different, this is reassuring nonetheless.

  A tiny part of me wonders if we should’ve talked about that . . . if we should’ve discussed what it’ll mean now that we’re taking this step. Because as sure as I am that he’ll be able to make me scream his name again tonight, I’m also sure sex for him has always meant something totally different than it has to me.

  Before I can worry too much on it, he kisses me again, his lips no longer the question they were at the start of all this. He kisses just like he does everything else—with a confidence and sureness I would usually find a turnoff. But not with him. He coaxes my mouth open with his tongue, sliding it against mine, tipping my head the way he wants it so he can kiss me harder, deeper. Then he releases my mouth, pulling back and dropping sporadic kisses along my cheeks and my jaw, and all I can do is pant. He brings his mouth to my ear, his tongue tracing the shell, before he whispers, “Tell me how you like it, Tess.” He lowers hi
s body to mine, relaxing into the cradle of my thighs, and I moan at the hard ridge of him pressing against the hottest part of me.

  Clutching at his shoulders, my head tipped back, my neck extended in offering, I groan louder when he pushes harder against me.

  “Tell me . . .” he says again. “I want to know what you like. I want to make this so good for you.”

  His words and the quiet, lilting cadence of his voice combined with the soft, shallow rocking he’s doing only spirals me closer to the peak, making me teeter on the edge.

  “God, I’m gonna come again if you keep this up.” My fingernails dig into his shoulders, and I’m certain I’m leaving marks, but I can’t force myself to care. I’m not even going to examine the part of me that secretly likes that I’m marking him.

  He smiles against my neck at my admission. “Good,” he says, then kisses the space just below my ear. “Then you’ll come again when I’m inside you. You’ll come all over me, won’t you, baby?”

  Those words and a punctuated thrust of his hips is all it takes, and I’m flying.

  Jason’s mouth claims mine, and before I’ve even caught my breath, before the last pulses have washed over me, he slides inside, and I lose my breath all over again.

  “Oh fuuuuck,” he groans against my lips, his hips resting flush against mine as he clenches his eyes. “Jesus Christ, you feel good.”

  And then he starts to move. His thrusts are slow and steady but sure, each pump punctuated with a swivel of his hips. And with each swivel, he presses into my clit, keeping me so worked up I have no doubt in my mind he’ll make good on his promise to make me come again.