One Day After Never (The Second Time's the Charm STANDALONE Series Book 1)

by Whitney Walker

  NOVEMBER 29

  CHAPTER 15 | J.T.

  H oly shit. I’m a spoon. Flesh on flesh, waking up holding Peyton Jennings in my arms. Apparently my subconscious already knew. Something is going on between my legs. I’m a man, and it comes with the morning territory. I back up my hips a little as not to disturb her.

  We went to sleep without closing the deal. Call me crazy! I refused a ready and willing woman. I’m so glad that when she wakes we have the chance to see each other differently in the daylight. Despite all I shared, she’s still here.

  I smile against her shoulder, realizing I never answered her final question of the night. I smile even more broadly thinking about the killer blow job she had given me before I drifted off to sleep.

  I want to feel her silken skin under my touch but the slow rise and fall of her chest against my body tells me she is sleeping deeply. Damn, she feels good in my arms. I am happy just to hold her. I wonder if she is a morning person.

  “Hey you,” I hear a faint feminine voice. Am I dreaming? Pressure on my shoulder moves down my bicep. A light tickle on the inside of my elbow. Warmth over my hand resting on my thigh. Something grazes over my chest.

  It takes me a minute to put everything together. Peyton. I slowly open my eyes. I’ve fallen back to sleep after having awoken earlier. This time my body behaves itself upon waking, luckily. There is no better first sight for the day than her sparkling blue eyes. “Good morning, beautiful.” I hope she likes my rugged morning voice. I reach my arm over her hip and pull her closer.

  “I have to confess I am not a morning person, but if you say that every morning, I think I could become one.”

  I am happy she implies there will be other mornings. I can only be so lucky as to wake to her scratchy, sexy as hell, morning voice on many more occasions.

  Her hand finds the stubble on my left jawline, fingertips tracing. It feels so good. “I loved waking up in your spoon,” she says.

  We gaze into each other’s eyes seeing each other differently than the day before, no longer strangers. I never expected to find this feeling of acceptance for all of me. She is playing with the dog tags around my neck, rubbing the metal between her thumb and forefinger. I slide my fingers behind her neck and brush my thumb across her cheek. I pull her lips close to mine, morning breath be damned.

  Her lips don’t hesitate parting, and her tongue quickly finds my bottom lip, sliding from left to right, then back to the middle where she gently bites. I push my tongue past hers, feeling fully its perfect smoothness. I am ready to pick up where we left off last night. I am ready to make love to this beautiful woman.

  As if my kiss speaks my thoughts, Peyton pushes her left leg in between my own to pull her hips into my groin. When she releases slightly, her hands find me, assessing my desire. It only takes a few strokes for me to be ready. But I will wait, and make sure that she has the time to fully want me before I slide inside of her for the first time.

  I move to kiss her neck, making sure I give both sides and the middle adequate attention. Kissing my way down her chest, I subtly roll her onto her back in the process. Finally, I see her full breasts in the daylight. They are beautiful. Light pink nipples encircled by just a darker shade of pink. My mouth finds her right one, and it comes to life under the caress of my tongue. I hold her other breast, lifting it gently, then squeezing more firmly. Her hips rise into mine. Closer.

  She makes a sudden motion to bring both of her hands to hold me. She is seeing me in the daylight for the first time too. Sliding her hands down the length, she reveals me inch by inch. I hope she likes what she sees.

  Peyton spends time teasing the space between my navel and cock. Each little tug of pubic hair I feel in my shaft as a small twinge. Changing breasts, I pull her already hard nipple between my teeth, letting it fall back into place when I release it. I take two perfect handfuls of breast and massage them in a circular motion. Letting them go, I slide my chest over both mounds of flesh and move up and down, side to side. She moans, and I am glad that the pleasure is mutual.

  I place my hand facing downward, against all of her. Her clit swollen and a slickness says it’s time. I can’t wait any longer to feel myself in her. Hopefully, she doesn’t find it prudish that I want to be on top the first time, but I think it will feel the most like making love. I’m not sure I ever have. If I am lucky, there will be plenty of opportunity to experiment with other positions.

  I reach right of her to my nightstand for a condom then rip it open with my teeth while still holding one breast. I search her face and piercing eyes for any sign of hesitance on her part but find none.

  She must sense this. “I want you too, J.T.” I like her assumption.

  Her hands slide over my shoulders and behind my back to pull me directly over her. I anxiously await what will happen next. Filling all of her with all of me. “Oh, Peyton,” I moan into her mouth as I kiss her again one more time. She moans in return, a vibration I feel in my lips and erection. I move closer to her, pushing into her clit. Her hands grip my ass and pull me in hard against her.

  I pull back slowly and slide forward again, against more of her skin and wetness. So close! We lock eyes, and she bites her bottom lip. I lean in and gently bite the same spot, then continue to hold her gaze. She nods slowly, granting me permission. I am so hard. I am so ready.

  I position the tip of me against the opening of her, feeling the warm wetness. I slowly enter her amazing body, ready, willing and wanting. We connect in this new way. I push my whole shaft inside, thankful she can accept all of me, until our hips collide. I hold still for a moment feeling the tightness cradle all of me.

  Her legs lift, wrapping around my back, squeezing my hips. It becomes hard to distinguish where I end and she begins. I finally pull back and thrust inside of her again. A sound of desire crosses her lips. I am pleased with her enjoyment. I want to satisfy her, but she feels so good I am not sure I will be able to hold out. I will do my best.

  She clenches more tightly around me. I pull out and push in against the additional friction, getting closer to my edge. No finishing yet. She deserves more. Her hips rise, grinding against me, and I lean forward to make smaller movements against her clit. She pulls her legs back and I can’t resist looking away from her eyes to watch me move in and out of her. The pink flesh pulls forward then swallows me in.

  I look up to find her looking down. She is also watching me. How hot! She doesn’t look away so I hope I can safely assume she isn’t turned off by what she sees. It’s pretty unnerving revealing one’s self especially after hearing women friends talking about the ugliness of the male organ.

  We reconnect with our eyes. This is vulnerability, looking into someone’s depths fully naked and exposed, beyond just the flesh-and-bones part. I allowed her to see me fully. Will she let me see her too?

  My thinking has sidetracked me, allowing me to maintain composure a little longer. Thank God. Peyton is taking short gasps of breath, alternating with mmm’s and ooh’s. Her grip on my shoulders tightens. She straightens her legs, and it changes the angle and tightness. We breathe, “Oh God!” in unison. Moving her hips in a circular motion, she pulses them multiple times when she faces me straight on, then changes direction. I copy her motion, allowing just the tip to graze her lips and clit in the middle. She moans deeply and pulls against my hips to ask me to fill her fully again. I don’t. I move my hips side to side with just the tip barely inside of her. I’m too close. She gasps then lets out a long moan of enjoyment. I push into the tightness. “J.T.!” she exclaims and my pride swells. Thank you for wanting me, Peyton.

  She grabs around my back, pulling herself up off the pillow, breasts thrusting into my chest. Hard nipples draw lines I can feel as I move forward and backward across them. I lie down on top of her and slide my hands under her hips to raise them. The new angle offers more pressure against my base. She clenches more tightly. Her legs begin to tremble. Her gasps rise in intensity and intonation, becoming higher pitched as h
er orgasm overtakes her. Fingernails dig into my glutes, mixing pleasure and pain.

  It feels so good to be inside of her. So damn good. She thrusts into me. I thrust into her. Our bodies feel like one.

  We look into each other’s eyes again. Never have I done this. Never have I cum together with a woman. Never with open eyes, watching every movement of her lips making the noises and words I’m bringing forth. Truth. Now I’ve made love. If I am reading her face correctly, it says the same.

  An intense moan escapes from my gut. She returns it with one of her own. I pull all the way out and push hard into her again. Her sounds of satisfaction allow me to let go and find my own. The pressure. The throbbing. My dick pulses. Hard. It feels good to let go of control. I let out a final, loud groan.

  We push into each other, me staying fully inside of her with short little movements, the involuntary tightening and releasing of her orgasm holding me captive. I’m lost in her. The feeling of her wriggling under me. Her touch holding me. Her wetness. Her body’s warmth. I’ve emptied into her, but my heart is full.

  I lie against her chest and stomach, spent, but careful to bear some of my weight. We are both working to catch our breath. “Holy shit,” I say breathlessly, without thinking. Not very romantic. It was my first thought of the day and seems to have stuck.

  “Holy shit,” she says back.

  I guess I am okay. I roll onto my back, still unable to get a full breath of air. I’m still twitching, and I want to grab myself but hold back. I blow out a long breath.

  She finally has it together enough to speak, “You were right.”

  Everyone likes hearing those words. I roll on to my side and prop my head on my elbow and hand facing her.

  “That was worth waiting for.”

  CHAPTER 16 | Peyton

  I ’ve just been taken apart. I looked in a man’s eyes during sex and it became something different. Something more. Possibly, forever changed. I am scared of how I feel, so captivated by him. At the same time, I have never felt so safe with our sweaty, intertwined bodies melting into one.

  I can still feel in my hands how his chest muscles flexed as he thrust forward into me. I can still see how his biceps grew into firm half-circles and his jaw clenched with exertion, unshaven sexy. The way he moved in and out of me was the same as he does everything, a mix of power and grace.

  He reaches over and tucks a strand of blond behind my ear. My stomach tightens. I see his forearm telling the story of his past. Just below his elbow is a tattoo. I recognize it as a Celtic knot. The center of the knot is interrupted with a circle that looks like connected ropes. In the middle, the letters T.R. in emerald green, masculine script draw attention against the black of the rest of the design.

  We make eye contact. “I loved seeing your tattoo when we were—” I almost slip and say making love. I hope it was that for him. I don’t finish the sentence. “It’s beautiful. T.R. Tim Reilly, I assume. What does the rest mean to you?”

  “Yep. My dedication to Tim. The Celtic trinity can mean a few things. Past, present, future. Power, Intellect, Love. Creator, Destroyer, Sustainer. The circle is protection, and never-ending connection with the divine. I chose it for obvious reasons. It serves as my daily reminder.”

  I pull his arm to my lips. My lips skim across the tattoo in kisses and I feel raised flesh. I know where he got the scars the tattoo covers. I wish I could kiss them away.

  He can’t see my scars, neither can he kiss them away. I am not yet ready to share how they formed. How could he love someone who loved herself so little that she let a CEO tie her up and make her a sex slave? He hurt me so badly I couldn’t walk for a week. I didn’t like it but was too weak to tell him to stop. I wanted to believe so badly he would love me if I just gave him what he wanted.

  It had seemed so promising with the music and candlelit dinner and penthouse condo featuring an incredible sunset view. He told me I was beautiful, smart, and funny. Everything I wanted to be. He said he had never felt about anyone else the way that he did about me. He knew how to seduce a woman for sure.

  Would he care to know that I had friends who thought any old day ending in “Y” was just fine for cocaine, and maybe throw in a little something on top if Monday night football was involved?

  “Thank you for kissing me there. Like that. I was hooked the first time I tried it. It filled the hole in my soul. I am one of the lucky ones that got away from it. I’ve known plenty who haven’t. I am not proud of what I did.”

  Thankfully, he has interrupted my scratching the surface of my not so proud moments. I bury my head in his chest.

  “What is it, Peyton?” he asks, his voice full of concern.

  “You told me everything about you and I told you nothing.”

  “I’m counting on having plenty of time for that later.”

  Light kisses move over my temple, forehead, nose, mouth, and jawline. My secrets are safe. For now.

  “I’ve never been with a woman like that.”

  Oh!

  I find this difficult to believe but am elated to be special. I decide to take a chance on being vulnerable. “Do you mean, like, made love?” I cross my fingers on the hand behind his back. Please say yes.

  “Yes, Peyton. Thank you for making love to me.” He places a very tender kiss on my forehead, then lips.

  “I should be thanking you. It was my first time too.” If only I could take away all the other times it was something entirely different. I feel disgusted with myself for letting my body be used the way I have. I can only move forward and be thankful this was a first for both of us.

  He pulls back, looking at me like he is reading me. “I hope we share a lot of other firsts.”

  We lie there, lost in each other, for a few more minutes before J.T. startles, looking as if he remembers something. He stands, and I have my first chance to see the rest of him in the light of the day. Wow. He looks sculpted, like by the hands of one of Italy’s finest. The width of his shoulders tapers to his hips, then strong, muscular thighs widen again. It’s a bit breathtaking. I figure he is handling the condom, which he does, but then stands before me with outstretched hand containing my phone. I’m lying down. He’s standing up. Eye level is the perfection that has just given me the best orgasm of my life.

  “You wanted to call Jack in the morning.”

  “Thanks, J.T. I can’t believe you remembered.”

  “It seemed kind of important.”

  He remembered and did something about it? “It is, but I can handle that later. It’s not as important as you coming back to bed with me.”

  He lies down beside me, bodies facing toward one another. He takes my hand and presses his palm against mine, fingers straight, like two starfish.

  “Tell me more about Africa. I think I might want to go someday,” I say with genuine curiosity.

  “You should. The people are amazing. They have no stuff, but they have more than we do in many ways.”

  I had done research. The pictures show people with no shoes, distended bellies, and open sores. The stories speak of women walking hours a day for clean water. They carry the water on their head, often with a baby on their back! I am pretty sure I wouldn’t survive a day of that lifestyle.

  “We think they are broken because they don’t have what we have, but sometimes I think we are the broken ones.”

  I can relate to this.

  “Anything beyond an ordinary day makes them wildly happy. Us just showing up with a smile is met with gifts of the highest honor. Not joking. They give us their chickens, their primary food, unselfishly. It’s crazy. They have everything they need because they understand love. I think if you have that, you don’t need much else. You’ve heard people say love is all you need, right? I almost believe it. It might be all you need to survive. And be happy.”

  I push through my constricting throat, voice small, “I don’t know if I know how to love. I’ve never really let anyone in before. Not my mom, not my friends, not Kyle. So like you s
aid, I guess I’ve never had much, because I’ve never had love.”

  “Hey, don’t forget I learned this the hard way. You need someone to give you hope, and not judgement. If you want to call that fixing the broken, you can, but I just call it love. It’s all we are really here to do. Love everyone, and everyone wins. And guess what? They don’t even have to love you back for it to be okay. It’s scary to put it all out there, but love is bigger. Bigger than fear. Bigger than broken. Bigger than everything. You know what else? I think you are already on your way to fixing your own broken Peyton Jennings. You are here, right? I still can’t believe you just hopped on a train to visit someone you barely knew.”

  He leans in and kisses me deeply. I let his lips and words sink in. I do have hope. Hope for everything I want to offer to him. But also, what I hope in return, I can accept.

  CHAPTER 17 | J.T.

  L ong eyelashes flutter awake and allow me to take in the brilliant blue hue. “You fell back to sleep. I was just admiring the view.” She crosses her arms over her face. I probably shouldn’t have been staring at her, but she looked so angelic as she slept. I plant kisses on her neck. “I don’t know about you, but I could really use a shower.”

  “Is that an invitation?”

  I guess I woke her up! I feel my eyes widen. “Yes.” It wasn’t, actually, but now that she mentions it, why not? I reach for her hand, pull her slowly to rise, and lead her to the bathroom.

  I’m already downstairs making us coffee, but am surprised to hear feet on the wood floor coming closer so soon. I expected her to take much longer to get ready. I assess her from head to toe. The way her jeans cascade over curved hips and the hint of her navel teases. She wears a simple black turtleneck sweater. Her blond waves are swept into a high ponytail, and I can see the heart shape of her face more clearly. She requires no makeup to be stunning in my book, but she has applied just enough to look natural, yet accentuate her eyes that pierce me, and those lips I can’t resist kissing every time they near. Like now.