by Piper Rayne
“I think I should go change,” I say quietly to Jasper, who nods in agreement.
“Don’t change on our account. We’ve always loved looking at art.” She smiles and I manage to keep my lips zippered shut, but this lady is going to challenge me.
I give a small smile and head around the breakfast bar and down the hall. I’m not sure I breathe until I’m behind Jasper’s bedroom door.
I turn on the shower because if her judgmental eyes will be on me, I’m going to be squeaky clean. A minute later, Jasper enters the room, just as I’m taking off my shirt.
His pajama pants begin to tent.
“Nope. Nope. Nope. Your parents are right outside,” I whisper-yell, pointing to the door.
He laughs and listens to me as well as a puppy would. “I’m sorry,” he says, and steps up to me, his hand cupping my cheek.
I look up to him, his face serious, his hazel eyes missing their usual gleam.
“You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” I say. “Your mother seems very… conservative.” I smile in a way that says, See? I can play nice.
“She’s a farmer’s wife. She grew up in a small town and judges those who are different.”
Man, does this man know his mother.
“Well, I am definitely different.”
The corner of his lips dip down when I say that.
I ignore his reaction and shimmy out of my shorts. He steps closer, his hands finding my ass before he pushes me against the glass wall of the shower, his erection throbbing against my pussy.
I can’t deny that I want him inside me. I want to know he doesn’t care that I’m not some farmer’s daughter who goes to church every Sunday and that I wasn’t a virgin until him. I’m in desperate need of the worship he grants me with his eyes and his body. I want the look that says he loves me, even if he doesn’t say it himself. The guy who told me he’d never hide me.
So I have a lapse in judgment.
My legs tighten around his torso and my heels push his pajama pants down until they fall to the floor. He steps out of them and his cock pushes past my opening. Locking me to the wall, he takes one hand and glides into me.
“Oh,” I moan and he covers my mouth, although the shower should help drown out our noises.
He plunges in and out of me fast and quick, and I’m surprised I’m still so wet, especially after the chill his mother brought in with her.
I hang onto his neck, my breasts smashed to his chest as he thrusts in and out of me. Faster and faster.
“You’re so fucking tight. I love the way you squeeze my cock,” he says, and that tingling between my legs burns hotter.
He fucks me like he’ll never get enough, as if I sate him completely and yet never quite enough. The way he takes me makes me feel like I’m it for him.
“Jasper,” I sigh, the arousal peaking around me. “God, fuck me,” I whisper, the glass rattling behind me.
He continues and without any foreplay—no nipple tweaking or mouth around my clit—and even with the ice queen outside, I explode all over Jasper for the second time this morning.
A minute later, he follows me and my legs aren’t even down on the ground when I catch sight of his mom staring at us from the opened bathroom door.
“Oh, my God.” I cling to a very naked Jasper.
He looks up at me, that foggy, just-orgasmed gleam in his eyes until he registers the shock on my face. Turning his head, he must catch a glimpse of his mom.
“Mom!” he yells. “Get out!”
“I’m so sorry. We just heard glass banging and didn’t know. The door was unlocked and—”
John peeks in and then throws his hand over his wife’s eyes. “Natalie, what are you doing?” Then he turns his own head and says, “Son, a time and place.”
“Just get OUT!” Jasper screams and the two of them leave. I don’t move until I hear the door shut.
“That about seals the deal,” I mumble and we break apart. I open the shower door and step in.
Of course he follows me. Jasper isn’t one for space.
“Hey,” he says, pushing my hair under the stream of the water. “It’s fine. I have a son. It’s not like they didn’t know I’ve had sex.” He laughs, somehow thinking that his mother finding me pressed against a glass wall with her son’s dick inside me isn’t mortifying.
“She hates me,” I say, allowing him to place shampoo in his hand and lather up my hair. I take the bottle from him and return the favor.
“No, she just doesn’t adjust well to change.” He steps closer, nudging me under his shower faucet head. The shampoo suds drip down our bodies.
“I might be too much change for her,” I remark, grabbing my conditioner, but Jasper takes it from my hands and applies it like I told him to the last time we showered together.
“Don’t say that. You’re the best change. I know I’m happier than I’ve ever been and as much as it kills me to say it, Brady is too.” His hands smooth through my hair, rinsing the conditioner.
He grabs the soap and my loofa, but my hands land on his. “Jasper, she could make you… I mean, she might not ever warm up.”
How can I fault her? Some days I’m not sure my own mom even likes me that much. How can I expect someone else’s to?
He grips my hands in his, staring down at my eyes.
“You’re second in my life,” he says. I smile, knowing I could never and never would want to top that place in his life.
“You’re second in mine too,” I say. “After my vibrator of course,” I joke and he laughs.
“I can’t lie to you. Brady will always be first, but he’s the only one who will ever come before you.”
I stare up at his determined and serious eyes, hoping to God his mom and I just got off to a bad start. Because feeling like I don’t fit in in one family is enough, I’m not sure I can handle two. If that happened there’s a chance it might not be Jasper who ends us. I could very well bolt.
28
After Jasper and I dress we exit his bedroom. My hair is still a little wet, but I did my make up more conservative than usual. See? I’m flexible.
Brady’s voice bounces off every wall in the condo, but when he sees us, he runs over.
“Grandma and Grandpa are going to take me to Dave and Buster’s.” He jumps up and down.
I look to Jasper, who looks at his parents.
“We have plans tonight to make a fort,” he says, and then goes into the kitchen.
I’m not sure my face could match the color of Brady’s Spiderman blanket more, as I try to follow Jasper without making direct eye contact with either of his parents.
His mom joins us while John plays with Brady. “Well, we just thought the two of you would like to be alone.” Neither Jasper nor I miss her meaning.
Jasper turns around, plating food for Brady. “Brady, come and eat.” His voice is short and curt.
I’d like to say, Don’t take it out on Brady, but I sip my coffee, still hiding my eyes from her.
“Mom, we don’t need alone time,” Jasper says. “We’ve been managing fine.”
“I was just trying to be nice, Jay,” she says, taking the fork and knife to cut up Brady’s pancakes.
He swivels around, eyeing Brady, still by his dad. He leans forward, his body stiff. “You ambushed us and you know it.” He looks over at me and boy, do I wish I could be like Alice in Wonderland so I could be ten sizes too small and hidden behind my coffee cup. “You purposely surprised us by coming here today so you can check out Lennon.” I realize now that he’s seething.
“Well, what was I supposed to do? The two of you have been seeing each other and Brady told me during FaceTime that she spends the night.”
Slam.
Jasper’s open hand smacks the counter. Unsure if I should leave or stay, I bury my head in the fridge as though I’m looking for something. Smooth, Lennon.
“You should have waited until we reached out to set a date. I was going to call you this week to set up a dinne
r, but you had to push your way through.”
“Jay, stop being like this,” she whines and I’m thinking that voice usually gets her her way.
“How am I supposed to be? You’re making the woman I love uncomfortable,” he says in a harsh whisper.
I smile at the pickles because he hasn’t really told me he loves me yet.
“Well, that wasn’t my intention,” his mom fires back.
Figuring I can’t keep my head in the fridge the entire time, I back up and close the door, pretending to put more milk in my coffee.
“Don’t force this,” Jasper warns, similar to the way he does with Brady. I realize that my mom and his mom might be a lot alike.
She slides onto a chair at the breakfast bar. “You’re right. I should have waited.”
Except for that. I’m quite sure my mom has never told me I was right.
“I’m sorry, Lennon,” she says and I look up for the first time.
“No apologies necessary.” I’m polite and mean what I say. Who’s to say I wouldn’t do the same thing for my own son some day? I’m not exactly known for my boundaries.
We each force a smile and Jasper grabs a cup, filling it with orange juice.
“Brady!” he calls out. There’s a specific tone Jasper has that tells Brady not to push that line and he recognizes it so he runs over, sliding up onto a breakfast stool.
“Would you like some coffee?” I ask Natalie.
“That would be lovely, Lennon.” She clasps her hands on the counter in front of her and I catch John walking over.
I go to the cabinet and pull out two mugs. “You must be here a lot since you know your way around the kitchen,” she comments. I don’t stop my movements because I’m pretty sure Jasper must be giving her the evil eye right now.
For the rest of the morning, that’s the way our conversation goes. She tries to dig for more information about how often I’m here, where we met, what stuff we’ve all done together, but I think what she’s really trying to figure out is how close I am to Brady. She asks nothing about what I do for money, my family, or my education.
We’re all seated on the couch and I glance to the clock to see it’s almost noon.
“We should get going,” John says, slapping his hands on his knees.
Jasper stands right away, ready to see them out. I’m thinking he’s as eager as I am.
Natalie holds her arms open for Brady and he kind of leans in, offering her his head. She kisses it.
“So we’ll have some time together next week,” she says and my stomach twists. Jasper hasn’t told her that he asked me to watch Brady next week while he has to go out of town for a night.
“Oh, about that, Mom. I’m going to have Lennon watch him.” He opens the door as casual as can be and her eyes dart to me.
Even John’s back stiffens, his gaze drifting between Jasper, his mom and me.
“Okay,” she says with no enthusiasm in her voice. “Well, leave my number in case she has any questions,” she says, offering me a tight smile.
“It was a pleasure meeting you, Lennon. Sorry for… well, sorry.” John holds his hand out to me, his face matching my own shade of red.
“Pleasure to meet you,” I say, my voice lower than normal.
Natalie waves from the doorway. “Bye, Lennon. We’ll have to make official dinner plans at some point.”
I put my hand up in the air to wave, but she’s already out the door. Jasper shuts the door, walks over to the couch, and plops down. He pats the cushion next to him and I join him. His arm swings behind my head and he pulls me to him, kissing my forehead.
“Sorry,” he mumbles, his tone truly apologetic.
“I’m going to get my sleeping bag.” Brady runs down the hall, clearly oblivious to the awkwardness that was the past few hours. His head is one hundred percent in fort zone.
I sit up and look at Jasper. His eyes are filled with distress. “Just have her watch him,” I say, because it’s not worth his mother feeling slighted. I have a feeling that will only come back to bite me in the ass.
“No.” His eyebrows crinkle. “She needs to get used to not being the only woman in his life.”
From his tone, I should let the topic go. But we all know me better than that by now, don’t we? “Just do it, it will make her happy.”
“End of discussion, Lennon. You’re watching Brady. Unless you don’t want to?” he questions.
I rest my chin on his chest, looking up to him. “I’ve already made our plans.”
A worried look crosses his face. “Nothing illegal?” he jokes.
“Nah, but do you think he’s too young for a tat? He did ask me for a Superman one.” I laugh and in one motion, I’m on my back and he’s tickling me.
“What are your plans?” he asks.
“That’s between us. We need to bond so it’s a secret.”
He tickles me more, okay that I’m not telling him what I’ll be doing with his son. Brady runs in and stops to stare at us. Both our faces turn to him.
“Tickle monster,” he screams and joins Jasper in the act of tickling as we all laugh.
I’m not sure how I got here, but I never want to leave.
29
“This is the best!” Brady screams, running down the pier with cotton candy in one hand and a churro in the other.
I’m pretty sure I’m the best babysitter, but the worst mom-in-training. Yes, I’ve decided to refer to myself as mom-in-training in my mind. It seems fitting.
His footsteps halt and he admires the Ferris wheel. “Can we, Lennon?” he asks.
“Like I’d say no.” I lead him over to a bench. “But you’ll have to finish your treats first.”
“Okay.” He chomps on the blue cotton candy, leaving a ring of sticky blue sugar around his lips. After he dumps it in the trashcan he takes a huge bite of churro and dumps that in the trashcan. “Ready,” he mumbles.
“Um, no, you’re not ready.”
Taking my cue from Jasper, I bought myself a water. So I go over to the funnel cake stand. Man, those smell good.
“I want one of those.” Brady’s eyes bug out and he points to the one loaded with a scoop of ice cream, strawberry topping and a pile of whipped cream.
“Maybe later.”
“You said you’d never say no.” His lips turn down.
“Maybe isn’t no,” I correct him.
“When Daddy says maybe, he really means no.” He stares into the window and I swear a dribble of drool drops from his mouth.
“Well, I’m not daddy.” I pour water on the napkin and wipe his mouth. “Good as new!” I tap his nose with my finger and he smiles, looking at me with love in his eyes. Oh, boy, I hope he isn’t getting a crush on me.
“Let’s go!” This little man switches gears fast, grabbing my hand and pulling me to the Ferris wheel.
We wait in line, Brady staring up the entire time the wheel stops and goes, letting people on and off.
“It’s high,” he says, his voice shallow.
“Brady, we don’t have to ride it.” I place my hand on his shoulder, but he shakes his head, never looking over at me.
He says nothing, which is odd. Brady’s like me, there’s always something to say. We hardly ever run out of words.
I crouch down and I catch sight of the middle school kids behind me. “Brady, let’s go on a different ride,” I offer and he glances at me, ready to take the bait.
“Yeah, this ride is for older kids,” one of the kids says, inserting himself into our conversation.
Brady’s face turns red and he looks down at the concrete, littered with gum and trash.
“Why don’t you mind your own business.” I stand up, narrowing my eyes at the little shit.
“Whatever, lady,” the punk says and I feel rage starting to boil in my veins. This kid with the spiky red hair and pig-shaped nose needs to learn a lesson.
Being the adult I pretend to be, I turn my attention back to Brady.
“Come on.” I
grab the edge of his t-shirt sleeve and pull a little, but his feet stay glued to the ground.
He shakes his head. “No.” He steps up in line and I hear the kids behind us huffing and puffing.
“Okay.” I release a breath. If he wants to ride it, who am I not to teach him to face his fears?
A few minutes later, it’s our turn. The carousel guy holds up the stick to Brady, and Brady’s face pales slightly.
“Okay, hop on,” the guy says.
I let Brady go first, but he doesn’t step on.
“Come on,” the punk kid behind us moans.
Very explicit words rest on the tip of my tongue, but Brady glances behind me to him and I know I need to maintain my adult status here.
“Lady?” The kid continues to be the porcupine needle up my ass, causing me to be about a millisecond from losing my shit.
I turn around, my eyes probably resembling the dark sky right before a wicked storm. “I’m handling it. I get that you have some hot date with your right hand later, but relax.”
All his friends laugh and I regret my words immediately when his face turns red in embarrassment. Brady looks confused by my words for a second, then he goes back to looking at the Ferris wheel in fear.
The operator snickers his own laugh but raises his eyebrows to me, silently asking if Brady is riding.
“Yes or no, Brady?” I ask.
He stares up at me for the longest time and I’m about to step us to the side when he surprises me and steps into the cart. It rocks and he swallows hard.
“You okay?” I ask before stepping on.
He nods his head a few times and I feel like the worst mom-in-training at this point.
“Finally,” the kid groans.
I disregard him, still wishing I hadn’t said what I did. This mom-in-training gig is hard work.
The man brings down the bar and Brady slides his legs as close to the seat as he can.
“It’s okay.” I hold his hand tight with mine.
He nods, but says nothing. The strong and silent type.
The ride moves and the jackass kids behind us holler and rock their seat.
“Let your momma swing it, baby,” the kid continues to razz us.
