by Kira Barker
Disbelief won over.
“You can’t be serious! How can what I say make you feel self-conscious about your body or what you do with it?”
“Pretty easily, apparently,” I remarked.
He shook his head, not accepting what I was saying.
“That’s ridiculous. I haven’t, not for a single day in my life, ever thought that you could even take me seriously. Shit, I mean, I don’t know how old you were, probably before either of us hit puberty, but even then you made it very clear that no one, least of all me, had any right to tell you what to do, and even less about your body. Even if we were married for ten years or more, I wouldn’t dare do that. How can you—“
Thankfully he stopped there, which was a good thing, or I might have started bawling right then. I really didn’t know why I was so emotional right now—PMS was normally not a thing that sent me running for tissues—but unlike with Simon, I couldn’t hide my reaction from him.
The moment I looked away from Jack and glared at my half-eaten breakfast, trying to get a grip on myself, Jack was off his stool and hugging me tightly, his arms a warm cage around me. I tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let me, and after a moment I gave up.
“Stop it. Just—“
He made a shushing noise at my protestation, but when I didn’t relax he eventually retreated to his chair, looking properly cowed. That, in turn, made me feel like shit, and I tried to dissolve the situation with much-needed levity.
“Look, I’m generally not taking you seriously. It’s just sometimes something you say gets under my skin.”
“But why?” he asked, sounding perplexed.
“Because I care about what you think of me?”
Jack looked away, shaking his head. “I don’t believe we’re having this conversation. And even worse, if this has been going on for some time—“
“Pretty much since the first time I had sex,” I interrupted him.
“Shit,” he uttered under his breath, then wrenched his fingers through his hair, annoyed with himself and frustrated. “Why did you never say anything?”
“Because then I would have felt even more stupid?”
He sighed. “But why? I’m really the last guy fit to throw stones at anyone. And while I might say a lot of shit, you know that I don’t mean it. Like when we were going for a run last week? You didn’t really believe that I thought you needed to come with me because you were fat.”
I was ready to shake my head but stopped myself, realizing that, even though I knew how he meant it, his comment still hurt, if just a little.
“I’m a woman. Of course I overthink every damn thing, and even when I know how you mean something doesn’t mean it doesn’t get under my skin. You can’t treat me like I’m just one of the guys, because I’m not.”
Now he was actually looking uncomfortable, making me want to take back that statement.
“When did this all become so fucking complicated?” he asked when I didn’t say anything else.
“It kind of always was, even if you didn’t want to see it.”
He was slow to nod, but I could see that, probably for the first time ever, that message got through to him.
“Well, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you. Just annoy you. Because that’s what I do.”
“What you do best,” I agreed, then lightly bumped my shoulder into his. “C’mon, don’t look so fucking depressed. Just as I’m almost immune to your charm, I can only take you so seriously before it gets ridiculous. And I usually don’t.”
His snort was balm on my tortured soul, although I wished I could actually make him smile.
“Still, I don’t get it. You sound almost like you were idolizing me or something?”
I shrugged. “Maybe I was? At least a little.”
“But why? You were always pretty verbal about your disapproval of the choices I made.”
“Ever thought that, just maybe, I disapproved because none of those bitches were me?”
That did make him pause, but after my admission last week, he at least didn’t look too surprised. “That explains why you disliked me sleeping around pretty much since I was sixteen. But not the idolizing.”
“That’s going a little too far,” I corrected.
“Yeah, sure,” he huffed, regaining a little of his usual larger-than-life confidence. “But I guess I can’t fault you. I am irresistible.”
He so deserved my derisive snort.
“You wish. It was likely something a lot less flashy. Like the fact that I never really had ‘the sex talk’ with anyone. Can you imagine my dad talking about sex with me?” The thought alone made us both shiver in concerted unison.
“And my mom?” he suggested.
I shrugged, the memory enough to rekindle the faint ache deep in my chest. “She tried, when I got my first period and she had to have that talk with me, too. But it was one of the occasions where it was so obvious that I should have had that talk with my mom, and even if she tried, that time she just couldn’t pick up the slack. We both ended up crying instead. Not really a good start for a fulfilling sex life.” I paused for a moment until my voice had cleared up again. “And that left me with you as the only example. It certainly made my first two boyfriends luck out and get head way before any of the other girls in our grade were putting out.”
The almost scandalized look on Jack’s face was too funny not to laugh at.
“Seriously?” he said, disbelief heavy in his voice. “I punched that Bobbie guy in the face when he told all the guys from the football team that you were damn good at it, too.”
I shrugged, still smiling. Seventeen-year-old me would have been mortified, but more than a decade later, it was easy to laugh about it. “And how does it make you feel now that it could have been you back then already?”
Now I finally got his typical grin, complete with that one-eyebrow raise he thought was so sexy. “Damn stupid. So many missed chances.”
“Maybe it gets better when you consider that Bob Miller is likely unhappily married to some cheerleader-turned-hag now, while you get as much head from me and Simon as you like? A two-for-one deal’s always better, right?”
Leaning closer, Jack threaded his fingers through my hair at the back of my neck before he leaned in and kissed me, sweet at first, but soon with increasing intensity. I couldn’t hold back a small moan, but before things could escalate, I pushed him away—and not just because we weren’t done with our talk yet.
“You have to go to work,” I reminded him.
“Screw work.”
“And I’m tired and worn out, so you’ll not get much mileage out of me right now, anyway,” I pointed out, then angled around him for a better look at the fridge where my current work schedule was proudly displayed. “How about we do something this weekend instead? I’m switching from night float to days again, so I have a window right there. Unless you have anything planned?”
He shook his head. “Nothing I can’t reschedule.”
“Awesome. Then it’s a date.”
Jack laughed, until he realized that my smile was a little too serious for that to have been a joke. “What, seriously?”
“Why not? I mean, of course we can just stay in, hang out on the couch and screw each other silly, but I wouldn’t mind being treated to a little bit of romance. You know, the part of our little triangle here where you can score massively because all that Simon ever does is leave me walking funny, while your options are pretty much endless.”
“Yeah, about that,” he started, then leaned conspiratorially close. “Exactly what were you doing that you ended up discussing fisting and he made you walk funny? Because that sounds like a lot more than just talk.”
I gave him the glare that he deserved, but realized that I was feeling a lot better about this than half an hour ago.
“Do you know that he has a magic wand stored up in the attic?”
Jack shrugged. “Figured he would. We all watch the same kind of porn.”
“Because he has a subscription and we’re cheap,” I replied, laughing.
“That, too,” he admitted, smiling himself. “So that’s the answer? A stupid vibrator?”
I shrugged. “It’s a lot more powerful than it looks. And he can be such a relentless bastard.”
Jack’s grin widened. “I’m starting to see the big picture here. Still, fisting?”
Another shrug from me.
“Must come as a terrible surprise considering how much I love having my holes stuffed?”
His snort was a sound of true beauty. “Yeah. Kettle, pot, black. That’s all I’m saying.”
“Considering it’s my vagina we’re talking about here, I’m allowed to say that. You’re not.”
“I wasn’t even going to,” he defended himself, then shook his head in truly male fashion. All that was needed now was that he’d grumble “Women!” under his breath.
“Oh, yes, you were. Admit it.”
Jack sighed and steepled his hands on the counter next to our forgotten breakfast. “Okay, yes, I admit, there are a few choice things I might have said if you hadn’t just torn me a new one.”
“Gently.”
“You could have used more lube,” he joked, then smirked. “But really, I don’t see why you’d be so damn concerned about me hypothetically wondering why you’d get off being a little stretched out and not virginally tight anymore. It’s not like you always need to do a DP using both available holes.”
Hiding my face in my hands, I groaned.
“Jack!”
“What?” he defended himself. “Now I can’t even be supportive of your endeavors?”
“That’s not supportive,” I huffed, but couldn’t hide a grin as I peeked through my splayed fingers.
Jack just rolled his eyes at me. “Not sure how else I can be supportive? My hands are larger than Simon’s—I’m sure you’ve noticed that by now if you’re secretly fantasizing about having them crammed up your snatch.”
All I could do was stare at the ceiling, unsure whether the need to laugh or slap him was winning out.
“You know, it’s conversations like this one that turn people into atheists, because if there was a divine being out there, they’d so smite the fuck out of you for that!”
“That’s why you love me,” he said, then leaned in to press a kiss onto my nose.
“Guess I must, else I’d smite you myself.”
He kept on grinning as he nudged my plate closer to me.
“Eat up. If I get to show you a good time this weekend, I need to have you at full strength so you don’t faint on me or something.”
“Just shut up,” I advised, but dug in.
Some things would never change—and right then, I was very glad about that.
Chapter 14
Jack and I played our usual game of living past each other for two more days until—finally—the weekend arrived, and I dragged myself home one sunny Saturday morning feeling like death warmed over. Considering my shifts right now—normal residency rotation with at least two extra shifts in the ER—Zoe’s proposition started to sound not just like a good in-between solution, but more like something I could live with. I’d done the same for over a year now and it hadn’t bothered me that much when I had no private life to speak of, but now each day that I couldn’t spend some quality time with the guys felt like it was kind of wasted.
It unnerved me that over the past days since Simon’s departure, this sentiment had sky-rocketed from annoyance to actual frustration.
But as I more fell than walked into the house, I knew that for the next day and a half I had Jack all to myself, and unless the city was hit by a major catastrophe, nothing would get me away from him. That thought made me grin stupidly, a sentiment that only grew as I walked into the kitchen and was already greeted by the smell of bacon.
“You’re a life saver,” I told Jack as I accosted him by the oven, snatching up a crisp strip currently cooling on a tray.
“You don’t look that famished yet,” he teased, and didn’t wait until I was done chewing before he leaned in and kissed me, the taste of bacon and Jack rather strange, but something I could get used to.
Grinning, I pulled away and plucked another strip from the rest. “Oh, you have no idea.”
He shook his head but pulled me close again, not foregoing pressing his beginning hard-on against my stomach. “Trust me, I’m getting there.”
“You’re so classy, anyone ever tell you that?”
“You, pretty much every single day,” he replied. “And still you salivate all over my goods.” He wriggled his brows suggestively, then fed me another strip of bacon. “Pancakes sound good?”
“Delicious, really. Do you mind if I hit the shower while you get busy in the kitchen?”
“Actually, I thought we could do that together. Maybe after a short run in the park?”
I sent the bacon another longing look. “Not sure I can move after we polish that off.”
“Then let’s go for a run now, shower afterward, then I cook you breakfast, and you can catch some sleep as soon as we’re done with that.”
Sleep sounded almost as tantalizing as food, but I hadn’t really had a chance to move my body properly all week, and the three cups of coffee I’d downed earlier wouldn’t let me get any good rest until they were out of my system, anyway.
“But only because I love staring at your sweaty torso.”
Jack snorted as he started herding me toward the bedroom. “If it helps, I’ll even run without a shirt on. Just shorts, running shoes, and socks.”
“Ah, white tennis socks, the sexiest garment known to man!”
Ten minutes later we hit the pavement, this time angling straight through the thinning suburbs for the trails leading into the less populated countryside. It took my body less time to give up protesting and get lost in the exertion. For the most part we ran side by side in silence, which felt strange as Jack was rarely content to shut up when he could tease me instead, but considering that I was pushing myself hard enough to be nearly out of breath when we reached the point of highest elevation in our course, it was probably for the best. On the much more relaxed way back, I finally recounted my talk with Zoe, only then realizing that I hadn’t gotten the chance to tell Simon because of our brief spat. That actually made me feel a little guilty, but not enough to intrude on my good mood.
A good mood that increased exponentially as we got back home again, as the moment the door closed behind us, Jack was on me, herding me toward the bathroom as he divested both of us of our clothes. We were naked halfway down the hallway, where he pushed my back against the wall, never minding that I likely left a sweaty print, got down on his knees and proceeded to eat me out while he kept one of my thighs thrown over his shoulder. I was still kind of sensitive after that last stunt in the playroom, so he didn’t really have to work hard to make me first sigh and moan, then bite down hard on my lip to stifle my screams, but it felt incredibly good to just grab his hair and hump his face, and not care about anything else in the world.
When we finally made it into the shower, my muscles had mostly cooled down but I was hot and bothered in so many different ways, and we pretty much resumed where we’d left off as soon as the warm spray hit our bodies. Yet, where Jack had been almost maniacal in his mission to make me come with his lips and tongue before, now he was much more relaxed, playful even, making me laugh as much as moan.
I so wouldn’t have minded if every weekend started like this from now on. And as I sat down on the kitchen island and watched Jack whip up pancakes, admiring the naked expanse of his back as he was—still—only wearing shorts, and no socks to boot, I realized that there really wasn’t a reason why that had to remain fantasy, or just a one-time thing. Sure, Simon would likely not play along if we continued to goof off like that, but then he’d probably enjoy sleeping in, happy to let us do our thing.
“I think we should do this more often,” I offered as Jack sat down beside me, wa
tching me douse my pancakes in syrup.
“We’d likely have to paint the hallway walls sooner rather than later,” he replied, doing a bad job of hiding his smirk behind food.
Rolling my eyes at him, I speared a bit of pancake. “That’s not what I meant, although I’m so not opposed to that, either. But you and me, just being us, is something that I’ve missed since I moved in here.”
Jack considered that for a moment, or maybe he was just savoring the bacon.
“I admit, now that you mention it, it’s kind of weird that since you moved in, we’re actually hanging out a lot less than before.”
“Worst month of my life,” I agreed, grinning at him over my glass of orange juice.
He sighed theatrically, then reached across the island to briefly check his phone. “Exactly how tired are you? Forecast says it’s going to get really hot today, but it’s not too late to flee the city yet.”
The bed was definitely calling to me now that pretty much all my hungers had been sated, but I wasn’t that exhausted yet.
“Why, what do you have in mind?”
“Well, there’s that lake,” he started, sharing a grin with me. “Not that lake, but a smaller one, a little closer to home. If we get on my bike now, we can be there before noon.”
“Wouldn’t it be faster and easier to go by car?” I proposed.
“Sure, but then I wouldn’t have you wrapped around me the entire way there and back again,” he remarked. “Plus, we don’t really need much as far as provisions go. Just a blanket, our swimming gear, towels, some water. I know a cozy diner that’s close by where we can get lunch if we get hungry. What do you say?”
I hesitated for a moment. Common sense should have kept me, veteran of the ER and all its wonderful accidents, away from motorcycles, but I actually loved riding with Jack, even though I was too chickenshit to get my own license. And I doubted that I’d get so drowsy as to drift off.
“Sounds great. Provided you actually let me sleep there, because I won’t hold out through the entire day and not nod off on the way back.”
“I was actually counting on that,” he replied, smiling. “I have a couple of books to finish that I started earlier this month, and I love watching you drool all over yourself, so no issues there.”
