The calluses of his fingers scratched my skin just right, his lips and stubble tickled my face, and the unspoken message caressed my heart.
I was a poor girl in a rich person’s world. Did I really think I’d end up with the stand-up, conservative lawyer type? No, they only wanted me for a quick lay. Like the guy back at the lawyer meet-and-greet. But Jake was different.
He was a tough guy, rough around the edges, but he wasn’t the bad guy he believed himself to be. He was gentle and kind, especially when no one was looking. He was like the quarter you found lying on the ground. Dirty, but the best-found money after you shined it all up, the state you’d been missing in your coin collection. Maybe Wisconsin? Or Kansas? The one damn quarter you’d been looking for everywhere, but had no idea it would turn up in the puddle next to your boot on a rainy day.
Jake tugged at the zipper on my boot, sliding the left one off and then the right. I slipped off my stool into his arms and soon found myself spread out on the couch, Jake shimmying my jeans off. He kicked off his shoes, throwing them in the corner, and slid my underwear to the side.
When he brought his mouth to the edge of my thong and breathed in, I whimpered. “Jake,” came tumbling out of my mouth in a hoarse whisper.
“I got you, Aly-cat,” he said, and then brought the tip of his tongue to my spot. The spot. With a firm grip on my hips, holding me in place, his mouth assaulted my folds, his tongue dug deeply and he paid special attention to my clit. When I tried to lift my hips, he wouldn’t allow it. “Take all of it, Al. Come hard,” he mumbled, his mouth barely leaving me.
I brought my hand to his hair and tugged. He kept threatening to buzz it like I’d seen in old photos of him, but he didn’t.
“Harder,” he demanded, and I pulled his hair with more force. Locks of his hair were tickling my hip bone, and I gathered those and yanked. He never let up, the soft cotton of his shirt rubbing my inner thigh, his tongue on an all-out assault of my clit—a good kind—and his fingers digging into my hip.
When I came apart, his name ripped from my throat and reverberated around the room. In that moment, my whole world was this man, a diamond in the rough who taught me how to bowl and . . . how to live life.
“Good, baby?”
He sat me up and kissed me, his mouth tasting like me down there. I’d thought I would mind the first time it happened, but there was something strangely erotic and intimate about it. He pulled away to rip his shirt off, exposing his broad chest, mostly smooth and hard with a small smattering of hair.
“Suck me a little before I get inside you.”
It wasn’t a question but more of a gentle demand. His tone was rough, but his blue eyes were full of something more passionate—warmth, caring, a touch of tenderness. It was such a weird dichotomy. To be aggressive in bed—or on the couch—but the motivation behind it all sensitive or something touchy-feely. I couldn’t exactly make sense of it, but I liked it.
Getting on my knees, I undid his jeans and quickly pulled them off. He turned to the couch and sat down, his erection reaching for me. Straining for me. I stayed on my knees and dipped my mouth to his length. I licked him from tip to base and back up, stopping to suck on the tip and taste his pre-come before taking the same path again.
“Suck it, Aly.”
I brought my mouth around the top and took in as much as I could. He bunched my hair in his hand and guided my head. The pace was slow at first, and I dragged my tongue along with my mouth up and down.
“Scrape me with your teeth. Lightly,” he said, his voice almost hurting with want.
I allowed my teeth to softly graze him, and a loud rumble made its way from his chest. We stayed like that for a while, me teasing him with a delicate lick or nip, and softly sucking his dick, until he nabbed my hair a touch harder.
“Suck me harder. Hard.” He led the faster pace and knew exactly where to halt me before I gagged. “Jesus, fuck, does this feel good. I don’t want to blow, though.”
I rested my mouth at his tip, swirling my tongue at the hole, a tiny bit of salty substance seeping out.
“Come here.” He guided me to his lap, holding me above him as desire coursed through my body. When I hesitated, he whispered, “I’m clean.”
“I’m on the pill . . . to regulate—”
I didn’t have time to finish. Jake brought me down on him quickly, filling me up and making me whole in a way I’d never dreamed about. Even when I’d sat daydreaming in the corner while my mom cleaned the mansions, or when I stayed up late studying in graduate school, I never dreamed of needing a man in the way I’d come to need Jake.
With him, I wanted to live.
He guided my hips faster, lifting my pelvis and pulling me back down on him, his quads doing all the work as his mouth sucked on my breasts, one after the other. A second orgasm built inside me and I panted as I tried to move with him. When he circled his hips, hitting me in the G-spot he’d found so easily, I shouted. I didn’t even know what came out of my mouth, but it didn’t matter. I was floating, soaring, flying . . .
Living.
We fell into a tangled heap together on the couch until Maverick whimpered. Jake got up to let him pee and said, “Stay there. Don’t move. I’m going to clean you up as soon as I get back.”
I must have dozed off because the next thing I remember was being half-asleep when Jake got out of bed early the next morning to go work out.
Sadly, I didn’t get a chance to see Jake for the next few days. I even missed bowling night. My mom had taken a turn for the worse and between running to check on her and keeping up with work, I was spent. Jake was so sweet, texting every few hours to check in on me, sending Mom a matching hydrangea to the one he’d sent me, even offering to visit her with me.
I didn’t want him to see my mom like she was or my face when I was visiting. Most of the time, it was tearstained from staring at my mom with a feeding tube. The thin piece of plastic tubing now wound over her face and disappeared into her nose, tan-colored liquid pumping through it to keep her body alive. Over the past weekend when I’d been busy falling for the guy, she’d given up eating.
Guilt took up residence in my heart and lungs. Right next to love—or lust?—whatever it was that I felt for Jake.
Barry kept giving me weird glances at work, as if he was worried about me. I’d kept the whole thing about my mom to myself. I couldn’t afford to have him think I’d dropped the ball on the case, so I plowed forward.
Like now, I sat in my mom’s dreary room studying my case notes as she rested, her eyes closed. I was going over holes in the case when Jake texted.
JAKE: I’m outside, let’s go! Time to eat and relax.
I didn’t answer. Instead, I tossed all my crap in my bag and ran out the front doors, reveling in the fresh air and fading sunlight of late afternoon. And Jake.
Seeing him in his usual ragged jeans with a white dress shirt made my blood pulse and my heart beat harder. The sleeves were rolled up, revealing his corded forearms and tanned skin. His hair was slicked back, still wet from the shower, and I knew it would fall all around his face when it dried, and I’d want to push it away from his blue eyes. He was stunning, handsome, rugged, tough, and oh so sweet.
“Hey! You didn’t have to do this,” I said, feeling totally out of place in my black leggings and oversized sweater next to this Greek god.
“Yeah, I did.”
He opened the truck door for me and helped me up, his hand riding up my leg and pulling away my sweater, then pinching my rear. I smiled to myself.
“Hungry?” he asked.
I didn’t get why he saw himself as so evil. He’d been a young kid, and I wasn’t sure who had convinced him of his guilt. The babysitter? Although I could never imagine someone doing that to a kid. Jake had explained when we’d talked over the weekend that Shirley had been an alcoholic back then and drinking heavily. Still, it didn’t make sense.
“Yeah, I’m starving,” I said, turning toward him as he pulled ou
t of his illegal parking spot.
“Where to?”
“Can we do something easy, casual? The diner?”
“Sounds perfect.” When he directed his smile toward me, my heart thawed and started to beat normally again, something it couldn’t seem to do when I was in the nursing home. Then something struck me hard.
“Wait!”
Startled, he braked and turned to me, leaving the Hummer stopped in the road.
“Don’t be mad,” I said quickly, “but I just need to say that even though my mom is lying in there dying, when I see her face, I see peace. Somehow over the years, she learned to forgive herself and my dad, and I guess the guys involved with his death. I know it’s messed up, but I think she figured she needed to live her life and move on.”
Jake frowned at me and said, “Aly,” in that warning tone of his, the one he used when I pushed him too far.
“No, listen. I didn’t think I wanted to live my life until I met you, and now I do. I want you to want to live too, Jake.”
He pressed his lips together as he tightened his grip on the steering wheel, his knuckles whitening as he stared at them. “I’m trying, Al. But this is no quick-fix thing. I’ve been carrying this for a long time, and sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever be able to get past it. You got to understand that.”
I love you. Do it for me. You can let go. Those words were all there ready to roll off my tongue, but they didn’t. Jake was still hurting, and I didn’t want him to do anything out of guilt.
After all, he’d already found me a new apartment and given me a dog. It was enough. I couldn’t beg him to love me.
Still concerned, I decided to drop it for the night. Time would make it easier to share my true feelings.
“I do. I do, Jake.” I squeezed his rock-hard thigh and he nodded.
Someone had finally pulled up behind us and tooted their horn, so Jake glanced in the rearview mirror and gave an apologetic wave as he stepped on the gas. “I let Mav out,” he told me, a smile brightening his face.
“Thanks. The poor guy probably misses me. Maybe we should go home?”
“Can’t. I promised Roman I’d bring you by.”
“Roman? Ha!”
“I was in for lunch yesterday, and I may have mentioned you.”
“Really?” I smiled as I perked up.
“Yep. Asked him if he remembered that tight piece of ass who was in with the stiff lawyer a few months back.” The corners of his mouth turned up in a smirk.
“Jake!” I yelled and punched his arm, not really making any difference. The guy was a brick wall. Except inside.
We rode in comfortable silence, listening to music as we crossed the bridge and headed through the tunnel to the southern suburbs. I was a regular world traveler these days.
As the Hummer sailed along on the parkway, Jake gave me a mischievous grin and put on the song.
“Ugh, stop it with that!” I shouted as I hit the STOP button.
He chuckled loudly, his laughter radiating through the vehicle and my heart.
I took over the radio, and this time Journey blared through the speakers. Jake hummed and I sang most of the way to Roman’s. When we got out, the sky was beginning to fill with clouds.
“Let’s go, before you get all wet. I hear cats don’t like that.” He gave me a quick wink and slipped his arm around me, guiding me to the door. Tucked under his chin, I felt safer than ever.
When we ran into the restaurant, Rome saw us and rushed out of the kitchen area, grabbing me and squeezing me tight. “I didn’t believe it! This guy here snagged you up!”
His voice bellowed around the small dining room, but everyone was too busy eating and drinking to notice. Embarrassment swept over me nonetheless, but Rome ignored it.
“I like my lawyer and all,” he said with a wicked grin, “but I’d rather hire you! Although it’s a good thing for me that I don’t need one,” he added with a wink.
Rome tossed his arm around me and led me to a corner table near the window where we could see the tiny lights twinkling along the lampposts along the sidewalk outside. This was a neighborhood where everyone looked out for each other, kissed their spouses hello at night and good-bye in the morning. It was a place where kids grew up without worries. The type of community I’d never seen myself a part of, let alone going on a date in, yet here I was.
The server ran out all kinds of protein for Jake—his regular order, obviously—and a special dish for me, compliments of the chef.
Over dinner, we made small talk. Jake asked a little about my mom, but the subject depressed me and I didn’t feel like saying much. Chatter and the scent of garlic and herbs swirled through the room. Once our entrées were done, we shared a dessert. Well, Jake had a bite, and I ate the rest.
“You’re fattening me up so I have to join your gym!” I protested.
“Never,” Jake said, spooning some tiramisu into my mouth. As I chewed, trying not to moan at its goodness, he swiped a little whipped cream from the corner of my mouth with his thumb.
We stared into each other’s eyes, our emotions on the rise, but my words caught in my throat. Jake also looked like he wanted to say something, but nothing came out. The awkward moment stretched out as I sat there, my feet sweating in my boots, my hands tingling under the table, my heart galloping at an unsteady pace.
Say something, Jake.
But he didn’t.
After he paid our tab, we kissed and hugged Rome, then headed for the exit. As we swung open the restaurant’s front door, the clouds broke, letting loose a heavy downpour.
Jake grabbed my hand and we made a run for it, but as we got close to the truck, he stopped and picked me up in his arms and kissed me, allowing us to get soaked.
It didn’t matter; I was already drenched with unspoken feelings. I cared for this guy. I was letting him in—one meal, one kiss, one act of kindness at a time.
Easing me down his tight body, he whispered in my ear, “Be my Aly-Cat.”
“I am. I am, Jake.”
My feelings for him had grown so strong in the last few weeks. Jake wanted so badly to be good to me, to take care of me, but strangely I felt I needed to strap on my cape for him, be his protector.
For him, I would be strong, like I was at work. And for a few minutes every day, I dreamed of enjoying a lifetime with Jake, of having a life with him. I deserved that, I thought. Or at least to imagine it.
Jake
I was speeding to therapy. It had been two weeks since I’d last seen Dr. Wells, and I knew we would have to discuss Aly. Part of me didn’t want to. I liked having her all to myself.
We were going on three weeks seeing each other and had slipped into an easy routine. I knew she wanted more but was letting it go my way, allowing me to call the shots, taking my temperature at every turn. It was all too easy.
I think that was what scared the fuck out of me, and precisely why I needed to chat with Dr. Wells. An easy routine never lasted for me; something always happened to screw it up. Shirley babysitting us had been an easy routine that went bad. Camper working for me and ending up in my bed had been another easy solution gone bad. The carnage was all on my hands. I’d been a fool in both circumstances.
I should let Aly alone, but I couldn’t. Like baseball in college. I couldn’t let it be and ended up injured, unable to play.
But Aly and me together felt too good. Every few nights, we’d meet up for dinner and then stay at either her place or mine. She was busy with that fucking ridiculous case—why she was protecting that fuck-face I didn’t know—and she was a little more secretive than I would have preferred. She didn’t say much at all. The dude had been on the lam, and now he was stuck in his apartment with an ankle bracelet. Why the fuck wasn’t he back in jail? Apparently, he held some trump card and Aly—Aly!—had made some deal on his behalf.
I tried not to let it bother me because she continued to put up with my shit. Whenever we stayed together, she accepted being disturbed by an early-as-fuck
alarm and waking later to an empty bed. She didn’t try to make me stay or get all silly sad over my early-morning routine. It didn’t go unnoticed.
I was trying to respect her boundaries, the way she respected mine.
This past Sunday, I took her to see my new site. You would have thought I’d taken her to the top of the Empire State Building or the Great Wall of China. She was so thrilled to see the gym floor being laid, and oohed and aahed over the locker rooms. Her genuine interest and excitement made me feel like Jay Z or Tony Soprano or some tough guy like that. I felt like a real somebody when I was with Aly.
“This is so spectacular! I need to join a gym,” she’d said, teasing me, and I’d kissed the shit out of her right in front of the guys working overtime.
After we’d toured the whole place, we went for a ride with Maverick out to one of the state parks. We took a long walk in the woods, her hand in mine, the dog bouncing all over the place at the end of his leash. A few times, we stopped to kiss, touching our lips together gently at first, and then always ending up in a mad frenzy. About a mile and a half into the trail, silence fell around us except for the occasional bird chirping or small animal scurrying up a tree, and I pushed Aly up against a tree.
She’d been wearing these tight-as-hell dark blue yoga pants that fit to each and every curve, caressing her ass and quads. The weather was pretty chilly that day, so she’d had one of those big chunky sweaters on over a skimpy tank top, and I couldn’t help it. I reached over and pushed it off her shoulder, revealing her cleavage and round tits. I kissed her hard, exploring her mouth ruthlessly before I leaned over and kissed a trail down her neck, over her collarbone until I settled on the top of her mounds. My tongue ran laps over the luscious skin, making its way to her even more delicious breasts. I took my thumb and rubbed it over her hardening nipple, and her moan filled the air.
The dog had lost interest in us and fallen asleep at our feet, so I dropped his leash and slipped my hand into her pants, thrilled to discover she wasn’t wearing any underwear. My finger delved right into her already wet folds, slipping out and skimming the lips before diving back inside. One finger, then two, with my thumb on her clit. She liked that, I knew.
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