“Because I clearly overestimated my willpower.”
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning you sitting there naked is more of a problem for me than I thought. Which is on me, not you. I just…” I hissed. “Resisting you was hard enough when I didn’t know what you looked like naked, how you feel, how you taste, what you sound like when you come. Now that I’ve had that taste, it’s damn near impossible.”
She chewed on that a moment. “Why…why do you have to resist me?”
“Because I can’t have you.”
“You already have, though.”
I shook my head. “What we did in that hotel room? That was…shit, that was like getting one little bite of fresh-made key lime pie and being told I can’t have a whole piece. It was a tease.”
She frowned at me, hard. “Rhys, I wasn’t teasing you.”
I rubbed my face with one hand. “I know that, dammit. I wasn’t saying you’re a tease. You ain’t. Not at all. Far from. I’m saying, I want so much fuckin’ more with you, and knowin’ I can’t have it? It’s a tease. And it ain’t your fault.”
“What is it you want, then, Rhys?”
“I don’t think I oughta say. I’m not trying to get you to do anything you’re not ready for.”
“Maybe I am ready, though.”
I hesitated. “You say that, but are you? How do you know you are?”
“Wait, wait. You’re not even saying what it is you want that you think I’m not ready for.” She tugged her hair out of the braid and ran her fingers through it, letting the long black tresses hang over her shoulders, so it nearly covered the tips of her breasts. “This conversation isn’t fair and doesn’t make sense if we’re not clear and on the same page about it.”
“It’s about sex, Torie,” I snapped, unfairly. “It’s about the difference in what you’re willing and ready to do, and what you aren’t. It’s about how I want you, all of you. Mind, heart, soul, and body, I just fuckin’ want you, Torie Goode. And I want…I want to have sex with you.”
I shook my head. Hissed in frustration as I hunted for a way to put it strongly enough that she’d get it.
“I want to fuck you,” I said, my voice low, growling. “That clear enough for you? I want you to ride me in that passenger seat, my cock buried to the hilt inside your soaking wet pussy. I want to pull over, drag you into the grass, put you on your hands and knees and fuck you from behind until your ass shakes. I want you in a hotel bed, on your back with your legs around my waist while I fuck you and fuck you and fuck you until you beg me for a break from being fucked.”
I looked at her, gave her the full, unfiltered intensity of my gaze. “You know, when I slept in that seat there, earlier, I had a wet dream about you. Legit, I woke up with my cock hard and seconds from coming. You know what I was dreaming about? You, straddling me. Taking my cock and riding me as hard as you could. Tits bouncing, screaming my name. That’s what I dreamed about. That’s what I want.” I was worked up, emotional, hands shaking; I pulled over onto the shoulder again. “I want more than that, though. More than sex. More than fucking. I want to make love to you, Torie. I want all the emotions that go with it. I want to make love to you and never stop. That’s what I want.”
I leveled a hard, open stare at her. “And as you’ve pointed out, I got my life back in New Haven, and it’s a near-certainty you’re never coming back there. So I don’t know where the hell that leaves us, because maybe you’re content fooling around, but I’m not. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed what we did more than I’ve ever enjoyed anything in my whole damn life, and I could die tomorrow a happy fuckin’ man, because I got to experience that with you. The problem, Torie, is that the next time I get my hands on you, I don’t know that I’ll be able to stop at just eating your pussy, just getting a handjob or even a blowjob from you. I want more. Need more. And if I were to get a little of you, I’d take all of you.”
I swallowed hard. Looked away. Returned to the freeway, tires skidding on the rain-slicked pavement as I nailed the gas a little too hard.
“The problem, Torie, is that that ain’t mine to take.”
“It is if I give it to you.”
“Did you hear everything I said?” I asked. “What I said I want?”
She nodded. “Every single syllable. And yes, I’ve never experienced that so I can’t say I want those things specifically. Some of it sounds a little scary, honestly. But being with you at all is scary. You make me want things that scare me. You make me feel things that scare me. But part of all that, being scared of the things you make me feel and want is that I’ve never felt so alive as when I’m with you.” Naked, bold, eyes fiery and on mine. “So, yes, Rhys. I want those things. I want it all. I’m scared of it, yes. But I want it.” She swallowed, blinking. “What scares me the most is what you said—that you never want to stop. Because I never want to stop either. I didn’t want to stop the other morning, in that motel. I wanted to keep going. I didn’t want to tell you I’m a virgin because I knew it would scare you. Guys see virginity as this…this precious thing. They see taking it as a responsibility. As if my entire future of sexuality hinges on their performance during my first time. And I’m like, get over yourself! You’re giving yourself too much credit. Not you specifically, just men in general, guys who I’ve had experiences with that could have led to sex.”
“Other than Max?” I asked.
“Other than Max, yes. A few guys.” She looked away. “There was a cook at the restaurant. We flirted, went on a date. We kissed. That was it. Went on another date. I went home with him and we made out, and it was obvious he was assuming, naturally enough, it was leading towards sex. So I told him I’m a virgin, and he noped out of that, didn’t want any part of taking my V-card, as he called it. That’s happened two other times. No discussion, no option for me to decide what I wanted, if I was even offering, no respect for my autonomy, my will, my desires.”
“That ain’t what’s happening here, though,” I said.
“No, it’s not,” she agreed. “But you’re still scared of my virginity.”
“Yeah, I guess maybe I am, a little.”
She nodded. “I know. But I told you. I’ve given you plenty of time to think about it. And, you’ll notice, I’m still not exactly saying let’s do it right now. If I offer you my virginity, you’ll know. It won’t be in a car. It won’t be an accident. It’ll be me telling you what I want, that I want it, that I’m ready. If we get there—if, say, if—you’ll know because I’ll say it in so many words, that I want to have sex with you, that I want to go there. Your role, at that point, is to decide one thing—if you want that with me. Your responsibility, and your only responsibility, is to decide if you want to have sex with me. The consequences of it, how I feel about it, how it affects my future sexuality, that’s on me. Not you. You don’t decide that for me. If I were to offer it to you, it would be because I’ve decided you’re the man I want to experience the full totality of sex with. I’ll have chosen you.
“I trust you, because I know you’ll treat me right and make my experience a good one. And that’s all you have to do. That’s your only responsibility—do your best to make my experience the best it can be. I don’t expect fireworks and a parade and a twenty-one gun salute. I know there may be some discomfort. I also know once that initial moment is over, it’ll be amazing. Or, that it can be. And I know with you, it would be. I don’t need you to assume you’re taking anything from me.” She held my gaze, long and hard and direct. “If we were in a room, in a bed, and I told you I want to have sex with you, that wouldn’t be you taking anything. It’d be me giving it to you. So keep that in mind. And, by the way, if we were to do anything else in between, I hope you understand that I trust you to control yourself. To take what I’m offering and no more. I trust you, Rhys. I know you’re a good man. I know that no matter what you say right now, all worked up and horny and emotional about it, mixed up maybe, upset, confused—when push came to shove and we were messing aroun
d and you wanted to fuck me and I said no, I know, without a doubt, that you’d stop in a heartbeat. Because that’s the kind of man you are. And that’s why I’m even in this car with you. Why I’m so strongly considering giving you my virginity no matter what the future may or may not hold for us.”
She paused and sucked in a shaky breath.
I was just about to reply when I realized she had something else to say, so I held my tongue.
“I don’t know that we have a future together. If you even want that, if I want that. How we’d get there, considering the logistical issues standing in the way. And, yes, I have feelings for you that make me wonder if we could have a future together, and a damned good one. And that scares me. A lot. Because if I gave you my virginity, I know those feelings would multiply by like, infinity. Make it so much harder to say goodbye when that time comes. But I also think that maybe…maybe it’d be worth it anyway.”
“Torie—”
She held up a hand. “Don’t. Just think about it. Take some time and think on all that.”
Even though she was naked, I did exactly that—I thought about all that she’d said.
At some indeterminate amount of time later, she pulled her sleep shorts and a tank top out of her bag, slipped into them, not bothering with anything else.
I yawned, hard enough that I swerved, and Torie frowned at me. “My turn. I’m wide awake, now.”
“Should we stop?”
She shook her head. “Why? I got twelve hours of sleep. Don’t even need coffee, although I may stop at the next good exit and get some. We’ve got to be getting close to almost being there.”
“Our major destination is Prince Rupert. That’s where we take the car ferry to Ketchikan itself.”
She eyed me. “We.”
I nodded. “I’ve decided I’m just gonna see you all the way to your family. I’m most of the way there, so I might as well see Alaska while I’m at it.”
In an instant her face lit up. Her eyes sparkled and she smiled, and I knew I’d just made the best decision of my life.
I pulled off onto the next exit that had a gas station, and I practically ran to the men’s room and emptied my own bladder, which had been turning my eyes yellow at that point. I filled up the gas tank and then we switched places. Torie took us through a 24-hour Tim Hortons, where we got real food and a big box of Timbits. We hit the highway and headed for the northern coast of British Columbia. After eating, I realized I really was tired; the hours of driving had taken their toll. I leaned my seat back, left the lap belt buckled, tucked a spare T-shirt between my face and the door, and fell asleep.
Torie
I’d thought that once we got that hard conversation out of the way, things would loosen up. But they didn’t, not really. When both of us were awake, unspoken feelings simmered between us in the car. Chemistry and sexual tension churned in the silence.
Hours and miles passed. We traded again somewhere in the mountains of British Columbia. Drove through the day, into the next evening, living on coffee and naps and fast food.
It felt like we’d always lived this life—me and Rhys, alone in the car, hours on end. Days, and days. This was life. This was all there was.
Wanting him, not having him.
Watching him stretch in the passenger seat, arms straining the sleeves of his T-shirt, the hem lifting as he yawned, baring those abs. Seeing the bulge of his cock behind the zipper. Wanting him so much I ached. I wanted him so bad. It was more than a sexual need, more than the heavy, burning, turgid ache of needing an orgasm. This was more. This was…a need that rifled through my mere physicality and speared into my soul, into my heart, into my psyche.
I knew, after hours of driving and thinking, that I was going to sleep with Rhys.
I had to.
When he’d been telling me all the things he wanted to do to me, I’d nearly jumped him then and there. Even now, thinking about his words, the dirty promises of fucking me doggy style in the grass, the image of riding him, having him inside me as I fucked him? I needed that.
I needed to know. Him. Myself. Us, together. How it felt. I needed to know what it felt like to be filled, to be penetrated and taken…by him.
I finally saw the first sign for Prince Rupert. It had been in kilometers, though, and I wasn’t sure how that translated into miles and travel time. I mean, his Jeep had a speedometer that also showed kilometers per hour, so if I was going the posted limit of 100/kph, and the sign said 280 km to Prince Rupert, then it should take us…fuck, math was hard…two point eight hours? What was point-eight of an hour, though? Eighty minutes? Duh, no, moron. Forty minutes? Something like that. I figured it was a little under three hours to Prince Rupert.
Then we’d get a ferry, and that would end the driving for a while.
Which would be weird.
Prince Rupert was beautiful—moody, misty, surrounded by snow-capped mountains and the cleanest, freshest air I had ever smelled. The ferry was mind-bogglingly expensive, and Rhys paid the whole fare for both us and his Jeep, ignoring my offer to help pay.
We parked the Jeep on the ferry and took our cabin—a one-bed. We tossed our bags on the floor and sat on opposite sides of the bed, facing away from each other.
I lay down, first.
For a moment it was as stiff and awkward as the first moment I’d lain in a bed with him.
He finally snorted. “This is dumb.” He slid his arm under my neck, and I rolled into him, and snuggled against him. “Let’s just rest and enjoy not driving, okay?”
I nodded. “Okay.”
We slept all the way to Ketchikan, and not a single thing happened between us but sleep.
Rhys took the wheel in Ketchikan which was, easily, the most breathtakingly beautiful place I’d ever seen. I plugged Mom’s address into his phone and we ended up at a condo complex outside the downtown area of Ketchikan.
Rhys pulled into a parking spot outside the building, put the Jeep into neutral and set the parking brake. He shut off the motor. It ticked as it cooled, and the sudden silence was, somehow, deafening and oddly final.
“Well.” Rhys rubbed the back of his head. “Here you are.”
“Here we are,” I said. “That was quite a taxi ride,” I joked. “I can’t believe you’ve driven me all the way to Alaska. Well, shall we go in and meet my family?”
“Okay.”
“I’m just going to introduce you as Rhys. No commentary on the status or non-status of whatever we are or aren’t. But be prepared, Lexie will corner you, or me, or both of us, for sure, and ask prying, personal, inappropriate questions.”
He nodded. “I’d expect nothing less, after our talk on the phone.”
I let out a breath. “Okay, let’s go in.”
I grabbed my backpack and stepped out of the Jeep, and felt oddly sad that the road trip was actually, finally over.
I went to the door, pressed the button marked O. Goode. It buzzed.
A silence.
“Yes?” came Mom’s voice.
“Uh, hi, Mom. It’s Torie.”
A stunned silence. “Torie? Torie! You’re here, oh my gosh! Okay, okay, I’m coming down.”
I laughed. “Or just, you know, buzz us in and we’ll come up?”
“Us?” Another pause. “Well, I guess I’ll find out. Yes, yes, come up, Torie and unknown person.”
The door buzzed and I pulled it open. We went up and found Mom’s door, which was already open and she was standing right there.
And that was when I realized I hadn’t seen my mother in more than two years. Almost three.
I started to cry, unexpectedly.
Mom made a mom-noise, a whimper and a sigh, pulled me close and brought us into the condo. “Oh, oh, oh, come here, baby girl.”
Just like that, I was in my mom’s arms, smelling her scent, feeling her familiar arms and the enveloping comfort of her embrace.
“I guess…” I said, and then hiccupped, the sounds muffled in her shoulder. “I guess I didn�
��t realize how much I missed you until I got here.”
She kissed my temple, and just held me. I heard her sniffle. “Torie makes four. Just need one more, and my family is all here.” She kissed the top of my head. “You’re here, now, Tor. I’ve got you.”
The weight of being on my own suddenly felt like it had been too much, it had been much harder than I’d realized. A weight I hadn’t known I was carrying until I was back in Mom’s arms, feeling her, smelling her, hearing her. I knew, right then, that I wasn’t going anywhere. I’d made it to Ketchikan, and I wasn’t leaving.
But there was a man behind me, standing patiently, who’d gotten me here. With whom I had an unwritten story.
I pulled away from Mom. Cupped her cheek. “I’m so glad to be here. You have no idea.”
She sniffled, wiped a tear away from underneath her eyelid, with her middle finger, glancing up at the ceiling and blinking. “I do, Tor, I really, really do. Of all my daughters, I’ve worried about you the most. And now you’re here.”
I turned and gestured to Rhys. “Mom, this is Rhys Frost. We drove here together.” I found myself holding his hand, drawing him forward, not letting go. “Rhys, this is my mom, Olivia Goode.”
She shook his hand. “You can call me Liv.”
Rhys gave her that grin of his, bright, eager, warm, welcoming, charming. “It sure is a pleasure to meet you, Liv.”
She was assessing him, both as a woman and as my mother. Letting him have the full force of the Mom-looking-INTO-you stare, that left you feeling like she’d seen just about everything there was to see and was weighing it all.
“Thank you for helping my daughter get here, Rhys. We’ve all been worried about her, knowing she was too stubborn and independent to let us help her.”
Rhys just held the smile, not at all discomfited by her assessment, confident in who he was. “She’s a remarkable human being, Mrs. Goode, which, from where I’m standing, means you must be a hell of a woman yourself.”
Mom grinned at me. “He’s a charmer, Torie.”
A Real Goode Time Page 22
