by J. L. Berg
But now, I saw him for what he could be—in the life I thought had been so perfectly planned out.
It scared me.
It thrilled me.
It made me feel alive.
His fingers slid down my hip and anchored to the back of my knee, pulling my leg around his body. I felt him everywhere, as I pushed against his hard length.
“I want you inside me,” I begged.
“God, yes,” he answered before pausing. “I don’t have any condoms.”
“I’m on birth control, and I was tested after—” I didn’t bother finishing.
He nodded. “I’m clean, and it’s been—well, it’s been a really long time.”
Our eyes met as he slowly guided himself into my slick core. Every inch was like a shock wave to my system, stirring deep moans from my lungs.
“I love that sound,” he groaned.
Our hip bones met briefly before he pulled out slowly, letting our bodies grow accustomed to each other.
“Fuck,” he cursed. “You feel so good.”
In and out, he set a slow, sensual rhythm at first, rocking his hips so that his body would hit my clit at just the right angle. I cried out in pleasure, completely lost in my passion.
Hands gripped my hips, and I was pulled upward until my body was seated on his lap. With his legs folded underneath him, he moved me up and down on his throbbing cock.
The friction, the heat, the rawness was too much. My hands wrapped around him, and I dug my nails into his back, crying out as my body quaked with release. His movements sped up as I continued to orgasm, my body tightening around him like a vise.
“Shit!” he cried out as he slammed into me from below.
Harder, faster, deeper—it was all I felt, and it was divine. My head fell into the crook of his shoulder as I matched each power thrust with enthusiasm. Suddenly, he tensed as a low masculine moan escaped his lips. His arms encircled my waist, and he held me close as he came, long and hard. My fingers wove into his sandy colored hair, and I smiled as he rested his head on my chest.
“Still think cookies are better than orgasms?” he asked.
I felt his lips curl into a grin against my damp skin.
“Cookies suck,” I answered.
“Good answer.”
~Jackson~
I’d been awake for hours, watching the way her skin looked under the moonlight and the rising sun. I’d studied the curve of her hips and the tiny freckle on her right shoulder. My fingers ached to trace the delicate pattern of her tattoo as it disappeared down her back. I’d memorized the exact color of her hair and the way it looked while fanned across her naked chest.
When I’d realized my infatuation with Liv had more to do with attraction and less to do with wanting to duel with my annoying new neighbor, the thought had scared me. It’d shocked me actually.
Falling for a neighbor had many risks. What if it didn’t work? Would one of us have to move? Or would we have to build a giant fence or schedule outside time so that we didn’t have to see each other on a regular basis?
But falling for the neighbor when my child seemed to be doing the same was even riskier. I’d walked into this knowing that it wasn’t just me who could end up hurt and alone.
My son, the most important person in my life, was falling for Liv just as hard as I was. Having never had a mother, the role always fascinated him. He’d spend time at friends’ houses and come home to tell me stories, like how Brian’s mom had baked him a cake or built forts with them in the living room. He never made me feel like I wasn’t enough, but I knew there were certain things I’d never be able to replace.
A mom’s hug just felt different, and no matter how hard I tried, I could never duplicate that.
It was only natural that he’d be curious about the first woman I’d shown genuine interest in.
I’d allowed their relationship to blossom and develop naturally, without interference, hoping that ours would do the same.
As I’d walked into Liv’s bedroom last night, I’d found a woman who was ready to take the next step.
She might still have reservations or need time to come to the same inevitable conclusion I’d already reached, but there was one thing I knew for certain.
Olivia Prescott was mine—forever.
Convincing my free-spirited hippie girl that she was taken for good might be challenging.
I grinned as my fingers wove through her raven hair, thinking of how much fun I was going to have convincing her.
“Good morning,” a sleepy voice said, her eyes peeking up at me.
“Hi.”
“Have you been awake long?”
“Yeah, just watching you sleep.”
“Normally, I would find that creepy, but on you…it’s kind of hot.”
“Everything is hot on me,” I replied with a wink.
“I know,” she purred, rising up onto her knees. The sheet and blanket fell away from her waist, exposing her beautiful tanned skin.
“You’re so damn gorgeous.”
“So are you,” she answered, crawling into my lap to straddle me.
My hands skimmed up her back and down to grip her ass.
She lifted her body, and I positioned myself at her slick entrance just as a cell phone went off.
“Ignore it,” I commanded.
“I can’t. It could be Leah calling about Noah,” she said.
“They have my number.”
“And where is your cell phone?”
I looked around the room to the pile of clothes, and I honestly couldn’t remember whether my phone was in there or not.
“Exactly. It will only be a second. Let me just check who it is.”
She reached over my shoulder and grabbed her phone, giving me a momentary nice view of her breasts before they were pushed against my face. I stuck out my tongue and licked the tip of her nipple, causing her to yelp.
The yelp quickly turned into a gasp.
“Liv?” I said, looking up to find her turning white with panic. “Liv, what is it? Who is it?”
She held out the phone. “It’s my dad.”
~Liv~
The phone went silent as I stared down at it, wondering if it had all been a mistake. My sexy time with Jackson now interrupted, I climbed off of him, and instead, I cuddled up next to him. He pulled the covers around us, and his arms enveloped me, making me feel safe and secure even though my heart was racing and my mind was panicked.
“Do you think he meant to call me?”
“You think it was an accident?” he asked.
“Well, it’s been eight years.”
My phone chirped, and I nearly jumped off the bed. Jackson’s warm touch calmed me as I held the phone in front of me once more.
I had one new voice mail.
My heart went into double-time.
“Are you going to listen to it?” he asked softly.
“I don’t know,” I answered honestly, staring blankly at the screen.
I felt his eyes on me, watching and waiting. Pulling my head closer, he kissed my forehead and smoothed down my hair. He cupped my chin, and his gaze met mine.
“I’m going to go take a shower and give you some time to think. I’ll be here if you need me.”
I nodded. “Thank you.”
Without asking, he always seemed to know the difference between when I needed him and the times I just needed a bit of space.
Right now was one of those moments when I needed space.
I stared back at the phone while the sound of his footsteps against the wood floor filled the quiet room. The shower kicked on, and I heard the old pipes groan to life.
One new voice mail.
I looked at the words on the screen again, still unable to believe that with a quick press of a button, I would be able to hear my dad’s voice again. I’d heard it over the years on the news and radio as he’d conducted campaign speeches and live interviews, but it never sounded the same. He always sounded so formal and professional.
This time, when I heard him, he’d be talking to me.
What would he say? Was he sorry? Did he regret the choices he’d made? Or maybe my parents just needed something? After all this time, perhaps they just needed an organ donor or wanted to write me out of the will.
I huffed out a large breath of air, trying to find the courage to listen to that fateful message. I knew one thing. Once I did, things would somehow never be the same.
Perhaps my life was better not knowing. What if it were bad news? Surely, not knowing was better than the truth.
Finally making a decision, I hit the button and held the phone up to my ear. Tears stung my eyes when his familiar deep voice came across the airwaves.
“Hey, Livvy,” he greeted, taking a deep breath before continuing. He sounded older and tired maybe, but it was him. Not the politician or the great man of Virginia, it was my dad.
I blinked away more tears as I listened to what he had to say.
“I know it’s been a long time, and I know we have a lot to make up for, but your mother and I would like to extend that olive branch we’ve been too stubborn to give until now. I know what has happened between us can’t be fixed in a day or even months, but give us one dinner. Just one to start, and we’ll go from there. You know how to reach us. I love you, Livvy Lou.”
I listened to the message two more times, feeling my heart tighten in my chest when he referred to me by my childhood nickname. Much like Jackson’s grandma calling him Jax, my father was the only one who had ever referred to me as Livvy Lou. I hadn’t heard anyone call me by that name since I was in college before I’d left home for the last time.
This phone call was everything I’d ever hoped for. Hearing his voice, those words, was exactly what I’d been thinking of since the moment I realized how lonely and scary a world without my parents could be. While living a life of privilege, I’d dreamed of being on my own and fending for myself. I’d had aspirations that didn’t include the chosen path my parents had set forth. But sometimes, looking at the world through the rose-colored glasses of a charmed life didn’t give an accurate description of what the real world would actually be like.
I’d spent months adjusting and acclimating myself to what others would describe as a normal existence. I’d never been grocery shopping or done my own laundry, and I most certainly had never lived on my own. By the end of the first month, crying myself to sleep had become routine. There had even been a low period when I considered crawling back home and begging for forgiveness.
But I’d slowly realized that I was doing it—living the life I’d always wanted. It might not have been perfection, but it was mine. The student loans, shoestring budget, and years of barely making it—it was all mine. And wasn’t that what growing up was all about?
It just would have been nice for my parents to see what I’d accomplished all on my own.
I guessed now was my chance.
~Jackson~
Turning the faucet off, I stood in the shower and let the water drip slowly from my body. Silence echoed through the room as I reached for the towel I’d slung over the side.
Had she called him back already? Or was she still staring at that phone?
Leaving her like that had been difficult. I’d had to physically fight myself on it.
But I had begun to learn the many sides of Liv, and her need for independence was one of them. She was courageous, fierce, and strong-willed. The last thing she needed was a clingy, overly dominant partner who barked orders and made her feel inferior. I wanted us to be equals, and that meant giving her the space she needed even when I wanted to do the opposite.
Drying off quickly, I wrapped the towel around my waist and ran my hands through my unruly tawny brown hair, not bothering to brush it. It tended to do its own thing when it got too long, and I was desperately in need of a haircut.
I stepped back into the bedroom and found Liv in the same position I’d left her in. The blankets were pulled up to her chin, and she was curled into a tight ball in the center of the bed. She looked small and fragile, such a contrast to her usual self.
“They want to have dinner with me,” she simply stated, her eyes still trained on the ceiling.
I stepped forward and joined her, sitting on the side of the bed. “Did they say why?”
“Olive branch.”
“What?” I asked in confusion.
“They’re offering an olive branch. I guess they want to start over,” she said with a shrug, her gaze finally meeting mine.
“What are you going to do?” I asked hesitantly.
“I think I’m going to call them back and say yes,” she answered.
“Are you sure?”
Her eyes rounded slightly, and she sat up, snugly pulling the sheet around her body. “You don’t think it’s a good idea?”
“I just don’t want you to get hurt, Liv.”
“I won’t,” she said adamantly.
“You’re already hurting. You have been for eight years. I wouldn’t be able to stand to see them drive that sword in further.”
Her eyebrows furrowed together in frustration. Standing now, she began to pace across the floor. “It’s not your decision,” she snapped.
“Sweetheart,” I said softly, moving to stand behind her. I kissed her left shoulder, just over the spot where the bright orange floral design started. “I will support whatever decision you make. Please don’t take this the wrong way. I just want you to be cautious, that’s all. He’s running for president. Try to lead with your head, not your heart, okay?”
She leaned back into me, and I felt her body relax.
“Okay,” she agreed.
“Now, where are we going to dinner?” I asked.
She turned around, a surprised and amused expression on her face. “We?”
“Well, yeah. I think your old man should meet your boyfriend.”
“Boyfriend? I don’t remember ever calling you that.” She smiled.
“Well, the next-door neighbor you like to fuck is a mouthful—literally—so I paraphrased.”
Her mouth dropped before laughter filled the air. I pulled her into my arms and softly kissed her lips.
“He’ll recognize you,” she warned, stating the obvious.
“Yes,” I answered. “It will be fine. Olive branch, remember?”
“I guess I have a phone call to make,” she said, nodding.
I agreed and followed her back to the bed as she picked up her cell phone and dialed her father’s number. A few seconds later, I heard her name being said quietly on the other end.
“Hi, Dad,” she replied. Her breathing was deep and slow as if she intentionally had to do so. “Look,” she replied, apparently cutting him off, “we can catch up soon. I just wanted to call and say yes to dinner. Anytime this week is fine.” She looked up at me for confirmation, and I nodded. “Text me the location, and make the reservation for four. I’m bringing someone.”
She ended the call and turned to me, letting out a deep breath that she must have been holding for far too long.
“Want a milkshake?” I remembered that night in the diner when I’d sworn I’d always be there to remind her of happy days when the rough ones came along. I thought today was one of those days.
“Can we get Noah first?” she asked.
Smiling, I nodded. “Of course. You just have to tell me where he is first.”
“Deal.”
~Liv~
What did one wear to a dinner like this?
What outfit said, I’m all grown up, and I did it without any of your money or help?
I looked at my closet, full of vibrant hues and rich tones, and my shoulders slumped in defeat.
Right now, I felt anything but grown up. I felt much more like the twenty-year-old college girl I’d left behind—the one who sat on bare floors because she was too scared to spend any money on furniture, fearing she might never get a job, and the one who spent weeks and months hoping to see her father on her doorstep, begging her to come
home. But he never did, and that young girl had eventually stopped looking out the window for a man who wasn’t coming. She’d found a job and carved out a tiny piece of the world for herself—without anyone else to help her.
It was amazing how one call could reduce eight years to nothing.
My phone buzzed on the nightstand near my bed, pulling me from my spiraling thoughts. Moving quickly, I nabbed the phone, saw Jackson’s name, and smiled.
“Hello?” I answered.
“Let me guess. You’re standing in front of your closet, trying to decide what to wear?” His baritone voice made my mood instantly lighten.
“How did you know that?” I asked.
“Did you know,” he started, his voice growing deeper, “that our rooms are directly across from each other? And right now, your curtains are wide open. Nice bra by the way.”
I laughed, looking immediately out the window, and I saw him standing there in nothing but a pair of tight boxer briefs. With one arm above him, he leaned against the window frame, holding his phone against his ear with his free hand. It was a good look, and I couldn’t help but step closer.
“I forgot the master bedrooms in these houses faced each other. Mrs. Reid always kept her curtains shut. She liked her afternoon naps,” I commented with a grin.
“I’m much more partial to the view.”
“It’s not so bad from this side either.”
“Take off your bra,” he commanded, “and grab that chair you have in the corner. You’re going to give me a show.”
My stomach clenched in anticipation. I normally hated being ordered around in the bedroom, but with Jackson, it was thrilling.
Grabbing the chair in front of my antique vanity, I positioned it in front of the window and took a seat. Ever so slowly, I made a show of unhooking my bra and letting the black lace fall down, revealing my full breasts.
“Now, the panties, Liv,” he growled.
Still holding the phone to my ear, I stood and pulled one side of my thong down and then the other until they fell to the floor.
“Good. Now, sit back down. I want to watch you touch yourself, over and over, until you’re screaming out my name.”
“So bossy,” I teased.
