How to Fall

by Rebecca Brooks

  But that also meant that there weren’t any wrong answers, either.

  This wasn’t a classroom. It was her life. There were no rules to follow. Everything was up to her.

  It was like Blake had said in the pool. She really could get what she wanted. She just had to know what it was.

  For once that part was easy, though. Julia knew there was no option of getting attached, but she was desperate to feel him again. A persistent ache was building between her legs, and knowing that Blake was feeling the same didn’t help. Every time she looked at him, every time his fingers brushed hers, she could feel it soft and wanting, a need that couldn’t be ignored.

  They would finally be alone in the city, and she wasn’t sure how much she could hold on and pretend to be in control before she had to give up and throw herself at him completely.

  To be in a hotel room, on a bed, no need to be quiet or to worry about being seen… The thrill of being caught had added an urgency to their fucking that reminded her of everything she loved about this trip—the danger and excitement as she tried to be somebody else.

  But she couldn’t deny that now that she’d been given this last chance with him, she didn’t want any constraints. No worrying about time or other people or dirt on her hands and knees. She’d never been adventurous like this, had never done anything unconventional. She didn’t have sex standing up, or bent over, or in any way outside of a bed, lying on her back, looking up, wondering what the big deal was. It wasn’t that it had ever been unpleasant. It just hadn’t been anything special.

  Now she wanted to know what else Blake could bring to the bedroom. What would it be like to have him on top of her, as she lay back into fluffy hotel pillows and let him go to town?

  What she really wanted, she thought in the quiet darkness of the bus, was so surprising to her that she bit the inside of her cheek, wondering if she really craved what she thought she did. Did she really want to taste him, or was she telling herself that because she thought she should? It was possible that was simply something she wanted to do to check off her “Things Julia Doesn’t Do” list. Something reserved for this getaway that she wouldn’t otherwise seek out.

  But the Julia she wasn’t was becoming more and more of the Julia she wanted to be—fun, sexy, spirited, alive. She didn’t just want to give Blake a blowjob. She wanted to want it, the way she wanted sex with him, period. The full giving in she felt when she stopped thinking about what she should and shouldn’t do, whether it was right or wrong, how silly she looked, how inappropriate it was, how much she was bound to get hurt. The giving in when she wanted more and more and still more of it, until she was no longer herself—but not because she was somebody else.

  The thought of what was in store for them was making Julia’s pulse leap. In the darkness, she could barely make out the outline of Blake’s profile, resting with his eyes closed, his lips slightly open, the faint stubble down his jaw. She wondered if he was sleeping, but when she shifted against him, trying to force her reckless body to stop fixating on sex all the damned time, he opened his eyes to peek over and she felt the thrill that his gaze still had on her.

  “I thought maybe you were asleep,” she murmured, trying to keep quiet enough not to disturb the other passengers. But none of them stirred.

  “Not yet. Just resting. What were you thinking about?”

  Julia couldn’t stop a smile from escaping, even though he couldn’t see it in the dark. “You,” she whispered.

  The word hung between them, full of the longing she felt.

  “I like the sound of that,” Blake finally said. “What about me?”

  “Good things.”

  “Such as?” He held her tighter. Teasing. Playing.

  Julia glanced up the aisle. There were several rows between them and the next person, an older Brazilian woman traveling by herself. Her seat was back, and she wasn’t moving. Soft sounds came from her seat. She was definitely asleep.

  Beyond that, Julia could only make out the shapes of heads reclining back, scattered with empty seats between them. She didn’t know if anyone spoke English, or whether they’d be able to hear over the hum of the engine, which was louder in the back and drowned out their words. She decided she could risk it.

  “Such as everything I’m going to do to you once we’re in Rio,” she leaned over and whispered in his ear.

  She felt him tighten against her. She knew the effect the words had. Her own body was equally on edge.

  “Like what?” He shifted, trying to get more comfortable, trying to keep his voice low and relaxed like they were chatting about anything—sports or the weather or the waterfalls.

  Anything but how they really felt.

  Gently Julia leaned over and bit his bottom lip. That move had been the first thing she’d done that had really surprised herself, showing him that she was game and wanted more. Except that jumping in the pool with him in the first place had shocked her to her core.

  Now she felt that same power pulsing through her, flirting and teasing, building the pleasure and anticipation so that by the time they arrived in Rio, there’d be nothing to do but find the nearest hotel room and throw off their clothes.

  “Everything,” she breathed in his ear. His arm clenched around her.

  “Don’t promise a man that unless you mean it,” he groaned quietly and Julia tried not to stir as she brushed her lips against the sensitive spot on his neck. She paused, but nothing changed in the night except the subtle shifts of their breathing. The bus drove on. The night rolled by.

  “There are some things we haven’t done yet,” she whispered, sure no one was looking at them.

  Blake shifted in his seat to face her and slid his arm across her stomach, under the blanket that covered them. His fingers grazed the top of her shorts, finding the edge of her panties.

  “I know,” he whispered, his breath hot in her ear, making her want him even more. His touch wasn’t helping her calm her thoughts, but she had only herself to blame. She had started this. Now the ache between her legs was so intense, she wasn’t sure she could take it. Involuntarily she spread her thighs, sliding one leg over his.

  “There are things I want to do to you,” she said softly, trying to meet his eyes in the flicker of lights from the road and the soft spread of the moon coming through the window.

  It seemed like Blake tried to speak but all he could do was groan. Inwardly, Julia danced with delight at the thought that he wanted her like she wanted him. It wasn’t that she didn’t like giving head; it was more that she’d hardly had the occasion to practice. It always seemed so fraught with her and Danny. He didn’t want to do anything that he feared would seem degrading, or that she might not enjoy. No matter how much she insisted that she wanted to—and she did—he remained convinced that she was only doing it because she thought she had to please him. Nothing she could say would convince him that she knew her own desires and was capable of acting on them.

  They’d gotten together when they were so young, Julia realized, and he treated her like a child the whole time. Like someone breakable, who might suddenly change her mind.

  She realized later, of course, that it wasn’t only because of his fears about her. It was also his fears about himself. His fear of pleasure. Of letting go. Of enjoying her body too much. It was only now with Blake, as the night rolled by, that Julia knew how much she and Danny had both missed out on by holding themselves back. Now it was the letting go that she wanted, the loss of control, the terrified, elated surrender of their bodies that was wonderful, not wrong.

  She had given Blake her body, had taken him inside her, had felt the pleasure pushing through her so strong it made her scream. She wanted to see how far they could go together, how they could push each other. She wanted to know what he would feel like in her mouth, taste like on her tongue. Under the blanket, she spread her legs wider for him.

  They were resting side by side like any two people sitting on an overnight ride, but underneath, Blake’s hand w
as moving. Slowly, imperceptibly, he undid her button and slid her zipper down. She glanced up at him, at his smile, and leaned her head back in the seat. His hand slid under her panties, his knuckle grazing her open fly. She worked her shorts down slightly over her hips, enough to give his hand free reign. Her clit jumped immediately to greet him. Once she had been so shy, so difficult to find, but it was hard to feel anything but open with Blake. He exhaled at her wetness and kissed her ear, sliding in, sliding out, forming the small circles that made her hips dance.

  Julia lay back and closed her eyes. She felt nothing but the night wrapping her in darkness and the fine pressure of joy that snaked all the way up her belly, her spine, down her limbs, straight to her heart. Blake had found that perfect spot that kept her at his mercy, and he was working it with a steady, even rhythm, down the sensitive side and over the top, fast enough to build her pleasure, slow enough to make her toes curl.

  Her thighs tightened, her leg pressing down on his. Her breath caught and she exhaled, then held her breath again. She gripped the side of the seat, eyes pinched shut, trying to keep her breathing quiet and even. Like someone sleeping, even though she was very much awake.

  The circle of pleasure tightened and tightened until it was a pinprick at the very tip of her clit. It felt as though time stood still, the bus stopped moving, her heart stopped pumping, and she floated away. The darkness took her and she gave herself to it. For one brief timeless second she was a drop of water hurtling over the edge, suspended.

  And then she crashed.

  Into the rocks, into herself, into the night, and into Blake’s hand.

  He kept circling, vigorously now, holding nothing back as she tightened and jumped against him. Her legs clenched, she held her breath, and she came so hard and so silently it felt like everything turned inward, the waves redoubling on themselves, the pleasure so hot it was searing.

  He worked his finger over her clit as the waves came, and when she finally subsided, slack in the seat beside him, he cupped his palm gently over her. She could feel the heat radiating as her pulse leaped between her legs.

  After a while, she lowered her leg down from where it had been draped over him and he slid his hand out, resting it on her belly. She rolled her head to one side, trying to keep her breathing steady like she was sleeping. Trying not to keep smiling into the night.

  “Did you come?” he asked, so soft the words were more of a shape than a sound in her ear.

  She turned toward him, holding his arm, her shorts still unzipped, his hand on her hip, and tried not to look too incredulous.

  “Couldn’t you feel me?” she asked.

  “Yes,” he admitted. “But was it good?”

  She let a laugh escape. She felt lightheaded, her limbs like jelly from how hard she had clenched—and then unclenched. “I don’t think yes is a good enough answer for some things.”

  “As long as it was good.”

  She kissed him on the mouth. Slow, wet, deep. “I want you,” she whispered in his ear.

  “You’ll have me,” he assured her. “In Rio.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t wait that long.”

  Blake laughed quietly. “You’ll disturb the old lady in row seventeen.”

  Julia paused, taking the temperature of the night once again. The woman in row seventeen wasn’t stirring anytime soon.

  Julia slid her hand under the blanket. He was hard as a rock, straining against the front of his shorts.

  “Wait,” he hissed, grabbing her wrist. But Julia shook her head adamantly. If this were Danny, she would have listened. Sat back demurely in her seat. Held his hand. Done the things good girls were supposed to do instead of taking charge and taking what she wanted.

  But this wasn’t Danny. And she wasn’t the same Julia anymore.

  She strained her arm against him, and he had to work to keep her from touching him. “You can’t stop me,” she whispered. “I want to.”

  The bid for power over whether her arm was snaking down his shorts or sliding back to her side was turning her on, reminding her of how strong he was when he let go and drove his weight into her, and yet how gentle he remained afterwards.

  “I just meant wait a second,” Blake whispered, letting her hand drop onto his rock-hard cock. “Switch places so I’m on the inside, away from the aisle.”

  “Oh. I was afraid you were trying to deny me.”

  “I know better than to stand in your way.” He grinned, and in the cover of darkness they shifted places in the back of the bus. Nothing untoward, should anyone happen to see. Just a woman who wanted the aisle seat, or a man eager for the window instead.

  Would the people who saw them think they were dating? A long-term couple traveling, like Jamie and Chris? The thought was sort of exciting. Yet another way she was fooling the world into thinking she was someone she wasn’t—or at least had never been before.

  Blake settled into the window seat and she sat down where he’d been. Now if anyone looked back, they’d see only her leg visible from the aisle, not anything having to do with his lap.

  Julia wondered how much experience Blake had with these sorts of public encounters. She’d certainly multiplied her own several times over. But she pushed the thought from her mind. It didn’t matter what either of them had or hadn’t done in the past. What mattered was that they were both here, now, and that she was about to give him a surprise.

  Julia slid her hand back down his shorts, and this time he didn’t stop her. Instead he spread his legs slightly and leaned back as she had done, preparing to enjoy what was to come. She worked him out of his shorts, marveling at how bringing her to orgasm had made him so incredibly hard. She stroked his shaft, running her thumb across the sensitive tip, and then worked her hand down to cup his balls, bringing a sigh to his lips.

  “Shhh,” she whispered, teasing, flicking her tongue over his ear while she stroked him. A broad smile spread over his face, his eyes still closed.

  And then she bent over and lowered her mouth to the head of his cock standing straight up in his lap. She kept her eyes glued on his face so she could fully appreciate the look of surprise as his eyes flew open at the unexpected pressure of her tongue.

  He tried to pull her shoulder up, whispering, “What are you doing?” as he strained to see whether anyone in the bus knew what was going on.

  But if the old lady in row seventeen had stirred, it was only to sink lower into her seat as her breathing deepened in sleep.

  “You don’t have to do that, you know,” he said as he caressed her cheek.

  “I don’t have to do anything,” she said, mocking him for what he’d said to her the first time they met, when she’d tried to stop him from carrying her bags. He rolled his eyes at his own words thrown back at him. “I want to,” she whispered, just as he’d said to her.

  “Is this where I learn about your desires?” he asked, stroking her hair, reminding her how she’d called him strange that afternoon.

  “Mmm, this has been a desire of mine for quite some time,” she whispered, ignoring the fact that “quite some time” meant the two days they’d known each other—and half that time she’d been convinced she was never going to lay eyes on him again.

  But in a way, it could also include all the years she’d longed to find someone she wanted to do this to, to lick and suck and nibble and stroke with the full enthusiasm of her hands and mouth, so eager to taste there was no way she could be stopped. She’d never, ever wanted it like this. Wanted it like it was for her own pleasure, not only his. Wanted it like she couldn’t wait another second more.

  “You and me both,” he murmured, and a thrill coursed through her at the thought that he’d been wanting this, too. She lowered her mouth back to his cock, and he arranged the blanket over her. She lay down like she was his girlfriend sleeping with her head in his lap. A perfectly appropriate thing for a couple to do.

  But they weren’t a couple, and she wasn’t asleep.

  She tried to move
slowly so as not to rustle their clothes or make any sucking noises from her saliva. The constraint made it all the more intoxicating as she had to hold them both back from full-on abandon, building him up as slowly as she could until she could feel his balls straining, pushing up in her palm, begging for the warm, enveloping touch of her tongue that would make all the pressure release.

  But she wouldn’t let him, not yet. She’d never enjoyed this so much and she wanted to savor her triumph. Up and down she worked her mouth, slippery and wet. He rested his hand on her head, playing with her hair, as she got into a slow, sensuous rhythm with her mouth. Danny would never have done that, thinking it degrading even if he wasn’t pushing her head down. But the feel of Blake reaching to touch her made her want him even more, taking him as deep as she could while the wetness built again between her legs.

  As his fingers dug in her hair, she knew he didn’t have much time before he was done for. She wrapped her fist around the base of his shaft while her mouth moved over every inch of him, her tongue swirling over his swollen head each time she went up and back down. He held her tighter, pulling hard as she felt his thighs clench. He was close, he was so close, and she wanted to give it to him…

  Outwardly he hardly moved, but his cock pressed against the back of her throat and under the blanket his hips bucked—once, twice, pushing in as she sucked him deep. When he pressed gently onto the back of her head, she knew he was telling her that he was about to come, so she could decide what she wanted to do. And yes, she swallowed. And no, she didn’t care if that meant anything.

  Finally he lifted her, still careful not to make any noise. The smell, the taste, the heat of him had filled her, thrilled her, and the sight of his satisfied face as he lay back in the seat smiling and totally spent was the icing on the cake. He squeezed her hand and she rested her head on his shoulder.

  “Damn,” he whispered, brushing the hair from her face and flexing his hand from where he’d been clutching the edge of the seat to keep himself from moving.

  “This is when I ask if that was okay for you,” she whispered.