Pants On Fire

by Lacey Black

  ***

  “Oh my god, Cricket! That’s Rueben Rigsby? He’s so…hot now!” Ashley whisper yells as she hugs me tight, her expanding belly pressing into my stomach.

  “Shhh!”

  “Seriously, sister. Those glasses and those muscles? If I wasn’t happily married with a bun in the oven, I’d totally go all Lois Lane on his ass,” she says, glancing over my shoulder and watching Rueben as he visits with my dad and Shawn.

  “Lois Lane?”

  “You know, the Superman thing? He looks one step away from ripping his shirt off and revealing a red and blue superhero costume underneath.”

  I roll my eyes, yet when I look his way, I can totally see it. He definitely has the whole Clark Kent thing going on with those plastic glasses and button-down shirt. My breath catches in my throat when he looks my way and gives me a wink and a smile before returning his gaze to my dad. “Jesus, I might have just orgasmed.”

  “What? Ashley!” I gasp and start to giggle.

  “Sorry, sorry, but these pregnancy hormones are no joke. I can’t stop wanting to bounce on my husband’s dick like a pogo stick.”

  I groan, a disgusted look crossing my face. “Stop. Please,” I beg.

  “Fine, but you just wait. When you’re finally pregnant, you’ll understand what I’m talking about. One minute, you want to claw his eyes out with a toothpick because he’s chewing too loud, and the next, you need him to bend you over the banister and make you scream. It’s a horrible cycle, fueled by hormones and annoyance.”

  I giggle a little and pull her to our table. Mom is already seated, one granddaughter on each side of her, paying us all no attention. She’s engrossed in grandma-time, and I’ll be surprised if she even speaks to us the entire meal.

  As I take my seat across from Ashley, I ask, “Oh, did you know our parents bought bunk beds?” I see Mom roll her eyes in my peripheral vision.

  “Right? How much bullshit is that? How long did we ask to get bunk beds?” she asks, grabbing her menu and staring to look it over.

  “Forever,” I confirm, squinting at my mom in annoyance.

  Rueben comes over and takes a seat beside me. “Hey, sorry, your dad was telling me and Shawn about his mole problem.”

  “His mole problem?”

  He nods. “Apparently, your parents have moles in the backyard making a mess of their garden.”

  I look over at my dad, who seems to still be discussing his pesky backyard rodent problem with my brother-in-law. “Is this what we have to look forward to when we get older? Spoiling our grandchildren and complaining about animals tearing up the backyard?”

  Rueben smirks. “Well, one day, when we have grandkids, I’m sure we’ll understand why our parents did the things they did.”

  “I didn’t mean…”

  Shit.

  “It’s okay, Cricket. I have to admit, the thought of spoiling grandkids and bitching about moles doesn’t sound so bad when you’re in the picture too.”

  There’s that familiar hammering of my heart as I take in his words. He offers me a small smile, full of reassurance and contentment before returning his eyes back to his menu. I, on the other hand, am unable to focus on any of the words in front of me. All I can think about is…grandkids. With Rueben.

  That means we’d have to have kids first.

  And that prospect actually sounds really, really…thrilling.

  Dinner goes well. My family includes Rueben in conversation, asking him about his work and place in Tennessee. When I glance over at Ashley, I can see the questions on her face and written in her green eyes. She’s wondering how we’re going to make this work when I go to California and he goes back to Tennessee. The truth is, I don’t know. I’m scared to ask, mostly because if the answer is nothing, if there’s no way to make this work, I don’t know what I’ll do. I’ll be heartbroken. I’ve come to really care about Rueben in these few short days we’ve spent together, and the thought of that just…ending, well it makes me terribly sad.

  When the empty plates are collected and the check is delivered, the guys all fight for it. Ultimately, it’s my mom that ends up with the tab and produces a card to cover the cost. “We can pitch in,” I tell her, pulling my own debit card from my wallet.

  “You will do no such thing. We rarely have the entire family at one table, and we’re not arguing over something as trivial as the check,” she says firmly before the server comes to collect the black folder.

  “Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Hill, for dinner,” Rueben says as we all start to push back from the table.

  “You’re most welcome, Rueben. We hope you’ll join us again one day soon,” Mom says, glancing my way.

  I ignore her stare and focus on pushing my chair in. I can feel her eyes on me and can only hope she can’t read the war I wage with myself on my face. It’s a horrible feeling, like floating between two worlds. The one I want and the one I have.

  Rueben places his hand on my lower back and leads me out of the restaurant. When we step outside, my nieces come over and give me hugs, Chloe promising to call me and tell me how her first basketball game goes next week. Courtlyn throws her little arms around my neck and squeezes. I promise to FaceTime her soon so she can show me her newest baby doll. My eyes fill with tears as I give Ashley a hug. A sadness pulls down on me as I think about heading back home to California. I’ve never felt this homesick before, even after I moved. Sure, I was sad and missed my family, but it’s nothing compared to the dread and regret plaguing me right now.

  When she pulls back, there are tears in her eyes too. “I love you, little sister,” she tells me.

  “I love you too,” I say, wiping at the wetness on my cheek.

  “Mine is hormones. What is your excuse?” she asks with a laugh, dabbing at her own eyes. Eyes that are the spitting image of my own.

  “I’ll miss you,” I tell her, pulling her in for one more hug.

  “Come back soon,” she whispers, giving me one final squeeze.

  “I will. I promise.”

  Shawn shakes Rueben’s hand and gives me a peck on the cheek before taking my sister in his arms and walking her and the kids to their minivan. Ashley gives me a teary wave as they pull out of the lot, a piece of my heart breaking a little more as she drives away.

  “You ready?” Rueben asks, his warm hand resting on my back.

  Unable to find words, I nod, trying to swallow the emotions I’m drowning in as my sister pulls out of sight. I slide into the back seat of Rueben’s rental, Mom on the other side and Dad riding up front. Everyone chats easily as we make our way through the familiar streets of home, but I’m too lost in my own thoughts. I never thought it would be this hard to leave, especially not after I’ve been doing it for ten years.

  But this time is different.

  This time it’s as if I’ll be leaving a piece of myself behind when I go. A piece that I may not get back. Not while I’m in California. The war continues to rage in my mind, a mixture of restlessness and melancholy. A war that just may have started the moment I saw Rueben Rigsby in that airport.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Rueben

  The moment her parents go to bed, there’s a shift in the air. It’s thick and heady with a buzz of anticipation coursing through it that I feel clear down to my toes. Cricket stares at me from across the table, practically glowing with desire and excitement. Without saying a word, I stand up and extend my hand to her. She slips her soft, delicate fingers between mine and stands, ready to follow me wherever I go.

  Funny, I’d do the exact same.

  That thought is both startling as it is thrilling.

  We head up the stairs, Cricket flipping off the light as we go. When we reach her room, I carefully shut and lock the door, that hum of eagerness palpable in the room. “I’m going to go change into my pajamas,” she says, grabbing a small bag and some clothes from her open bag and heading for the Jack and Jill bathroom between her room and her sister’s former room.

  When I’
m alone, I glance around at the room that’s the least sexy room I’ve ever been in. A bubble of guilt sweeps through me as I glance at the bunk beds used by her nieces. Oh, the things I want to do to her in those pink princess beds. Another wave of shame runs through my blood, as the door to the bathroom opens. Cricket is standing there, wearing my tan button-down from the dinner last night.

  That shame is quickly replaced with a desire to explore her body and a hard-on that won’t stop.

  “Interesting choice in pajamas,” I tell her, my eyes devouring her from head to toe.

  Cricket shrugs. “I didn’t bring enough things for a week, so I thought I’d borrow this,” she says, her hand running along the seam of buttons to where it hits mid-thigh.

  “It’s yours,” I say, need rushing through my veins and blood swooshing in my ears.

  She takes a step toward me, and then another. “That’s very generous of you,” she whispers, her hands still moving, as if she can’t stop touching the soft material of my shirt. She stands in front of me and reaches for the collar, bringing it to her nose. “It smells like you.”

  I reach for my shirt and give it a tug, her body pressing firmly against mine. My hands are anxious to explore, to feel her soft skin and her wet heat. “I can’t wait to smell you on that shirt,” I say just before my lips descend to hers.

  My hands slide down the shirt, bunching it up around her hips and finding her ass bare. I grip that unbelievably perfect ass in my hands, wishing I could feel her body, her warmth against me longer. Longer than a week.

  Forever.

  I push that thought aside and focus on her pleasure. Helping her lie on the lower twin bed, I take my position between those magical thighs. She’s already wet. I can see it, my mouth watering for a taste. Memories of her dropping to her knees before dinner flood my mind, that craving I felt to devour her pussy still very strong and alive.

  “You have to be quiet, Crick,” I tell her. “If you’re loud, I stop.”

  When our eyes meet, I see her eagerness and willingness to comply. She’s more than ready for the release I’m promising. Pushing up the tails of my dress shirt, I slowly lower my mouth to the apex of her legs, my eyes locked on hers the entire way. Her scent wraps around me, strangling my senses, as my tongue slides along her wet clit. I adjust myself on the small bed, ignoring the throbbing of my cock that begs for release too. I focus entirely on Cricket.

  Hitching her leg up and over my shoulder, I suck on her sensitive flesh and feel her buck against my mouth. She bites her bottom lip, holding back the moan of pleasure I know is hovering near the surface, begging for release. I lick and suck, sliding my tongue into her pussy and savoring the sweet taste of her.

  Placing my hands on her thighs, I spread her wide and devour her pussy. Cricket starts to shake, her thighs quivering under my hands, her inner muscles clenching around my tongue. She’s so close, and while I’d love to prolong her release a little longer, the need to experience her orgasm is too great to ignore.

  “I want to feel you come on my tongue, Crick. Come for me,” I demand just before sliding my tongue back inside her hot, wet pussy, pushing it as far as it’ll go and swirling it around.

  She detonates like a bomb, biting her lip to keep her release from waking her parents and the neighborhood. I feel her pulse and quake in my hands and around my tongue, the sensations of her release washing over me like spring rain under the desert sun.

  I run my lips over her thighs, trailing soft open-mouthed kisses over her tender flesh. Crawling up her body, I meet her lips with my own, relishing the taste of her release on our joined lips. Cricket wraps her legs around my waist, and just like that, I wish my jeans would evaporate into thin air. I sit up and hit my head on the bottom of the top bunk. “Shit,” I mumble, trying to keep my voice down.

  “You okay?” she asks between giggles, rubbing the spot on my head I just smarted.

  “I’ll be better when I get these pants off,” I tell her, wiggling to get up and out of the bed to remove my jeans. The bed squeaks the entire way, the sound like a foghorn in the dead of night.

  “This bed is noisy,” she whispers, her grin like a beacon calling me home.

  I lose my pants and boxers and grab my wallet for a condom. Thank God we stocked up with a quick stop at a convenience store earlier today. “Come down here,” I whisper as I sit on the floor, reaching for her hand. When she stands up, I take a seat and help her straddle my lap.

  Cricket reaches between our bodies and grabs my cock, stroking it a few times and making my eyes cross. Then, she lines it up with her pussy and slowly lowers herself onto it. My head falls back as pleasure shots up my spine and zaps through my veins. She’s seated completely on my lap, my body begging her to move, yet my desire wanting her to stay just like this. To not move. To savor the feel of our bodies so intimately connected.

  She doesn’t get the message, though. Cricket rises up on her knees and falls back down, grinding her hips as she takes me all the way to the hilt. “Fuck, Crick,” I groan-whisper, letting the sensations of pure indulgence sweep through me.

  “Shhh, Rueben. If you’re loud, I stop,” she says, mimicking my earlier comment.

  All I can do is hang on and enjoy the ride. I grip her hips as she controls the tempo, and really, my heart. It pounds in my chest as I watch hers rise and fall from both her breathing and her movements.

  My mouth caresses her neck, her ear, her jaw, my hands kneed the globes of her ass. Her movements start to quicken, her body taking me right to the edge of sanity. I pay no attention to our surroundings, only the way our bodies align and our breathing syncs in a steady pant of silent pleas. My fingers dig into her hips as I pump up, racing toward that sweet bliss of release.

  Then, I feel her tighten around me, her body gripping mine so hard it makes me almost blackout in pleasure. My spine tingles as I race to join in her in orgasmic paradise. I take her lips with mine, hard and bruising, as I thrust my hips up as she grinds down. I pulse, releasing everything I have into the confines of the condom tucked inside her tight heat.

  When our bodies start to slow, I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her tightly against me. Our breathing is labored and mixed until eventually, we both sag against each other, her heart pounding against my chest. My lips find her forehead as I breathe in her scent and the sense of familiarity. She’s familiar, even though I’ve only been with her hours. Days. Yet a lifetime of friendship that serves as our foundation.

  As much as I hate to, I need to get rid of the condom and she’s fading fast with exhaustion. First I help her stand, and then I help her get into the bottom bunk, pulling the pink comforter up to her chin. I slip into the bathroom and remove the condom, wrapping it in tissues to try to hide the evidence we’re leaving behind in the trash can. Using a washcloth, I clean my body, then open my shaving kit and use my toothbrush.

  When I’m done, I silently leave the bathroom and join Cricket back in the bedroom. Since I put her in the bottom bunk, I’m fully prepared to either climb that small ladder and maneuver my body into the space between the mattress and the ceiling or to just crash on the floor. That decision is not necessary when she opens up the comforter and slides over in invitation.

  No other place I’d rather be.

  I snuggle in behind her, our bodies pressed together in the small twin-sized bed, and just breathe her in. She’s still wearing my shirt, and now there’s a mix of her sweet scent tagging along with mine. It’s the reason there’s a smile on my lips as I close my eyes and hold her close, slowly drifting off to sleep.

  ***

  “I want to see the Bean,” she says as we walk down Michigan Avenue on Monday evening.

  We left her parents’ house in Decatur after lunch and drove north to the city. Cricket booked us a hotel downtown for two nights, just a stone’s throw away from major Chicago attractions. I was able to extend my rental reservation, as well as switch up my flight home to Wednesday morning out of O’Hare. Now, after having
pizza at Giordano’s, we’re slowly making our way, hand-in-hand, to Millennium Park.

  “You got it,” I tell her, slowly weeding through the crowd of people all making their way to and from one of Chicago’s great landmarks.

  “So, what’s it like in Tennessee?” she asks as we carefully make our way around a mother and small child.

  “Well, Pittman Center is a really small town. Like five hundred people, or so. I live on the mountain, which is pretty awesome. It’s just slow enough and small enough for my liking, but is super close to all the touristy shit in Gatlinburg and surrounding areas.”

  “That sounds perfect,” she says, a touch of longing laced in her voice. “I’ve never lived anywhere but in a city. I couldn’t imagine being on a mountain, surrounded by trees.”

  “And a view. Don’t forget about that, because the view is what sold me on my place. It’s small,” I tell her with a shrug, “but it suits me just fine.”

  She squeezes my hand. “I can’t wait to see it,” she says, a small smile on those kissable lips.

  “What’s San Francisco like?” I ask as we cross the street and into Millennium Park. There’s a large crowd hanging out at the big stainless steel landmark taking selfies and group photos.

  Cricket sighs. “It expensive,” she says with a chuckle. “And believe it or not, it’s actually small for a city. Everything is so close together. Did I tell you I sold my car after a few months?”

  I glance down and shake my head.

  “It was so expensive to pay for parking, and traffic is a nightmare. I could walk almost anywhere I needed. Plus, they have a lot of public transportation that made it easy to get anywhere I needed to go. It’s super foggy a lot, especially during the summer. It’s not hot and humid like I was used to in Illinois, and I remember my first summer there, I actually thought I’d missed that entire season. It was nothing like home.

  “Real estate is crazy-expensive. It’s like there’s too many people and not enough places to put them. Rent keeps going up and up every year, which is really why I haven’t moved. My place is rent-controlled, and every place I’ve looked at that might give me more space is three to four times higher a month.”