by Serena Grey
Somehow, we find our way to my room and end up on the bed. We don’t do anything but kiss and talk. It’s sweet and wonderful and beautiful all at the same time.
“Have you really wanted to kiss me for a long time?” I ask.
Jackson laughs and nuzzles my neck. “Amongst other things, Yes.”
I giggle at the sensation of his nose against my throat. “So why didn’t you?”
He is laying half on top of me on the bed. When I ask my question, he rests his weight on his elbows so he can look at me. His gaze is serious. “Had you ever been kissed before?”
I look away from his probing gray eyes, overwhelmed with shyness again. Slowly I shake my head.
“You’re young, and inexperienced, and the decent thing to do…. That I’ve been trying to do, would be to let you have your high school adventures, your first crush, kiss, relationship, and all that with someone your own age.” He’s using his ‘serious' voice, and I know he means every word he’s saying, but he couldn’t be more wrong.
“I’ve never wanted any of those things with anybody else, Jackson,” I interrupt, making him stop talking. “It was always you.”
Chapter Nine
Past
THE words hang in the air between us, and for a moment, Jackson does nothing other than look at me, his gray eyes, growing darker and stormier with each passing second. Suddenly, he’s kissing me again, his body pressed against mine, so I can feel his hard chest against my breasts, and the unfamiliar tightness and bulge in his jeans pressing against my thigh. I want to be adventurous and touch him there, but I’m too much of a coward, and he seems perfectly satisfied to kiss me and kiss me until my whole body feels like I’m floating on a cloud of ecstasy.
After what I know only seems like a short while because I would gladly spend a lifetime kissing Jackson, I hear the sounds of another car coming up the drive.
“That’s Aunt Constance.” I say unnecessarily.
“I know.” Jackson murmurs against my neck. He makes no move to get up, or to stop kissing me. We don’t stop until we hear the sound of the front door opening and closing.
“She’ll still be asleep when I leave tomorrow,” Jackson tells me, “and there are a couple of things I need to talk to her about, or else I wouldn’t leave you at all.”
“You’ll come back though, after you’ve spoken to her?”
He grins. “Try and stop me.”
I follow him to the door and watch as he walks down the corridor. I still can’t wrap my mind around the fact that he kissed me, that we’ve spent most of the evening kissing. I and Jackson! I want to whoop. I want to tell someone. I want to save the memory somewhere it will never be lost.
He stops at the top of the stairs, looks back at me, and winks. I can hear the sound of Aunt Constance’s heels on the marble stairs. I should go back inside my room and wait for him. I’m already inside, about to close the door, when I hear her voice.
“Why did you leave so early?” She’s saying to Jackson, “I looked for you for a bit before I realized you were gone, and Lindsay didn’t look too happy either. Not very polite, if you ask me.”
I’d already guessed that he came to town for the Gorman’s party, but that had been before he kissed me. Sometime between then and now, I’ve convinced myself that he's really in Foster, at Halcyon, to see me. The disappointment I feel at having that hope dashed is raw and painful.
“I wasn’t really in the mood for a party.” I hear Jackson say through the haze of my hurt feelings. I don’t want to hear any more, so I close the door, helpless against the anger, pain, and jealousy I’m feeling. I’ve just learned how much joy can come with being with someone you love, and now, just minutes later, I’m learning how much pain you can feel when they hurt you. Suddenly I feel raw and aching, unable to accept that Jackson came straight from his girlfriend’s arms into mine. I can’t bear it.
I toss the throw pillows off my bed in annoyance, working myself up to a state as I lie there, imagining Jackson and Lindsay together. I can’t believe how happy I felt just a few moments ago and how angry and frustrated I feel now. By the time I hear the soft knock on my door followed by Jackson coming into my room, I’ve burned myself out. All I can feel is the agony of the realization that even though I’ve just being as intimate with him as I’ve never been with anyone else, he still isn’t any more mine than he was before he kissed me.
I take one look at him, and the pain intensifies. I want to tell him how bad I feel, how angry I am that he came straight from his girlfriend to kiss me and make me feel as if I was special to him. But despite my outrage and the mess of emotions burning through me, I can’t find the right words.
“Aunt Constance has gone to bed.” He tells me, closing the door behind him.
I glare at him, confused by the mess of chaotic emotions I’m feeling. “Why did you kiss me when you’re only in town to see your girlfriend?" I accuse.
He is only silent for a short moment. “She’s not my girlfriend anymore,” he says quietly as he walks towards the bed. His words fan a flame of hope in my belly, and I stare at him, unable to do anything other than hope that he’s saying what I think he’s saying.
“What happened?” I ask.
He shrugs. “Nothing,” he says, coming to sit beside me on the bed. “She saw your necklace in my pocket and she lost it.” He shrugs, “She had a lot of nasty things to say about you, about me.”
“Like what.”
“It doesn’t matter.” He pauses, “Anyway we broke up."
I try to look sad, to mourn the end of a relationship, but I really can’t, not when it’s what I’ve wanted for far too long. "I’m sorry.” I lie.
“I’m not,” He smiles at me. “It was bound to happen sooner or later."
I don’t argue with him, not when my heart is singing. I sit up and reach for his face, kissing him, and sighing against his lips when they start to move over mine, caressing them and probing them apart. I moan when his tongue finds mine, tasting and teasing me, while his hands map a sweet, gentle path across my body.
I reach inside his shirt, forgetting my shyness as my fingers explore the hard muscles of his stomach and chest. I run my finger over a nipple, and he sighs, his body trembling a little.
“You’re shaking.” I tell him, surprised that my touch can affect him so much.
He chuckles, stroking my face as he looks at me. “I’ve had you inside my head for what seems like forever, like a fever that never goes away.” There's something vulnerable about his face as he looks intently at me. “And now I don’t want any part of this to end... do you understand?”
I nod, my feelings alternating between joy and absolute bliss. “I’ve wanted this too.” I say, “From the first time I saw you.”
He laughs. “You were fourteen.”
I chuckle.“And you were beautiful.”
He pulls me close and kisses me some more, and as my body melts into his, I know that those kisses will not be enough. I want to be a part of him. I want to belong to him totally. So when his hand moves up along my belly, and comes to a stop right before it reaches my breast, I look into his face. “Don’t stop.” I whisper. “Please.”
He doesn’t need any urging. He cups my breasts in his palms and I feel them swell and strain against the restraint of my clothes, aching for the fulfillment I’ve imagined a thousand times but never felt. I lose myself to his touch, moaning as his fingers find my swollen nipples and tease them through my clothes.
When my hands drift down for my fingers to stroke the hardness in his trousers, he groans, giving me a heady feeling of power.
“Don’t do that,” he warns.
“Why not?” I ask, afraid of doing anything to spoil the moment.
“I won’t be able to stop.”
“I don’t want you to stop.” I tell him earnestly.
He is silent, but only for a moment, before leans down and kisses me again. This time his kiss is determined, insistent. I melt into it, reveling in
each touch of his lips as they travel down from my lips, over my still clothed breasts to my stomach. A soft moan escapes me when he lifts my top and drops kisses on my bare belly. He pulls my top over my head, and soon my bra follows, and then his lips are on my breasts, kissing me all around the tender aching flesh before taking my nipple into his mouth and gently sucking on it.
I almost vault off the bed at the exquisite pleasure. I don’t feel like myself anymore, especially when he gently shushes me and continues licking my breasts. I feel as if I’m going mad, as if my body has become something else, an unfamiliar mass of new and incredible sensations. Just when I feel like I might explode, he abandons one erect nipple for the other, giving it the same attentions, until I know my body is going to explode.
While his lips are busy at my breasts, he undoes the waistband of my jeans, and his fingers slide in to stroke me gently through my panties, moving in slow circular motions.
“Olivia.” he groans, his face drawn into a tortured frown. He takes my lips again, his fingers still stroking me through my panties. I start to move my hips to their rhythm, intent on prolonging the sensations his fingers are creating.
“Jackson.” I moan questioningly, as I start to lose control of my body.
“Relax,” he urges softly, without pausing in what he’s doing.
I feel my body loosening and becoming fluid, then it tightens and arches of the bed as unbearable pleasure fills me. I scream, but immediately Jackson’s lips are on mine, swallowing the sound, his fingers keeping on their movement until I fall back on the bed with a sigh.
His lips find my nipples again, swollen with the aftermath of the most incredibly pleasurable experience ever, and when he starts to suck on them, my body spirals towards mindless pleasure again.
I reach for his shirt and pull it off, exposing his firmly muscled chest. When I reach for his pants, his hand covers mine. “Olivia.”
“Please.” my voice is soft and imploring. I want this badly. I don’t think I’ll feel complete until I can give him the kind of pleasure he’s just given me. I want him to lose himself as I just lost myself, and I want it to be because of me.
Gently, he pushes my fingers away and undoes his belt. I watch, mesmerized as he pulls off his pants, exposing the hard ridge of his erection straining against his briefs. I only feel uncertainty for a second, before I lean forward and kiss his chest, his nipples, getting a moan from him. He reaches for my jeans and pulls them off. My panties follow, and then his briefs.
He kisses me again, long and hard. “Are you sure?” he asks.
In reply, I reach for him, trembling as my fingers touch the smooth skin stretched taut over his hard length, like velvet over steel. I encircle him with my fingers and stroke up and down the full length. He trembles visibly, his eyes closed as a sigh escapes his lips.
He pushes me back on the bed, his fingers reaching between my legs to stroke the sensitive wetness there. I moan softly, my legs spreading wider, giving him space to kneel between them, his erection poised to enter me.
I wait impatiently as he reaches for his discarded trousers and extracts his wallet from the pocket. I know what he’s doing even before I hear the sound of the foil tearing. I don’t want to imagine why he carries a condom in his wallet or think of all the other girls he's been with. I reach for him and pull him closer, gasping as his tip presses against me, moving slowly, but firmly inside me.
I stiffen at the pain, trying my best not to cry out, but unable to prevent the sting of tears in my ears.
“Shhh.” Jackson whispers, kissing my eyes. “I’m sorry."
“I’m fine.” I tell him. I’m not lying. As the initial pain fades, it’s replaced by a growing and insistent need. My hips clench involuntarily, wanting something more, and I feel Jackson stiffen, a small moan escaping his lips. Then he moves, stroking my insides in a surprisingly pleasurable movement that I feel to the tip of my fingers. When I moan my pleasure, he continues, moving in and out of me as my body clenches around him. I cry out, my fingers gripping the sheets, Jackson’s shoulders, his hair, as intense pleasure takes over my body. My hips are moving to match his rhythm, milking the sensations. I feel the warm pulsing pleasure build between my legs, taking over me until my whole body tightens, and I cry out my release in a long helpless moan. Jackson’s arms tighten around me as he plunges deep into me, his body stiffening as he comes.
“Are you okay?” he asks later, as he pulls me into his arms.
I only smile, because I have no words to describe how he’s made me feel, how, in that moment, I feel as if I’m the only girl in the world, and all my dreams have come true.
Chapter Ten
Past
JACKSON leaves early the next morning, but not even that can dampen my happiness. I feel like a different person, like it’s a different world. Being in love and knowing that the object of my affection feels the same way is like floating on a cloud. Nothing can bring me down.
He comes home as often as he can manage, but it’s not enough. I want to see him every day, to feel the beauty of surrendering my body to him as often as I can.
We don’t tell anyone about us, at first Jackson wants to, but even though I don’t really think that Aunt Constance will disapprove of us, I want to wait, at least until I go to college, and we no longer live in the same house. I'm planning to go to college in New York in the fall, and since he’s going to be in the city too, taking a position at some investment management firm, we’ll be close, and then we can tell everyone that we're together.
“Honey, could you ask Blythe if Jackson’s told her when he’ll be back?” Aunt Constance looks up from the sheet of paper she’s studying on the desk. We’re in the study, and she’s going over the menu for Jackson's graduation party for like the hundredth time. Even though she’s been up all day planning the party, she still looks flawless, her hair held up in a small French knot, and her clothes smooth and perfect. Trying to look as good as she does all the time is as daunting for me as it’s effortless for her. Sometimes I believe that she would look perfect and put together even in a storm.
“I’ll ask,” I reply, leaving the study to find Blythe, and thinking that perhaps I should just call and ask Jackson myself. Carter is with Blythe by the pool, and they've been making out and God-knows-what-else all afternoon. She’s totally useless to anyone else when Carter is around, not that I blame her, not when I know what it feels like to be with the person you love.
Outside on the patio, the day is sunny and bright, and on the far side of the lawn across from the pool, I can see the workmen still setting up the buffet tables. I make my way to the pool, and as I already knew, Blythe and Carter, are lying on one of the loungers, kissing enthusiastically.
I want to say ‘get a room,’ and I know they probably will. For a second, I allow myself to wonder what it would feel like not to care who knew that I was in love with Jackson, to be able to kiss him and touch him anywhere and at any time. I can't help feeling a little jealous.
“Hey,” I call out.
They ignore me of course, too intent on sucking each other’s faces.
“Hey Blythe,” I say a little louder.
Blythe finally pulls her mouth from Carter’s and turns to face me. I pretend not to see Carter pulling his hand out of the waistband of her shorts. She looks hot, sweaty, and in need of a dip in the pool, or a cold shower, or both.
“Nice timing Livvie,” She says with a sigh.
“Hi Livvie.” Carter echoes with a smirk in my direction.
“Hi Carter.” I reply, resisting the urge to respond to his smirk with a frown. It’s easy to see why Blythe likes him. He's incredibly handsome, with the kind of good looks that are so perfect that it’s sometimes hard to look at him and not gawk. Aunt Constance does not approve of him, and her reservations have driven a small wedge between her and Blythe. I’m not exactly sure, but I think Aunt Constance’s disapproval may have something to do with the blank look that never quite leaves Carter’s face thes
e days, and the way his eyes sometimes burn brightly when he comes out of the bathroom. I don't know all the signs of drug addiction, but I’m sure Aunt Constance suspects him of being an addict.
“Aunt Constance wants to know if Jackson’s told you when he’ll get home,” I tell Blythe. Jackson is driving down from Boston, and Aunt Constance is concerned that he should have time to rest before the party.
“No,” Blythe frowns, “Is she worried? I’m sure he'll turn up. Jackson wouldn’t miss his own party.”
“Why don’t you call him?” Carter says, winking at me as he strokes his fingers slowly up and down Blythe’s arm.
She turns back to him, and they start to kiss again. I realize I’ve been dismissed, and go back into the house, frowning as I realize that Carter’s stepsister, Jackson’s ex Lindsay will probably be here tonight.
The last time I saw her in town, she took one look at the necklace Jackson gave me for my last birthday and gave me a glare that was scornful and chilling at the same time. I know she’s aware that Jackson gave it to me. They had a fight about it, right before he broke up with her.
Well I’m not worried about her. I doubt that she knows about Jackson and me, and even if she blames me or my treasured necklace for their breakup, there’s nothing she can do about it.
“I can’t get through to him.” Aunt Constance frets when I tell her what Blythe said. “I just hope I’m planning the right kind of party for college students… and grads. I keep thinking they’d rather all go to a club." She sighs. “Did you buy a dress?”
“Yes.” I say excitedly. She’d given me a gift card and an appointment at one of her favorite stores so I could get a dress for the party. It wasn't that I couldn’t afford to buy a good dress on my own, but an appointment with one of the shoppers at Aunt Constance’s favorite shops is like fashion gold, and a step closer to looking as effortlessly perfect as she always does.
“Well enjoy yourself tonight, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t approve of.” She gives me a cautioning smile,
