His hands move to my hips, gripping them and holding them still. “No. You have to say the words. You have to say it out loud, so I know you know what you’re doing.”
“Okay,” I say, hoping that’s close enough. I’ve never been able to talk in this context, no matter how hard I’ve tried.
“Okay what?” he says back.
“You promise you don’t want anything in return? No umm… actual…sex?” I’ve never been in this situation, and while it feels awkward to me, he seems to be enjoying himself.
He takes my hands off his shoulders, and holds them in his. “I just want to watch you let go, Bay. That’s all I’m asking for. I want to help you let go a little bit. I promise, that’s all. No sex. Underwear stay on,” he says. It’s a bizarre situation, and I’m equally confused and fascinated.
What the hell? “Then, yes. My answer is yes.”
He studies me for a moment, as though making sure I won’t change my mind in a second, then slowly slides his hand between us. He slides his fingers up, then down, so lightly I can barely feel it through the wet fabric of my panties. Legs trembling, I thrust my hips forward. He moves with me, keeping his touch light. I try again, he evades me again.
“Relax,” he says.
I try to do as he says, but can’t help trying to move things along.
He pulls his hand from between us, reaches around me and picks me up, my arms around his neck, my legs wrapping around his waist. I bury my face in his shoulder, every step he takes rubbing me exactly the right way. I open my eyes and realize we’re going upstairs.
I panic a little, thinking maybe he’s changed his mind, but tell myself to stop it. He’s never given me a reason not to trust him, well, except when he told Chance and Alex about me hiding something, but that was different, right? Fuck it.
He lays me down on my bed, following me down. He slides against me and I feel the hair on his legs tickle my thighs and realize his jeans are still in a pile in the kitchen floor. I move my arms down so I can run my hands from his shoulders down his back, to his perfectly sculpted ass. He grabs my arms and pins them above my head, holding both of them with one hand.
“Listen, Tiny, if this is going to work, you have to keep your hands to yourself. I’ll never make it if you don’t,” he says, his voice rough.
He thrusts against me a few more times and I plant my feet on the mattress so I can meet him better. He’s sweating, and making little guttural moans deep in his throat. I can feel the build, one wave upon the next, upon the next, and then he’s gone. My eyes snap open, the cold air on my hot skin where he used to be. “What did I do?” I ask him, turning my head to see him lying on his side facing me.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he says, as he pushes my t-shirt up to expose my breasts. I’m thankful that it’s dark. He traces one finger across the top of my breast, and down between them, then over the other one, around the side, across the bottom. I bite my bottom lip and my back arches toward him. He leans over, his tongue dashing out to flick my nipple. I gasp and see him smile before my head falls back on the pillow. When his lips close around my nipple I moan low and loud, unable to stop myself. He lets go, blowing gently on it and I get one hand free, reaching for him. He catches my arm, kissing his way down the length of it, then slides his hand up to hold mine and pulls my arm down next to my side, trapping it between our bodies, and letting his hand roam again. He leans back over and kisses my nipple again, his hand caressing my other breast, occasionally flicking my nipple gently with one finger. He raises up further on his arm, slowly licking and kissing his way down across my stomach. I panic, not wanting him to feel my skin, but what he’s doing makes me forget about that again.
I push my hips up off the bed, with a need I can’t express, and he gets on his knees next to me, head still bent to my lower stomach, licking and kissing me in a way that’s never been done before. I’ve never had anyone take so much time with me. I put my hand on his shoulder, pulling him in, and he nips my stomach lightly. “Oh my God,” I groan, running my fingers up through his hair. I feel his breath rush out, followed by a sharp intake and know he likes it. I use one finger to trace the edge of his ear and feel him shudder.
He raises onto his knees and takes my hands, again pinning them above my head, and holding his body above me. His face is inches from mine, his breath mingling with mine. He adjusts so that he’s holding both of my hands with one of his again, his newly freed hand drifting slowly down the side of my neck, across my breasts, then down. When he reaches my navel it’s clear what path he’s on and I close my eyes in anticipation.
“Look at me,” he commands.
I open my eyes obediently, locking onto his. His hand drifts further, sliding under the waistband of my panties, and flicking my clit lightly. I arch my back, pushing my hips into him and he lets me. He moves his hand down until he’s cupping me gently, his calloused thumb sliding slowly back and forth across my swollen nub. When he probes my wetness with a finger I jerk my hips away, even as I hate myself for it. “No,” I manage to squeak.
He moves his finger away until he’s cupping me again, his thumb still slowly circling my clit.
“Nothing inside?” he asks.
“I c-can’t J-J-Jace, I’m s-s-sorr— “
He stops, breathing heavily. “Do you want to stop? I’m sorry.”
“No, I don’t want to stop, I just can’t have— “
“Shhhhh,” he whispers, lightly touching his lips to mine. “I hear you,” he says. He removes his hand from inside my panties and lightly drags one finger across my thigh and up to my ribcage, then across under my breasts and down my other side. I whimper pitifully, I was so close to the edge and now it’s fading.
“Don’t be in such a hurry, Sweetheart. I have nowhere else to be. Take your time, enjoy yourself. Don’t rush to the end, getting there is the best part,” he whispers. He nips my bottom lip then lightly sucks on it, before covering my lips with his. When he deepens the kiss, his tongue sliding across mine, he moans into my mouth, deepening it further. His hand finds its way back to my center, rubbing and flicking, pinching lightly. It’s the slowest build I’ve ever felt, he expertly drops me back two steps, for each one I make forward. I buck my hips against his hand, and try to get one of my hands free, but he won’t let go. He lifts his head, looking at me, and I close my eyes against his gaze. I can’t look at him now. The tempo of his hand slows and I strain harder. He stops moving his fingers at all.
“Look at me, Sweetheart,” he says.
I can’t. I shake my head no.
“Look at me,” he demands.
I meet his eyes for just a second, it’s all I can give, hoping that’s enough.
“Bayleigh. Look at me. I want to watch your eyes when I take you over the edge.”
I open my eyes again and try to force them to stay open. The tempo of his hand increases steadily. His face becomes a blur. I close my eyes, the edge so close I swear I can taste it.
He stops. I snap my eyes back open and he begins again. When it gets too strong and I close my eyes, he again stops cold until I open them again. Every time the build takes longer, but takes me higher.
I can feel my eyes drifting closed, and I fight to keep them open. I feel as though I can’t take one more second of this. I’m dying.
“Fuck, yes, Bay. Let go. You’re fucking amazing,” he says, his voice a low growl.
I hear myself whimpering, tiny little mews, then louder and louder they grow. His eyes are so intense on mine, and I’m still so close. It’s right there. “Oh my God, Jace. Please don’t stop, please don’t stop,” I beg.
“Just watch me. As long as you watch me I promise I won’t stop, Baby.”
I can feel my eyes closing, and have to chant in my head, look at him, look at him, look at him. His eyes never waver from mine. He speeds up just a tiny bit and I’m flying. Then, just as quickly I’m falling. I’m shattered, scattered all over the world, yet somehow, I am still holding his gaze. Th
en I’m convulsing, I’ve lost all control of my body. My eyes close tight, and still he continues. I’ve never come this hard, and certainly never this long. Every time he moves his fingers at all, the orgasm grows bigger, stronger, and then it becomes almost pain.
“Oh my God. Stop, I can’t take anymore,” I pant desperately.
He stops immediately and even though I asked him to, I’m sad when he does.
I feel the bed shift as he moves, and throw an arm toward him. “Are you okay, Sweetheart? Did I hurt you?” he asks and his voice is filled with concern.
“No, of course not. I’m okay. It was just a little… er… intense, at the end,” I answer breathlessly. I can’t open my eyes. I’m boneless. Made of rubber.
“Okay. I thought I took it too far, I was afraid I hurt you,” he says, his voice sounding genuinely concerned. He lays on his back next to me. I don’t know what to say to him. I manage to open my eyes, and see that he’s still standing proudly at attention, straining against his boxer briefs. He must be in agony, but I made him promise he wouldn’t expect anything. I feel terribly selfish right now, and completely spent. I don’t think I could touch him now no matter how much I want to, and I really want to. I’m not very experienced in the department of getting a guy off without sex, and he’s been around. I know I’d just embarrass myself. So, I do nothing.
He reaches over and holds my hand in his. It’s warm and strong, and I realize I feel safe. Not just far away from anything that will hurt me, but like I could be in the middle of a war zone, and as long as he was holding my hand I’d be okay.
CHAPTER 6
When I wake up, I notice immediately that Jace is no longer in my bed. I don’t know if he slept next to me, or if he went back to wherever he was sleeping before I woke him up at four. The last thing I remember is drifting off to sleep with him holding my hand in his, the sound of his even breathing next to me.
I still can’t believe I let him do what he did, or even that he wanted to. I feel my face heat up just thinking about what happened. I can’t believe it even happened. I feel like I was thoroughly used, in the best way possible, and yet, I don’t think it would even qualify as sex. Or would it? Certainly, for him it didn’t, it couldn’t have.
I hear noise downstairs and my face reddens all over again. How am I even going to face him? Dear God, what have I done.
I hear the creaky step at the bottom of the stairs and launch myself out of bed and into the bathroom.
“Tiny? Are you up?” he calls as he reaches the landing.
I want to answer him, but the sound of his voice has images and feelings coursing through me and I can’t find my voice.
“Tiny? Are you okay?” he asks from the other side of the door.
“Yeah, sorry. I was just getting in the shower,” I squeak. Actually squeak. Like a mouse.
“Okay. I have to run into work for a few minutes, are you feeling alright this morning?” he asks.
“Of course. I’ll be fine. No worries!” I try for nonchalant, but sound crazy even to my own ears.
“Are you sure? I’ll be back as quick as I can, but I don’t want to come back to you passed out or something. I can wait, and take you with me, it’s not a problem.”
“Jace, I appreciate your concern, but I’m an adult. I’m not going to die if you’re gone for an hour. I can be alone. For God’s sake, I said I’m fine!” I regret most of the words as soon as they come out of my mouth. It’s an overreaction and I know it.
I hear something rest on the door. His hand? His forehead? Then little more than a whisper, “Okay, Bayleigh, you’re right. I’ll be back in a little while.” His footsteps retreat through the room and my eyes well up with tears.
What the fuck is wrong with you, Bayleigh? I have no answer for myself. He didn’t deserve that. I know he has legitimate concerns, but I’m tired of being treated like a child. I’m sick, I’m not five years old. He’s the one that told me I was getting better anyway. That it’s all mental shit keeping me sick.
His truck fires up in the driveway and I walk just close enough to the window to watch him disappear down the road. The feeling of loss is unfamiliar and unwanted. We had a good time last night. Or I did anyway. It didn’t mean anything.
I turn on the water, stripping off my t-shirt and underwear that I definitely shouldn’t have slept in after everything that happened last night. I step under the hot spray, letting it wash him and the tears away.
I have to keep reminding myself of what he said at dinner last night; he’s not the kind of guy that has girlfriends. I know this to be true. He’s the confirmed bachelor type. No relationships, no dreams of a family. Alex says he doesn’t even take women back to his house. He usually just gets a hotel room in town or goes to their place. He likes keeping his life separate from his conquests. After his performance last night, I understand why. We didn’t even have sex and it was the best sexual experience of my life. How sad is that?
I wash my hair, surprised when I realize it’s just below my shoulders. When I got here it was cut in a pixie style. How had I missed how much it’s grown? It needs a trim, but I don’t have money for that. It’ll wait until I can get a job.
I shave my legs, laughing at myself. I’ve been shaving them every day, and every day I tell myself it’s stupid. It’s cold out and I have no interest in sex so why do I bother? I’m glad I did yesterday. Even knowing that it was a one-time thing and it’s never going to happen again, I still feel totally vindicated to continue doing it every day.
I finish up, shut the water off and dry off. I walk back into my room with just a towel on my hair. There’s no one here so why not enjoy the brief freedom? I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and flinch away from it. The scars I carry aren’t only in my mind. I wonder if he saw them last night. If he didn’t he had to have felt them. He had to have been repulsed by them. It just solidifies that last night will be the only time I get close to Jace, though I admire his perseverance. It had to have been hard to keep going knowing they were there.
I select a matching bra and panty set, white with turquoise flowers and turquoise lace edging. They’re pretty and feminine, just how he made me feel last night, so I’m going with it. I remind myself, one more time, that last night was a one-time deal. I’m grateful for it, feeling more alive than I have in months. I consider doing my makeup, another thing I haven’t bothered with in months, but decide against it. I don’t want him to think I’m doing it for him, as though I’m trying to hold his interest or something. I know better than that, but I don’t know if he knows that I know.
I throw on jeans with holes in the knees and another ragged hole in the thigh that I don’t recall being there before. Oh well. I choose a black spaghetti strap tank and cover it with a royal blue sweater that’s big and comfy, but has a habit of falling off one shoulder or the other. It’s my favorite sweater, and one of the few things I own that I feel good in.
I go downstairs in bare feet, noting that the house is much warmer now than it was at four. The fire in the woodstove brightens the dining room, the cloud cover from the snowstorm making the house much darker than usual for this time of day. When I reach the kitchen, I grab one of the dreaded tiny orange juices out of the fridge and get my pill box out of the cabinet above the sink. I take this morning’s doses, even though I’m a few hours late. I can’t believe it’s already noon.
I sit on a stool at the island, realizing again how quiet it is here when no one is home. No heavy bootsteps from Chance or Jace, no singing from Alex, no giggles or wails from Cadan. I swing my foot to find Shadow’s fuzzy form out of habit, before remembering that he also is gone for the week.
I’ve always thought of myself as being an intruder here, this house is so much happier than any house I’ve ever lived in, and now I’m faced with the fact that it isn’t the house that’s happy, it’s the people in it. Just now it’s big and lonely.
I’m a little hungry so I find bread in the bread drawer next to the sink and pop
a couple of slices in the toaster. I lean against the counter while I wait for them to finish. When they do I put them on a small plate and swipe them with butter. I return to my place on the stool and take a bite. It’s warm and salty, and immediately makes me think of kissing his shoulder, his neck. It’s obviously not the same, but close enough that my brain immediately makes the connection.
Giving myself a mental shake, I turn my attention to the snow outside the windows. As I watch, it begins to fall lazily again. I’m delighted as I walk to the window, laughing to myself. I’ve never seen so much snow in my life, and this is just one storm. I’ve always dreamed of living in Montana. The mountains, the isolation, the snow, it always seemed like the perfect place to hide. New York was never a place I even considered. When I thought of New York, it was always in the context of the city. It never occurred to me that a place like this could exist here. I never would have even considered coming here if I had had anywhere else on earth to run to. I’m glad I’m here though. No matter what happens from here, I’m glad I came.
The phone rings and I jump, startled. It’s so loud in the silence of the house. I pick it up from its place on the wall, expecting it to be Alex or Chance, “Hello?”
“Hello. Could I please speak to Bayleigh Richards?” a friendly sounding female voice asks.
“This is,” I reply.
“Hi. This is Kathy, from Doctor James’ office. I wanted to let you know that he’s added a new prescription for you and I’ve called it into the pharmacy on Front Street for you to pick up.”
“Okay? A prescription for what?” I ask. I hadn’t requested a new medication.
“It says here that it’s an anti-anxiety medication that you discussed with him when you were in the hospital? He was reviewing his records and saw that it hadn’t been prescribed when you left. He wants you to start taking it as soon as you can, once a day, and please let us know if you have any questions or problems with it.”
Faith (Stregth Series Book 2) Page 5
