Jersey Girl

by J A Heron

  “It’s wonderful, it’s just…” My eyes drop to the glass in front of me.

  “Oh, that. It’s okay. It’s just grape juice.” My shoulders relax with the relief that washes over me. I blow out a sigh. “I’m not going to serve my girlfriend wine when she’s just come out of rehab.”

  There are so many things I could pick from that last sentence, but the main thing that sticks out is that he called me his girlfriend. He lifts the bottle of fizzy red grape juice to prove to me it has zero percent alcohol content. “See?” He winks at me. I suddenly feel my whole body relax. Even though I thought it was real wine, and I felt the panic initially, I’m surprised at myself for stepping over my first hurdle. It’s something to write in my blog and diary later this evening. I have so much to catch up on, and I want to write all my feelings down so I’ll never forget this day.

  “Can we discuss the elephant in the room?” he asks, dragging me away from my thoughts.

  “I think there are a couple of them in here. It’s a little hard to breathe,” I jest. “I thought we were drawing a line and starting afresh?”

  “We are, but I need to get this out,” he says, tapping his chest where his heart lies.

  He reminds me of the one-word text he sent me. ‘Sorry’. I question him about what he meant.

  “I’m sorry because I was confused. Lisa showed up, unexpectedly, and started to tell me all about things you did, but now I know they’re what she did. She blamed you, and was so convincing, I believed her. I know I should’ve spoken to you about it all. I should’ve got both sides to the story, but she spoke with so much conviction, so much passionate hate, that it was hard not to believe her.”

  “It’s okay. I understand. She’s so conniving, and I’m only glad that’s all over. I’m glad we’ve found each other and can move on.” I’m trying to reassure him that it’s fine, that part is over, and it’s all about us now.

  “I never touched her. She came on to me, and she got really nasty when I told her I only had eyes for one woman.”

  My heart flutters, hoping I’m the one woman he’s referring to. “I know. Benny told me all about it. It’s okay. I know what she’s like, and at first, I guessed you’d fallen for her charms. Now I know it was all her.”

  “It was all her, but it makes me sad that I learned about your… history.” He coughs on the last word before continuing. “I learned it from her, when it should’ve been you.”

  “We both have our sides of the story to tell, Connor. I’m guessing hers was a little different to mine, and I imagine she bent the truth a little bit.”

  “Just a smidge,” he says, using his thumb and forefinger to emphasise. We both chuckle.

  “Well, whatever she told you, just flip it, and you’ll land somewhere near the truth.”

  “I’d still like you to explain it to me. In your words, not hers.”

  “I can do that, but I think I’ll clear up then take a shower, if you don’t mind.”

  “I don’t mind at all,” he responds, making me smile.

  We clear up together, and I have to keep asking him where things go. I can usually find my way around any kitchen, but this is a guy’s kitchen, so who knows where anything goes.

  “Back in a bit,” I say, walking towards the stairs.

  “Your bags are in my room, on my bed,” he shouts after me. I suddenly feel apprehensive. I’m nervous about going into his personal space, an area of his house I never thought I’d ever get to see. When I open the door. It’s just a plain room; a blank canvas for someone to put their mark on. It’s white, clinical, clean, but the smell of his body spray in the air catches me off guard.

  I rummage through my bags, but there’s one there I recognise but haven’t seen for a while. Connor comes in behind me and rests his chin on my shoulder.

  “Benny packed it for you,” he says, reaching over. “She thought you’d need clothing other than the stuff you were wearing back at Witchfield.”

  “She’s the best,” I whisper, pulling out some of my favourite clothes.

  “Towels are in the cupboard, just there.” He points to the door at the top of the stairs.

  “Thanks.”

  I strip out of my clothes then fold them up and place them on the laundry basket. The walk-in shower is amazing. Hot steam billows all around the bathroom, causing a mist to swallow up everything. I can hardly see.

  I scrub my hair, body, and face, trying to rid the smell of rehab from my skin. I can still smell the aroma of the old house.

  When I turn around, Connor is standing in the doorway. I just see his bulky frame, and I can certainly feel his gaze on me. The mist must make it difficult for him to see me, but he stands there regardless.

  “Come in,” I say.

  He moves like lightning, and in a flash, he’s standing on the edge of the opening to the shower. We spend a while just staring at each other. He watches my every move as I wash my body, running my hands all over myself. His eyes darken with arousal as I run my hands between my thighs. I’m flirting with him, I’m tempting him, and it seems to be working judging by the way he adjusts himself in the groin area. I smirk, happy with my teasing self. It surprises me that he’s not made a move. I’m almost done in the shower, and it’s time to get out, but he still remains in the same spot, unmoving.

  “All done,” I announce, but still he’s steadfast.

  I wrap one towel around my head, and the other around my body, drying as I go. He takes the other towel from me, and begins to wipe the excess water from my skin. When he’s done, he wraps it around my shoulders, takes my hand, then leads me to his room. “I want you in my bed, comfortable, and warm, not hard and fast in the shower.” He answers my unspoken question.

  Flashbacks of the first time I had sex with Connor appear unbidden into my mind. It was fun, relaxed, carefree sex, but right now, I feel none of those things. He removes the towel wrapped around my head and throws it on the floor. Drops of water not soaked up by the towel drip onto my shoulders. He leans in to lick them away, and nips at my tingling skin with his teeth. Synapses fire, and a crackling of heat radiates through every cell of my body. I arch my back as his fingers find my hips, pulling my naked body into his still fully clothed body. It’s a sublime feeling as one of his hands reaches round and spreads over my lower back. His fingertips delicately graze over my prickly flesh; feather-like tickles grace me as they move over every inch. I’m a hot mess, desperately trying to keep hold of my sanity as his teeth nip a little harder. He takes a step back, the distance between us causing a swell of frigid air to chill my overheated skin. He yanks the shirt over his head after only undoing the top two buttons, and then lowers his trousers to the floor. His arousal is clear to see when he takes a seat on the edge of the bed, his cock pointing upwards, ready. I walk towards him, straddle his hips, and prepare to meet the ultimate high as I sink down. Before I get chance to take him, his fingers find my core, rubbing, stroking, preparing. I cry out as one of his fingers breaks my entrance. I revel in the snug feeling, although it’s a little painful at first. He moves gently, sensing my apprehension, but with each movement, I acclimatise to the invasion. His expert hands entice moans of pleasure, intermingled with pants of air from my mouth. I lean in to feel his lips as he sucks on my bottom one. He removes his finger from inside me, rests his hand on my shoulder, and gently pushes down. I guess he’s eager to feel what I’ve been dying to feel since the last time. I hold him steady as I sink down, feeling the tip of him break through my entrance. I begin to move, yet he holds onto my hips, slowing my motions. I wrap my arms around his neck, pushing my breasts into his chest, feeling the tingle of my nipples as they meet his hot skin. The friction I feel is earth-shattering.

  He stops for a moment. Confusion is clear as day on my face, but when he speaks, another wall around my heart is destroyed.

  “This connection we have right here,” he says as I straddle his hips; he’s still inside me. He gestures between us, our joined bodies. “This is it. T
his is our addiction. This is where we’re meant to be,” he says, and I fall, hard. The crash is so loud and arduous, it’s surprising this house hasn’t been reduced to a pile of rubble.

  I lean down, kissing his tender lips, administering as much passion as I can. When I lift slightly, I respond, “Then we’d better make the most of this fix.” I smile with my eyes, then feel his hips begin to move once more, enticing me to move mine in synchronisation. “Ahh.” I thrust my head back with the sublime feeling of him moving languidly inside me, stroking my inner walls with slow, exquisite movements. I’m high, drunk, and craving more with every stroke, and it’s fuelling my need for another hit. A high so awe-inspiring washes over me, and I never want to come back down.

  I feel a pulsing vibration, a high so sensual it pulls me in, closer to him, as the collision of our bodies move in a rhythmic dance. I couldn’t escape him now, even if I wanted to. As the pressure builds, creating a hum so pleasurable it catapults me into a high so dizzying, I almost lose my balance. His strong hands hold onto my hips firmly, keeping me locked in place as we grind against each other. He’s inside me, deep and deliciously, and the friction on my clit is exquisite, but it’s not enough. He releases one hand from my hip, and his thumb finds my clit. The slow, sensual strokes on the overly sensitive nerves catapult me into the stratosphere.

  “Connor…” I rasp out his name as each aftershock makes my whole body shudder. The onslaught of sensation rocks my body as I ride out each wave of delight.

  The lines of his forehead crease slightly as he watches me, then he flashes a grin, his top lip curling up slightly. “More?” he asks, grinning lasciviously.

  All I can do is nod my head, unable to find the words. I stare into his eyes then move my eyes south, trailing his soft, tanned skin, committing every mark, every intricate design to memory. His tattoos really are something; each one a work of art. My fingers graze his skin until they reach a raised area. When I look at what my fingers have found, my eyes lock onto the discovery. When I look at Connor once more, he’s grinning at me.

  “You got a new tattoo?” I ask, my wavering, emotion-filled voice barely manages to squeeze out the words.

  “I thought you’d like it,” he says with a massive grin.

  “I love it, but how did you know?”

  “Benny told me.” He winks.

  It suddenly dawns on me. “Have you been to Jersey recently?”

  He nods. “Got back last night.”

  I wonder what he was doing there. I eye him cautiously, but continue to focus on the new ink, proudly displaying ‘Jersey Girl’ on his rib cage, just below his heart. “I love this,” I say, running my fingers over his freshly marred skin.

  Connor lifts me then places me down, my back to the mattress, and as he climbs over me, never losing eye contact, he enters me once more. I throw my head back, closing my eyes as I get lost in the sensation. He pushes in, withdraws, then pushes in once more. Over and over, repeat. His tempo increases, as do the intensity of my moans. As his body rocks mine with a punishing rhythm, I grasp hold of the sheet, my fingernails pinching into the fabric. He’s pushing me higher and higher as my world implodes for a second time. This time, I scream out his name, and it’s something I’ve never done before. I’m shocked at the sheer volume of my voice. His audible grunting and sighing tells me he’s reached his climax too. His body falls, cocooning me, loving me, as his head rests on my shoulder. Our out of breath pants permeate the room, and it takes a few minutes for us to get our breaths back.

  “You feel amazing,” he tells me, his semi-hard cock still inside me. I feel his thundering heartbeat; it’s pounding against his chest, against mine.

  I run my fingers down his back until they reach his naked bottom. I love the feel of his skin under my fingers. “You feel pretty good too.”

  We lie on our sides, facing each other, languidly drawing shapes with our fingertips over each other’s skin. I feel oddly at peace, and as I look up at him, watching him smile at me with no words spoken, I realise I’ve found my new home in his eyes.

  I wake up suddenly, startled, and it takes me a moment to remember where I am. It feels odd to be waking up in Connor’s bed, but familiar at the same time. When I turn over, disappointment hits me. He’s not beside me, not where I want him to be. Have I made a mistake? I brush the silly thoughts aside, and they’re just that — silly. He has made it perfectly clear he wants me, wants to be in my life.

  I have no idea what time it is, so I grab one of his shirts I see thrown over the back of a chair and wrap it around my naked body. I use the bathroom to relieve myself before going in search of the sexiest man I’ve ever met. As I leave the bathroom, I stop dead in my tracks. He’s waiting for me, holding a tray laden with food and coffee.

  “Oh no you don’t. Come with me.” He grabs my hand and leads me back into the bedroom. I ignore the slight sting between my thighs from all the love making last night, and follow him, giggling all the way. I jump on the bed, pull the duvet up my thighs, and let him do what he needs to do. He places the tray on my lap. I have no idea what he’s made for me, but it smells delicious. “This is toasted brioche, asparagus, and a perfectly poached egg, with hollandaise sauce.” Yummy. I tuck in immediately, but stop chewing when he just sits there watching me.

  “What?” I ask, wondering why he’s staring at me. “Aren’t you having breakfast?”

  “I’ve had mine,” he says, taking his coffee from the tray and taking a sip. He continues to watch me over the top of his mug.

  “What did you have?” I ask, wondering why he would make this lavish breakfast for me, but not have any himself.

  “Coco Pops,” he says. I burst into a fit of giggles, but he is still serious. “My God, I thought you were joking. You’re serious?”

  “Deadly serious. They’re my downfall. Have them every morning.”

  “Oh, it’s a good job they sell them over The Channel then.” I smirk. This man shocks me at every turn. He’s a big, brooding guy, covered in tattoos, he has a bald head, yet he loves little kids’ cereal for breakfast.

  “Audrey bought them for me once, and I loved how the milk turns chocolatey. I suppose I never outgrew them. I occasionally have something else.”

  “Well, this is delicious,” I tell him, shoving another forkful into my mouth.

  “Glad to hear it. Anyway, you have ten minutes to finish that, then up, showered, dressed, and out we go.”

  “Really?” I mumble while chewing, trying to hide my rudeness. I swallow down. “Where?”

  “You have a funeral to go to.”

  Of course I do, and again, I’m too wrapped up in my own life to even remember someone who meant a great deal to me. Jess.

  As Connor drives, heading for the Suffolk countryside, I look down at what I’m wearing. He’s confessed he’d been back to Jersey, and I presumed he’s been visiting his friend, his uncle, and the woman who raised him. Benny packed some things for me and he brought them back here. All the pieces start to fit into place. Benny has been passing information to Connor.

  She knew the date of Jess’ funeral, she knew I’d need clothes, and she gave Connor my phone and laptop. It made me chuckle when I pulled out those bloody jeans she bought for me a while back. I have another thing to thank her for when I see her. I need to thank her for making sure my butt looks good in Connor’s presence.

  I really miss her, and I can’t wait to get back to Jersey to be with all the people who’ve supported me. But first I must pay my last respects to a young woman whose life was cut short by her own hands. It tears me apart every time I think of how I found her that early morning. I suppose I’ve been trying to shut it out. I’m so grateful to Benny and Connor for taking it upon themselves to arrange this for me. Benny obviously knew how much Jess meant to me whilst in rehab and made sure I wouldn’t miss this chance to say goodbye. I’m deep in thought, and I jump slightly when Connor reaches over the centre console to hold my hand. My racing thoughts halt for a moment whe
n I turn to look into his loving eyes. “You okay?” he asks.

  I smile, only slightly, but it’s there, letting him know that it’s going to be a tough day. I nod. “I’ll be fine. I didn’t know her that well, but I feel responsible, somehow.”

  He looks at me, puzzled, and as I explain to him all the times I spent with her, all the conversations we had, all the fun we had, his brow deepens further. “The way I see it, you’re not responsible for her actions. I don’t want you feeling that way.”

  “Dr. Hart told me her problems ran deeper than anyone knew. Obviously, he wouldn’t share any specific details with me, but he tried to calm the worry in me that I could’ve done more.”

  “I think I need to thank Dr. Hart.” He smiles tenderly.

  “Perhaps you’ll meet him today.”

  “I’d like that, but I don’t think I’d like him delving into my head.” He pulls a funny face then sticks out his tongue. I giggle at his childish, yet endearing behaviour.

  It’s a windy day, freezing, but dry. I wrap my clothing around me a little tighter, and rub my gloved hands together to generate some heat. Spring is on its way, yet it’s still very cold. Connor reaches for my hand as we walk through the courtyard of the church, passing headstones of final resting places for many people who died at least a hundred years ago. We enter the church, and I’m sad to see only a few people have turned out to say goodbye to such a wonderful girl.

  A couple sit at the front; a woman sobbing her heart out, while the man beside her stays strong, with his arm around her shoulder. Jess’ parents, I presume. My heart breaks for them. I know what it’s like to lose someone so young.