"I do love you, Jack," she whispered. Turning her head slightly she placed a kiss on his large warm palm. "Even when we're fighting, I still love you."
He leaned over even closer and placed a gentle kiss on her lips. He kept his head right where it was, staring into her eyes for a few moments. She slid her arms around his neck as she felt her desire for him begin to stir. As she lifted her head his dropped a bit until their mouths met for several slow kisses. "Make love to me," she asked softly as he began to pull away.
He didn't reply with words but he quickly stood up and took her hand again. As they walked home she mused that even though she did not like the way she had been reaching orgasm she had to admit that those few little seconds of pleasure cut the tension dramatically between them. He was more playful and lighthearted and his playfulness made her feel more relaxed. When she was relaxed she was able to be more physically affectionate which led to better sex. It was all terribly interconnected, but she was glad for the increase in affection.
As soon as they got into the apartment he began to strip her clothing off. She realized that she would not make it through their lovemaking without a quick trip to the bathroom, so she pulled herself away with the admonition, "Don't move a muscle. I'll be right back."
She thought she heard her cell phone ring but she assumed whoever it was would call back. But when she came back he was staring at her with an unreadable expression on his face. He held the phone out and said flatly, "It's Assistant District Attorney Mendez."
She felt all of the color drain from her face as she accepted the phone. It was obviously too late to try and hide the issue any longer, so she flopped down in the closest chair and dropped her head into her left hand as she answered the phone. "Hello," she said weakly.
"Ms. Evans? Sorry to call you on Saturday but I'm just getting caught up on my paperwork. I need to reschedule our meeting for this week. Can you make it at 2 on Monday?"
"Yes, I can," she replied, feeling drained and slow.
"Good. I can't find the name of the other witness right now. What was it again?"
"O'Flaherty," she said with resignation. "Ryan O'Flaherty."
"Right...here it is. Can you let Mr. O'Flaherty know about the time change?"
"Ms. O'Flaherty. She's a woman," she corrected.
"Okay, sorry about that. See you on Monday."
She switched off the phone and gently placed it on the table. But the silence in the room made the soft tap sound like a gunshot. "Jack, something happened that I didn't tell you about. Please try not to get angry until I can explain," she begged.
He was sitting on the couch with his legs splayed out, looking like she had punched him in the stomach. "What?" he asked with a voice filled with fatigue. "What now?"
"Ryan and I were in the park with her little cousin just after Thanksgiving. A man tried to abduct me," she said as an involuntary shudder ran down her spine. "I assume he was going to rape me," she continued, "but I passed out before he could get me to go with him of my own volition. Ryan stopped him, and now we need to go to court to testify."
He blinked at her slowly, trying to take all of this information in. He said nothing, but his eyes relayed his fear.
"Nothing happened to either of us," she said quickly. "Ryan knocked him out before he could do anything. I just got a few bruises from when he dropped me. But I didn't tell you or anyone else because the whole thing just upset me too much. I saw a counselor at school and she helped me see that I did need to talk about it. I wanted to tell you but I knew you'd be mad and hurt that I hadn't told you originally, so I just didn't," she admitted weakly.
He got up in total silence. He walked over to this books and calmly picked out two that he needed to study. Placing them in his book bag he slung it over his shoulder, letting out a tired sigh as the relatively light weight hit his strong back. Glancing around the room, he found his keys and his sunglasses and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.
She spent the rest of the day and all of the evening in a state of panic. A heavy weight had settled in her stomach as she came to grips with the knowledge that she had probably torn the foundation of their trust from its moorings. He didn't call and he did not wear a pager or a cell phone so she had no way to get in touch with him. At around 8 she got in her car and drove to the law library, but a thorough search of every cubicle failed to find him. The next hour was spent in a rather dazed inspection of every possible place that he could have hidden himself on the campus. Every library and every student lounge was thoroughly investigated. Next she got back in her car and parked on University, just outside the gates of the school. She walked from one end of the long street to the next, looking carefully in every restaurant and bookstore. But her hour long search proved fruitless. In fact, she preferred to walk around aimlessly to the terror she felt when she was alone in the apartment but after a while she had no more ideas so she returned to the apartment and flopped down on the couch. She fell asleep in the same position that she had collapsed in, exhausted and terribly depressed. Around midnight she woke with a start to the sound of his key in the lock. She dashed to the door before he was even in the room and tried to speak to him, but he brushed her aside as he placed his book bag on the floor and walked into the bathroom.
She was waiting right outside the door but again he walked past her like he didn't know she was in the room. He stripped down to his boxers and got in bed, turning his back to the door as he turned off the bedside light. "Aren't you even going to speak to me?" she asked, slightly dumbfounded.
Silence was his only reply. She considered getting in her car and going home, but she didn't think it was wise to further escalate the issue. The sofa was big enough for her but she thought her physical closeness might thaw him out at some point. So she got ready for bed and slid in next to him, being careful not to touch him.
She lay awake for hours, going over the events that she had clearly set in motion. I'm so angry with myself for not telling him! How would I feel if he withheld something so big? I'd feel utterly betrayed. I just don't know how he will ever be able to forgive me for this.
Some time during the early morning hours she drifted off into a fitful sleep. But every half hour she woke with the fear of the incident burning in her chest. Around 4 she woke and let out a startled gasp as she turned to find Jack's intense gaze fixed upon her, the moonlight glinting off his steely blue eyes. "Did you ever love me?" he asked with a flat, emotionless voice.
"Of course I do," she said quickly as she turned fully to face him. She lifted her hand to stroke his face but he caught it and held it tightly, actually causing her a slight bit of pain. "Please, Jack, please let me touch you. Let me hold you," she begged.
He closed his eyes and let go of her hand. She took that as a sign of acceptance so she quickly moved closer and wrapped her arms around his body. She pulled him to her as tightly as she could and murmured into his ear, "I'm so sorry. I know I hurt you, and it's all my fault. It's all my fault, Jack. Please forgive me," she pleaded.
The tears were streaming down her face as she began to kiss his rigid body. She started at his neck and breathed in his musky scent as she worked her way down to his collarbones. His scent became a vital need as her lungs filled with the fragrance and she sought to increase their capacity just to satiate her need. Licking and kissing down his body more for sustenance than to arouse she continued on her slow, torturous path. When she finally began to nibble around the waistband of his shorts she grasped them by the legs and pulled them half way from his body, then lifted them to slide over his erection.
She kissed and sucked her way down his belly and found to her amazement that she had an overpowering need to take him into her mouth. She was an inch from her goal when he pushed her onto her back and quickly entered her, completely without warning. The combination of her need and the fear of losing him combined with his raw aggression to make her more aroused than she had ever been. She moved with him, urging him on more vocally tha
n she had ever done. Feeling no control whatsoever her climax washed over her like a tidal wave, washing some of the pain and dread from her soul. Her release pushed him over and he finished quickly, panting and sweating until he collapsed on her body.
But he was not satisfied. He started the same intense examination of her body. He kissed and sucked and bit his way from her face to her toes, needing the constant stimulus of her flesh vibrating against his mouth. She was fully ready for him when he climbed on top for another connection. Every muscle ached for rest but she managed to merge with him for another debilitating climax. He could not be satisfied for a long while, but he finally groaned out his release. He moved down a few inches as he withdrew and collapsed with his head against her breast. His weight was mostly on the bed, but even the small portion that rested on her was terribly heavy. But she would not, could not bear to move him. They fell asleep in that same awkward position, and remained nearly motionless until morning.
When they woke they struggled through an hour or so of embarrassed silence. But as the day went on things got more familiar and settled back into a relatively normal day. Before dinner he turned to her again, and while she knew the encounter would be painful she willingly gave herself to him, just trying to maintain their connection. She could not overcome the discomfort and she knew that he would not be satisfied unless she reached climax, so for the first time in their relationship she successfully faked an orgasm. Her performance must have been Oscar caliber because it pushed him over immediately. He nuzzled against her breasts tenderly for a long while before he relaxed and fell asleep against her in much the same position as the night before.
The rest of the weekend passed quickly. He was never more than a few inches from her, and by the time she got back into her car she felt like she was breathing her own air for the first time in 24 hours. Well, we settled absolutely nothing, she mused. We never did talk about what happened or how I felt about it. I have no idea how it affected him. What if I had been raped? Would he still refuse to talk about it then? Is this really the way it will be for our entire relationship? Fight, have sex, fight, have sex...all the while ignoring the huge issues that are bearing down on us?
"Jamie?" the deep voice reverberated through the phone on Sunday night, just minutes after she arrived home.
"Hi, Daddy," she said with a mental rolling of her eyes. She had conversed with her parents infrequently since their last argument and each of the conversations had been rather stilted, if not contentious. Her father had not again brought up his ridiculous idea about her moving back home, though, and for that she was grateful.
"Jamie," he began again, clearing his throat, "I don't like the distance that seems to have developed between us. What can I do to make things right?"
Wow! Someone noticed! "Well, um...first of all, I'm really glad that it's important to you to stay close," she said fondly. "That means a lot to me, Daddy."
"Of course it's important to me," he insisted. "My relationship with you is the most important one in my life, Jamie. You mean the world to me, and I want you to know that I'll do whatever I can to work on this. I mean...I know we've each said things that we regret and I want you to know that I'm sorry for upsetting you."
"I'm sorry too, Daddy," she murmured as her voice caught. "I don't want you and mother to be angry with me, but I have to learn how to be my own person," she said with conviction.
"I know dear," he soothed. "That's just part of growing up. We'll try to be more supportive of your choices, honey. It's just...well, I guess it's just hard to have your baby become independent," he admitted.
"Thanks, Daddy," she said quietly. "Sometimes it's hard for me too. But I guess growing up is never easy."
"Well, another reason for my call is to discuss your official growing up," he said with a small chuckle. "You know that you're entitled to your first major distribution from the Smith trusts on your birthday. Have you given much thought to that?"
"Um...well, I knew it was happening, but I haven't really spent much time thinking about it. What do I need to do?"
"There are hundreds of decisions to make, Jamie. We're talking about a massive amount of money here," he reminded her. "Do you want to keep the money managers I've hired? Do you want to sell off the securities and take a cash distribution or in kind? Who do you want to represent you?"
"Wait...wait," she begged. "I don't know what I want to do! Do I have to make all of these decisions immediately?"
"Well...yes," he said slowly. "If you want the distribution, you need to be prepared to handle it, Dear."
"What do you mean, 'If I want it?'," she asked slowly.
"The trust makes the first two distributions discretionary," he said easily. "I thought you knew that."
"Okay...back up a bit, Daddy," she said in frustration. "Give me the whole story."
He took in a deep breath and slowly let it out. "All right, Dear," he soothed. "Here's the story. The bulk of your inheritance will come from the Dunlops, and other than the discretionary income that has been used on your behalf you get nothing from that trust until you are 30. But the Smith money can be distributed in several ways. Your mother and I are the trustees for your funds and we can make 3 distributions to you---25% at age 21, 25% at age 25 and the remainder at 30. But the first two distributions are entirely at our discretion. If you don't want the money or we don't think you're ready for it, we can wait. And as I'm sure you remember, the entire trust is due to be distributed when you marry."
"Yeah, I do remember that," she mused. "I guess I thought I would just take it all at once and Jack could help me figure out what to do with it."
"There's no reason we can't do it that way, Jamie," he assured her. "There are many, many decisions that you have to be prepared to make if you want the money now. If you don't feel up to it, there's no reason to force any more change upon yourself."
"Maybe that would be best," she mused.
"Are you happy with the way things are now?" he asked.
"Yeah...I guess I am," she admitted.
"Then let's hold off," he suggested gently. "Or do you want to discuss this with Jack first?"
"No," she said firmly. "This isn't really Jack's concern."
"Well it will be, Honey," he reminded her. "He's going to be a very, very wealthy man when you marry."
"No..." she explained with more patience than she felt. "He's going to be married to a very wealthy woman...there's a difference, Daddy.
Her father's wry chuckle surprised her a bit, but when he said, "I'm well acquainted with the difference, Jamie," she blushed at her unintentional gaffe.
"I'm...I'm sorry, Daddy, that came out all wrong."
"No offense taken, Jamie," he said easily. "You're absolutely right, of course. And believe me when I tell you that it's vital for you to work out an agreement about how you will handle your money before you marry. Otherwise it will be a constant source of contention."
Oh boy! Another constant source of contention! Just what we need!
Chapter 13
Ryan had been pestering Jamie for a week trying to get her to decide what she wanted to do to celebrate her birthday. Since it fell on a Thursday she was not going to see Jack or her parents. Her parents had invited her down for a celebration on Saturday and Jack decided that they should celebrate both her birthday and Valentine's Day since it fell on the following Sunday. Ryan found this arrangement more than odd, but she kept her comments to herself. The jerk lives 25 minutes from here! He can't drag his ass up here for a couple of hours to celebrate her 21st birthday?! And who wants to lump their birthday in with Valentine's Day? That is beyond cheap!!
On Wednesday Jamie finally decided that she wanted to go to a bar to have a legal drink. This was fine with Ryan but the next problem was finding an acceptable bar. "Where do you normally go?" Jamie inquired.
"I don't go to a lot of bars to be honest," Ryan said. "I don't drink much and I'm not crazy about crowded places. But when I do go to one in the East Bay I usual
ly choose a lesbian bar right on Telegraph. I don't think that's what you had in mind though. Maybe we should ask Mia, I'm sure she knows every hot spot in the Bay area."
"I don't really care about the atmosphere, Ryan. I just want to have a drink without fake I.D.'s"
"Would you be comfortable in a lesbian bar?"
"Yeah I would if I was with you. Besides, we would be bothered less at a gay place."
"Hey, speak for yourself," she said haughtily as she ineffectively hid a grin.
"You know what I mean, silly. The men there won't want us and you've said that women aren't very aggressive, so I thought we would be left alone."
"That's probably true" she replied. "It's fine with me if that's what you want to do. How about dinner first?"
"Sure. You pick where we go. Why don't you come over at 6 or so to pick me up?"
As promised Ryan showed up slightly before 6 o'clock. She was dressed in her black silk t-shirt and a new pair of black lightweight wool slacks with deep pleats. The pants were held up by a thin black belt and they draped attractively over her long legs. Her black leather jacket was draped casually over her shoulder. "We need to get going, Jamie. I made reservations for dinner at 6 sharp."
"Reservations? We're going somewhere that you need reservations?" she asked in surprise.
"It's your birthday, knucklehead. I thought it would be nice to take you somewhere where the biggest question isn't 'You want fries with that?' "
"You wait right here, I'm going to change," she said as she looked down at her jeans and golf shirt. "I need to keep up with my escort. You look so… so…"
"Evil?" Ryan supplied helpfully, her face breaking into a crooked grin.
"No, I'd say you look sleek," she decided.
"Sleek, I think I like that," she mused.
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