When Jax looks back at me I’m pacing up and down, stamping my heels so hard they’re digging into the dirt.
“He told me had late nights – even when projects were just starting. He’d be in the shower as soon as he got home, before I’d even say hello. His credit card bill was full of steak dinners in nice places. Who has business meetings ten miles out of town? His boxers would disappear. And his socks – he barely has a pair that matches anymore.”
“That’s actually a surprisingly common thing,” Jax says, trying to lighten my mood, but right now that’s like lighting a match in a snowstorm and calling it summer.
“I could see the way she looked at him. And he’d change the conversation when I asked about her. I just never thought he’d actually do it. How could I be so—”
Suddenly my heel digs so deeply into the dirt that I stumble. Jax leaps forward, catching me in his arms, and when I look up at him, I sob louder and harder than I’ve done since I last needed a diaper change.
And what does Jax do? In my hour of need, my lowest point, my abject misery?
Jax laughs.
“Why… are… you laughing?” I scream, fighting back tears.
“Because,” Jax says, as he lifts me up, leans me against the tree trunk, and looks me in the eye, “your old friends are assholes who talk to you like shit. Your ex-boyfriend is an asshole who took you for granted. And you’re the most beautiful, smart, intelligent woman I ever met – even though I’ve met most women who’ve been in LA.”
I smile slightly.
“And for some cosmically fucked-up reason, some weird fucking imbalance in the force, I’m in a bizarro world where the assholes are dancing, while you’re over here crying yourself to dehydration and stumbling in the grass.”
Jax reaches out and wipes the few tears from my cheeks, but I can already feel myself mellowing, regaining control. Because everything he just said? Is true.
“How do I make it right?” I say, softly.
“I have one idea,” Jax grins. “After all, you do have something to make up to me after that disappearing act you pulled last night.”
“You mean…here?” My eyes dart around. “Now?”
“Right now,” he commands, taking my hand and leading me away.
Chapter 13
Jax
Am I actually glad I came to this wedding today? Whatever. All I know right now is that I can’t stand to see Lizzie tearing herself up over people like this, and I’m going to fix it. Lizzie’s too cute for tears. Too sexy for sadness. I’ve taught her a lot since we met, and right now, I’m going to teach her how to fuck away her troubles.
As she gathers herself back together, I drag her through the crowd. They’re looking again – all these people seem to do is look – but this time they can see in our faces that we don’t care. That we’re the two hottest people at the party, and our attention is all on ourselves.
“In here,” I say, gesturing Lizzie into a supply closet a little way inside the hall, still in view of the outside crowd.
It’s tight and cramped. Just about big enough for two people to stand inside, inches apart – but that’s ok, because we’re going to be getting even closer. That blue jay in my pants is about to fly free.
I push her inside, face forward, get in behind her, and slam the door shut. Then I’m crouching and burying my face in between her glorious ass cheeks. My hands are grabbing and squeezing like I’m sculpting pottery.
Lizzie braces herself on a shelf, knocking stuff over loudly, and gasping as I bite and push my face into her softness. With a hurried hand she hikes up her skirt, and I can’t help smiling when I see she met my condition – no panties.
I pull apart her cheeks and thrust my tongue around her asshole. My hand reaches up between the front of her legs and I search out her pussy. Middle finger inside, index on her clit, palm pulling her backwards onto my searching tongue. This is what I call making it up to me. It’s enough that the rejection Lizzie dished out last night is nothing but a distant memory.
She tastes like the best dessert I’ve ever had – and like a dessert, I can’t stop eating her. I’ve wanted to taste her ass every single time she wore those tight skirts, every time I saw the shimmy of her butt when she walked in high heels. Now that I’ve got it, I’m not going to let it go without getting my fill.
I lift her up and extend my tongue to her pussy, licking the wetness that my fingers are bringing forth like a split peach. I flatten my tongue and take it all in, from pussy to asshole, and back again. She lets out a little moan – though I can tell she’s trying to suppress it. If she can’t hold it back now, she won’t be able to hold it with what I’ve got in store for her next.
I stand up, spin her around, undo my fly with a swift flick of my hand, and lift her by her thighs. She catches my neck just before she falls backwards, and wraps herself tightly around me as she thrusts her tongue down my throat. We’re perfectly in sync, our bodies communicating before our minds even realize it.
After I get the condom on, her pussy slides onto my dick like a perfectly-tailored suit. If her crying was in danger of killing my libido, the taste of her ass brought it back with a vengeance. My hard-on is filled with seven kinds of lust for this amazing girl.
She leans back, holding onto my shoulders and pulling her center onto me, her hips moving with all the rhythmic aggression of a salsa dancer, urging me deeper. My back is slamming up against the door, and over the sound of her purring urges and my heavy breathing we can hear confused voices come from the other side of the door.
The last time we were in danger of being interrupted, Lizzie got shaken up so much she stopped me mid-fuck. This time, the sound of our audience makes her grit her teeth and swing her body over my dick even harder.
“Don’t stop,” she pleads, as I increase the pace and work a little rotation into my dick, exploring every wall inside her. Pushing all the buttons at once. “Don’t… Stop…”
When she starts to come I thrust into her one more time, and press my whole body into hers. She claws at the back of my suit, almost shredding it apart, and bites the muscle of my shoulder to stop herself screaming. When she lets out the last, muffled squeal into the fine cotton of my collar, I let go of her legs.
As soon as her feet touch the floor, she shoves me against the door and drops to her knees. I’m already about one sexy look away from exploding, but Lizzie is determined to make it good.
She grabs my cock with all the pride and passion of an Oscar, rolls off the condom, and then runs her tongue from my balls to the tip – just like I taught her. She rolls her red-hot tongue up and down it a few more times, with all the rough hunger of a starving woman who’s been given the spoon to lick, then plays with the head. She rolls her lips over it, keeping me teetering on the edge like a rollercoaster before the drop.
And then there it is. She takes it in her mouth. Deeply, slowly, making me feel the softness of her mouth. But it’s not that that does it, it’s the eyes. With a flick of her eyelashes, she opens those brown eyes, and they’re staring right back at me with all the fire and desire of a wild animal. I come so hard then, it hits the roof of her mouth like water from a hose. Her head flicks back when it does, but her eyes stay on me, pulling everything I’ve got. It’s like she’s sucking the soul out of my dick.
She stands up and we both spend a minute adjusting our own – and each other’s – clothes. I’m a fit guy, but I can feel the blood still pumping through my veins, a bead of sweat rolling down my back. Lizzie tenderly sweeps my hair into place, winks at me, then opens the door.
There are people watching us as we make our way back to the garden, but we don’t care, and the big grins over our faces, as well the glow that seems to shroud us, turns the frowns into frustration.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty hungry right now,” Lizzie says, cheerfully.
We make our way to the buffet tables, and start pulling food onto our plates like we’re eating for the week. We walk
along, our eyes fixed upon the food, until Lizzie bumps into somebody at the end.
“Oops, sor—”
Avoiding a man at a party is hard when every one of them is pretty much wearing the same thing. And wouldn’t you know? It’s Brody, and his blue-dressed mistress.
I throw a couple more fish pâté crackers onto my plate and watch the two of them eye each other like it’s two minutes to noon on the day of the gunfight.
“Lizzie.” His voice is ice.
“Brody.” Hers is fire. And I’m putting my money on fire.
“Jax?” Though we only met once at that diner, he certainly didn’t forget my name. I nod, but keep my hands on my plate.
His lady friend steps towards me, drinking in the view, and smiles like she just can’t help herself, which she probably can’t. “Julia.”
The names tumble out of people’s mouths less like greetings and more like a sinister roll call. I grab a miniature cherry pie and take a bite. This is going to be good.
We exchange glances like we’re playing a game where first one to talk loses. Brody and I have on our ‘sizing up the challenge’ smiles, while the girls try, and fail, to hide their cat-like fight-faces.
“You guys just came from inside?” Brody says, pointing lazily at the supply closet.
“The supply closet, yeah,” I say. “We were… looking for paper plates.”
I flash some teeth.
“You found them ok?” He tries sarcasm on for size. It doesn’t fit well.
“I’d say we found the right spot. Yeah.” I prevent myself from winking. He already looks too defeated.
Brody looks down at his drink solemnly, and when he looks up, he’s wearing the kind of expression I thought only stern fathers and old doctors could manage.
“That’s pretty… out there, Lizzie.”
“Well,” she says, her expression as tight as her tone, “I prefer doing things out in the open. Unlike some people I’ve known.”
“That’s not fair, Lizzie.”
Lizzie clenches her fists as she talks. “Damn right it’s not fair.”
Brody looks to the blue dress, but she stays quiet.
“You always had a problem keeping your emotions in check,” Brody goes on.
Lizzie’s eyes go as big and as round as a character from a Japanese cartoon. She looks at me. I laugh.
“Wow,” I say.
“I’m sorry?” Brody directs at me, like a challenge.
“I said, ‘Wow.’ As in, ‘Wow, do they really make assholes as dumb as you still?’”
Brody’s lips turn inwards.
“Dumb?”
“Yeah, dumb,” I reply, calm, with just a little snarl in my smile to let him feel what I’m saying. “I’ve only known Lizzie for about a week. But she’s made me laugh. She’s made me think. She’s surprised me, taught me a few things. And she sure knows how to fuck. She’s the hottest girl in this place, including little miss blue-dress over here – no offense – and she gets hotter every time I see her.”
Brody shuffles on his feet and raises his chin, looking down his nose at me.
“And there you are,” I continue, “with your boring haircut and your delusional superiority. Acting like Lizzie isn’t the luckiest thing that ever happened to you in what seems to be a pretty boring, pretty predictable, pretty all-around pathetic life.”
“You’d better turn around,” Brody says through grinding teeth, “or I’ll do something I’ll regret.”
I chuckle gently. “You’re not going to hit me. You’re just about smart enough to realize that’s a fight you won’t win. Just about.”
“Don’t be so sure,” he says, but his voice is a touch less firm now – we both know who’s in control here.
“You fucked up. That’s all it is. You let her go. You didn’t do everything you could to keep her. And that’s ok. Everybody fucks up. I should pity you for that. But I’m listening to you now and realizing that you don’t even see how you fucked up. I don’t think you’ll ever see it. And you know what? I don’t pity you.”
I glance at his companion. She’s taken a step back, looking at Brody now like she just bit into an apple and found a worm. I continue, “I pity this girl in the blue dress. I pity all the women you’re going to bore with details about your job on the many, many first and last dates you’ve got ahead of you. I pity the women who you’re going to disappoint time after time in bed. I pity the women who are going to get involved with you, expecting a man, but getting a boy. Because if you couldn’t even make it work with Lizzie, who was more than willing to overlook all your issues, you won’t be able to make it work with anybody.”
“Who the hell do you think you are?” Brody shouts with exasperated anger.
I wrap an arm around Lizzie’s waist and pull her close. I turn from Brody’s furiously screwed-up face to Lizzie’s angelic smile.
“I’m the guy who’s going to give her everything she deserves.”
Lizzie puts an arm across my back, and we pull away, together, leaving everything behind.
We walk for about five minutes before Lizzie breaks up laughing. I watch her happily. She spins those hazel eyes on me and I watch them sparkle like bubbles in a champagne glass.
“How does everything come so easily to you?” she says, like the question has been bubbling inside of her for days. “And when did you get so chivalrous?”
I shake my head. “When did you get so hot?”
She waves my answer away. “No. Really. How did you do that, back there?”
I look at the treetops, then back at her, then shrug. “Life is easy when you really know what you want.”
She muses awhile, swaying a little on the grass, then turns back to me.
“Well, I’m going to make my life easy. What I want, right now, is to take a long shower and go to sleep.”
She reaches into her handbag, and pulls out her phone.
“What are you doing?” I say, nodding towards the phone.
“Calling a cab. This wedding is about as over for me as it’s ever going to be.”
Something about the idea of her leaving feels like a kick in the gut. I put my hand on her phone and push it away.
“Come back to my place.”
Lizzie gives me a look of sorry apology. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I’m so tired right now.”
“Nothing like that. Just come and sleep. Nothing else. My car’s right over there. And my shower is amazing.”
Lizzie sways a little more, then says: “Ok. But…why?”
I stick my hands in my pockets, and look away once more. “Would you believe me if I said I’m not really sure myself?”
Chapter 14
Lizzie
Remember when I talked about waking up and feeling fantastic? Well forget it, the bar just got raised. Remember when I said that I’m not a morning person? That I’d dealt out more knockout punches to my alarm clocks than a heavyweight champion? That it took coffee so strong that it’s almost poisonous for me to open my eyes fully? Well forget that too, because it turns out all I needed was to wake up next to Jax.
It starts with one of the nicest dreams I’ve had in a long time. I’m naked, and sinking into the softest, most luxurious silk cloth I’ve ever felt against my skin. It feels as decadent and as perfect as a chocolate advertisement. Strong arms wrap themselves around me, making me feel safe, and I can feel the gentle tickling of something rough but tender against the back of my neck. Then I open my eyes, and see the sun rising over the rolling city of LA like a postcard.
I cling to the moment like a dream you want to drain every last second from, and weirdly, the clinging works for once. The perfect skyline doesn’t dissolve into my screeching alarm clock. The plush silk sheets don’t morph into my functional cotton ones. And when I move my hand over the thing cupping my breast I don’t find a forgotten sock, but the strong knuckles and powerful lines of a man’s hand. Jax’s hand.
I gasp slightly, from the overwhelming realization that this is
really happening, and from the probing kisses he’s placing on all the sweet spots across the back of my ear.
When I feel the stiff shaft of his cock rest between my ass cheeks, and the rock-like definition of his chest pressing into my back, any notion that this is a dream flies about as far away as the distant horizon that fills my field of view.
It happens slowly, sleepily. Silent apart from the sound of rustling sheets (they even sound expensive), the barely audible pecks Jax places over neck, my soft moans in response, and the gentle swipe of skin against skin as his hands play over my breasts.
I reach my free hand behind me and pull him closer, tracing the toned muscles of his ass and thighs. Then I take his hand and slowly bring his finger to my mouth, where I roll my tongue around it and suck – just how he likes his dick sucked.
We hold the moment, both of us clutching onto the hazy morning delight as if we could still wake up at any moment. When his cock starts rolling up and down my ass, and his hands start grabbing like he wants to tear a piece of me off, I don’t let him do all the work.
Jax has been a very good boy, and it’s time I took a load off him.
I roll over, push him onto his back, and sweep away the covers in a swirl, leaving just our two naked bodies on the bed. I take his rod-like cock – which I swear has grown a full inch since last night—for a guy who fucks as hard as Jax, it’s amazing how he still has anything to give—and roll the tip over my pussy. Then I grab a condom from the bedside table and roll it onto him, expertly quick. When I glance up at him afterward, the hunger in his eyes makes pulse race.
“Get over here,” he says, his voice a low rumble.
Jax’s hands reach for my breasts and my neck, caressing and pulling me onto him. When I put him inside me, and hold him there, I can tell he’s about to start handing out further instruction – but what I do next lets him know right away that I’ve got this.
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