by J. B. Havens
“Poor kids,” I joke, poking him in the arm.
“I agree with you there. He’s just tryin’ to cop a feel at the dance. That’s why I told them to head out to the field. No one’s out there. And I will totally deny I said it if anyone asks.” The corners of his mouth lift into a smile. “Hell, I have half a mind to take you under the bleachers myself. I feel his pain, even though I’m twice his age.”
“I have half a mind to let you.” The song ends and a new one begins to play. “Sexy Back,” by Justin Timberlake. My eyes widen with excitement. “Come on, you have to dance with me! I love this song!”
Drew grins, letting me pull him deeper onto the dance floor. I grab his waist and rock my hips to the beat. He slides his right leg forward between mine and pulls me against his body. Grabbing me just above my ass, he grinds himself against me and I gasp. I roll my hips against his, my breasts smashed flat against his chest as we dance together. Our movements so similar to making love that I grin as my panties grow damp. His own arousal is evident against my leg, I swear I can feel his heat through the layers of our clothes.
“Should we be dancing like this?” I’m breathless with excitement, energy surging through me as the beat guides our bodies against each other. I move my hips, left and right, back and forth, rubbing myself against Drew. The musk of his cologne and a faint twinge of sweat fills the air between us, heightening my desire for him.
He leans forward, resting his cheek against mine with his mouth beside my ear. “Maybe not, darlin’, but I can’t help myself. You’re so freakin’ gorgeous in that dress. You look powerful, like a queen. It makes me want to claim you and make you mine.”
I pull back and stare into his eyes, at a loss for words. The emotion I see there nearly cripples me. So, instead, I lean back in and kiss him. I pour everything I’m feeling into that kiss. All my confusion and heartbreak, every drop of lust that burns through me. His tongue slides along mine and I moan, deepening the kiss even further.
The sound of someone clearing their throat near us jerks us apart. I try to step back, but Drew refuses to let me go.
“Look, Drew. I get it, man. She’s a knock-out, but ya gotta set a better example here.” A man around Drew’s age stands in front of us. He isn’t as tall as Drew, but he’s built just as fine. He raises one hand, rubbing it through his deep red hair nervously.
“See?” Drew says, looking at me. “These dances are all about gettin’ cock-blocked.”
I rest my head against his chest and giggle. “It’ll be okay. Promise.” I look over at his friend, “You going to introduce us?”
“Oh, right.” Drew lets me go but doesn’t put too much space between us. “This is Jacob Mackenzie. He’s a math teacher and baseball coach here. Meet Meg Taylor.”
“Hello, Meg.”
I shake the hand he offers. “Pleasure to meet you. I haven’t met too many of Drew’s friends.”
“Drew and I go way back. We graduated together. He was the football king and I was the baseball master. Still am, actually.” He grins at Drew’s scowl. “Football might be this town’s claim to fame, but baseball is America’s favorite game.”
“Yeah, yeah. Hittin’ balls and runnin’ for short distances isn’t that hard. Try gettin’ plowed down by a linebacker three times your size, then havin’ to get back up and do it again a minute later. There’s no such thing as relief pitchers or bunts in football,” Drew argued.
“I can tell this is a long running debate between you two.” I laugh. “Sorry, I have to agree with Drew here. Football is more physical. Baseball puts me to sleep.”
Jacob gasps, putting a big hand to his chest. “You wound me!”
“That being said,” I continue, “Hockey still holds my heart. Nothing beats a good hat trick and the sound of blades on ice.” They both look at me like I have three heads. “What? There’s just something about when a defensive man throws down his gloves and beats the hell out of someone. I like violent sports.” I shrug, unapologetic.
“She’s a keeper.” Jacob points at me. “Hold on tight, buddy, or I might be tempted to steal her away.”
“Not effin’ likely.” Drew pulls me closer, tucking me against his side.
Jacob clasps him on the shoulder, “Have fun kids, but stop suckin’ face in front of the teenagers.”
“We’ll do our best,” I say, running my hand up and down Drew’s back. I’m reeling slightly from Drew’s possessiveness. My heart fractures even more when I remember I’m leaving in the morning and I haven’t told him yet. My face tightens into a grimace.
“Hey, what’s the matter?” Drew tips my face upward, his finger under my chin. I meet his eyes in the dim light of the gym and tears threaten to spill over.
“Can-can we go?”
“Yeah.” His expression shows concern. “Let me tell them I need to leave. The dance is almost over anyway.” His big hands grasp my bare shoulders. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.” Kissing me on the forehead he walks away to the group of teachers standing on the other side of the gym.
Five minutes later we’re walking out, hand in hand. I’m so nervous I’m afraid I’m going to puke. I don’t want to hurt him. He’s already had so much pain in his life, but I can’t stay.
The drive back to the motel is silent and tense. Drew keeps stealing glances at me, but I keep my mouth tightly closed. I do my best to push thoughts of tomorrow out of my mind. Tonight is all we have left, and I’m going to make the most of it.
We pull into the motel. Drew puts the truck into park, jumps out, and opens my door before I have a chance to do it. He holds his hand out to me, waiting to help me down.
“Thanks.” I slide my hand into his warm one, turned on by the feel of the calluses against my own softer skin.
“Come on. Let’s get inside.”
I follow him into his apartment, dread settling over me. I swallow thickly, knowing the words I need to say, but they’re stuck. I gulp them down, burying them deep until I’m ready. Drew still has me by the hand; he’s towing me behind him into his bedroom. Pulling my hand free, I sit on the edge of the bed, bending down to unbuckle my shoes.
“Leave them on.” Drew’s voice is thick, husky with desire.
“Okay.” I look up at him. His hands move to his jacket, stripping it off, letting it fall carelessly to the floor behind him, followed by his shirt. He stands before me in just his kilt and my breath catches. He looks like a warrior, fresh off the killing field. There’s a darkness in his eyes that makes my pulse race in response. That errant lock of hair falls over his brow as he gazes down at me intently. He’s powerful, fierce, and confident. Need for him pools low in my belly—I want him like this. The man underneath it all, the man who knows what he needs, and, right now, that’s me.
“Stand up,” he commands, his tone leaving no room for argument. Not that I plan to.
I rise, my knees wobbling slightly.
“Strip.”
Guilt eats at me, again, but I shove it aside. I turn my back to him. “I need help with the zipper.” My voice is soft, wavering with desire. My hands are shaking.
I feel the heat of his body as he steps closer to me. His scent hits my nose and I inhale deeply, dragging it deep into my lungs. The zipper tugs, slowly descending until the back of my dress falls open. I know he can see the delicate lace of my strapless bra. I move my arms, letting the sides of the gown fall down to my hips, exposing the top of the matching thong.
“Meg,” he groans, tracing a single finger down my spine, stopping just short of the band of my panties. I know how I look. The white gown, pure and bright, against the sexy black lace of my lingerie. I am sin wrapped in a package of innocence. I look back at him over my shoulder, my hair sliding to the side, framing my face, and smile.
Gripping my shoulders, he spins me around, clutching me tightly against his chest. Fisting his hands in my hair, he jerks my head back and takes my mouth. I moan, my own hands reaching out to him. I touch him anywhere I can reach him. Scrat
ching and pulling, desperate to get as close to him as I can. With a swift flick of his thumb, I feel my bra loosen around me. I fling it to the side myself, too impatient to wait for him. I keep my lips pressed to his as I shimmy my hips, letting the dress fall to the floor around my feet. Kicking it to the side, I step free, pushing Drew back against the wall. The moment his shoulders hit, he flips us around, pressing me flat, trapping me between the heat of his body and the cold wall. Gripping my knee, he lifts my leg high, hooking it around his hip.
“Drew . . .” I gasp against his lips. This feels different. We made love almost every day, but this need, this pure lust, mingles with something else. Something I refuse to name but can feel in my very bones.
Pulling back, he looks down our bodies, his hand tracing the path his eyes make. He cups his palm over my sex, the thin scrap of lace doing nothing to conceal my wet heat from him. “Fuck. You’re so hot.” Pushing the lace to the side, he slips a finger inside me. “And wet. You’re soaked.”
“Always, for you.” I grind myself against his hand. Unabashedly greedy. Desperate in my need for him and unashamed.
Leaning his head forward, he drags his lips down my neck, biting my shoulder so hard I hiss and gasp. The pain and pleasure mingle, amplifying my need for him. I moan loudly, jerking my hips against his hand. He adds a second finger, curving the tips, slipping them in and out of me.
I grab the buckle of his kilt. Not knowing how it hooks, I fumble in my haste. I need him inside me.
“I need you. I need to feel your skin on mine. Drew. Please.”
He brushes my hands aside and unfastens the buckle. As the kilt falls to his feet, he strips his boxers off in one smooth motion.
“Fuck,” I mutter. Reaching forward, I wrap my hands around his thick length. His head falls back, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. I squeeze, pulling up and down, twisting my grip along the head on each up stroke.
“Meg, shit.” He leans forward, smacking his palms against the wall above my head. His eyes are closed, and his chest rises and falls rapidly. I can see his pulse beating in his neck; his heart is racing. Releasing him, I lower myself to my knees. Looking up, I catch his eyes. He’s staring down at me with such a look of wonder it makes my heart skip a beat. Keeping my eyes on his, I lean forward and grip him with one hand, I run my tongue up from base to tip, before opening my mouth and relaxing my jaw. Closing my lips around him, I draw back slightly, wetting him more before sliding my lips down his length.
He gathers my hair away from my face, holding it tightly at the base of my neck. His jaw clenches and his hips twitch forward, wanting to thrust but afraid to hurt me, I think. Letting go of him with my hand, I grip the backs of his thighs, drawing him closer to my face and sinking him further into my mouth, bumping the head of his dick against the back of my throat. I use my hands to push and pull him, letting him know he can take control.
I glance up and see his eyes narrow and he grips my hair tighter and begins to thrust into my mouth. Shallowly at first, but slowly going deeper. He grunts softly, his head falling back. I breathe when I can and keep a death grip on his thighs. I’ve never done this, and it takes a huge amount of trust. I know Drew won’t take it too far; he won’t hurt me.
Suddenly, he jerks back from me, pulling himself free of my mouth, panting. “Get up.” His hands pull me up before I can rise on my own.
He walks me back to the bed, pushing me down. I scoot up higher until I find the pillow with my head. Burying my fingers in his hair, I pull him down to me. Biting and sucking on his bottom lip, I kiss him with everything I have in me. Every unnamed emotion, every feeling and need, I pour into the kiss. His mouth doesn’t leave mine as he rips my thong away and jerks my leg up, draping it high over his hip. With no hesitation, he thrusts into me, so deep and hard he hits the end of my body. The burst of pleasure and pain mingle, shooting through me. I gasp against his lips and raise my hips to meet his next thrust.
Drew’s head is thrown back, the cords in his neck straining, and he grunts with each thrust. My own moans and cries match his, the pleasure so intense, I’m sure my heart will stop.
He makes love to me, equal parts hard and soft, slow and sweet, fast and deep. It’s everything. He’s everything. Tears prick my eyes at the enormity of what I’m feeling. Staring into his eyes, I fall deeper into the sea of need I see there. All my hopes and dreams are reflected back to me in his gaze.
“Meg. God.” He groans, tucking his face into my neck. I wind my hands around his head, holding him tightly against me, squeezing him with both my arms and my body where he’s buried so deep inside me I feel him like a phantom in my heart.
My orgasm builds quickly, the pleasure too much for me to take. Connected by more than our bodies, our coupling goes beyond sex. I dig my nails into his back and sink my teeth into his arm. He gasps in response, fucking me harder. I tighten my legs around his hips, rocking upward, drawing him as deeply as I can, my clit bumping and rubbing against him with each movement. The wet slap of our bodies meeting is loud and sexy, peppered with his moans and my near shrieks, they join together to produce a chorus that fuels us higher.
“Drew. Fuck.” I gasp, nearly beyond words. My orgasm slams into me, my back arching and every muscle tense. I buck against him silently, thrashing as my body spasms. I explode. There is no sound, no sight, all I can do is feel. Too much, too fast, uncompromising emotions burst through me with my orgasm. I shatter.
Drew follows me seconds later, throwing his head back and roaring his own release. He twitches, thrusting his way through his own pleasure. Sweat coats us both, slicking our bodies. My legs relax and fall limply, my calf brushing against the metal of his leg. He didn’t even pause to remove it.
Drew lifts his head from where it rests beside mine. “Meg.” He kisses me deeply, groaning and sinking into the kiss. We’re still joined; amazingly he’s still hard and buried in me as far as he can go. His tongue dances along mine, before retreating, pulling away to look down at me.
“You . . . I just . . . God. I love you.” His words are husky and deep, gutting me.
“Drew . . .” I begin, stopping to think. I don’t know what to say. I’m not sure if there’s anything I can say.
“Shh . . . don’t.” He stops my words with a soft kiss. “You don’t need to tell me anything. I know it’s insane. I’ve only known you a week, but life to too short—too uncertain not to say it. I know you’re leavin’ tomorrow.” My eyebrows rise in shock.
“You didn’t need to tell me; I could see it on your face all day, darlin’. I told you how I feel, hopin’ that maybe you’ll come back to me one day. Just know that I’ll be here.” He brushes the hair off my face, tucking it behind my ears.
I wiggle, needing to get out from under him. He rolls over, giving me some space. My body begins to cool, and my thighs are wet and sticky with the remnants of our love making.
“You don’t deserve me, Drew. You need someone who’s whole, unbroken. Someone sweet and kind, and who can give you plenty of babies. I’m a mess in every fucking way possible. Don’t wait for me.” I stand, pulling on my bra and what’s left of my panties, and step back into my dress. I tug it up, holding it in place, not bothering to zip it. I’m sure it’s late enough that no one is going to see me on a ten-feet walk of shame with an open dress. I look back at him, torturing myself with the sight. He’s sprawled on his bed, naked and glorious. Every inch of him is perfect. Including his heart, that organ of pure gold that beats in his chest, precious and true. I let my feelings for him fill my eyes, I let him see what I can’t put into words. It’s unfair to us both, but I’m powerless to stop the tsunami of emotions flooding me.
“Goodbye, Drew.” I blow him a kiss and leave. The click of the door closing echos through my heart and soul, cracking them further.
Chapter 37
Meg
Not wanting to deal with any more goodbyes, and suffering from a huge emotional hangover, I pack my few belongings in my duffel and lo
ad it into the Jeep at the crack of dawn. I leave the dresses hanging in the closet. I can’t bear to look at them, nor can I tolerate the thought of putting them in the trash. I know Drew will find them. Maybe he’ll see them as a token to remember me by. Or maybe he’ll burn them. It’s up to him.
A few days ago, I visited a cell phone store, not because I want to stay in contact with anyone, but mainly for the convenience of getting online and to have GPS for planning my route west. I climb into the driver’s seat and plug Chicago into the map tool, the starting point of historic US Route 66. The app tells me that my trip will be 639 miles due north. Barring any complications, I should arrive at my destination in nine or ten hours, just in time for dinner.
About ten miles outside of Chicago, I come to a screeching halt. Rush hour. Even though I am heading into the city, it seems everyone is trying to get home from wherever they’ve spent their workday, so traffic in all directions is impacted. As I creep along toward the exit for Lake Shore Drive, I think about the things I plan to do and see in the Windy City prior to starting my trek to the Pacific Ocean. I called ahead to the Hilton Chicago for a reservation, deliberately choosing the old grand hotel on South Michigan Avenue for its proximity to the marker designating the beginning of Route 66.
As I pull into the parking garage area for the hotel I’m tired but grateful I made it safely north. I’m relieved to be back in a part of the country I’m more familiar and comfortable with than the small, southern town of Green Springs. Cleveland is only about 350 miles east of Chicago, and both are port cities. The only difference, beyond the size, is that Chicago is in the Central time zone, so I’ll need to make a slight adjustment to my body clock. I hop out as the valet approaches. “I’m going to be staying for a few nights.”
The valet looks from me to the Jeep and back to me with a quizzical expression. We don’t seem to be the typical clientele for this hotel. His voice doesn’t give away what his face does, as he politely replies, “No problem, ma’am. We’ll take care of parking your vehicle and the daily parking fee will be added to your bill.”
