by Mj Fields
I skim a thumb over one nipple, and she moans then takes tiny, short, little breaths.
“Yeah.”
I lean in, squeezing her tits harder now, and rub my nose down her, inhaling her scent. Ascending, I trace the same area with my tongue.
When I look up, her mouth is gaping slightly, and she’s panting.
“These”—I squeeze her tits—“are sex handles, Kendall.”
Her eyes soar open.
“By the time I’m inside you, I’m gonna be holding on for dear life, praying that God takes pity on the man who now knows he has no business being inside anything else but you, so that I don’t bust a nut upon impact.” I rock my hips against her, and she gasps. “Swear to you, I’ll go easy, but I’m definitely gonna go fast.”
She grinds against me.
“Begging you not to do that again, or I’m gonna go right here.”
Mischief plays in those eyes as she does it again.
Releasing one of her gorgeous globes of pale flesh, I spread my hand on her back, turn our bodies, and lay her down. I kiss her hard, taking the control back from her, and then kiss down her neck. I lick across her nipple as I squeeze her tits harder now.
Her back arches and I suck one into my mouth.
“Oh God.” She fists my hair with both hands as I roll her tiny pebble between my teeth, and she pushes into me. “I think we should st-t-t-t—Oh my God!”
I know she’s almost there. I know I could get her off right this fucking second, but hearing her, tasting her, pleasing her, and knowing I’m the only one … ever … is an almost orgasmic feeling in its own way.
I suck hard then pull my mouth away, pulling at her nipple so hard I know I’m borderline abusing the sweet, little treats.
When it pops out of my mouth, I watch her mouth drop open, and she looks at me like I’ve just pissed in the proverbial cornflakes.
It only lasts until I give the other the same treatment.
When her hands leave my hair and tug at the bottom of my shirt, sliding up my sides, I groan at the feeling of her touching me.
I let her breast fall from my mouth and smash my lips against hers. She skates her nails up until they’re moving back and forth over my nipples.
Well fuck, I think and feel a grin spreading across my face.
Does she think …? Yep, she does. She just pinched a nip.
I bury my head in the crook of her neck and try not to laugh.
My vibrating body causes her to freeze, and she doesn’t say a damn thing.
Trying my damnedest not to laugh just makes it harder not to. I’m at the point where it’s not one bit funny, but that makes it funny.
“Ben?”
“Little Ross?”
She pulls her hands from between us and grabs my hair, wrenching my head back. “Are you laughing at me?”
Trying to keep my face straight, I shake my head back and forth. “Of course not.”
She tightens her fingers in my hair to the point that it hurts a little bit. “Don’t lie to me.”
“Girl, I’m just that fucking happy to be here.”
She tries to push me off her.
“Now, don’t do that.”
“I’ll knee you square in the nuts.”
“Sweets.” I sigh and sit up. “Men and women don’t have the same erogenous zones.”
“Really? Because José loved it.”
“Kendall Ross, what the hell did you just say?”
She quickly starts buttoning her shirt. “Don’t. Talk.”
“I’m thinking that’s a good idea.” I push up and off her.
I’m pissed. So pissed.
She sits up and straightens her shirt. “Well, I guess you need to go.”
“Don’t. Talk,” I mimic her.
“You don’t get to be pissed at me.”
“Sure as fuck do when you talk about your ex liking his nips tweaked.”
“You laughed at me.”
“It was fucking adorable—”
“You know I may be inexperienced, but I’m not rude.”
“You surpassed rude and went right to savage.”
She looks away.
“We’ve gone through what you’ve done and not done, but now I’m really fucking curious about what you’ve done with the nip king.”
She whips her head around and glares at me.
“Wouldn’t have even broached the subject, but hey”—I throw my hands in the air—“you brought it up. And while I’m waiting patiently, I’d like to experience some of—”
“You really wanna know?”
“Hell yes, I do.”
“Absolutely nothing, okay?”
“You sure about that?” I ask sternly.
“Of course, I am.”
“So just the nip tw—”
She snaps, “No, okay? I was embarrassed.”
“You don’t have anything to be embarrassed about.”
“You were laughing at me.”
“My bad. But I thought it was cute.”
“Cute?” Her voice squeaks, which is also cute.
“Yes, cute. Maybe sexy. Maybe a bit kinky even.”
She covers her face, and her shoulder shake. I’m not sure if she’s laughing or crying.
“Talk to me.”
She flops back against the seat exaggeratedly. “I’d rather not.”
“Then let’s get comfy because, quite frankly, I’m not leaving here with you pissed off, or upset, or …” I stop when her shoulders shake again and grab her hands.
She’s laughing!
“Get your ass over here.”
Sliding over, I push my arm behind her and pull her into a hug.
“Don’t laugh at me again,” she whispers.
“You need to realize I’m not laughing at you. You need to realize how damn lucky I feel to be the one you’re learning with. But mostly, Kendall, you need to realize that we’re gonna laugh because life is too short not to.”
She sighs, laying her head against my shoulder, and all I can think is how content I could be if I take over the farm. With her in my arms, and my parents being able to face whatever is to come without the worry that comes with the financial burdens and taking care of the land they—we—love, life will be good.
And, as if she’s reading my mind, she asks, “How’s the writing coming?”
I silently chuckle, and she looks up at me.
I shake my head. “Not good.”
“Ben, you have a contract.”
Kissing the top of her head, I tell her, “I’ll honor it.”
“Do you miss it?”
“Right now, not one bit.” She looks at me curiously, and I explain, “I used to think I’d die without music. For the first time in my life, I can honestly say without regret that I’d be fine without it.”
“Do me a favor?”
I nod as I push her hair away from her face.
“Write me something that makes me believe I could die without ever hearing music again.”
28
Fade Into You
Kendall
Lying in bed at Mom and Dad’s, looking at the ceiling, I already miss him. I hold my hand over my chest and can’t help laughing inside at how ridiculous our “spat” was. I know there are going to be a lot of times when I’m going to be pushed way out of my comfort zone, but I will learn to adapt, and I won’t be doing it alone. He’s adapting, as well.
I also know how easy it would have been to have gone to the next “base” with him.
And I feel like a teenager thinking “base.”
So many people throughout my life have laughed either at me or behind my back for wanting to wait until I’m married. It was easier when I was younger to shove my nose in the air and silently judge those people back. I mean, that’s precisely what they were doing to me, right? However, things changed after watching the heartaches of others, mainly Tessa, who nearly lost herself to a man; and my cousin Jade, who suffered insurmountable heartache and a type of
“slut-shaming” that no one should have endured at one of the most difficult times in her life—a pregnant teen whose boyfriend died in an accident.
I try not to judge, unless of course, you’re a Marna, then you deserve that shit.
In today’s world, sex is, as even Ben said, considered more of a pastime, a physical activity, or a release.
I want it to be more.
Ben.
I’m falling.
I would say I have fallen, but that would be past tense.
I jackknife straight up when I feel a bit panicked and grab my phone off the nightstand to call Ben. When he doesn’t answer, I have a new reason to panic.
“Hey, Ben, we need to talk.” I take a deep breath. “Jesus, what am I doing?” I flop back on the bed. “I’m trusting you more than myself to make sure, well, you know.” I sigh. “Call me when you get home. Bye.” I hang up wishing I didn’t leave the message. I have to physically put my phone down to stop myself from calling back.
An hour later, I’m staring at my phone, as every awful scenario that could possibly play out in my head is doing just that.
I’m tempted to call his parents, but things seemed off with them. Then I remember how upset he was tonight … until the whole boob thing. Now I feel like a piece of crap for not making sure he was okay.
I grab my iPod and randomly shuffle, asking it, “Should I go to him?”
“Fade Into You” by Mazzy Star begins.
Listening to my “new-ish” radio, sitting on my “new to me” seat, I pull into Watkins at nearly two in the morning.
The entire way here, I’ve been white-knuckling the steering wheel while looking in ditches, stopping for coffee twice, and checking my phone every five minutes.
When I see his truck parked on the side of the road, I wonder if he’s okay.
I pull in front of the two vehicles parked in front of him, park, open the door, and jump out.
Approaching his vehicle, I’m trying to decide what to do first. I’m ready to chew him out for not answering my call or text and hug him because he’s okay.
When I open his door, he’s not alone. He’s hugging a girl
“Cody, I’m not fucking your sister again, so—”
Bile rises in my throat as I slam the door shut and begin to run back to my truck.
I hear a girl burst out in laughter, and then the door slams shut again.
“Goddammit, Kendall, stop!” Ben yells from behind me, causing me to run faster.
I jump in my truck, feeling half numb, half heartbroken. Eyes filling, throat burning, heart slamming brutally against my chest, hands shaking so badly that I drop my keys as I try to put them in the ignition.
How the hell did I think a fall would result in anything less than excruciating pain? I think as I search the floorboard for my keys
I hear my door open, the light comes on, and I grab my keys as Ben climbs in.
“Please get out.” My voice sounds calm, deceptively so.
“You gonna let me explain?” The smell of alcohol wafts through the air.
“Get the fuck out of my truck!” I scream.
“No. Fuck no!” His voice shakes as he screams back at me.
When I turn on him, I see his eyes, red and swollen.
“Are you o—” I snap my mouth shut before I add the kay and shake the thought from my head. “You know what? I don’t care. Get out now, or so help me God, Ben Sawyer, I will toss you out myself.”
“How about you give me a ride to my place, so Lauren doesn’t have to?”
Lauren? Why does that name sound familiar? I wonder, and then it dawns on me.
“Lauren, your high school girlfriend, Lauren?”
“An ex, yes, but not—”
“She can take you home.”
“I’d rather she didn’t. She was the only sober one in the bar and—”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, Ben; you left me because you were tired to come and see her? I suggest you get the hell out and go to where you probably want to be anyway.”
“I was tired but saw the opportunity to—”
“Get. Out. Now.”
A knock on my passenger window draws both our attentions that way.
Ben feels around for a way to roll it down.
“Your ride is here, you drunken idiot. Just open the damn door and get out,” I snap.
“You’re the only thing I’m gonna be riding, sweets. Just gimme a minute.”
I nearly puke in my mouth. “You’re disgusting.”
He turns at me and glares.
“I’m calling Becky, and you—”
He snatches the phone out of my hand with the one closest to me, opens the door, and then looks at Lauren.
“Since you have a ride, I’m gonna pull your truck around back and park it. Hank said it was cool.”
“Thanks, Lauren.”
“See you in the morning?”
He nods.
He.
Nods.
“Thanks for everything.”
The smart thing to do would be to literally kick him out of my truck. The stupid thing to do is to allow jealousy and hurt to make me feel I’m not enough, to fester until, like a disease, I become “that girl,” the one who buys into whatever bullshit story the man she fell for tells more than once.
“Anytime. I’ll bring your keys right back.” She winks then looks at me blankly before turning away.
He shuts the door then sighs as he leans back. “Things are bad, Kendall.”
“We’re past bad. Things are over.”
He runs his hand up and down over his face, looks up, and says, “I’m in love with a woman who is constantly waiting for me to fuck up.” He leans forward, sets his elbows on his knees, and covers his face.
“Don’t you dare pass out in my truck.”
“Not passing out, Kendall. Trying to make myself not feel guilty about breaking a promise to—”
Before I even realize it, the ring he gave me is flying at him and hits his hand.
He looks over at me, and then his eyes widen. “What the hell did you just throw at me?”
“Making it easier for you. Promise doesn’t need to be broken. I’m done.”
I see Lauren walking back up to the truck.
Like a stupid, jealous girl, I don’t tell her to take him; I sit there while he again looks for a button to roll the window down.
“You had my truck for a week; how do you not know it rolls down manually?” And yes, I say it loud enough for her to hear me.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
He rolls the window down, and she slips the keys in.
“Thanks, Lauren.”
“I got your back, Sawyer,” she says then walks away.
I start my truck and am about to put it in drive when he turns it off.
“I saw her brother, Cody’s, truck and stopped.”
“I’d like to take you home, not sit here—”
“His uncle used to host a motocross event on his farm,” he cuts me off. “He fucked up and lost the contract with the circuit.” He turns and looks at me. “I stopped here to see if he’d give me the information and to ask him some questions about it. I got fucked up on four drinks, Kendall because I’m dog-ass tired. She was going to drive my truck to my place, and he was gonna follow us.”
“Perfect. Can I have my keys back?”
He squints his eyes shut. “Kendall, you are being real difficult to talk to right now.”
“Well—”
“I need this race to happen.”
I bite my tongue. Arguing with him is literally getting me nowhere.
“I need him …”
I glance out of the corner of my eye to see his are squeezed shut.
“He …” He hits the dash. “Fuck!” Again. “Fuck!” Again. “Fuck!”
He sniffs. “I’m not supposed to tell anyone. I fucking promised, Kendall, and I don’t break my promises.” He narrows his eyes at me. “Never.”
His ey
es are red and misty. “You know what? Turn on the light and don’t you ever throw that at me again. As a matter-of-fact, just leave it on your damn finger, Kendall.”
When I don’t move or speak, he closes his eyes again and holds his hand to his chest, making a face like he’s in physical pain.
He should get a freaking Oscar.
“Mom made me promise not to say anything, but”—he shakes his head—“you’re my Huck, and you’re doubting me, but I also don’t want you to carry this”—he fists his shirt and tugs at it—“godawful feeling.”
Wasted, shit-faced, fucked-up are a few words and phrases I could use to describe Ben Sawyer’s ramblings right now.
“Kendall, my dad is going to lose his farm if I don’t help him, and he has …” He swallows a sob. “He has cancer.”
“What?” I ask in shock as tears fill my eyes.
Then he scrubs his hand up and down his face and lets out a strangled breath.
I move over, grab him, and hold him tightly to me. We cry.
29
A Country Boy Can Survive
Ben
Saying the words out loud made everything more real. Now we lie entwined in each other’s arms, in the darkened studio inside the barn. Neither of us really sleep, occasionally kissing. I doze off a few times, and her finger wiping away tears wakes me.
I don’t even give a damn that this is the first time I’ve cried since I was a kid, nor that it’s in front of her. Hell, she’s crying, too. I’m certain that’s a major step in a relationship, and I wonder if my father has broken down to Mom. I’m guessing no.
“Knock, knock. It’s raining again, and I was wondering if you were interested in crocheting some of those washcloths with me,” Mom says from just outside the door before she opens it.
Then she covers her eyes and drops the cup of coffee she was carrying onto the floor. “I am so sorry. I didn’t see anything.”
Kendall looks at me wide-eyed.
“I thought, since your truck wasn’t here, you brought Kendall’s back.”
“Mom, uncover your eyes; we’re decent.”
She peeks through her fingers.
Kendall waves. “Sorry, Becky, I didn’t mean to fall asleep here.”
