by Nikki Ash
“Yes,” I breathed out. “So good, Jameson. More.”
Jameson groaned, the vibrations ringing all over my body like an electrical current.
I wanted him everywhere, his hands on me, his cock nestled between my thighs. I always wanted this. As if he read my mind, he slid his hand down my chest and cupped my breast.
The room spun, my body feeling like it was disconnecting in the best way.
A low rumble left him, and he flattened his tongue at the base of my throat, dragging it up slowly, licking me like an animal marking my flesh. When he pulled back he looked down the length of my body. He pushed back inside of me and I cried out.
“That’s it,” he seemed to murmur to himself. “I can’t explain what you do to me. I can’t explain how you make me feel.” He pushed back in and pulled out. “You make me so hard. I’m so ready to fill you up.” He started thrusting a little faster, my pussy hugging his length, stretched around his girth. He cupped one bared breast, rolled the nipple between his thumb and index finger, and moved to the next. I was mindless with need.
He shifted positions, spread my legs wider, and he slid in deeper.
“Fuck,” he barked out that obscenity. “So tight. So good. Better than I imagined.” He said those things in rapid succession.
And then he started pushing into me and pulling out, swinging his hips and making me take all of him, giving me every single part of him, even the parts that weren’t connected.
He fucked me.
Made love to me.
Owned me.
I moved up and down on the bed, and he gripped my hip, keeping me in place as he fucked me. A gasp of pain and pleasure left me, filled me.
His expression was one of pure ecstasy. Droplets of sweat coated both of us, and the way our bodies moved together, that slickness adding sensuality to the motion, had me perilously close to another orgasm.
“So. Good. So good. Sogoodsogoodsogood.” He was saying that over and over again like a mantra, his square jaw tight, his focus trained on me. The drugged look he wore had my inner muscles clenching around his length, which caused him to groan deep in his throat. He pushed into me harder than before and I opened my mouth in a silent cry of pleasure. “I’ll never get enough.” I swore it was like he snarled those words. “You’re mine.” He closed his eyes and groaned in a very male way.
And then he became a wild man, uninhibited, intense… free in his passion as he gave me all of it.
“Jameson,” I cried out as he sank in deep.
“Fuck, I’m sorry. I need to be gentle--”
“No,” I moaned and bit my lip again. “Fuck me.”
He closed his eyes and groaned. “You feel so fucking good, Lia.”
My breasts shook from the force of his thrusts, and I felt that feeling of intensity coil within me about to explode.
“Oh god. Yes. Yes... fuck yes.” He slid in and out of me, and when he pushed back in hard, burying his dick so far into me, I cried out as I came instantly. “Jesus Christ.” He filled me, his balls pressed to my ass, his entire body wracking above me.
He pumped his seed into me over and over again, filling me up, giving me the very essence of him as if he marked me from the inside out.
I felt like I was now his, even though I knew that wasn’t the case, not in the most elemental sense.
Before long we were both sated and he was pulling out of me and falling to the side. My head was dizzy from the pleasure and alcohol still thumping through my veins.
Before I could wonder what happens next, Jameson shifted to the side, curled his arm around my waist, and brought me close to him, chest to back.
I was drunk, not from the booze, but from the pleasure and the knowledge I’d just given myself to Jameson and he did the same in return.
Maybe tomorrow would be weird. Maybe we’d just built this wall up between us.
Or maybe--just maybe--things would still be okay in the morning.
I didn’t know the answers to those questions, but right now I couldn’t care because I had Jameson curled right up against me and nothing had felt better.
Chapter Five
Jameson
Two days later: the goodbye
It would have been easy enough to let the other night that I shared with Lia consume me, make this moment awkward, ruin this goodbye. I refused to, though. And as I stared into her eyes, ones that would haunt me in my dreams for the next twelve months, I told myself I had to act like I was strong. I had to act like I had my shit together and leaving her wasn’t the single worst experience I had ever had in my life.
She wasn’t holding it together as well as I was. Or maybe I just thought I was keeping myself in check. As it was, every part of me hurt--my heart especially.
“It’ll be okay,” I found myself saying and reaching for her hand, taking her much smaller one, giving it a reassuring squeeze even though I felt like I was being a fraud in acting like I wasn’t breaking in two.
“It won’t, though,” she whispered, staring down at the floor, and then at where our hands were conjoined. “It’s such a long time.”
God, it really was. So fucking long.
She lifted her head and stared at me in the eyes, her mouth parting as if she wanted to say something. And I knew what it was. She wanted to bring up the drunken night where I’d taken her virginity and given her mine.
I slowly shook my head and gave her a genuine smile. “It’s okay,” I murmured. “What we shared was special, even if we were both drunker than hell.” Her cheeks turned pink but she smiled. “I’ll never regret being with you. I’ll never let it get between us. I love you more than anything or anyone else, Lia.” I’m in love with you. I wanted to say those words out loud, but now wasn’t the time, not when I was heading to a foreign country and would be so far away from her. When I told her those five words--I’m in love with you--I’d be here for good and be able to talk to her about it, hold her, let her know I was never going anywhere.
“I’ll wait for you. I’ll miss you. I hate this.” Those three sentences were a rush of words and I heard all the emotion laced in them.
I didn't stop myself from pulling her into my much larger body. She barely reached my chest, and as I placed a hand on the back of her head, keeping her close to me, wanting her even closer, I closed my eyes and just absorbed this feeling. I let my fingers tangle in her hair, the strands dark and soft, causing memories of our intimate time together to slam into my brain on repeat.
Pulling back was a hard fucking feat, but I bent at the knees and lowered my upper body so I could look Lia in the eyes fully. I cupped each side of her face, knowing my expression was pretty severe by the way she gasped. She lifted her hands and placed them over mine, her breath stalling, tears making those gorgeous irises of hers sparkle.
“I’m coming back to you. You're my girl.” In more ways than you know. “And before you know it, these next twelve months are gonna be behind us and we can get back to the way things were.” I leaned in and kissed her right on the lips. I shouldn't have done it, but I hadn’t been able to stop myself, not when she looked at me with so much heartbreaking beauty or when she held my hands to her… and certainly not when my love for her was consuming me whole.
I heard another gasp leave her as our lips met. I felt the warm breath leave her from the contact. And I did everything in my power not to groan at how good it felt to be with her like this. Maybe she didn’t know that this kiss meant so much more to me than a goodbye. It meant everything.
She meant everything.
Lia
I didn’t think I’d ever felt this kind of pain, one that settled right in the center of my chest. It had me dizzy, nauseous, and feeling like if I hadn’t already been sitting down my knees would have absolutely given out and I would have crumbled to the ground.
I’d been sitting at the airport for the last hour at least. Jameson’s plane had already departed, yet I hadn’t been able to leave, hadn’t been able to work up the courage t
o get up and go home. I felt like doing so would have made this all so very real.
I closed my eyes, still aware of all the people coming and going from all over the country--the world--moving around me. Yet I felt like I was in this globe, this thick glass all around me, preventing me from really experiencing reality. And I knew I wouldn’t feel right, wouldn't feel normal again until Jameson was back.
I lifted my hand and started rubbing the center of my chest as I opened my eyes and looked around. Was anyone else experiencing something similar to me? Had their heart been ripped out of their chest and held away from their body? Was that vital organ traveling half-way across the world right now?
I moved my hand on my chest to my mouth, feeling my lips tingle as I closed my eyes once more and remembered the kiss Jameson had given me. I should have felt shocked with that kiss. But I hadn’t. It had been--felt--so incredibly perfect and right. Aside from the other night when we’d gotten drunk and been together sexually, he’d never kissed me on the mouth. And although that goodbye hadn’t been anything erotic, it was hard not to want more, crave more… want the world with Jameson.
A year was a lifetime away.
Twelve months away from the man I was in love with would be the most painful time in my life.
But I’d wait for him. I’d wait a lifetime--eternity--for him. He may not know that, but it was the truth, and when he came back, I was telling him everything.
I was going to bare my soul.
Chapter Six
Six weeks later
Lia
The same thought had been running around in my head for hours upon hours. The thought had first struck me in the shower, then refused to leave. For what felt like the tenth time, I did the mental math, even lifting my hand and counting off. I felt my brows lower, and sat up, running a hand over my no doubt wild, dark and damp strands, pushing them out of my face, and trying in vain to not freak out.
My period was late.
I checked the clock, realizing I hadn’t slept at all, but now it was late enough something would be open. Hell, I probably could have driven all the way out to the next town over and gone to one of the open-all-night stores, but I’d been trying to talk myself down from this proverbial ledge of fear.
I got up, got dressed, did the whole brushing my teeth and hair and getting ready for the day, but I felt like I was under water, wading through thick sludge, my mind not my own right now.
Was I pregnant?
I placed a hand on my otherwise flat belly, looking down, wondering if there was a little person growing in there, a little piece of me and Jameson.
I felt sick at that moment, knowing that if I was pregnant I had no way to contact Jameson and tell him. And it wasn’t like I could contact his family. They hadn’t had anything to do with him for so long they weren’t even a blip on his radar anymore. And I had no family, no real friends to talk to about this aside from Jameson.
I braced my hands on the bathroom counter and just breathed.
What if. What if. What if.
An hour later and I was right back in my bathroom, the outdated interior especially a nuisance in this moment. The linoleum was a nasty yellow color, the counters this cheap Formica that had the edges peeling up from the glue coming undone. There were these golden veins running through it, as if they tried to make it look fancier than it ever could.
I straightened and breathed out slowly, refusing to look at that pregnancy test that sat on the counter just to my right.
I’d done the whole pee on it about two minutes ago, and as I picked up the insert, re-read the instructions for the fifth time, I knew I had about another minute to wait for the little digital readout to tell me my fate.
I turned my back to the mirror, not wanting to look at myself, not wanting to see how scared shitless I was. I tapped my foot, crossed my arms and uncrossed them, bit my lower lip, and only when I knew it was well past the three-minute mark did I turn around with closed eyes, my head downcast toward the stick, and told myself it would be okay.
It will... right?
P R E G N A N T
I didn’t know if I was reading that, well, that wasn’t true. I read it just fine, but my brain couldn’t comprehend what I was looking at.
Pregnant. With a baby. Jameson’s child.
Knocked up by my best friend who had no idea how in love I was with him.
I closed my eyes and felt tears start to threaten. It wasn’t even the fear of having a baby. A part of me felt warm at the thought of carrying Jameson’s child. No, I was terrified because I had no way to tell Jameson any of this. I had no family to lean on, no friends to talk to. I was truly alone, at least for the next year, until Jameson came back and I dropped this life-altering bomb in his lap.
I looked at myself in the mirror now, the woman staring back at me having a too pale face, wide eyes, and bags under them because sleep had been nonexistent last night. “I can do this,” I whispered to my reflection just as a tear slid down my cheek. I angrily wiped it away. “It’ll be okay,” I said with a little more strength, or I thought I did.
I placed my hand on my belly and looked down at my flat stomach, this amazement and wonder breaking through the uncertainty and fear.
A baby. Inside of me.
And amidst all the fear that consumed me, I felt a glimmer of happiness, a light at the end of a very long and dark tunnel. Jameson would be shocked, just like me, but I knew him as well as I knew myself. He’d stand by my side even if he wasn’t in love with me. He wouldn’t leave me. Never.
I knew that with just as much certainty that I couldn’t hold my breath forever.
I knew that because he’d said it enough times that there was no doubt in my mind that he’d be there for me and this baby. Forever.
Chapter Seven
Six Months Later
Lia
I adjusted myself on the bed, propping up a few pillows behind me, but still I couldn’t get comfortable. The large belly I carried made it almost impossible these days, but I couldn’t help but smile as I looked down, my stomach tenting my shirt, a silly grin on my face.
I ran my hands over the basketball shaped roundness under the cotton shirt, a little kick here, another jab there bumping up against my palms as if the little guy nestled safely inside was saying hello.
I focused on the mattress in front of me, papers spread out, pictures a scattered mess. All these months I’d been documenting the pregnancy, every day, every kick, every ache and pain. I’d been writing down my experience, collecting any and all images--even taking one every month to show the progress of my swelling belly. And now it was time to organize what I had.
I’d started doing this from the very first doctor appointment. Hell, I’d even taken a picture of the positive pregnancy stick with my cell phone and printed it off—the very first proof of what was going to change our lives.
Mine.
Jameson’s.
And our son I carried.
I picked up the first ultrasound picture that had ever been taken, the little bean shape in the center of the black-and-white image nothing like how a baby looked as you held it in your arms, or even a profile picture that you got when you had the anatomy scan.
I’d been seven weeks pregnant for that image.
I set it down and picked up the next image, this one a couple weeks after that first ultrasound. Because I’d been spotting here and there, the doctor had been overly cautious, much to my relief. Besides, I would take as many images of the little baby inside of me as I could, things that I could show Jameson so he didn’t feel like he missed out on anything.
I looked over every printout I’d gotten from my doctor appointments that showed my weight gain, the size of my belly, the growth of the baby. I started making a journal, writing down a page or two every single night before I went to bed, nothing really of much importance in most of the entries, but a look back so that if Jameson wanted to, he could read about how many times the baby kicked that day.
Over these last months, I’d scrapped and saved every single penny, buying everything myself, stocking up on wipes and diapers early on. I’d read every magazine I could, the What to Expect When You’re Expecting book from front to back so many times the pages were dog-eared.
I was doing the best I could with what I had.
And I wished most of all Jameson was here to experience it all firsthand.
I leaned back again, crossed my legs at the ankles, and stared at the picture that sat on my dresser across from me. I couldn’t see it very clearly because of the distance, but I didn’t have to to know what the image was. It was seared in my brain. I’d memorized every single line, every single color, every facial expression.
Everything.
It was a picture of Jameson and I years ago, our graduation, one of the first milestones we’d experienced together. In the image I was staring off at the camera, a huge grin on my face. Jameson was looking down at me, a little smile curving his.
God, I couldn’t wait until he was back home. I couldn’t wait until I could share this new milestone with him. I just hoped things worked out. I just really hoped they did.
Chapter Eight
Jameson
The reunion: ten months later after Jameson left
The sporadic letters Lia and I had exchanged during all these months hadn’t been enough. Not seeing her face or hearing her voice had been the worst kind of fucking pain. Yeah, I left so I could gain knowledge and experience, to help those who needed it the most. But leaving Lia behind had been fucking awful.
