When he looked at her, she pretended to zip her mouth closed and he laughed as he started a timer, washed his hands and tidied up the worktop. Her long, athletic dancer-legs were crossed and her heel was resting on the edge of the dining table. If AJ had his bare feet on the dining table, Jeremy would lose his mind, but with this woman, all he wanted was for those lean and perfectly sculpted legs to be wrapped around his waist.
“You want me again, don’t you?” Amusement clearly written across her face.
“I really do,” he answered, feeling surprised at the voracity of his unusually high sexual appetite in that moment.
“Don’t normally want them the next morning, eh? A one and done kinda guy? Classy.”
“There’s no sex-shaming in this family, Jessica… whatever your last name is. Shit. I don’t even know your last name, and we slept together on our first not-even-a-date.”
“It’s no wonder they say you’re a man-whore, Mr. Lewis.” She grinned.
“Oh, they do, do they? You’ve heard of me then? My reputation clearly precedes me…”
“I didn’t put it together until you mentioned that you were a jock. I know a couple of your previous conquests. Though both of them said they woke up the next morning and you were gone. Like magic. Poof!”
She mimicked a plume of smoke with her fingers as Jeremy dumped butter and cream cheese into a bowl and switched on the hand-mixer.
Note to self, invest in a stand mixer after Christmas.
Uh huh, a regular freakin’ Martha Stewart over here while there’s a beautiful woman over there offering herself to you.
“I can’t hear you,” he mouthed over the noise of the mixer.
“I said,” she shouted. “They said you were a great lay but never hung around.” Her gaze flickered once again towards his pants. “Though they didn’t mention you were quite so… hung.”
A laugh erupted from his chest, she was easy to get along with and despite not having known her for even an entire day, he knew more about her than he did many of the guys he had played hockey with for months.
“Just telling it like it is,” she shrugged.
Jeremy blended the cream cheese and butter together before adding vanilla paste, icing sugar and beating it into a smooth cream cheese frosting ready to go on top of the rolls.
“I’m not relationship material,” he told her, as he switched off the mixer and popped the beaters off into the sink full of soapy water.
“You’re not? You’re pretty well house-trained for someone who isn’t relationship material. What does that even mean, anyway? Is there a checklist somewhere? What are you lacking? ʼCause from where I’m sitting… I mean, you cook, you clean and when you set your mind to giving someone an orgasm …” she whistled. “Let me tell ya, Jer. I honestly wasn’t sure you could do it at first. I’m a tricky one, or so they say, anyway. But you … huh. Yeah. Pray tell, what exactly is it that you’re lacking?”
“The ability to commit to one woman, I guess… I dunno.”
“Open relationship?”
“I’ve never seen that work completely. There’s always someone who ends up unhappy, right? Or jealous? And I’m really not sure I could handle being in a relationship with one woman, let alone two women at the same time!”
“You and another dude could share the same woman…” she suggested, as the timer sounded.
He looked at her and realized she wasn’t joking. He grabbed an oven mitt and pulled the oven door open causing a rush of hot air to escape into the kitchen. Taking out the two trays of cinnamon rolls he sat them on trivets on the worktop.
“Dude. You’re so domesticated you even have those… those… do those things even have a name?”
“Trivets,” he answered with a blush. “I like being in the kitchen. Though I don’t normally show my… eh… dates, nor do I tend to cook for them.”
“Awwwwww!” she drawled. “So I’m special!”
“That you most certainly are.”
“Are you poisoning me? Are there drugs in those rolls so you can keep me in a sex dungeon and have your way with me? I mean… I’m totally game… you don’t need to drug me… I’m absolutely down for some sex dungeon kinda fun.”
He chuckled and shook his head; he’d never met someone who was as sexually open and assured as this woman.
“No poison, no drugs. I just felt like baking this morning. I’m giving that batch to my friend’s family before I leave.”
“And a do-gooder, to boot!” she teased.
He lifted the still-hot cinnamon rolls onto a cooling rack. He scooped a heaped dollop of frosting on top of two rolls and handed her one on a plate.
“It’s hot, give it a second.”
“Uh huh. Not happening. You can’t put that in front of me and expect me not to eat it. That’s like putting that,” she paused, gesturing at his crotch, “in front of me and expecting me not to—”
He burst out laughing. “Say eat it. Go on, say eat it. I don’t think I’ve ever met a woman with such a high sex drive. Is that really all you think about?” he asked, watching as she picked up the cinnamon roll and touched it with her tongue to test how hot it was.
As she bit into it, she moaned loudly. “Yeah,” she mumbled through a mouthful. “How the hell are you still single?” She swallowed and took another bite, dragging her tongue slowly across her lips to collect the left-behind frosting. “And no, it’s not all I think about. But I think it’s more that you’ve never met a woman who talked so openly about her sex drive before rather than the fact you’ve never met a woman with such a high drive before.”
He groaned and took a bite of his own cinnamon roll. “Are you going to hit me with that feminism shit right now?” he asked with his mouth full.
“Damn fucking straight I am,” she argued, waving her cinnamon roll in his direction. “It is absolutely ‘that feminism shit’. Women are told they shouldn’t have a sex drive, they shouldn’t talk about their sex drive if they somehow ignored the first memo about not being allowed to have one in the first place, and if they both have a sex drive and talk about it, they’re a whore.”
“I think that’s a bit harsh,” Jeremy countered.
“Oh yeah?” she popped the last of her cinnamon roll in her mouth and got up to help herself to another one. “Says the dude who thought I was a hooker last night for propositioning him.”
“I—”
She sat back down on the chair and held her hands up to silence him. “I get it. It’s how you’ve been conditioned. Only strippers and whores want sex, or enjoy sex, the rest of us just endure it to make the men folk feel good, right?”
“Again, I think that’s a little extreme.”
But also, kinda true. You know how dudes look at chicks who like sex.
“Oh yeah? You tell your teammates you have a fuck buddy, maybe two, and they think you’re a God. You tell your teammates I have a fuck buddy; they think I’m a slut, easy, or will drop my pants for anyone ʼcause I don’t have standards.”
His mouth dropped open as he contemplated his answer, and closed again as he thought better of it.
“Ok, that’s true,” he began carefully. “They’d probably want your number and expect you to… y’know.”
“Exactly. Yet for you, you’re a hero. You sow that seed, man!” She toasted him with the remaining half of her baked treat.
“Ew. Ok, gross.” He laughed. “Though I gotta say, for someone who has been in my life for less than twenty-four hours, you’re certainly giving me plenty to think about. I can’t say I’d ever thought about it before.”
“I know. You have no cause to, though, ʼcause you have a penis and not a vagina.”
She spoke so matter-of-factly that Jeremy wondered what had happened in her life to make her so forthright and open about things. She was the first woman he’d ever met that was like this, and he couldn’t say that he didn’t like it, he found it refreshing, exhilarating even. He’d wasted a lot of time trying to figure out what made
women tick. Here sitting in front of him was a woman who’d not only figured out what made her tick, but who also put it out there to make it easier for others as well.
This could be a win-win situation. I can learn what she likes pretty quickly and she can grade my test papers quickly, too.
Though that might result in early dismissal.
Better learn, quick AND right, Lewis.
“You look like you might be going through an existential crisis right in front of me, Jer,” she remarked, as she washed down the last of her second cinnamon roll with what was left of her coffee.
“It’s possible,” he admitted with a small smile.
“I mean, no need to get bent out of shape or anything. Just something to be more mindful of going forward, yeah? Most women know what they like in bed, or at least they have ideas of what they might like and might want to try, because let’s face it, how can you know what you like, or don’t, if you haven’t tried it? And by extension how can you try out new things when society deems you a promiscuous harlot if you admit to wanting to try something? You’re a selfless lover, and you certainly have… skills… but have you ever taken the time to get inside a woman’s head and ask her what she really wants to try, or have you do to her? It’s a game changer.” She grinned. “Trust me.”
Dang. Even if I never see this woman again, I’ve learned more from my time with her than I’ve ever learned about women in my whole freakin’ life!
“You should charge for this shit,” he remarked, as he finished his third cinnamon roll.
“Maybe someday I will. I kinda hope men will catch on at some point and realize that there’s more to women than occasionally faking headaches to get out of having sex. Some of us really like it.”
There was that quirk of her eyebrow again, that suggestive, alluring, are-you-up-to-it kind of half question, half challenge. Leaning over her, he picked her up and draped her over his shoulder, enjoying her laughter as he dropped her carefully onto the worktop, determined to show her just how up-to-it he actually was.
Chapter 19
Jessica had left without his cinnamon roll recipe, despite her best attempts at extracting it from him. He’d sent her away with half a dozen, which muted her arguments temporarily. They’d exchanged cell phone numbers before they parted ways, and as Jeremy walked up the path to Blake’s house, Jessica texted. He sat the bag of baked goodies down on the porch.
Jess the Magic Mermaid: What do I gotta do to get this freakin’ recipe? Butt stuff? ʼCause while I’m totally down for butt stuff, I can totally pretend to be reluctant about it if it’ll get me this recipe.
Jeremy laughed out loud. He hadn’t seen what she’d saved her name under in his phone and shook his head as he replied.
Jeremy: You ate them all, didn’t you?
He pushed the doorbell and read her quick reply.
Jess the Magic Mermaid: NO!
Jess the Magic Mermaid: I do have SOME self-control.
“I’ll get it!” he heard Blake’s younger brother, Jayden, call from inside the house.
Jess the Magic Mermaid: There’s three left.
Jeremy: Nice self-control… No obligation for butt stuff, but if you want to…
“It’s Jeremy, Blake!” Jayden called, as he pulled open the front door. “You brought gifts?” he sounded surprised as he eyed the bag at his feet.
“I think what you mean is, ‘Hi Jer, happy holidays!’”
“I’m still stunned that you brought gifts.”
“Don’t worry, there’s none for you.”
His face fell. “Kidding,” he grinned. “Though, if you hate it, just remember it’s the thought that counts, ʼkay?”
He nodded enthusiastically.
“Well, invite him in, Jayden, don’t leave the poor boy standing at the door,” Blake’s mom called, loudly, from somewhere in the house.
“I can’t stop, Mrs. B!” he yelled. “I’m on my way to the airport!”
“Safe travels and tell your parents Merry Christmas!”
“Yes ma’am! Thank you, and Merry Christmas!”
Blake appeared next to Jayden. “Jeez. Dial down the decibels, man. What are you doing here?”
“He brought gifts.”
“And treats!” Jeremy added.
“Treats?”
Jeremy felt his phone vibrating in his pocket and smiled, knowing that Jessica was probably persisting in her quest for cinnamon deliciousness.
“Why is he smiling so much?” Jayden asked Blake.
“I have no idea,” Blake answered with a raised eyebrow. “It’s certainly weird. Here,” he said, picking up the bag of gifts. “Put these under the tree.”
“You want rid of me, don’t you?”
“Yup.”
Jayden sighed and picked up both the bag of gifts and the cooler and walked into the house.
“Why are you smiling so much, Jer?” He grinned, eying his friend, silently challenging him to dare telling the truth in front of his younger brother.
“Don’t forget his gift!” his mom called.
“Oh, yeah!” Blake reached behind the door and appeared with a bag of his own. “Mom got a little something for your folks, and for you. It’s probably socks or some shit, but…” He was clearly embarrassed, though Jeremy was touched at the gesture. “There’s something from me in there as well,” he added.
“Aww! We’re exchanging gifts now. Maybe I need to buy that blonde dye after all! It feels like just yesterday we had our cute meet!”
“By the looks of it you had a meet cute with someone else…”
He rolled his eyes at Jeremy’s lack of knowledge when it came to all things popular, and clearly wasn’t going to let it drop.
“That obvious, eh? I may or may not have gotten laid last night.”
Blake’s eyebrows shot up in mock-surprise.
“And again, this morning.”
Blake’s jaw dropped open.
“No kidding. Color me shocked.”
Jeremy just grinned.
“Not kissing and telling?”
“Best I’ve ever had and that’s all I’m saying. Well, that and I’m probably going to be her booty call again in the future.”
“You’re… going to be… her booty call?” Blake repeated, clearly sure that he’d misheard or Jeremy had misspoken.
“Yeah.” Jeremy nodded enthusiastically. “Right? I know. Usually it’s me calling the booty, but she’s going to call my booty, and I’m absolutely going to go be her booty call, too!”
Blake chuckled. “I don’t even know what to say to that, man.”
Jeremy grinned again. “I gotta jet. The motherland is calling, and the mother. She thought I was gonna bail on my trip, can you believe that?”
He looked at Blake expectantly, waiting for him to agree that she was over-reacting.
“Weeeell, you did kinda up sticks and move to Europe for a year …”
“Shut up. Bring it in, man. I’ll see you in the new year.”
He hugged his friend, thanked him for the gifts and made his way to the car. Before setting off for the airport he checked his phone.
Jess the Magic Mermaid: Is there nothing I can do to make you give me this recipe?
Jess the Magic Mermaid: Someone ate all the cinnamon rolls.
Jess the Magic Mermaid: Spoiler alert: it was me.
Jess the Magic Mermaid: I think I’m gonna die, now. Are you happy, Jeremy? You’re responsible for my demise. Who the fuck eats eight cinnamon rolls in one day? When they do my autopsy, they’re going to discover cream cheese frosting flowing in my veins.
Jess the Magic Mermaid: I’m going to the gym. Tomorrow. If I survive. UGH. I feel sick.
Jeremy shook his head and laughed, changing her name on his phone to ‘Jess’ because it was starting to bug him.
Jeremy: My anaconda don’t want none unless you got buns, hun.
Jess: I had buns. They’re gone now. Now I just have tummy ache.
Jess: Also, lies. Your
anaconda always wants some.
Blake: Dude, you just gonna sit on my parent’s drive grinning like an idiot all day?
Jeremy glanced towards the house and saw Blake and Jayden watching him from the window. He flipped them off, started the car and set off towards the airport. He knew that Jessica whatever-her-last-name-is wasn’t interested in commitment, neither was he, but there was no reason they couldn’t have a little fun when he got back from seeing his parents.
Chapter 20
His time up north with his parents was passing faster than he’d like, it was already Christmas Eve. He and his mom had just pulled an eight-hour shift at the soup kitchen before heading home for dinner, showers and to get dressed for Christmas Eve services at church. Jeremy was exhausted. It had been great to be back at the soup kitchen, seeing his mom’s colleagues, friends and some of the homeless people had even asked where he’d been the previous year. The day had passed quickly, but his feet ached and he was cold. As he stood under the jets of hot water in the shower, he contemplated skipping church and going to bed, instead.
He felt a little better once he dried off and got dressed, and as he walked downstairs, the smells of his mom’s cooking wafting from the kitchen made his stomach growl.
“I can hear your stomach rumbling, Jeremy. Come in here and eat. Wow, you look exhausted! Are you ok?”
“Haven’t worked like that in a long time,” he answered through a yawn. “That day was tougher than any hockey practice I’ve had so far this season!”
“You’re comparing apples and oranges, darling,” she said, serving him a plate of steaming beef stew with homemade fresh bread rolls. “There’s an emotional – or, mental – component to working at the kitchen. It’s hard seeing so many people down on their luck, I get it. Maybe you should take a nap before we head out to church?”
“Assuming I don’t fall asleep in my stew and end up with third degree burns on my face, that’s probably a good plan.”
She laughed. “Such a drama queen.”
He picked up his spoon and watched the steam rise off the heaped pile of food in front of him. “Uh huh. I remember this stew, I’ve lost layers of skin in my mouth to this freakin’ stew over the years, Mom. It’s always unimaginably hot and yet it’s so delicious you just wanna shove it in your face as fast as possible. It’s a true test of patience. I always lose and end up with blisters on my tongue.”
Four Letter Feelings (The Jeremy Lewis Series Book 1) Page 12
