by Noelle Adams
He rolls his eyes, focused on the road and not on me. “I did not say that.”
“Well, you didn’t say the word grumble, but you muttered something that was definitely a grumble. It’s not a very nice way to respond to a perfectly friendly question.”
“I’m sorry. Are we being nice now?” There’s an edge to his voice that’s impossible not to recognize.
“What the hell, Marcus? I was being nice.”
He shakes his head, still not meeting my eyes. “You were pretending to be nice. It’s not the same thing.”
“I was not pretending—”
“Yeah, you really were.”
I gape at him, shocked and indignant and terrified that he can read me so easily. Because he’s right. I was pretending. I thought I did a good job of it, but obviously not good enough.
But that thought isn’t enough to drown out my annoyance at his slightly bitter tone. “At least I made an attempt to be nice. You’re not even trying.”
“Am I not allowed to have a bad day?”
“Did you? Have a bad day?” I’m suddenly worried that I missed something important to him. “Did something happen?”
“No, nothing happened.”
“So you didn’t have a bad day?” My mind is a confused uproar now. I have no idea what I should feel.
“I had a bad fucking week,” he mutters.
“You did? Why?”
“Oh my fucking God, Jennifer,” he breathes. His body has gotten tense now. His knuckles are whitening on the steering wheel. It feels like he’s going to explode. Or something.
I hold my breath in a blurry daze as I wait for it to happen.
Then it does. He abruptly puts the brakes on and pulls the pickup over onto the shoulder of the road. He sits tensely, both hands on the wheel for a minute.
“What’s going on?” I demand. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
He breathes heavily, like he’s trying to contain something. Then he slams the gear shift into park, unbuckles his belt, and gets out of the car.
There’s no one else on the road right now, so I’m not worried about his safety as he walks around the car to stand and stare at the overgrown grass by the shoulder and the strip of woods beyond it.
I have no idea what’s going on, but my heart is pounding, and I feel like something inside me is about to erupt. I stumble out of the car. “Marcus!” My voice is loud, demanding.
He turns to look at me. He’s still breathing heavily.
“What the hell has gotten into you? You’re scaring me.”
He moves, and suddenly he’s standing very close to me. I’m not even sure how he got there, but he’s only inches away from me now. “Am I really scaring you, Jennifer?”
I gulp at the husky note in his tone.
I know that tone. I know it.
“Well, no, but you’re being very strange and annoying. Why did you stop the car?”
“Because I was about to lose it, and I didn’t want to run the truck off the road.”
I frown. “Lose it? So you’re really mad at me?”
He groans and rubs his face. “No, I’m not mad at y—” He breaks off abruptly. “Yes, I am mad. Exactly how blind can a person be?”
“Blind? You’re calling me blind again?”
“Yes. Blind.” He’s so tense it’s making me tense too. His eyes are blazing. “Why do you think I’ve had a bad week?”
I blink. “I... I don’t know.”
“You don’t know because you’re blind. I keep waiting for you to want to have sex with me again, and I’ve got to say it’s pretty discouraging to know that you’re not all that interested.”
If I was gaping at him earlier, now my eyes are practically bugging out of my head. “Wh-Wh-What?”
He continues like I didn’t ask that stilted question. “I get that you always overthink things and that you’ve probably decided your life is safer and neater without more sex with me. But you don’t really think that makes me happy, do you?”
“But... but...” It’s about to become another embarrassing falter over a one-syllable word, so I close my mouth over it.
He nods like I said something coherent. “I get it. I do. And I didn’t want to put any pressure on you. I’ve never done it with anyone before, and I’m not going to start now. But I feel like the top of my head is going to blow off from wanting you so much, and I’m going to be in a bad mood when you’re not even interested in talking to me anymore.”
“I want to talk to you,” I manage to rasp.
“No, you don’t. You’ve been faking it all week.”
“You idiot!” I burst out, suddenly understanding what’s happened. “You absolute idiot.”
“I’m the idiot? You’re the one so blind that you can’t even recognize when a guy—”
I’m so mad now I don’t let him finish. “I recognize when a guy is interested in me when he acts in a normal way. You haven’t even mentioned having sex all week. You’ve acted like you always do. How the hell was I supposed to know you wanted to have sex again?”
An old truck drives by just then, and it slows down as it passes us. A bearded man rolls down the passenger window and calls out, “You folks need help?”
“No,” Marcus says with a friendly wave. “We’re fine. Thanks for asking.”
The man waves and drives off, leaving us alone again.
We stare at each other for a minute.
Then Marcus mutters, “You could have asked me, if you wanted sex.” He doesn’t look so tense anymore, and a little glint has awoken in his eyes, like he’s starting to understand what I did just a minute ago.
I almost choke on my response. “I... I... I could have asked?”
“Well, I told you to let me know if you wanted to have sex again. I didn’t want to put pressure on you or make you feel awkward. I think it’s reasonable to expect a rational person to let me know if she was interested in having sex again.” He’s almost smiling now.
I’m torn between giggling and wringing his neck. “Oh, you asshole. How many women do you know who will just blurt out a request for sex out of the blue?”
“I don’t know. I might know a few.”
“How many of those women are like me?”
His face softens so suddenly it takes my breath. “I don’t know any other women like you, Jennifer.”
Oh God. My knees go weak. “So you... you want to have sex again?”
“Yes, you silly fool. I told you it was the best sex I’ve ever had, and that was before the night was even over.”
“Oh.” I swallow hard. “Well, I want to have sex again too. I just felt too weird to ask you about it when you were acting like it never happened.”
His eyes narrow. “So we just wasted this whole week when we could have been fucking the whole time?”
“Well, not the whole time. We would have had to stop for work and sleep occasionally.” I’m feeling more secure now. Stable. Like I know what I’m doing.
Like this is what I want to be doing.
“And the misunderstanding was mostly your fault,” I add, knowing I will get a response from it.
The response isn’t what I predict. He’s on me before I know to expect it, right there on the side of the road. He pulls me into a hard, urgent kiss. It nearly knocks me off my feet.
I cling to him desperately, returning the kiss with just as much hunger.
I can’t believe I’m finally feeling him again. His mouth. His body. His strong hands moving from my face to my back.
I swear I’ve been waiting for this forever.
A car drives by at full speed, causing wind to whoosh around us. The car taps on the horn as it passes, evidently enjoying the sight of us kissing.
The knowledge that we’re out where anyone can see us is enough to dampen my ardor, but before I can pull away, Marcus has opened the passenger door of the cab and leaned in to lift the console to reveal the jump seat in between the two seats. This creates what’s almost a bench, a
nd he hauls me up onto it so I end up sprawled out sideways with my head near the steering wheel.
I stare up at him, torn between disorientation and exhilaration, as he climbs in on top of me and closes the door behind him. His truck is pretty big, but even with the console lifted, there’s not all that much room.
I don’t care at all.
Because he’s kissing me, and that’s all that matters. My body throbs and squirms with excitement as he claims my lips again, kissing me deep and hard.
I know Marcus is skilled with both his mouth and his hands. He gave me ample proof last Thursday night. But today he doesn’t appear to have the patience for foreplay, and neither do I. We kiss for a couple of minutes, rocking together clumsily on the seat until we’re both hot and aroused. Then he’s pushing up my skirt, and I’m undoing his trousers and pulling out his erection.
He’s gotten a condom from the glove box, and he rolls it on with shaking hands as I slide off my panties to make things easier.
I’ve never had sex in a car before. Not once in my life.
As should be clear by now, I’ve lived a very safe, vanilla life. But I’m flushed all over and trembling with anticipation as he bends one of my legs and pushes it back toward my shoulder as he lines himself up.
Then he’s pushing inside me, and it feels so good I have to moan.
Too loud. Too helpless.
No way to stop it.
I moan again when he makes his first thrust.
I’ve been waiting for this all week, and it feels better than any of my fantasies. It’s not just a hot rush of pleasure. It’s real, substantial, full of hot skin and firm muscle and blue-gray eyes so intense they’re almost desperate.
He fucks me hard and fast, as much as he can in the limited space of the truck cab. I move my body with his eagerly. The vinyl of the seat squeaks beneath us. Soon our motion is so vigorous we’re shaking the truck.
It’s raw and raunchy and wild and so hot. I can’t believe I’m really doing it.
My moans get louder and louder until I bite my lower lip to quiet down a bit, but it’s no use. The pleasure breaks inside me, and I sob as the climax shudders through me.
He keeps pumping even as my inner muscles have clamped down around his penetration. His face is twisting dramatically, and his eyes never leave my face.
I’m surprised when I come again, the wave of pleasure crashing over me without warning. I cry out in response, arching my neck and clawing lines down his back over his shirt—which he still has on.
He comes then with a long, hoarse groan. I see release contorting his features and the blaze of shattering pleasure in his eyes. It’s the sexiest thing. The way he shakes and jerks. The way he lets all his tension go.
We pant and gasp as we lie tangled together, hot and sweating and sated. He presses a few kisses against my neck and then a few more against my mouth.
It’s kind of messy and awkward when Marcus finally pulls out of me and tries to straighten up in the small space. But he manages to climb over into the driver’s side as I sit up, and we rearrange our clothes.
He’s grinning like a naughty boy, and I’m giggling as he puts the truck back into drive and pulls onto the road.
Everything feels exactly right—fun and wild but not dangerous—as he completes the drive to my house. When he puts the car into park, he turns to give me a fond look. “Your hair is a mess.”
“So is yours.” I laugh and feel brave enough to add, “You can come in if you want. I’ve got no plans for tonight, and we could have some more fun if you’re interested.”
“I’m definitely interest—” He breaks off the word and jerks his head to the side. “Shit.”
“What? If you’ve got something going on, that’s totally fine.”
“No. It’s nothing big. I just promised my dad I’d help him with a broken fence after work today.”
Maybe it’s silly, but I like that he cares about following through with a promise to his dad. “That’s fine, Marcus. You need to help your dad. We can maybe do something tomorrow or...” I clear my throat. “You could come over later tonight if you want. After you’re done with the fence.”
He studies my face closely. “That would be okay?”
“Yes. Of course that would be okay. We’re not in some sort of fated romance here where you have to follow all the civilities. Coming over just for sex seems like a perfectly good plan to me.”
He chuckles and leans forward to give me a quick kiss. “I’ll text when I’m on my way.”
“I’ll look forward to it.”
I’m smiling as I slide out of the truck, wincing slightly at the pull on my thighs. But I’m still smiling as I walk up to the front door and wave to Marcus. He waits until I’ve unlocked my door before he starts backing out of the drive.
We’re not having a romantic evening together—dinner and wine and sweet murmurings and genuine lovemaking.
He’s coming over later to fuck me, and that’s exactly as it should be.
This is an entirely new side of myself, but I can’t wait to explore it some more.
Right now I can’t think of a single reason I shouldn’t.
Six
I SPEND THE NEXT WEEK going to work and having sex with Marcus.
Not at the same time. We never do that. But he comes over to my place every night—after he’s done chores around the farm and after I’ve gone to see my grandmother. We stay up late having sex, watching TV, and talking.
I go to work exhausted every morning, but it’s still a very good week.
I’ve been raised to believe that when things go too well, you start waiting for the other shoe to drop, for reality to come crashing into your optimism. That’s been my grandmother’s outlook on life, and my experience has proven it true.
So I keep reminding myself not to assume that this state of affairs will continue. I’m not going to be allowed to spend much of my life having hot sex with Marcus Greene and enjoying his company the rest of the time.
Life doesn’t work that way.
At least my life never has.
But surely it’s okay to enjoy it while it lasts. I convince myself it’s not going to have any lasting consequences on my security. As long as I keep it in perspective, then I can have a good time.
Two weeks after we hooked up the first time, on Friday evening, Marcus shows up at my house at around eight.
It’s earlier than he normally comes by, and I just got back from spending two hours with my grandmother. “Hey,” I say, letting him in. He’s taken a shower since work and changed into jeans and a black T-shirt. His hair is still slightly damp, and (no surprise) he hasn’t shaved.
“Hello there,” he says in that husky tone I mentally label his sex voice.
I put a hand up to stop him when he reaches for me. “We’re going to have to wait on that for a while. I haven’t eaten yet.”
“Ah, well, food is an okay reason to delay sex.”
“Have you eaten?”
“I grabbed a sandwich, but I wouldn’t say no to more if there’s something on offer.”
“You’ll have to take what I can put together from what’s in my refrigerator. I haven’t had a chance to go grocery shopping yet.”
He heads for the kitchen with his long, lazy stride. “Let’s see what we can do.”
Together, we explore my refrigerator and cabinets and cobble together enough to make a stir-fry. He chops vegetables and I sauté them in a big pan. Then we add some leftover chicken breast, and I season it with soy sauce and sesame oil.
When the rice is done, we’re ready to eat, and we take our food to the couch so we can watch television at the same time.
It’s a nice meal. Marcus is in a good mood but not his mocking mood. He’s almost sweet—if I can ever apply that word to someone with edges as sharp as him. He asks me about my grandmother and tells me about the new cows his father purchased, and we watch a couple of episodes of a show on Netflix, and we finish all the food we cooked.<
br />
He helps me do the dishes, and as soon as I’ve slid the last pan back into place in the cabinet, he wraps his arms around me from behind and nuzzles my neck.
“Marcus,” I say, unable to stop myself from pressing back against him.
“Yes.” He finds a sensitive spot on the side of my throat and sucks on it hard.
My whole body pulses in pleasure. It feels like I’m melting into him. “I thought we might watch another episode.”
“Did you?” He slides one hand up to cup my breast over my top. Tweaks the nipple. “Did you really?”
I bite back a moan. I don’t know how he does it, but I’m already turned on. “I guess we can do something else if you really want to.”
“If I really want to?” He turns my body around and gazes down at my flushed face and heavy eyelids. “I think you really want to.”
“I don’t want to that much.”
His blue-gray eyes smolder. “I’m going to prove you wrong. You know that, right?”
If I don’t know it now, I know it soon enough. He proves me wrong over and over again over the course of the night.
First he leans me against the kitchen counter, kneels on the floor, and makes me come with his fingers and mouth. Then, when I’m still a limp, boneless mass of satisfaction, he carries me into the living room, turns me over the arm of a big chair, and fucks me until I come and then come again. I need some time to recover after that, but we end up in bed, tangled together under the covers. Since he’s already come once, he lasts a long time, and I honestly never knew my body was capable of feeling so much, so intensely.
Maybe it’s not just my body. Everything in me thrills at the way Marcus moves inside me.
We fall asleep together afterward, still naked and clinging to each other.
He hasn’t spent the night since that first night when he accidentally fell asleep. But tonight he doesn’t wake up to go home the way he normally does.
He’s still with me when I wake up the next morning.
ON SUNDAY MORNING, Beck drives out to pick me up, and then we head for a town just past Milford for shopping.
It’s way out of her way to pick me up, but Beck’s the most generous person I’ve ever met, and she doesn’t seem to mind the extra hour-and-a-half drive.
