by Levine, Nina
I raise the glass of bourbon Dan just put in front of me, and demand, “Now, let’s drink the fuck up and talk about bullshit that doesn’t matter.” I scull half the glass and suck in a breath as it slides down my throat. Feels fucking good.
Five hours later, we’re all drunk, and we stumble outside. We spent all night reliving memories of when we met, the shit we’ve been through together, and talked about our future plans. And then the conversation turned to Claudia and the last hour has been spent reliving our memories of hanging out with her.
“She really was like a sister to you guys, too, wasn’t she?” I say as we hit the car park.
Van nods. “Yeah, she was.”
West slings his arm around my shoulders. “I’m gonna miss her, Jett. She used to send me texts checking up on you when we were on the road, and then we’d chat for a bit. It was how I used to stay connected to home in a way. She’d keep me updated on everyone back here. It’s gonna suck not having that.” His voice catches and his face twists with grief.
Fuck.
These are the kinds of things my mind hasn’t even realised yet. They’re the little things we all took for granted, and suddenly I know they’re going to be the things that will hurt the most as we discover them missing.
Two taxis pull up and we make our way to them. I’m heading home to my apartment in the city and the three of them are going in a different direction so I jump in mine and say goodnight. I’ll come back tomorrow and collect my Jeep. Driving it home tonight was never going to happen, I shouldn’t have driven it here in the first place.
Closing my eyes, I squeeze back the thoughts rushing forward. Every time I’m alone, they come for me, and I can’t stop them. Of Claudia and I when we were kids, of her when she was dating assholes in high school, of us in Paris when I took her there for her twenty-first. Too many fucking memories.
I need to find a way to switch them off.
“Mate,” I say to the driver, “Can we head to Kangaroo Point instead of the city?”
“Sure,” he agrees and diverts our journey.
Presley will make it good.
She’ll switch the shit in my mind off.
33
Presley
I sit up in bed and quiet my breathing so I can listen for the noise I just heard. It sounds like someone trying to break in through my front door, and my heart beats a little faster in my chest. Pushing the bed covers back, I slide out of the bed and tip toe through my apartment towards the front door. The noise is getting louder and just as I almost reach the door, Jett yells out my name as he bashes on it.
I scream and jump. “Shit, you scared the fuck out of me!” I yell at him through the door, both relieved it’s him and angry it’s him. He rang me this afternoon and said he was going out with the boys so I wasn’t expecting him. And although I’m glad to see him, I’m half asleep and my pulse is racing from the fear I had felt.
I let him in and he shuts the door behind him and apologises. “Sorry, baby, didn’t mean to scare you.” His words are slurring together and he smells like a brewery.
Motioning for him to come in, I say, “It’s alright, but I didn’t think you were coming over tonight. Are you okay? And how the hell did you get through the front door?” So much for security.
His hands grip my hips and pull me to him as he bends his face to mine and kisses me. “Some other drunk guy let me through… I’m okay but I had to see you.”
Warmth flows through me that he feels this way. “I’ll make us a tea,” I say as I turn to walk towards the kitchen.
He grabs my hand, though, and halts me. Pulling me back to him, he presses his lips to mine and kisses me again, his tongue pushing inside, his mouth urgent. One of his hands slides under my shirt, up my bare skin to cup my breast while his other hand reaches inside my pyjama shorts to find my pussy. His touch is rough and demanding, and usually I would love it, but tonight it feels off.
I push him away and take a step back. Before I can say anything, he frowns and asks, “What?”
“I said I’d make us tea so you can talk. It seems like you need that,” I say softly. Even in his drunken state, I can see the pain in his eyes. My man is hurting so bad and I just want to help him.
He rakes his fingers through his hair. “Fuck, Presley, I don’t want to talk.”
“Jett, I get that, but at least come and sit with me. We don’t have to talk if you don’t want to; we can just sit and be.” I’m hoping he’ll open up at some point, though.
He reaches for me again and I realise why he came here tonight. And it hurts that sex is all he wants from me. “Sweetheart,” he murmurs as he tries to pull me to him, but I struggle against that.
“I know you’re hurting, Jett, and I understand you don’t want to talk it over, but I don’t think burying your pain in sex is the way to deal with this.”
Annoyance flashes in his eyes. “I’m not trying to bury my pain in sex but it would be nice to fuck my girlfriend for the first time in days. And then we can talk.”
I stare at him, hating the words that just came from his lips, but at the same time knowing he doesn’t mean them the way they sounded. This isn’t the Jett I know and love; this is the Jett who is drowning in grief and fighting against admitting to himself that his sister is never coming back. So I do the only thing I think will work for now. I go to him and cup his face with my hands. Then I kiss him and press my body against his. When I end the kiss, I say, “We don’t need to talk, baby. I hear everything you’re already saying and when you’re ready to say something else, I’ll be here to hear that, too. Okay?”
His eyes don’t shift from mine and I know he’s heard me; I know he’s understood everything I just said because I see the tears building there. But he blinks and stops them, and then he grunts as he lifts me and carries me into the bedroom.
I expect him to be rough but he places me on the bed as if I am the most fragile thing in the world. His hands go to his jeans and as he undresses, he keeps his gaze glued to mine. The intense way he watches me, with his grief blaring from his eyes, hits me deep in my soul, and I know I will give him whatever he needs tonight.
Once he’s naked, he leans on the bed and moves on top of me. His lips find mine and he kisses me, deep and slow. I welcome his tongue and I don’t even care that all I can taste is the bourbon he’s been drinking. The hold he has over me when his body and his lips and his hands are on me is something I’ve never experienced, and I am powerless to fight it.
My hands move along his skin, up his back, and into his hair as I wrap my legs around him. I’m still fully clothed but he’s in no rush to remove them; he’s focused intently on owning me through his kiss. And he does own me. I press my body up into his and kiss him harder; I need to be as close to him as I can be tonight.
His hands are on the bed, either side of me, and he ends our kiss and pushes himself up away from me. I watch as his gaze trails down my body, slowly, as if he’s devouring me with his eyes. Goosebumps flood my skin as I shiver under that gaze. He moves suddenly to a straddling position and his hands slide down my body to grab hold of the bottom of my shirt so he can remove it. Once he has it off, he slides my shorts and panties off to reveal my naked body to him.
“Fuck,” he rasps as he traces a pattern over the skin of my throat and then trails his finger slowly down my body, over my breasts, my nipples, my stomach, and then down to my pussy. My core clenches as he softly rubs my clit with his thumb and teases my entrance with his finger. Our eyes meet and don’t let go as he builds my pleasure.
My hands slide across the silk sheet so I can grasp the bed and hold on while my body trembles under his touch.
Oh God.
His fingers feel so good.
I close my eyes, unable to focus on him anymore. The pleasure he’s giving me has set my body alight with lust and want and need.
God, how I need him.
Now.
My back arches off the bed and my head turns to the side as I s
queeze my eyes and bite my lip.
Fuck.
I clench the sheets at the side of the bed as the intense pleasure builds and fills me and sends white light shooting through my mind.
And I come. My release shatters through me, splintering shards of bliss to every corner of my body.
His fingers still and while I’m in the midst of pleasure, he brings his beautiful lips to my breasts and runs his tongue around one nipple and then the other. Then he takes one of my breasts into his mouth while his hands slide up my body to take hold of both breasts while he worships me with his lips and tongue.
I barely recover from my orgasm before he begins to build my pleasure again. While he’s working his magic on my breasts, he pushes his cock against my pussy. I can hardly contain my need for him there. All I want to do is push myself up to meet him, but he’s intent on teasing me at the moment. He pushes against me and then pulls away, over and over.
Over and fucking over.
We dance like this together for what feels like eternity. I’m almost going out of my mind with desire, and I’m fairly sure Jett is, too. I have no idea how he’s holding himself back because each time he slides through my wetness, he lets out a grunt, as if he’s torturing himself.
His mouth hasn’t left my breasts but I need his lips so I thread my fingers through his hair and pull gently to let him know what I want. He lifts his face to look at me, and I almost come just from the feral look in his eyes. They are wild with lust and I connect with that look; I want him as much as he wants me. And damn that turns me on even more than I already am. And I’m not even sure if that’s possible because Jett’s driving me fucking insane with his mouth, hands and cock.
“Will you fuck me already?” I finally beg, my voice heavy with sex.
He stares at me for a beat, as if he’s lost and can’t claw through whatever has him in its grip. And then he pushes his cock inside on a growl. He begins a slow and maddening dance of sex. He’s never fucked me like this before. I’m used to his more possessive style; this is something completely different.
It’s quietly demanding.
It’s quietly greedy.
It’s fucking exquisite.
His hands rest on the bed next to me and he stares down into my eyes as he pushes in and out, slowly and deliberately, going deeper each time. My legs are wrapped around him and I hold tight, moving with him and helping him work us toward our release.
“Fuck, baby,” he groans as his face contorts with pleasure.
His thrusts are getting a little faster and harder, and when he drops his head and begins to thrust with more determination, I know it won’t be long. I squeeze my legs tighter around him as he loses himself completely in it. He’s moving and thrusting and grunting, and all I can do is hold on for the ride.
My body thrums with pleasure and I cry out when I come. I’m falling and tumbling and I surrender totally to it.
I know nothing.
I feel no one.
I only exist in this amazing bubble of ecstasy.
And then Jett roars, “Fuck!” He thrusts hard one last time and his body tenses as he orgasms.
His roar pierces through my bubble and I’m alert again. And I’m exhausted. The pleasure has ripped through my body, using up every last drop of energy I had in me. I let go of him and he pulls out and collapses onto the bed beside me.
My eyes flutter shut and I begin to drift off into sleep. I try to fight it, but I can’t.
The last thing I hear is, “I love you.”
I love you, too.
34
Presley
As I roll over in the bed, I stretch and reach for Jett, but the bed is empty. I crack my eyes open and look around the room. He’s not here. I check the bedside clock and see it’s nearly nine in the morning. Shit, I’ve slept late. I push the covers off and go in search of him.
A couple of minutes later, I’ve looked everywhere and my heart sinks when I realise he’s already left.
No note.
No goodbye.
And I’ve got no idea where he is or what he’s doing today.
It’s the first time since we met that I don’t know this information.
I want to know these things.
Hell, I want to know everything to do with Jett.
I want him in my life.
I want him.
The realisation I don’t want to fight him anymore about dating hit me a little while ago, but this new understanding of what he means to me and how much I want to be around him, hits me now.
I rush into my bedroom to grab my phone, and dial him straight away. He doesn’t answer so I try again. And again. After three attempts with no answer, I give up and send him a text asking him to let me know he’s okay. He certainly wasn’t okay when he arrived here last night.
Dropping the phone onto my bed, I trudge into the bathroom for a shower. I’m tired after last night. Jett wore me out with sex and then he tossed and turned all night, keeping me awake pretty much the whole time. Thank God I have no plans for today; long naps sound good at this point.
As I step into the shower, my phone rings and I immediately bolt back into my bedroom to answer it.
It’s Jett. “Hi,” I say.
He takes his time but finally says, “Hi.”
His tone makes me nervous. It’s as if he doesn’t want to be on the phone with me. “Where are you? I missed you this morning.”
The only sound is that of his long sigh, and then – “Sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs so softly I almost can’t hear him. “I needed some time…”
Frowning, I ask, “Time for what?”
Quiet again and when he does speak, the brokenness I hear in his voice pulls at my heart. “Time with Claudia.”
I have no idea what he means and while I want to know, I don’t want to push him too hard. “Okay.” I stop talking but then add, “Jett, I’m here if you need me, yeah?”
“Yeah,” he says, gruffly. “I’ll catch you later.”
And then he’s gone and I’m left staring at my phone.
Fuck you, cancer.
I end up cleaning my house; it’s what I do when I’m full of nervous energy like I am at the moment. That takes me all of two hours and then I rearrange my pantry. And then I head downstairs to wash my car.
I’m finishing up with my car when Michael calls me.
“What’s up?” I ask.
“What? No love for me this morning?” he teases.
I play along because this is sadly the highlight of my day so far. “I’m sorry, dear manager, how are you today?”
“Pfft, fancy answering the phone with ‘what’s up’. Who does that shit?” He’s poking fun at me now because I’m always giving him grief for answering the phone that way, and now I’ve just done the same thing.
“Point taken.”
He chuckles. “Am I detecting a mood today?” Always so perceptive.
“Jett’s sister passed away two days ago and - ”
He cuts me off. “Shit, Presley. What happened?”
“She died of cardiac arrest but she also had just been diagnosed with cancer for the second time in her life.”
“God, I’m so sorry. How is Jett?”
“Not good. He was close to her.”
“Are you with him now? Just tell me to hang up if you are. We can discuss this stuff later.” Michael can be a smartass but he’s also very sensitive and it’s one of my favourite things about him.
I lean against my car and cross my legs in front of me. “No, he was gone before I woke up this morning,” I say quietly.
“Why do you sound upset, babe?” Again, always sensitive to what others are going through.
“Because it feels like he’s shutting me out.” I rush to clarify myself. “And I know he’s grieving and dealing with that in his own way, but I just want him to talk to me and let me help him. I’m so worried about him.”
He’s thoughtful for a moment. “You know, not everyone needs to talk shit
out, much as you might disagree with that. Sure, at some point he will possibly want to discuss it, but there are some of us who deal with our thoughts and feelings by going inward rather than outward. Perhaps the best way for you to help him is actually to leave him be and wait for him to come to you.” He pauses for a moment and then asks, “Do you think it’s possible that your desire for him to talk to you is more about your need to talk with him about it? That maybe while you think you’re being there for him, you’re actually trying to fill one of your own needs to help and fix?”
I consider what he’s said. “Shit, I hate it when you go all therapist on me.”
“Just think about it. And just continue to be there for him.”
“I will, but I’m not sure you’re right this time. Everyone who is struggling with grief needs people around them.”
“I’m not saying he doesn’t need you. I’m just saying give him the time and space to come to you in his own time.”
“Fine.” He’s made me a little grumpy. My desire to be here for Jett has nothing to do with me. In fact, I don’t even really understand what he’s trying to say so I change the subject instead of continuing this conversation. “What were you calling for?”
“You’ve had a few job offers come through that I wanted to discuss with you.”
“For what?”
“Magazine shoots. Still fashion, unfortunately.” He sounds as down about it as I feel.
“Ugh, no, I don’t want to do them.”
“Yeah, I figured, but thought I’d ask just in case you’d changed your mind.”
“You know what? I told myself I would take a few months off and I really need that so don’t even tell me about jobs that come in for the next couple of months.” I should have told him this to begin with.
“You sure?” He sounds surprised. “What if something huge comes in?”
I think about it for a minute. “Nope, not even then. I’m going to take this time for me. I’m going to work out what I truly want, because at the moment I’m so confused about it all.” The only thing I’m not confused about is Jett.