by Blake Wilder
One of his hands gripped the base of his dick, limiting how much slid in, while the other was wrapped up my hair. He tugged on it until I followed the direction, my upper body rising, my back resting against his chest.
Jake’s breath was hot against my neck. “You’re a little fool,” he murmured, kissing my neck.
I trembled with need.
He bit my shoulder. “And you’re mine.”
My chest constricted, my pussy clenching at the thought of how much I truly wanted that. Wanted to be his. For more than just tonight.
Maybe forever.
After that, there was nothing holding either of us back. I fell forward once more, barely able to hold myself up as Jake took me from behind, his closed fist still on the base of his cock, withholding several inches.
I wanted it all, but I knew he wouldn’t relent.
I met him thrust for thrust, coming after only a half-dozen strokes.
Jake kept moving in and out as I shook my way through the orgasm. I felt him everywhere and there was some reasonable part of my brain that thought this should hurt. It didn’t. In truth, it felt as if our bodies were made for each other.
“God,” Jake cried out. “Hope, it feels too good. I. Can’t. Stop—”
My back arched and I came again, the second orgasm crashing in unexpectedly, right on the heels of the first.
He jerked roughly, his hand gripping my hip as he came, my name the only word he seemed capable of saying. “Hope. Hope. Sweet Hope.”
I quivered when he withdrew, hating the empty feeling he’d left behind.
I fell onto my stomach on the bed, my strength gone. Jake lay down next to me, so I twisted to face him, both of us struggling to catch our breath.
His hand rested on my waist and I marveled at how much I loved even that simple touch.
Neither of us spoke. Instead, we simply looked at each other until we fell asleep.
I woke up first the next morning, a thin strip of sunlight streaming through the closed curtains in Jake’s bedroom. My phone beeped next to me and I recalled George and the sleepover. It had been his first time spending the night with a friend. I’d been so wrapped up in my plans with Jake, I hadn’t had time to worry about how that might go until the moment I heard that beep.
I reached for the phone, groggily, trying to wake up. My body hurt in all the right places and my head was fuzzy from so much amazing sex.
I rubbed my eyes and tried to focus on the words. They didn’t make any sense.
I’m living for Monday.
A quick glance said the text was from Lauren. I didn’t have any plans with her on Monday. Clicking, I scrolled through the previous few texts, the words still slightly blurry, until I found the first text in the thread.
You should have stayed longer. Tequila makes me very horny. You would have liked the things I’d planned to do to you.
What the fuck was that? Then I realized this wasn’t my phone. It was Jake’s. At that point, I should have put the damn thing down.
Of course, I didn’t.
The next text was from Jake.
Behave, Lauren. We still on for next week?
Next week? What? That question led me straight back to Lauren’s latest text this morning.
She and Jake had plans for Monday. While I was lying in his bed, he already had plans for the next date, the next woman.
The fact it was Lauren only added more salt to the wound. Or it had. Until Lauren sent another text on the heels of the last.
Can’t wait for you to fill me up with that big hose.
My feet were moving before my brain could fully process the words. A wave of shame and regret and embarrassment washed over me. I’d only felt this way one other time.
It was the day I’d stopped by Alan’s frat house to tell him I was pregnant. I had knocked on the door to his bedroom and Jessica Palmer answered, wearing one of Alan’s T-shirts and nothing else. She’d smirked when she saw me standing there. Somehow I’d found the courage to ask Alan if we could talk. He’d come out in the hall, I’d dropped my bomb, and he’d told me he didn’t even remember having sex with me, asking how I could be sure it was really his baby.
I hadn’t stuck around after that.
I’d simply turned around and left the frat house, gone to my room in the dorm, packed up all my stuff, and called my parents.
I wiped my nose, hating the tears streaming down my face as I pulled on my clammy clothing. Jake had draped my rain-soaked jeans and shirt over the back of a chair, but neither had completely dried.
I didn’t care. I just had to get out of here before he woke up. There was no way I was going to let another guy push me aside for another woman.
I had come here to get laid. Mission accomplished.
I snuck down the hallway, not daring to breathe until I was out of the fire station and on the street. I walked all the way back to my car, climbed in and tried to start the damn thing before I remembered I was out of gas.
That was when the crying really started. I rested my forehead against the steering wheel, sobbing.
I’d done it again.
Fallen hard and fast for the wrong guy.
Eight
Jake
I glanced toward the parking lot for the hundredth time since arriving at the ball field. Hope still wasn’t here and practice was supposed to start in a couple of minutes.
I’d called and texted her at least two dozen times since Saturday morning, but every single time, my calls went to voicemail and my texts unanswered. Three times I’d hopped in my truck, intent on swinging by her place to see her, but every single time, I had been stopped by a fire call, stuck dealing with something that kept me busy until it was too late to go to her house.
Now it was Tuesday afternoon and there was no denying the truth. She was avoiding me.
I’d replayed our night together over and over so many times it felt as if every second was tattooed on my brain. I kept trying to figure out where it went wrong, what I’d failed to see.
It had been the single greatest night of my life. And I’d honestly believed—right up until I’d woken up in an empty bed and not a note in the house—that she had enjoyed it as well.
The idea that she was hiding from me made me sick to my stomach.
Had I hurt her?
I hadn’t imagined the orgasms she’d had, but maybe she’d woken up in pain and reconsidered, decided she couldn’t be with me.
Hard as I tried, I couldn’t make that idea fit with the reality of the night we’d shared. It had been incredible and most of the sex—at least at the beginning—had been driven by her. She hadn’t recoiled or complained of pain—two things I’d experienced more than a few times with past lovers.
If anything, my sweet, near-virgin had been the most open, the most trusting lover I’d ever taken to bed.
After one last look at the parking lot, I gave up and called the boys together on the field. She wasn’t coming. If only that didn’t make my chest hurt so much.
I wasn’t used to feeling like this. I’d never had trouble walking away in the past. A night or three in the sack and then so long, farewell, with no backward glances.
This time I was pining over Hope like some teenage boy with my first crush and I was starting to feel like a chump.
To add insult to injury, I missed George as well. The practice was nowhere near as much fun without George’s energy and spiritedness and I wasn’t the only one who felt that way. The boys weren’t quite as into the practice, going through the motions without their usual enthusiasm.
We were about ten minutes into batting practice when George sprinted out onto the field. Several of the boys ran over to greet him, slapping him on the back and grinning widely.
“Hey, George,” I said. “I was starting to worry about you.”
My gaze flew over the little boy’s head to the stands. Hope was there, talking to a couple of the other moms. She didn’t look my direction.
“Mommy had to wo
rk late,” George complained. “I told her we had to hurry.” From his extra-high level of energy and the undeniable look of impatience still on his face, I’d say he’d been nagging Hope nonstop since school was over.
I continued with practice, sneaking glances at Hope the entire time, hating how her eyes took in everything and anything to avoid looking my way.
Finally, seventeen years later, practice ended. I didn’t bother with any reminders or last words of instruction. Hope was already standing next to the bleachers, purse over her arm, car keys in hand, clearly intending to make a break for it. I planned to head her off at the pass. There was no way I was letting her leave here without talking to her. I had to know what I’d done wrong, so I could figure out how to fix it.
I missed talking to her, kissing her, being with her.
A handful of meetings and the woman had burrowed so deep into my subconscious, I couldn’t make it more than five minutes without thinking of her.
I made a beeline for the bleachers and was no more than ten feet away when someone stepped directly in front of me. I pulled up short.
“Jake, wait.”
I didn’t bother to hide my scowl when I found Lauren there. The woman had been a pain in my ass since sophomore year of high school, continually throwing herself at me, dropping sexual innuendoes into every conversation, finding ways to always be wherever I was. For the first handful of years, I pushed her away pretty vigorously, rebuffing her advances and calling her out for her flirting and inappropriate comments.
However, Lauren thrived on rejection, taking my refusal to date her as a personal challenge. The more I resisted, the harder she tried. Lately, I’d decided it was easier to ignore and avoid her as much as possible. That was difficult considering we lived in a small town and my dad was married to her best friend. Wherever Scarlett was, Lauren was, and apparently the two of them had hatched some twisted scheme lately, deciding their world would be perfect if I was married to Lauren.
Hell would freeze over before I even so much as touched the woman.
“Not now, Lauren,” I said, trying to step around her. She glanced over her shoulder and followed the direction of my gaze. I barely restrained myself from cursing at her when she put her hand on my chest. I glanced down and shot her a warning look. Lauren typically failed to read my social clues or my body language, but my expression this time must have been dark enough to penetrate. She wisely lowered her hand.
“You look hot in that hat. You know I’ve got a thing for ball players and guys who wield a wicked bat.”
“I’m in a hurry.” I looked over her shoulder trying to find Hope. George had reached her and she was attempting to make a quick escape.
“Hope,” I called out. “Wait.”
For the first time since she’d arrived, she looked at me. Then her eyes drifted to Lauren, who was standing too close to me. Hope frowned and glanced away. I knew she had no fondness for Lauren, but neither did I. Surely she knew that.
I moved toward Hope, but Lauren wasn’t finished causing trouble.
“I want to thank you for last night, Jake. You were great.”
I winced. Lauren had chosen her words carefully and called them out loud enough for me—and Hope—to hear.
I turned around and shot Lauren a dirty look, but my response only egged her on. She winked and blew a kiss. “See you later, Big Hose.”
If I had the time, I’d set Lauren straight once and for all on this bullshit of hers. She and I were never happening. Never. Sadly, I didn’t have the time to waste on her at the moment. Hope and George were halfway to the parking lot.
“Hope,” I said, instinctively reaching for her hand, when I caught up to them. The second I touched her, she recoiled from me like I was on fire.
“Can we go to the arcade with you and Scott again?” George asked excitedly, jumping around us.
“I’m afraid I don’t have Scott tonight,” I said, pointing toward the parking lot where Scott and Scarlett were waiting. I spotted Lauren getting into the passenger’s seat too late. She waved to me, grinning widely. “But if you two don’t have plans for din—”
“We do,” Hope said, before I could finish issuing my invitation.
I waited for her to say more, but she didn’t, so we stood there for a few awkward moments.
“Can you come over and play ball one day?” George asked.
I glanced at Hope. We had to clear the air before I could promise that, but what I needed to say to her couldn’t be said in front of George.
“I, um,” I hedged.
“That’s not going to be possible, George. Jake is pretty busy at the fire station.” Hope crossed her arms. I could read her body language well enough to see she was uncomfortable too.
George wilted, looking dejected. I recognized that look well enough. I’d worn it myself, every time my mom and one of my “uncles” broke up. I lost count of how many times I’d had my feelings hurt as I watched a guy I thought cared about me walk away because he and my mom didn’t work out. I didn’t like the idea that George might feel that way about me.
“Can I talk to you for a second, Hope? Alone?” I asked.
She sighed, then hit the unlock button on her key fob. “George, why don’t you wait for me in the car? I’ll only be a minute, okay?”
George gave me a cheery wave. “Bye, Jake. See you at practice on Friday.”
I gave him the thumbs-up. “Friday, little man.”
We waited until he was out of hearing distance.
“Hope, I—”
“Listen, Jake—”
We started speaking at the same time. Then we both stopped. I pulled my cap off and ran my hand through my hair.
Hope looked away. I hated the distance between us. I thought Friday night had changed things between us, taken us from just friends to something a lot closer, better.
“Please, Hope,” I said at last. “My insides are in knots and I can’t sleep. I need you to tell me the truth. Did I hurt you the other night?”
“What?” She frowned and I could see in an instant my question caught her off guard. The tightness in my chest started to loosen. “No.”
“Did I scare you? Come on too strong?”
“Of course not,” she said. “You were there, Jake. It was…” She hesitated, then confirmed what I’d believed was true as well. “Amazing.”
I tried to smile, but couldn’t summon one.
If that was true, it didn’t explain the cold shoulder.
Hope shifted her purse higher on her arm. “You didn’t hurt me. Physically.”
I was curious about her phrasing, wondering why she’d felt the need to add the word, “physically.”
Had I hurt her some other way?
“You left without saying goodbye,” I said, recalling how upset I’d been when I woke up alone.
“I needed to pick George up at Scott’s house and my car was out of gas.”
“I would have driven you to the gas station.”
She sighed. “I know, but I didn’t want to drag things out.”
I disliked her words. “My plan to drag things out was breakfast in bed, a shower together, and then I thought maybe we could try missionary.”
I thought my words might break the ice, might put a smile on her face. They didn’t.
“Listen, Jake, you and I both got what we wanted the other night. This song and dance isn’t necessary.”
I didn’t have a clue what she was talking about. “Song and dance?”
“We’re both adults and we shared an attraction.”
Why was she speaking in past tense?
Before I could ask, she continued, “One that we’ve indulged. I don’t have any expectations of you beyond that. I came to your place fully aware of your reputation as a love ’em and leave ’em guy. I’m not the clingy type so you don’t have to worry about that.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I hadn’t meant my words to come out so hotly, but I was confused and every single wo
rd she said was pissing me off.
My anger sparked hers. Her tone was almost hostile when she answered my question. “There was a sexual spark between us. We scratched the itch, so now we can move on. None of this requires a long, drawn-out farewell.”
“Are you kidding me right now? Scratched an itch?” Where the hell did she get the impression that I wasn’t genuinely interested in dating her? I’d replayed every second of the other night enough to know I hadn’t said a single thing that would lead her to believe I only wanted one night with her. Hell, I hadn’t even planned to sleep with her on Friday. That had been all her, with that cute little ass of hers pressing against my dick. The way she’d given me that sexy look and begged me to just put a little bit inside.
Before I knew it, she’d taken it all—my cock and my heart. How could she not know that?
“Jake.” Her voice was calmer now, but it didn’t help because I recognized what was coming next. She was going to give me the brush-off.
I should know. I’d done the same enough in the past.
The difference was I’d never been on the receiving end and it sucked. My pulse was racing, temperature high, palms clammy. This was karma. It had to be. She was socking it to me for sleeping around, for treating sex like a game for too many years.
“I’ve dedicated the last five years to George, to getting my degree, so I could provide for the two of us. I came to Bootlick for a clean break and a fresh start…for him and me. I’ve got the job and the house, but we both want more. I want a companion, someone to spend the rest of my life with and George wants a dad. I’ve tried to be both to him, but you’ve seen my pitching skills.”
She accompanied her weak joke with a smile—the first one I’d seen from her all day—but it was a sad one, and not at all comforting.
“I understand that. You both deserve that.” Hope stood in front of me, telling me what she wanted and the crazy thing was, for the first time ever, it was the exact same thing I wanted. So why weren’t the pieces falling into place? I forced myself to ask the question I didn’t want answered. Mainly because I was pretty sure I already knew what she was going to say.