One Day After Never (The Second Time's the Charm STANDALONE Series Book 1)

by Whitney Walker

  I am selfishly distracted by our shared view of holidays. But no, I can’t be, as this is important. “What do you mean? Your mom didn’t hate you.”

  “Ugh, I know. It’s complicated. I just meant the bigger family stuff that I always wanted. That didn’t work out so well. I’ll spare you the gory details.”

  “I want the gory details, Peyton.” I try to kiss her again.

  She kisses back briefly, but then tucks her head to speak. “My mom didn’t hate me, J.T. I hated her. I blamed her for never having a father—or a family, for that matter. Her parents never forgave her for leaving my dad and neither did I. I was horrible to my mother. I left her emotionally as soon as I could, and then walked out the door as soon as I turned twenty-one. I never called or came home… and then she died. Already fearing I was a horrible person, now I am hearing I might be responsible for her keeping her boyfriend secret too. I’ve been blaming her all along for us not being a family when it really might have been my fault! I need to talk to Jack.”

  She starts to push herself up off the bed, but I catch her wrist gently. I pull her back carefully, with as little force as possible. She doesn’t resist.

  “It’s an hour ahead in Michigan, so it’s late. How about you call him in the morning. It won’t change anything.” She wriggles, but relaxes into me. I run my thumb across her cheek and she seems to calm in an instant.

  “What kind of crazy magic did you just use on me to make my head spin back into place?”

  I laugh. “I hope it’s always that easy.”

  “Oh, I’m easy alright.”

  I sense there is more to the story. She is deflecting. “You are not getting off that easily.”

  “I could.”

  Her ability to create a sexual innuendo from the simplest of statements is at the least amusing, at the most, hotter than hell.

  “Peyton, I want to know everything about you. What makes you tick, how you process, what might really piss you off, because I’ve hit a major nerve, and what your expectations are for this relationship. I want the good, bad, and ugly. I want all of it.”

  Shit. I realize I may have gone a little overboard throwing out the “r” word without knowing where her head is. Now it’s my turn to deflect. And I know just the distraction.

  CHAPTER 14 | Peyton

  W e finally come up for air after a kiss that says more than words ever could. I want you. I need you. Please don’t run screaming from this bedroom when you find out who I really am. Thank God his kiss said that. I know it’s my turn to share, and I am not ready. There is no special umbrella I can offer to protect him from my shame storm. I know he isn’t going to let this slide so I might as well just get it over with.

  “Thank you for that amazing kiss.” I get down to business, taking a deep breath in and blowing it out audibly, cheeks puffing with air. “Okay, let me net this out. If I said ‘don’t do anything I wouldn’t do’ it doesn’t take a lot of options off the table. Like you, I’ve put stuff in my body I regret. No needles though. I’ve seen things I wish could be unseen. And… I’ve done things with men that I wish I could take back.”

  A lot of things. A lot of men. He is probably wondering if there was money involved. “If it makes it any better, I’ve done a lot of what I’ve done with rich and famous people.”

  I try to read his expression but it’s blank.

  “So, that’s it. Mother Theresa, I am not. I’m not serving the poor or fixing the broken. Hell—” my voice is weary and strained, “—I might be the broken. I heard someone say to you at the funeral that you fix the broken. That was the first thing that made me want to meet you. Because—” I hesitate, and his fingers fold around mine, pulling my hand into his heart. He flattens my palm against his chest and covers my hand with this own. “I felt so broken that day. And not just that day.”

  His thumb brushes across my lips as if he is wiping the words away. He kisses my forehead again, then strokes my cheek in the same manner that had worked to calm me before. Surprisingly, my defenses don’t rise against his touch.

  “We are all broken. That’s how the light gets in. That’s Hemingway. And I believe every word.”

  I’ve just said I don’t want a relationship, but I am lying to myself. Even I don’t want to believe it, but I think I could fall in love with this man.

  “I’m definitely learning all your good, but was that all of your bad and ugly? You got anything else to throw my way?”

  I hear no angst, only desire. I’m leery it was too easy, but I feel lighter and willing to take a chance. “Now, where were we?”

  “Both still here. You’ve had a lot of change. Mom, meeting Jack, handling your complication, taking a chance on me. I am, if nothing else, patient. I want to sweep you off your feet and treat you the way I learned from Ellie that Tim did her. She’s told me stories of their courting and their married life. Being the best man I can be is what I have to do.”

  “J.T.?” I ask when he finally pauses. “That was all wonderful. Really,” I say sincerely, “I do want you to be the best man you can be, but when I asked where we were I had something else in mind.”

  “Like being the best I can be with a beautiful woman between the sheets?”

  I think I blush at the compliment. “Something like that.”

  “Oh, Peyton.” I love the way he says it lustfully. He runs both hands through my hair on either side of my head, massaging my scalp, and I sigh. It feels so good. My hands slide down his arms over the curve of his biceps, then I use my nails on the way back up to his shoulders and around his back because a manicurist once told me how much men love a good back scratch. He seems to as he moans.

  Then, our gentle touching of one another changes pace as his lips crash into mine. His intensity is unwavering, and I return his kiss with no hesitation. I want him, and I’ve been waiting longer than I would like. My hips rise into his involuntarily, making this clear. His fingers curl into the flesh of my hips. “Please get me naked already,” I beg into our kiss. He stands up quickly from the bed and slides his open jeans down his thighs, stepping first one leg, then the other, out of the pant legs gracefully. Now, just one article of clothing remains. Hands reaching for the top of my pants, I push them away to instead find my way inside of his boxer briefs. I gasp as my fingers finally have the opportunity to explore him skin on skin, already ready for me. Curling my fingers around the length of him I feel flawless, soft skin that contradicts how hard he is.

  J.T.’s fingertips skim over my thigh, tracing the curve of my hip and settling at my waistband. I roll flat on my back and lift my hips as he kneels over me to ease my leggings off. He sucks in a breath. He traces the lace of my underwear across my stomach from left to right.

  I revel in the black-and-white silhouette of his body created by the light coming through the window. His neckline and the curve of his muscular, broad shoulders captivate me. Hands caress my neck, then cup my breasts. I reach up and run my hands across his chest.

  “I am going to learn every inch of you, Peyton. Physically and emotionally.”

  I can get excited about half of that.

  His palms flattening, moving down my sides, he leans back onto his heels, hands gliding down my thighs then calves. Arms stretching behind him, his right hand encircles my ankle. He bends my right leg up slightly, just enough to kiss the inside of my knee then move upwards one inch at a time. My hands grip his shoulders in anticipation.

  He kisses my pubic bone then gently bites my inner thigh and begins kissing his way backward. I am a bit disappointed he has moved away from where he was just about to explore all of me. He is back soon enough like he can’t wait either. He gently pushes my thong to the side and his fingers dance across my flesh. My hips rise wanting more.

  J.T. hooks his thumbs on the lace sides of my underwear and I shift to make it easy to remove them. He takes his sweet time slowly moving them down the length of my lower extremities.

  He hovers back over my body and I wrap my legs aroun
d his back and pull him down onto mine. I feel his wanting pushing into my thigh and I push myself toward it. My hands gently massage the muscles on either side of his spine as he finds my lips again.

  I release my legs around him because there is no way for him to touch me unless I do. I need him to touch me. He seems to understand my unspoken request and finds me with his fingers. Finally! I want him inside of me, but I will be patient.

  His thumb brushes lightly back and forth over my clit, touch divinely affectionate. His fingers massage the flesh of my labia before moving toward my wetness. One finger easily slides inside, and I revel in the feeling.

  His head is moving downward, and I run my fingers through his hair applying gentle pressure to ensure he does not stop until he reaches me. Oh! Tongue taking over where his fingers used to be, I whisper his name into the dark. He traces the left side of me, pushes his tongue inside with a flutter, then up the right side back to my clit, sucking it into his mouth. I writhe in delight, hips lifting while my hands grip his hair.

  His tongue moves up and down my skin, soft, then firm, flattening, then just with the tip. His thumb pulls my clit upward, continuing to massage it, and his finger inside me pulls downward. His tongue is buried in and out of me, lost everywhere in between. He draws long circles against the sides and pushes back inside. Both of his hands come to find my breasts. The stimulation of my nipples at the same time as everything else is so satisfying. I realize I’ve hit a new level of attention from a man. He cares about pleasing me.

  My hips pulse into his mouth while my hands pull his head into me more tightly while fingers squeeze fistfuls of hair. I moan. Oh my God, this is divine. I shift my hips left and right in tiny movements against the ones his lips are making over mine. Intense pleasure begins to ripple from my core. I thrust into him and his movements become firm. My lifted legs begin to tremble, and I let the sensation wash over me. I feel my insides clench and pulse in response to him as his finger slides inside again and his tongue returns to my clit. My hips involuntarily push upward further. The pressure of his finger and tongue is everywhere from head to toe. “Oh my God,” I gasp again. His lips and tongue swirl over me. “Oh my God.” His finger moving inside of me. I meet his mouth again and again with each lift of my hips until the pleasure is all I feel and I still, riding it over the edge. OH. MY. GOD.

  I suck in a breath and finally relax onto the bed, legs quivering, as his kisses return to my inner thigh. I need a few moments to recover and remember how to breathe. One finger draws images across my stomach, softly back and forth. I smile and ask, “Did you just write number one on me?” I had made out the number sign and number quite easily.

  “Guilty,” he says, not sounding embarrassed in the least.

  “I assume you meant my first orgasm. Or were you having a moment of complete conceit calling yourself number one?” I’m messing with him, but my quick assessment of what has just happened is that both are true.

  He laughs. “I’d like to think I am a little more humble than that. It should always be about you, not me.”

  I ponder for a moment the one hundred eighty-degree difference between his intention and what I know to be true about Kyle.

  “I just want to make you happy, Peyton.”

  Wow. “Trust me, your mad skills just did.” I hope mine return the favor adequately. Finally able to move beyond post-orgasmic bliss, I rise to my hands and knees and crawl in between his legs. Sitting back on my heels, I stroke the outside of his thighs to build tension. I run my flattened palms across his washboard stomach feeling each one of his muscles. Yoga can get me a matching six pack any day now. I’m thin but don’t have definition as he does.

  One hand still flat over his heart, I move the other downward slowly, taking my time and letting my fingertips linger. When I am below his belly button, I turn my flat hand sideways and rub side to side across his stomach. I feel his pubic hair against my palm and his erection brushing across the top of my hand. I spend a few moments getting lost discovering the area.

  I can’t wait much longer to feel how hard he is for me. Moving both hands beneath his shaft, I fondle his testicles, skin tightening under my touch. I massage gently with my fingers, then cup each ball in one hand, lifting them up and tickling his taint beneath. I hear and feel the vibration of his guttural moan, legs squeezing me in reflex.

  His hips rise slightly off the bed. My hands can no longer be denied. His erection is just waiting for me. I wrap both around his shaft and my vagina twitches. I want him in me. But, first.

  I wrap one hand around his shaft, sliding it up and down, feeling all of his length and girth. He will be perfect for my mouth and inside of me. Not too big, not too long. I want to be able to take him all in. I run my thumb over the top of him, back and forth, then switch hands to use my other index finger to trace around the head. I keep both moving up and down the shaft and over the head with light pressure, then firm, to keep him guessing at what might come.

  When I’ve fondled every millimeter adequately with my fingertip tender touch, long, firm strokes, twists between my palms and rubbed up and down with encircled fingers, it’s time to find him with my mouth. I lean forward, inch by inch, toward him, building suspense. His hands grip my thighs while his hips lift again to close the distance. I hover just above him.

  I brush the tip with my lips, in a circular motion as I hold his penis firmly in one hand and his balls in the other. I nibble around the frenulum carefully, then lick the ridge of flesh at the base of the head. Finally, I close my lips and slide down his shaft until the fullness hits the back of my throat. Getting all of him inside of my mouth makes me happy. I moan. This makes him push deeper into me, and I move upwards to the top again. I twist my tongue while keeping my lips sealed and move my head side to side while he writhes beneath me.

  Fingers find my scalp and tangle in my hair, pulling just slightly. He lifts my head and gently pushes it down around him. I constrict my lips and push him against the roof of my mouth until it gently pops when I’ve taken all of him in. His hips thrash upward.

  “That feels so good. So good.” He relaxes until I do it again and his hips thrust him deep into my throat once again. “Oh my God.” His hands move from my head, smacking against the bed. I continue the motion and tighten my grip on his balls, gently pull away from his body then push upward slightly. He grips my shoulders and groans as his head turns side to side.

  I still and lift my head. “I want you in me, J.T.” I sound demanding. He stills. For too long. Something I said?

  “I want to wait,” he finally says.

  What? For the second time of the evening I can’t believe what I am hearing, so unlike anything I’ve known.

  “I don’t want our first time to be over. The anticipation will be amazing.”

  I sense his body about to move, and before I know it his legs swing off the bed and he is standing beside me, leaning in to kiss me.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Cold shower.”

  “Okay, not so fast. First, you deny me, then you leave me in bed alone?” I am surprised but proud. My conflict-avoiding self has just called him out. “I hate cold showers, or I would invite myself to join you. Quid pro quo. You took care of me, at least let me return the favor.”

  J.T. pushes my hip until I roll onto my stomach. He crosses one leg over me, straddling my body. His tongue finds the nape of my neck with a kiss. The kisses move to my left shoulder then back to the middle. Each time he kisses he exhales hot breath onto the spot as if keeping me warm from the wetness of the kiss. He finishes attending to the right shoulder and then his tongue slides the length of my spine.

  Kisses again on the small of my back now. Teeth find my butt cheek and it clenches with his gentle bite. He moves to my right and his tongue circles my palm, face up on the bed. This is foreplay no one has been patient enough to give before. I feel cared for and wanted. I would have missed this if we skipped straight to sex. This makes my body feel revered, so
mething I’ve never felt before. And something I will never forget.

  He lies down again next to me and I roll onto my left hip. I pull his face to mine and thank him with a kiss. “That was wonderful.”

  “I told you I just want to make you happy.”

  “You know what would make me happy right now?” I rise up to straddle him this time, my hands immediately gripping his still hard dick. Thank God. There is no refuting he wants me, so I have to believe he is telling the truth about wanting to wait.

  I don’t give him a chance to answer or resist, and resume where I had left off a few minutes ago. I shake my head, lifting up and down on him, my tongue lashing about the entire time. I lick and caress, stroke and suck. I feel him grow and throb. His voice is urgent, “Yes. Yes. Yes.” His hands return to my head, guiding my mouth on how to pleasure him. Faster, and a little more forcefully, the head hits the back of my throat as I squeeze the base of his shaft, hold his balls, and place pressure with my third finger on the spot just below them. His hands smack the bed again as his hips thrust and he holds himself still deeply in me. I feel his legs shake alongside my body as he pulses against my tongue, tasting his salty release. “God, Peyton, God.” I don’t belong in the same sentence as God, but I appreciate the sentiment. He blows out a long breath into the dark. Then quietly whispers, “Wow.” Two for two on his and her orgasm wow factor.

  “I’m happy now,” I quip, snuggling into the nook again.

  “Wow,” he says again, sounding relaxed.

  “Is it okay if I pass on sending you to your roommate’s bed?” I whisper. My head is resting on his chest close to his heart. His arm encircles me, holding me close. I never want to move. I feel warm, safe, and content. The rise and fall of his breath slows, and deepens. His unspoken answer is the best answer. We are both exactly where we belong.