by Frankie Love
The Tess I’ve met—when we’ve been out socially—is bubbly, enthusiastic, and overly engaged. But the girl I see right now is withdrawn, a shell of the girl I was with last night.
She must know about the online stories.
“You okay, Tess?” I ask, not knowing if I should even be here.
As I wait for an answer I look around her place. A tiny stove and mini-fridge make up the kitchen. A desk in the corner is stacked with books, and a bedside table has a pile of magazines and notebooks. It isn’t messy, or even cramped. There’s a place for everything in the tidy room, and her bed is covered in a heap of pillows and a quilt.
“Can I get you something?” I ask. “Or would you rather I go, too?”
At that she looks up. “I don’t want you to go.”
“You saw the story?”
“No,” she says, resting her head against the door. “I don’t have a computer.”
“Oh. Right.” I run my hand over my jaw, feeling like a fucking pretentious prick. “It was online, a story about you at my house, photos of you coming back here this morning. They had your name, but the reporter said, ‘The full story on Jack Harris’s new girl is to follow.’”
“What site was it on?” she asks.
“Glamour.com.”
“Is that site popular, you think?”
“My publicist said they have like ten million visitors a month.”
Her face goes completely white. “Shit,” she whispers.
“Look, I know you said you didn’t want the press to see you, but this sort of thing always blows over. Honestly. No one will get a story on you, and no one will care in a few days.”
“Easy for you to say.” She walks over to the kitchen and fills a teakettle with water. “You want tea?”
“Uh, sure?” I can’t think of the last time I was offered a cup of tea.
I watch her light the gas burner and set the kettle on. She grabs two mugs from an open shelf and looks through a basket.
“Any preference?” she asks.
“None.”
“Chamomile, then.” She opens a bag of loose leaves and prepares our mugs. I don’t talk, because honestly I’m not sure what Tess wants or needs at the moment. She seems so distraught; I can tell this tea making is a ritual for her and I don’t want to interrupt it.
Once the tea is finished, she hands me a mug. “It smells delicious,” I tell her.
“Sorry, I don’t have a table.”
“It’s fine.”
We sit on the edge of her bed, and I have the distinct feeling that Tess is figuring out how to say whatever it is that is on her mind. I watch her mind work as she bites her lip, looks to the ceiling than the floor, then me.
Scooting back on the bed, her tea held with both her hands, she crosses her legs and clears her throat.
TESS
I didn’t expect to reveal any part of my past to Jack. The last thing I want is to tell someone about my horrible childhood, blah, blah, blah. Real romantic. Especially since, for one solitary night, he basically made me forget about all the terrible things that happened before I moved here.
The only problem with forgetting, though, is that once you remember, it hits you like a ton of bricks.
And now it isn’t just remembering. If this story really is out there, the people I’m running from might see it.
And they might come for me.
With tea in my hands, I sit on my bed, trying to ground myself. I can’t afford therapy—though God knows I could probably use it—but I can afford the self-help section at the library. Brené Brown and Cheryl Strayed have basically helped me figure my shit out, one chapter at a time.
And as I sit here, preparing to share a snippet of my story with Jack, I try to channel my inner bravery, my deepest truth. Because even though I’ve been a victim, I don’t want that to be the story I tell him. It isn’t the one I tell myself.
Because no matter how much I’ve hurt, the truth is I’m a survivor.
“Am I freaking you out yet?” I ask. Jack is all deer-in-the-headlights, totally caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.
All he wanted to do last night was get back at Ashley, and now he’s getting dragged into my mess.
He gives me a sidelong glance. “Am I gonna need something stiffer?” he asks, raising his mug of tea.
The corner of my mouth pulls up.
“Is that a smile? Because damn, girl, it’s gotten pretty intense up in this apartment.”
“I know.” I shake my head. “I don’t want to be some girl you sleep with and then she becomes a crazy person … but my past is crazy. It’s like a movie, not real life. And that’s why the photos and the story all stress me out.”
“I don’t get it,” Jack says. “You can have a fucked-up childhood and still have a photo taken.”
I take a sip of my tea, wondering if this is all a bad idea. He never asked for this.
“It was really nice of you to come over here to make sure I was okay,” I tell him, giving him an out. “But you don’t have to stay and listen to my sob story. I won’t hold it against you if you just need to move on. You wanted a one-night thing, and I’m already taking your entire day.”
He cocks an eyebrow at me. “It was you who asked for a one-night thing.”
My heart flutters at his words. Is he implying he might want more than a night?
“Regardless,” I tell him, dismissing the sentence that makes me lose my head. “I can keep myself safe without you.”
“Safe? Listen, Tess, the press aren’t going to hurt you. I mean, it was a jacked-up thing for them to be there, but they know what crosses the line. No offense, but you aren’t really some huge story. It will blow over.”
“I can’t risk that. I think I need to leave town. Now.”
He laughs. “Are you serious? Because I think you’re freaking out over nothing.”
I exhale, not wanting to say much more, but feeling like I’ve already opened a can of worms with him.
“Jack, the truth is, I’m on the run. I came to Vegas to get lost in the crowd—and if the wrong people see the photo of me here, I’m not safe.”
Jack sets his tea on the floor and moves his body up on the bed so he can look right at me.
“What happened to you, Tess?” His eyes are filled with concern. I know that now he realizes that I’m not being dramatic. I’m trying to keep myself together. “Who are you running from?”
I blink back tears, having never said these words before. “My dad.”
Jack runs his hand over his jaw. “Fuck, Tess.”
“I can’t let him find me, Jack. I can’t. When I left … it was bad. I ran away in the middle of the night, and he followed me for weeks. But I finally got away. He thinks I owe him something, but I don’t. I gave him plenty. I gave him way more than I ever should have.”
I shake my head, tears falling down my cheeks. The last person I expected to be showing the parts I’ve buried is this mega-star, this man I’ve crushed on so hard, who I fantasied about being close to—never in those dreams did I confess the truth of why I’m in Vegas.
Now, for the second time with him, I feel exposed. Last night, when he saw me naked, I felt beautiful. Now all I feel is empty. All I feel is alone.
“Oh, baby,” he says, pulling me into his arms. My hot tea spills on my pants. “Fuck,” he says, taking the mug from me and setting it down. Then he returns to me. “Here, come here,” he says, folding me into his arms.
I know I need to run. It’s the smart thing to do, the only way I can guarantee I won’t have to return to the compound.
Or worse.
But right now I don’t want to run. In this moment, all I want to do is stay.
Chapter Nine
JACK
Holding her in my arms feels like the most natural thing in the world. I feel like shit for putting her at risk, and pissed if Emmy and Claire were right about Ashley putting the fucking press up to this.
I kiss the top of Tess�
��s head, promising myself I will fix this for her. I will set things straight.
Tess leans into me and I can’t help but breathe in her soft scent. Smelling her hair reminds me that she used my shampoo this morning, that not so long ago we were tangled in one another’s arms, in my bed.
Now we’re wrapped in one another’s arms again, but this time we’re in her bed.
Not the time for my cock to get hard. But damn, this girl drives me crazy. Her story makes me just want to make everything better for her, pick up the pieces of her life and fix everything. She deserves to be happy, to smile. A girl like her shouldn’t be running from some shitty father.
And what kind of horrible family must it have been, to have her running, to have her so damn scared?
“I feel like I shouldn’t have mentioned anything,” she says, her face resting against my chest.
“Don’t do that,” I tell her. “Do not minimize anything.”
I want to ask a hundred fucking questions, but I don’t want to push her over the edge when she already seems so vulnerable.
“Thank you, Jack. For making me feel less alone.”
“I’m the one who started this mess,” I tell her. I pull away from our embrace so she can see my eyes, see my sincerity. “I feel like shit.”
“You didn’t start anything. That was my dad, and it began a long time ago, when I was just a little girl. Probably when you were still learning to play the piano. Believe me, you are not the one responsible.”
“How do you know I play the piano?” I ask, smiling.
“A lucky guess.” She blinks, and her thick eyelashes mesmerize me as they flutter. “But the grand piano in your apartment helped.”
“Right. Forgot about that.”
“You just play for fun then?”
I shake my head. “I play when I’m stressed out.”
“I get that. I make tea when I’m stressed.” She smiles softly, and I do too, remembering the way she navigated her tiny kitchen with such care. “So then what do you for fun, if isn’t playing the piano?”
“I think you could make a few wild guesses.” I look down at my pants, where my growing cock is not so discreet. This girl, all up in my arms, is getting me hard.
“Are you flirting with me, Jack, in my time of need?” Her eyes widen.
“Oh, shit, sorry. Am I coming on too strong?” I ask, pulling away from what I hoped was going to become a kiss. “Seriously, that’s not cool of me.”
She grabs my tee shirt with her hand, pulling me back to her. “I was joking.”
I relax. “Good. Then you won’t mind this.”
I kiss her softly at first, my lips brushing against hers. When she meets my mouth with a hungry desire, I deepen the kiss, finding her tongue, circling it with mine in a growing passion.
Holding her face with my hands, I fall with her, back into the pile of pillows on her bed. There I kiss her nose, her neck, her cheeks. I kiss her mouth again, wanting more of her.
Wanting all of her.
I kick off my shoes, and she unbuckles my pants. I pull her sweatshirt over her head, and she shimmies out of her sweats. In minutes I’m stripped naked and so is she, save for her panties and bra.
My cock is hard, and she hasn’t even touched it. Her eyes close, and in the stillness I ask, “You sure this is okay with you? After everything that’s going on?”
“Jack, life is hard enough as it is. When it offers me something good, I’ll never say no.” She sits against the wall, her legs outstretched. I move closer to her, on my knees.
“And this is something good?” I ask.
“This is something great.”
“I think so, too,” I tell her, not fully understanding how greatness matters when you feel like your life is on the verge of collapse.
But watching—as Tess unhooks her bra, as her perfect tits fall out, as she takes my face and guides me to her chest—I begin to see.
And maybe, during my entire adult life, as I’ve written music, looked for words and stories and a way to tell the truth, I’ve been missing an integral part. The most important piece. How true can anything be when there isn’t pain mixed with the joy?
And as my mouth sucks her gorgeous tits, licks the creamy skin of her neck, as she strokes my cock, rolls my balls in her hand, I see.
I see that this moment, in her bed, is the most intimate I’ve ever been with another person. Tess, a cocktail waitress on the run, is changing me.
And I’ve only really known her a day.
She may say she needs to go, leave this city, but as she presses her mouth to my cock, tastes my thickness, holding my ass in her hands as she takes me deep in her throat, I know.
I know there is no way in hell I’m gonna let her go.
TESS
Taking him in my mouth makes me so wet. I know this entire day has been an emotional ride, but right now, I’m giving myself this little gift of escape.
And my body is thanking me.
I know Jack and I aren’t something that will last beyond our little hook-up, but right now the timing couldn’t be more perfect.
I’m not saying I need a cock to feel good about my life or myself. But I do need a cock to get me hot and bothered, to make me momentarily forget any of the other shit I need to figure out.
Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything. Now I sound like a creepy runaway, because I didn’t share the details that matter. And I won’t. Not now, maybe not ever.
Still, Jack is already wrapped up in this. And nothing is going to change for either of us in the next hour.
So. His marvelous cock is in my mouth. He’s on his back on my bed, and as I lean over him, taking him as deep as I can, his hands reach for me.
I don’t hesitate. I want him to touch me, release me. I straddle him so my ass is in his face, and I continue sucking him nice and good. I know he loves it. Pre-come releases from his tip and I lick the salty cream, wanting to get him off so I can taste more of him.
All over me.
I just want Jack’s seed on my skin, my breasts, my face, all over me. I want to be marked with his come. I don’t want to be washed clean; I want the sticky smell of him on me all night long.
As I suck him, he pulls off my panties and smacks my ass, and I groan in pleasure. He buries his face in my opening, licking my slit up and down, and with each flick of his tongue I feel desire drip from my pussy.
“You like that, girl, don’t you?” he asks.
I can’t answer because I don’t want his cock anywhere but in my mouth. Instead I thank him by sitting lower on his face, so my pussy is right up against his scruffy face.
I swivel my hips, and he growls in pleasure. My pussy is thrumming in delight, pulsing as he fills my folds with his tongue. He licks me so good, my clit is on fire. He sucks the little nub until I can’t hold back any more.
He sucks me off, moving his tongue in a tight little circle, again and again and again, until I can’t help myself. I moan, “Oh, Jack, oh yeah. Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Don’t stop.”
And he doesn’t. He smacks my ass, and plunges three fingers deep into my pussy, hitting my g-spot like a fucking god, as if he’s touched my body for years and knows every single spot that will make my pussy pour.
“Oh, your pussy likes that. Your pussy is soaking me, girl,” he says as he moves his fingers in and out of me until my body falls off him.
And still he doesn’t stop.
My legs are spread and he kneels before me, pressing his fingers deeper until I’m squirting all over. I’m coming so fast. I grab the bed sheets, screaming his name as he pounds me with his fingers until I’m finger-fucked raw and good and hard. Just like I needed.
My come is everywhere; his chest is slick with my juice, but I can’t think of washing him up, not now. All I can think is that I need his cock back in my mouth so he can come all over me the same way I came all over him.
Pushing him back down on the bed, I put his hard cock in my mouth, and his hands run over my
ass.
I start at his base, licking his length, and then filling my mouth again with his thickness. I keep sucking until his veiny cock is ready for release. I taste his come in my mouth, and keep pumping his big rod.
I pull his cock from my mouth, letting the ropes of his come cover my face, and my pussy keeps dripping, coming again just at the pleasure of making him come. His fingers run up and down my slit, softly thrumming against me as I moan.
His come covers my tits and, once he’s finished his release, I turn to face him so he can see the way he’s marked me.
I straddle him, my eyes locked on his, and we’re both catching our breath as I slide his still-hard cock into my wet pussy. I need him in me so bad; I need to be filled with him.
“Fuck me, Jack. Fuck me hard.”
“Tess, baby, where the hell did you come from?” he asks, thrusting his cock deep into my ready pussy.
“I come from a place you don’t want to know,” I tell him.
His hands smack my ass, and it turns me on in a whole new way. I run my hands over my tits, so I can have his creamy come on my fingertips, and I suck it off, one finger at a time.
My pussy rocks against him, and together we fuck until I forget.
We fuck until we fall asleep.
We fuck, and I never want to wake.
Chapter Ten
JACK
The bright morning light shining across the room wakes me. Looking around Tess’s snug studio, I’m reminded how deep the divide is between her life and mine.
But I don’t give a fuck, not even a little. I don’t care how different we are; she deserves my best. And that means helping her get protection from whatever asshole family she has.
She didn’t give me any details, but this is her story to tell. And besides, I don’t need details in order to do the right thing.
I can set her up in a nice place. Get her a townhouse or condo, help her go to school or whatever else it is she wants to do with her life.
Looking around, I see piles of books all over the place, so maybe she wants to go to school for English or some shit. I don’t really care what she wants to do; I just need to help her get out of this situation.