by Liv Bennett
Adam appears behind the curtains just when I start soaping myself. “May I join you?”
“I’d rather not,” I answer without looking at him.
“I swear I’ll be good.” He strips down fully naked, dips his feet into the water, and grabs the soap from my hand. “Let me do it.” He slowly starts rubbing my back with the soap.
My eyes are squeezed tight, and I hang my head down to my chest as his soapy hands wander shamelessly all around my body, including my breasts and between my legs. I guess his definition of being good is a lot different than mine.
“Did I do something wrong?” His whisper in my ear is barely audible against the water splashing on the little lake inside the Jacuzzi.
I don’t know how to respond. It wasn’t his fault, but mine. Why did I even come here? Why did I accept having sex with him in the first place? Was it just because of the shooting? Did I feel I owed him some good fucking in exchange for saving my life?
He turns down the water, pulls me down to sit between his legs, my back against his chest, and begins massaging my shoulders. “Please, don’t do that.”
“Don’t do what?” I ask.
“Don’t be sad. I’ve watched you sad for so long, I can’t take it anymore.”
“I guess it’s become an unbreakable habit.”
He chuckles and squeezes my shoulders. “I understand why you can’t forget him, but for God’s sake, I don’t understand why you insist on ruining your life.” He lowers his voice to a whisper, “Believe me when I say he’d want you to be happy.”
“I don’t deserve happiness. If at least a bit of justice had existed in this world, I’d be the one who had died in that accident.”
He shifts his position, splashing water around. “Of course not. Why are you saying that?”
I remain silent for a moment to decide whether I should tell him what happened before the accident or not. He has a right to know it, sooner rather than later. Better before he gets too deep, too involved in this shit with me. And, I had to get it out off my chest anyway. I didn’t even talk about it to my therapist. She’d think I set it up on purpose to get my hands on my husband’s money. “Jack died because of me.”
“What do you mean?”
“I forced him to buy a used car after his car had been stolen. The car we bought together was very cheap and broke one week after the purchase. But, he didn’t say a word. He just agreed to take it to a mechanic I’d found through Valpak coupons. Not to the dealership where he used to go. He was so supportive of my decisions. And… and the accident happened the day after we took the car from the mechanic I’d chosen.”
Adam doesn’t say a word, doesn’t even move. I hear only the water drops crashing down the bubbles in the bathtub. He’s judging me, blaming me for Jack’s death. Which is the truth. But it wasn’t on purpose. I didn’t want him dead. I just wanted to help him save money for more meaningful stuff. How could I know my greediness would end his life?
I feel the sudden urge to explain myself so Adam doesn’t think of me as a gold-digger slut. “It’s just that I hate spending money. My father didn’t leave us anything. My uncle took care of us with his salary as a firefighter, which wasn’t much. We didn’t exactly live on food stamps, but we had to save every penny. That’s the only way I know. It feels like I’m giving a piece of my limbs when I have to spend money. I still buy my clothes at yard sales, except for the ones I wear to work. And Jack… He loved spending money on nonsense. He’d buy me clothes, shoes, bags that could feed a family of four for an entire month. It was so unnerving. I was torn between feeling guilty for taking that money away from poor people and for not appreciating Jack’s generosity.”
Adam won’t believe me; I can sense it from his insistent silence, in the rigidity of his hands. Anyone who hears the details of Jack’s accident will think I planned it on purpose. Oh, God! Will Adam doubt my love for Jack now?
“Is this the real reason why you can’t move on after Jack’s death?” His voice breaks through the deadly silence.
“I don’t know. Maybe.” I pause to consider it. “The guilt is eating at me every day. I feel like I’m living the accident every minute. It’s the first thing I think about when I wake up in the morning and the last thing when I put my head on my pillow at night. His last words echo constantly in my ears ‘The breaks don’t work.’ If he’d bought a brand new car in the first place, he’d still be alive.”
“Millions of people drive used cars, every day. And believe it or not, I found my mechanic through Valpak coupons, too. He’s kind of an engine whisperer. You might have bumped into a less talented one, but it wasn’t your fault that the mechanic couldn’t fix the car to its best shape. There's no need to beat yourself up for it. Nothing in the accident was your fault.”
I cover my face with my hands and let the sobs rack through my body. I so needed someone to tell me these words, although it still doesn’t change the fact that Jack is gone permanently.
Adam wraps his arms around me; my back is pressed hard against his chest. I cry for long minutes, my mind roaming through the special moments Jack showed me his love. There were so many of them, thousands, but my memory has already started failing me. Had I known he’d leave me so early, I’d have kept a journal, jotting down every little, yet wonderful, thing we did together in order to keep the memories fresh.
“Okay, I feel guilty of his death, but I still love him from the bottom of my heart.” I slide my hands down and let them sink into the now-lukewarm water. “You can’t possibly want a woman who still loves her dead husband. If you’re as smart as you make everyone believe, you’d run away from me.” I want to turn around to see his reaction, yet, I don’t want him to see my face wrinkled with crying.
“I lost my brain permanently when Jack walked into that taco restaurant with you on his arm.” His breath is soft, yet shivering against my moist skin.
“I loved that restaurant and the tacos I ate there.”
“You ordered the weirdest combination; shrimps, pickles, and mushrooms.”
“You remember that?” My lips curve with a faint smile.
“How could I forget it? I was like ‘Fuck, Jack knocked up the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.’”
My smile turns into laughter.
“You’re so beautiful when you laugh,” Adam says.
“Hey, you can’t see me from my back.” I turn around to face him.
“I don’t need to see your face to know how beautiful it is.” He stares right into my eyes for a moment—no single hint of blame in them—before lowering them to my lips.
I don’t feel comfortable enough to kiss him while talking about Jack, but the visible agony and anguish in his face break my heart. He’s suffering for me and with me. Is he really not blaming me for the accident? Is he that into me? It’s so wrong. I don’t want to pull anyone with me into the dark world of incurable depression and grief.
I lift my hand and run my finger over his cheek, which is wet with water, then down to his lips. “You’re beautiful, too.” The words slip from my mouth before I have time to think about them. But, he is indeed a beautiful man. Those big, hazel eyes framed with long lashes, the thick eyebrows, the straight nose, and the strong jaw line are in perfect proportion. His sun-kissed, smooth skin and thick hair are just icing on the cake. I tried to remember my first impression of him the day Jack introduced me to Adam and Pat. The two made a pretty couple, but it was clear Adam was the trophy boyfriend in their relationship. Nonetheless, it’s the pain that touches every feature of his face that makes me realize and acknowledge his true beauty.
I lean forward and brush my lips against his, waiting for him to take over, yet, he stays unmoved, his eyes still open, examining me. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I push my lips further against his and let myself sink into him. He pulls me to his lap in response and folds my legs around his hips. Even though his cock gets hard underneath me and has an easy access, he doesn’t make a move and keeps me tight in
his arms for many minutes, until the water starts to feel cold.
After leaving the bathtub and drying each other’s bodies, we move to the bedroom and lie naked on the bed. Uncomfortable under Adam’s intense gaze, I slide under the sheets to cover my body.
“I want you, Taylor.” Adam moves toward me on the bed, making my chest tighten with discomfort at the thought of being his as Taylor. He surely wouldn’t want me as Jolette after this point. He reaches over and holds my hand. “Just let me kiss you. I promise I won’t do anything else, unless you beg me for it.”
Me, begging for it? Right. “Your humbleness is refreshing.”
He smiles and leans in to sniff the crook of my neck. “There are times when being humble won’t take you anywhere.” He places a soft kiss on the spot where he’s been sniffing.
“And, being cocky will take you somewhere, in this case?” Reflexively, I hold on tight to the sheets around me.
“I may know a thing or two in bed to justify my cockiness.” He rolls over me beyond the sheets, settles between my legs, pins my hands above my head with one hand, and begins showering me with kisses. On my forehead, cheeks, nose, chin, and lips. Oh, the lips. He’s pulling, and, sucking, and biting, and kneading them, his tongue possessively wrestling with my tongue. Lost in an explosion of various sensations on my face and in my mouth, I can’t help but close my eyes and savor the moment.
Just before moving along to the next destination, he blows cold air to the sore spots, cooling the fire he set there only a while ago. I feel his erection against my legs above the sheets and doubt he’ll be able to wait patiently for me to beg with that impossibly big hard-on.
“You’re so sweet,” he murmurs to my ear, before he sucks my earlobe. Tingles pool down between my legs, as he dips his tongue in my ear, sending a big ball of heat surging through my body. It’s both tickling and seductive. His tongue trails slowly from my chin down my throat, licking everything on its way.
My chest heaves up and down at the thought of his lips soon ending up on my breasts. But, he doesn’t look like he’ll move down anytime soon. He licks my throat for long minutes, then bites the crook of my neck before moving to the other ear. Again, he sticks his tongue in my ear. This time I can’t help but squeeze my legs around his to rub away the heat inside me.
Shaking his head, he lifts up and shoots me a narrowed-eye smile. “Be nice,” he whispers and goes back to my ear. Reluctantly, I relax my legs and close my eyes again to immerse myself in the sea of tingling, shaking, and bursting sensations his kisses leave in my body.
Leaving one of my hands free, he pulls the other one to leave soft kisses on the tips of each finger, then inside my palm, knuckles, and the back of my hand. All the while his piercing eyes are glued to mine, examining my every reaction.
An embarrassingly loud moan leaves my mouth when he slips my middle finger between his lips and starts to suck it. His tongue mercilessly lingers on the sensitive flesh between the fingers, making me aware of the gush of wetness pooling between my legs.
He gently pulls my finger out of his mouth. “I knew your fingers were your soft spot.” He slides the other middle finger into the dangerous territories of his mouth, leaving me gaping with curiosity. How did he know such a thing, when even I hadn’t been aware of it until he did it for the first time in the hospital?
I feel like I’m in a dream, half awake, half asleep. My face must be providing him with sufficient amount of entertainment for at least a month. I throw my head back to enjoy the luscious feeling of his tongue between my fingers without the intrusion of his intense gaze. If I had panties on, they’d be soaked all over by now. And, he hasn’t even touched me there.
I begin inhaling heavily when he slowly pulls the sheets down, revealing my breasts inch by inch, while his tongue moves from my hand over to my arm. I have no doubt my nipples are hard as rocks, and the low growl coming from deep down in his throat confirms it. I realize, in spite of all the things he’s done to me tonight and last Saturday, he has yet to enjoy my breasts.
Curiosity takes over my shame, and I snap my eyes to his, only to find them smoldering at me with lascivious promises. Black locks of hair cascade over his eyebrows; his features glow at our eye contact.
“Taylor,” he howls softly, his mesmerizing eyes holding mine captive.
My breath hitches in my throat with a new realization, and I open my mouth to let more air in. It’s now all clear why I’ve always been so afraid of looking directly into his eyes. Because from deep down, I knew I might have fallen hard for him if I didn’t watch out. Pieces start falling into place. The first time Jack introduced Adam to me, my first move after three minutes into meeting Adam was excusing myself to use the restroom so I could escape Adam’s ever-consuming presence and guard my heart from him.
I loved Jack and knew he was the one for me, but Adam’s existence posed a grave threat to my love. If I think about it, it wasn’t just Adam avoiding me; it was also me who canceled several dinners and weekend get-togethers with him in those tender early months of my relationship with Jack. How utterly uncharacteristic of me to suppress such an important piece of memory.
“You’re so beautiful.” Adam’s voice, deep, husky, and layered with pure, primal lust, snaps me away from my thoughts, and I shudder at the overwhelming and insatiable passion his eyes radiate. “Are you okay?” He props on his elbows, putting a distance between us.
I’m miles away from being okay. I’m shaking through the depths of my soul with a new awakening. Now, I can have him without any wavering. I don’t need to guard my heart from his advances anymore. In fact, I can fall hard and deeply for him, and it’s all right. He desires me as much as I desire him.
My hands reach up to his chest, and I run my fingertips around the scar over his heart, my eyes never leaving his. “Does it hurt?”
“Sometimes… but it hurts more when I’m without you.”
Placing my hands around his neck, I pull him down to me. “Kiss me.”
His lips find mine without further ado, and he folds me into his arms, almost crushing me to his chest. My breasts jerk to attention at the close contact of his skin. He groans into my mouth; his hands set fires on my skin. His erection is wedged thickly between us, reminding me of the hot pool between my legs.
I desire him so much that it hurts. I want him to kiss and suck every part of me until my desperate need to be touched is gone. But, mostly, I want him to take me and put out the fire inside of me. I squirm and whimper in need when his lips lick their ways down to my breasts and suck each of them with expert precision. His hands caress beneath my breasts, then pull them up, and tease the nipples.
“Take me, already,” I beg. And he hasn’t even touched me there. Wow, that’s a first.
“You’re throwing in the towel so soon?” He lifts himself and crawls back to my face. “I’ve got bad news for you. I’m not even half way through with you.” He leans in to suck my low lip, gently grazing it between his teeth.
How long has he been doing this? Fifteen minutes, half an hour? And he’s planning to go double that amount? I can’t hold it anymore. I feel like I’ll burst into a wild orgasm as soon as his hand, tongue, cock, or any other part of his body touches me down there.
“Please,” I manage to whisper between his kisses. “I can’t wait longer.”
He teasingly shakes his head and slides back down, so his tongue fiercely sweeps across my hard-tipped breasts. Rather than satiating, my breasts’ need to be touched, his strokes send me spiraling close to the pinnacle, but just not enough to reach it. I tense at the burning need for release, despite my best effort not to. My heart has turned into a trumpet beneath my chest. His sucking and kneading grows urgent when he moves from one breast to the other, and I hope he’ll give up this torture and give me my remedy; his cock.
When he keeps on tormenting me even after several minutes, I gasp and move my legs to free myself from the sheets so that I can grind my bare hips onto his erection. He jerks bac
k, as if an electric shock has gone through him, when we’re skin to skin, wet pussy to hard cock.
Shooting me a shocked look, he pushes my hands above my head to keep me in place and waits for a moment, probably trying to decide whether to take me right now, at this very moment of fire and sparkles. Then, the most annoying words spill out of his mouth, “Be nice, or I might not finish you off at all.”
“Please,” I whimper. Wasn’t it his condition? Me begging. I’m begging already. I’ve been begging for several minutes.
He shakes his head no; this time his face is deadly serious. He crawls down between my legs, never breaking the eye contact, and sits up. The sight of his hard-on makes my heart hummer. My chest rises and falls at a furious rate, while I’m anxiously waiting for his next move, every limb in my body aching with anticipation.
Will he eat my pussy, finger me, or just shove his cock in me? He has my permission to do any of them, or better yet, all three of them if it was possible. But if I’ve learned anything from him tonight, it’s that he has a damn solid patience.
I jolt at his sudden touch, when he lifts my right foot and rests it in his lap. His penis is brushing the side of my leg. A satisfied smile appears on his lips, as his eyes drop down to my wet pool. “Jesus, Taylor. You’re so wet.” He pauses to inhale a deep breath. “It’ll be such a pleasure to fuck you.”
I gasp for air as his words sink in and open my mouth to ease the breathing. His eyes find mine when he pulls my foot to his mouth and stars sucking each toe. I moan and groan every time his tongue presses against the flesh in between, as though he’s pressing it between my legs, where it’s hot, wet, and very close to a dangerous explosion.
I start to plot ways to get him to finally fuck me. Throwing myself onto his lap and sitting on his cock seems to be the best way to go. However, I’m afraid he’ll be a damn asshole and follow his threat. I decide to postpone the plan for a bit, when he gets on his hands and knees and sneaks toward me like a lion eyeing his prey. Slowly, he kisses his way up my leg, licking under my knee, then gently biting the sensitive flesh of my inner thigh, until his hands are right between my legs, though not touching my sex.