Chat

by Theresa Rite

  “I want you to keep that little bikini on. Lie on your back, and open your legs.”

  I did as he commanded, my head hitting the pillow. My knees bent, and I managed to open them- slightly- before I heard make a disapproving sound.

  “Don’t bend your knees. I want to be able to see your pussy, even with that little fucking bikini on.”

  My futile words caught in my throat. I could only nod, letting my knees fall apart, feeling my body open. In broad daylight, with the sun streaming through the window, I felt like I’d gotten myself into more than I could handle.

  “Can you close the blinds?”

  “No.”

  He moved to the foot of the bed, and his sharp intake of breath told me that he could see every part of my body laid out for him like a feast. The thin, white bikini did little to offer any modesty.

  “Good. Fuck, so beautiful.”

  A tremor of excitement ran over me, and my skin tingled and came alive. I loved when he called me beautiful, and I gave a vain little shiver every time I heard him say the word to me.

  He stared down at me for what felt like forever, until I felt the intense rush of hot dampness clench from deep inside. All he has to do is watch me, and I’m ready for him. I was shocked at my body’s need, the excitement that he promised from being so close and not even touching me.

  “You’re very wet, aren’t you?” His hand slid over my thigh, and I gasped as his thumb spread me open. “I think you know what I’m going to do to you.”

  The sound of his zipper forced a soft cry from my throat.

  I let go of the vibrator, and he laughed softly.

  “Sandy, pick that back up.”

  I closed my eyes, gripping the purple rubber again. “I can’t do this in front of you.”

  “If you don’t, I will, and it won’t just be going in your pussy.”

  That was it for me. I realized it wasn’t so much what he was saying, but what he wasn’t saying, and I moaned softly, not sure what I even wanted myself.

  “You had your chance, babe.”

  I gasped as he reached for the vibrator, nearly jumping off the bed as his arm slid around my waist, lifting my hips. He dipped between my legs, and I tried to sit up to see what he was doing.

  “Lie back or I’ll tie you up again.”

  My shoulders hit the pillow. He reached for the strings at my hips, pulling the bikini bottoms off of my legs with one stroke. His slow exhale forced my eyes open again.

  “Jason?”

  “You have the most perfect body I’ve ever seen. Every curve. God, I love you,” he breathed, his head disappearing between my legs again.

  All at once, I heard the vibrator begin buzzing as his mouth took over. He positioned the device at my opening, pushing in slowly as his tongue swirled over my clit.

  I arched my hips as he pushed in even deeper. I knew that I lost consciousness at some point. Over and over his tongue swirled and suckled me as he thrust with the vibrator in a steady rhythm.

  I came so hard that I screamed his name. A satisfied moan escaped his throat.

  He flipped me to my stomach and gripped my hips, and I stiffened, waiting for him to use the thing on me from behind.

  “Just me, baby,” he coaxed, and I heard the condom wrapper tear before he positioned himself between my legs. He pushed into me, so deeply, and I whimpered at the fullness of him. “Come with me, San,” he urged, and he quickened his pace.

  “Jason,” I cried, arching my back as the waves of pure pleasure stole my breath again. He jerked against me, his fingers digging into my hips as he growled against my back.

  “You’re amazing,” he poured, lowering to the bed next to me. “Why the fuck did we wait so long?”

  We lay facing each other, breathing heavily, our eyes taking in all that we could of each other. I splayed my hand over his chest, feeling his rapid heartbeat, moving to kiss his muscled pecs.

  “San, we’re never getting out of here if you keep doing that,” he warned, grinning.

  A sound from the living room drew both of our attentions, and we cursed in unison when we remembered Joplin and the giant pile of groceries that he’d dropped to the floor.

  “No!” he shouted, halfway out the bedroom door, and I chased after him in only my bikini top. “Bad girl!”

  Joplin ignored us and continued digging into the open quart of ice cream. She’d already eaten an entire package of deli turkey, and I covered my mouth, laughing helplessly.

  “Jason, clean yourself up, I’ve got this,” I assured him, realizing that he was completely naked, other than the condom hanging haphazardly from his half-mast erection. “That’s sexy, by the way,” I teased, and he grinned, making sure to pinch my ass as he headed back to the bedroom.

  I yelped, and he closed the bedroom door behind him.

  We eventually made it out of the house. He took his time getting dressed, so I did too, pulling out a thin, white cotton wrap-dress with matching sandals. His jeans fit him perfectly, and he’d added a white shirt with thin, blue stripes that matched his eyes. He rolled up his sleeves, and I left my sweater at the house. I felt like we coordinated effortlessly.

  Just as we always had.

  He changed songs in his truck, settling on the Black Key’s “Midnight in Her Eyes.” I rested my head against his shoulder, thinking back to the concert we’d gone to last year.

  We’d ended up on his parents’ dock again, drinking until nearly three in the morning. When I’d suggested the blood oath, he’d run into the main house and returned with his mother’s sharpest paring knife.

  “Okay, who’s going first?” I asked. He laughed, holding the knife out to me.

  “It’s all you, Boss. Your idea.”

  “Rock paper scissors,” I demanded. He rolled his eyes, and we both shook our fists twice before my paper covered his rock. “You go first.”

  He exhaled with a laugh, taking the knife back and pressing the curved edge to his palm. I held my breath, watching the thin cut that he’d made bubble with fresh blood. “Your turn. Hurry, before I bleed to death.” He laughed, and I’d giggled drunkenly.

  “Okay.” Bravely, I took the knife, cringing at the burning pain of the blade. He clasped his hand in mine, in the air, pressing our palms together.

  “I, Jason George Brewer, do solemnly swear, from this day forward, to pledge my allegiance to Alexandra Elizabeth Quinn. My blood is your blood.”

  I’d widened my eyes, grinning. “Wow. That sounded really official. Okay.” I threaded my fingers in his. “I, Sandy Elizabeth Quinn, pledge my devotion and loyalty to Jason George Brewer, AKA Brew. Forever and ever until we’re dead. Amen.”

  “Amen?” He tipped his head back, laughing at the starry sky.

  “Amen!” I echoed with a playful slur, and he let go of my hand, reaching for the paper towel he’d had the foresight to bring along with the knife.

  “Forever,” he agreed.

  “Now what?” I asked, accepting the paper towel.

  “Now I can tell when you’re in danger or in pain.”

  “What, you have super powers now? Fuck, this burns. It won’t stop bleeding.”

  We both crumbled into laughter, way too drunk to be wielding knives. He’d bent to kiss my cheek, and then nestled his face in my hair.

  “I can feel you inside of me.”

  His words had sparked feelings that I shouldn’t have felt, not with Jack and Elaina in the picture. Forcing myself to laugh, I snuggled closer to him.

  “That’s what she said.”

  “You’re gonna get yourself in trouble, Boss.”

  His tone had turned husky, and now I knew what that meant, coming from him. He’d been turned on too, and I backed away, pressing the paper towel to my hand and standing.

  “We’d better get some sleep. I’ll take the guest room.”

  The song ended, and Jason rolled down the window, pulling me from my memories. “I’m having the best time with you,” he whispered.

  I
smiled in return. “Me too.”

  Dinner at the small island restaurant was shadowy and quiet, giving us plenty of time to talk.

  But we didn’t talk.

  We ate in the comfortable silence, neither of us feeling the need to interrupt each other’s thoughts.

  The night was perfect; warm, windy, and the moon was full enough to light the evening around us as we drove home. We both agreed that, rather than dancing, we wanted to spend the rest of the night in.

  After we took Joplin out we walked hand in hand along the shore, again in silence. Every once in a while, his grip would tighten on mine, or I’d lace my fingers through his. When we neared the house, he jogged ahead, asking me to give him five minutes before coming inside.

  “What are you planning, Brew?” I demanded, and he only smiled my way through the darkness.

  “Trust me.”

  Minutes later, I returned to the living room to find that Jason had lit candles all over house.

  “What are you doing?” I asked with a grin. He adjusted his phone in the speaker dock, filling the house with some old love song.

  “I’m getting freaky,” he replied, opening a Ziploc bag and sprinkling what I realized were rose petals all the way across the faux hardwood floor, to the bedroom.

  Laughing softly, I followed him toward the bedroom.

  “I can’t believe that I ever doubted your freakiness,” I replied, smiling as he took a handful of petals and tossed them messily at the bedspread. “What in the world do you have planned for me tonight? I think all that we have left in that box are the butt plugs. Oh, and that paddle. And I’m not so sure about either of those.”

  He held his hand out for mine, and I realized that he was asking me to dance.

  Smiling, I accepted his hand, fitting against his chest and swaying with him to the soft music.

  “I want to try something with you… that isn’t in that box.”

  “Ooh,” I teased, listening to the song end and a new one begin. Gary Clark Jr.’s “Please Come Home” was one of my favorites, and I smiled up at him. “Did you make us a playlist?”

  “Maybe. This may or may not be called ‘Our Wedding.’”

  “Hmm.” I looked up at him through the candlelit darkness, smiling as he danced with me. “I think I may love romantic Jason even more than freaky Jason.”

  He was unusually quiet, and I closed my eyes, listening to the talented guitar solo. When the next song began, I stopped, lifting my face to his.

  “Jason?”

  “What, San?”

  “Whatever you’re trying to tell me… or ask me… just do it. I’m going to be okay with it,” I promised, knowing that he was struggling with something.

  His brows furrowed. “How do you always know when I’m thinking really hard about something?”

  “Really?” I smiled, adoring the innocence in his voice. “I’ve known you for a million years, Brew.”

  Coincidently, Christina Perri’s “A Thousand Years” began at that moment, and he smiled.

  “Remember when I took you to see the last Twilight movie? And you bawled through the closing credits?”

  “Shut up, of course I remember,” I replied, pushing at his shoulder playfully. “I had PMS or something. Now just say what you want to say,” I ordered. “Whatever you want to try with me, I promise to be open to. You can’t possibly shock me after what we’ve already done. Right?”

  He stopped dancing, moving to cup my face in his hands. The passion in his steel-blue gaze stole my ability to breathe.

  Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he exhaled.

  “I want to make a baby with you.”

  I held my breath, staring up into his eyes.

  And suddenly, we were those two kids on his parents’ dock, stretched out as we gazed up at the constellations in the sky. We were old souls, bound by blood, keepers of fate who had stumbled from dreams to reality, and his words forced us into clarity.

  “I want a family. I want your family, Sandy. You’ve always been mine.” He held my face in his hands, gazing down at me through the shadowy darkness. “I’ve seen you every day for twenty-six years. But now… I really see you.”

  I reached for his hands, closing my fingers over his.

  And I nodded.

  He kissed me then for what felt like the first time.

  We came together slowly, taking our time, taking the time that was finally ours. Nothing else mattered when he untied my dress, letting the cool cotton slip to the floor as he lifted me into his arms to carry me to the bed.

  He must have kissed every inch of my body, and I stopped thinking long before he was done. He held himself over me, both of us gasping for air, clinging to each other as though it would be the last chance we’d ever have to hold each other. I threaded my hands through his hair, feeling him ease into me so very carefully.

  “I love you,” he whispered reverently, holding my face in his hands as we became one. “I have loved you all of my life. And I’ve never wanted more from you until this moment.”

  I couldn’t help myself; tears welled, and my chin trembled as I met the eyes of the man I would spend the rest of my life with.

  Those familiar blue eyes that I’d known all of my life.

  We made love without words, without direction or novelty or need for anything more than what we each had to give to each other. Whether it was too soon or not soon enough, it didn’t matter. The logistics of our lives no longer counted as we both came apart in each other’s arms.

  Sometime later, after the music had ended and all of the candles had melted down to waxy stumps with dying flames, he laced his fingers through mine. The scars on our hands ran parallel lines on our palms.

  “Do you think we did it?” he asked, his eager tone forcing me to smile.

  “We have no way of knowing right now, Brew.”

  “If we did, we may need to move the wedding date. You’d be three months pregnant by then.”

  “Hmm.” I closed my eyes and smiled.

  “Or if we made twins- because they run in my family, you know- then you might be showing even more-”

  “Jason.” I held my index finger over his lips, my eyes fluttering open with a grin. “Shh.”

  He beamed, pressing a kiss to my lips before tucking me into his arms.

  ~

  We played on the beach like kids the entire next day. We built a sandcastle, digging a moat that forced the beach patrol to stop and chastise us. When Jason tried to laugh it off, the officer warned him that we’d be ticketed if we did it again. We finally kicked in the hole, and he carried me out to the water to rinse all of the sand off of me as I giggled.

  He narrowed his eyes playfully. “You got me in trouble. As usual.”

  “Stop! I told you not to make the moat that deep. You dug a fucking bunker.”

  “Hold still while I drown you.”

  I shrieked as he attacked, and we both came up laughing as Joplin barked at us from the shore.

  That night we argued between watching Happy Gilmore or The Wedding Singer, both in the mood for Adam Sandler but neither willing to relinquish their vote.

  “Why not both?”

  “Wedding Singer first then,” I demanded.

  “Why do you always get to win?”

  “Because I’m the mother of your child, Jason,” I cried, covering my stomach and pretending to pout.

  “Oh Jesus.” He laughed, and I grinned at the blush that stained his cheeks. “That’s going to work on me every time, just so you know. Try to go easy on me.”

  “I can’t promise anything,” I teased.

  We cuddled on the couch, and half-way through the movie, I sat up. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “I need my glasses,” I said absently, reaching for my purse near the coffee table.

  “We need to get your vision checked. Seriously. As soon as we get home.”

  Whether the universe had a dramatic flair or not, I would never be certain. But at that momen
t, I blinked.

  And I saw darkness.

  I could hear the movie. I could hear him breathing. I blinked several times, trying to see the light from the TV from my right side, but I could only see through my left eye.

  “Sandy?”

  “I can’t see,” I realized, my voice edging on panic.

  And then terror took over as I realized that no matter how many times I blinked, I couldn’t see anything out of my right eye.

  Anything.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I can’t see out of my right eye! Jason, I can’t see out of my right eye,” I cried, rubbing my eyes, the pressure behind my right socket a little stronger than usual.

  “Listen, hold my hand, I’m grabbing my phone and calling nine-one-one. Sandy?”

  “I can hear you, I just can’t see… everything,” I tried, forcing my voice to even out and stop shaking. “It’s got to be… something simple, you know? Just take me to a hospital, please, just… just…”

  I was hyperventilating. I knew that a panic attack was coming on, and I heard the distinct ringing in my ears before the world around me faded in and out in the darkness.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Jason

  I tried not to be a cynic.

  I tried not to sit in the cold, metal chair of the emergency room, convincing myself that I’d gotten too comfortable, and was too fucking insanely happy for the first time in my life. Did I deserve her? Probably not. Did I move too fast? Most likely.

  Was I going to lose her?

  I thought back to our conversation weeks ago in my office, when I’d suggested that she had a brain tumor. What if she truly did have a brain tumor? Or something worse, if that was even possible?

  When they’d taken her back for the MRI, I’d told the technician that there was no way that she was pregnant. I wanted nothing standing in the way of answers.

  My brain refused to shut off. What if she needed chemo, and I’d just gotten her pregnant? What if we had to decide between treating her and aborting the baby, or waiting until the baby was safely born before beginning treatment, losing valuable time-

  My phone buzzed.

  My mom’s voice sounded through the line before I could speak. “Jason. Stop worrying.”