When I Fall

by J. Daniels

  Now he’s unkempt. Unruly.

  I’ve been known to get a little rowdy sometimes.

  His words to me from our day together. A joke at the time, but now with this visual in front of me I’m finding it difficult to imagine him ever controlled. And strangely, I don’t want to imagine it. I want him messy, up against a wall. Clothes partially undone.

  Me, completely undone.

  The sound of his throat clearing has me searching for his eyes in the soft light. I had been staring at his mouth. His jaw. The cords in his neck. Did he notice?

  “I was fine with her going away to college. Four years was a long time, but I knew I would be okay. I wanted her to know that. Wanted her to see how serious I was about us.” He pauses to scratch the back of his head, then his hand slaps against his thigh. He shakes his head. “I don’t know. Maybe at the time I felt desperate. I loved her. Love makes you do stupid shit. And I was definitely a dumb motherfucker back then to ask that bitch to marry me.”

  I lean closer, sliding my hand up to the crook of his elbow. “You asked Molly to marry you?”

  “Yeah, pathetic, right?”

  “No, no that’s not pathetic. You loved her.”

  He seems to find my response amusing. His lip curls up, and his chest rumbles with a quiet laugh.

  A loud whistle sounds somewhere outside the house and a burst of light flashes behind the window pane. Reed and I lean over to catch the next firework shooting off against the night sky. It’s a beautiful distraction from the ugliness below, but my eyes can’t enjoy it. Not while my mind is swimming in guilt.

  This is all my fault.

  “I’m so sorry I put you through all this.”

  Reed’s head slowly turns away from the window. His eyebrows pull together into a tight pinch, conveying his confusion as he looks down at me.

  I explain through a stressed voice, “I just wanted to do something for you. I’ve never felt immediately comfortable around someone before, but that night at McGill’s, you made it easy. You made me smile, and I hadn’t smiled in months. Then Molly walked in and it was like she snuffed you out. I hated it. After five minutes of conversation, I became protective of you. I know that probably sounds crazy, but it’s how I felt. I thought maybe seeing you happy with someone else would get to her. I wanted her to look how you looked. But I had no idea I’d be dragging you into all this. I shouldn’t have done that in the bar. I’m so, so sorry.”

  I move to back away, to take my hand off the part of his arm I’m still clutching, but Reed reaches out and grabs my other wrist. He flattens his back against the wall, pulling me closer until I have to lift my chin to look at him.

  A softness passes over his face, but his eyes, my God, his eyes are electric.

  “You didn’t drag me into anything. I said I would come to this, didn’t I? I’m the one who picked you up and drove us here, and I don’t remember you having a gun to my head, forcing me out of the truck.” His mouth twitches. “Fuck, Beth. Can a guy have a little credit? This disaster wasn’t all your doing.”

  I almost smile. “You wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t pretended to be your girlfriend that night.”

  “How do you know?” he asks, losing the smirk. “That woman down there is a fucking bitch. She would’ve found a way to invite me to this shit with or without you. And I would’ve been here, proving to her I didn’t care anymore, with or without you. You were a bonus in all this.”

  My skin becomes hot at the base of my neck, and I suddenly wish I had worn my hair up this evening.

  A bonus? Has he actually enjoyed being with me tonight, despite everything?

  “Fuck,” he says through a groan, drawing my attention back up from where it had wandered. His head hits the wall as he looks over the top of me. “Can’t believe I just stood there. Probably still be standing there if it weren’t for you dragging me away. I bet that bitch is laughing her ass off knowing she got to me.”

  “We can leave,” I suggest.

  I would completely understand if he wanted to get out of here. Reed’s discomfort isn’t worth proving a point, and I’m not sure I can handle seeing it anymore without hurling a champagne flute in someone’s direction.

  He dismisses my suggestion with a jerk of his head. Releasing his hold on me, he scrubs his face again with his hands. He’s rough about it. His palms harsh against his skin. Trying to remove any trace of emotion before we go back down there.

  When he lowers his hands, I falter at the hold his eyes have on me. The desperation in them. The worry that he won’t be able to handle this. He’s silent again, but my ears hear the words he’s not saying.

  Please, don’t leave my side.

  Please, help me through this.

  Please, distract me from them.

  Our lunch from the other day. The bet.

  Distract him.

  This man makes me do the craziest things, but I don’t feel foolish moving closer. Something comes over me as my body threatens to form against his. A drive, a need to keep him from feeling anything except what I can control.

  Distract him.

  Time suspends in that room. Everything seems to happen in the longest second of my life. If there was anything to stop me, his rejection would do it, but as I eliminate all space between us, as my hands run up his chest to his neck, my fingers filtering through his hair, he wraps his hands around my waist and welcomes my assault.

  “I want to use my advantage now,” I say, sounding hurried. Frantic. Desperate.

  “I was picking up on that.” He stares at my mouth, tilting his head down. “What do you want, sweetheart? You want to kiss me?”

  “Mm.”

  His breath bursts against my hair. “Mm. Is that a yes? A no? If I remember correctly, you get to do anything you want. Winner’s choice, right?”

  I lift my chin, grinning, and he takes that as my decision.

  He inches down, pulls me closer, closes his eyes with the tilt of his head. “Been thinking about your mouth since you first gave it to me. Can’t think about anything else.”

  I suck in a breath at his admission. A pressure builds between my legs, reminding me of what all I’ve been thinking about. What I specifically thought about when I upped the stakes of the contest.

  My head turns and his lips hit my temple.

  “Uh . . . okay . . . something else?” he stammers into my hair.

  I nod slowly, leaning back to look into his eyes. “Anything I want. This is what I want.”

  My hands move down his body and take hold of his belt buckle. He groans at the brush of my fingertips against his erection.

  He’s hard already. From almost kissing me?

  Wetness pools between my legs as his breathing grows louder above me, as his grip on my waist threatens to bruise.

  “Beth,” he moans my name before I even free him. Rousing at the very idea of what’s about to happen.

  It’s so hot, so unexpected that my fingers fumble with the clasp and the belt seems to tighten instead of working lose.

  “Shit.”

  He laughs above me, then his hands leave my waist and take over where mine are failing. I wait, hands fisted against my stomach as he undoes the clasp on his belt and opens his pants. He grabs my wrist, forcing me to reach for him, scratching my knuckles against the zipper.

  Hard flesh fills my palm. Smooth and warm.

  “Reed?”

  He’s staring at me through hooded eyes, his hands now back at my waist, fingers pulling at my dress. He tilts his head down. “Yeah?”

  “What . . . what do you like? I want to make this good for you.” My hand explores him with tentative squeezes. Little pulses as I turn my wrist, sliding down his length.

  So hard. My God, he’s so hard.

  A greedy smile beams down at me. “I’m not going to have any problem with what you’re doing. But maybe a little harder?”

  Nodding, I tighten around his base and pull back, watching his mouth fall open. My other hand forms to his hip
. “Like that?”

  “Mm. Fuck.” He winces through a moan, teeth scraping his bottom lip. “God, I’m so fucking hard. And your hand . . . fuck, Beth.”

  “I love how you say my name.”

  He straightens, takes his weight off the wall and stares down at me. His lips press against my temple. “Beth,” he whispers, moving to my cheek. “Beth.” His finger lifts my chin, and he groans, squeezing his eyes shut. “God, Beth.”

  If he didn’t have his hands on me, I think I could float away. The rhythm I thought I had becomes clumsy. There’s no pattern, nothing predictable to my hand moving on his cock as he continues to work my name with his tongue. It’s so erotic how he gives it to me. Through moans, pressing it against my skin, whispering it into my hair. I’ve never been this turned on by a single word. And it’s my name. My name. Go figure.

  “Gonna kiss you now.”

  I open my eyes, leaning back to look at him. “But you didn’t win.”

  The corner of his mouth twitches, and he stills my hand with one of his.

  “I feel like I did,” he says, so close to my lips I can taste his breath.

  He doesn’t mean because I’m jerking him off. He stops my hand for that reason, to make sure I understand, to eliminate any confusion. He pauses, waiting until I look up into his eyes from where I’m staring at his mouth, like a hungry little fiend.

  “This is for me. You understand?”

  I know why he tells me that. My fear from earlier.

  “It’s for me too.”

  He smiles, shifting us so it’s now my back against the wall. “No, this is for you.”

  A blast of cool air chills my upper thighs. My dress is bunched around my waist, and he groans, either from the sight of me in black panties or from my grip that’s now tightened on his cock.

  He cups my sex like he owns it, harsh and demanding.

  “Reed,” I gasp, lifting my head and welcoming his kiss. It sears against my mouth, his tongue hot and wet, probing, seeking mine. I tilt my head and open for him, swallowing his dirty little noises. My hand begins pumping his cock as he slides his fingers through my slit.

  “You’re going to drip all down my hand, aren’t you?” he asks, kissing along my jaw.

  I answer with a whimper as he fucks me slowly. Two fingers inside while his thumb moves over my clit.

  “What made you wet, sweetheart? My cock? Was it how hard I was for you? Or did you get wet just thinking about touching me.”

  “I think it was when you said my name.”

  “Beth,” he moans against my ear. “I say it every time I come. Do you know that? Ever since I met you, I can’t say anything else.”

  My legs begin to shake. “Really? You . . . Reed, you do that?” I ask, breathlessly.

  “Mm.” He thrusts his hips, fucking my hand as he curls his fingers inside me.

  His lips move to my mouth, where he whispers filthy words between the hottest noises. He asks me if I want him wild, and if I’ll let him spend his time on me. He tells me he’s thought about doing more than this, and that he also thinks he could come just from the way I kiss him. There’s moments when it’s just the sound of us filling the room. Breathing, moving, stroking. I blush at how loud his fingers are inside me, and he tells me it’s the sexiest thing he’s ever heard. He kisses my neck, my lips, my jaw. He asks me if I want to feel his teeth, and I gasp when he doesn’t wait for me to answer.

  I drop my head against his shoulder when the world in front of me begins to blur. When my skin burns up from the inside out and the pressure becomes too much.

  He swells in my palm. I’m melting between my legs. A groan tears from my throat as my body locks up.

  “Reed, I’m . . .”

  He wraps his arm around my waist, holding me up as I tighten around his fingers. Blood rushes in my ears, my free hand fists his shirt.

  He growls into my hair.

  Because he’s close? Because I’m coming? I’m too delirious to question why.

  I moan when he slips out of me, and then realize he needs that hand to produce the handkerchief from this back pocket. His other hand is busy keeping me upright.

  His body tightens, his breath hitches above me.

  “Beth,” he pants, pumping into my fist as warm liquid coats my hand. His head falls back with a groan. “Beth. God, Beth.”

  I can’t decide where to look. His gorgeous face, tensing through his orgasm. Or his cock as it twitches in my hand. Still hard. Still warm. I go between the two, trying not to miss too much of either one.

  He grabs my wrist when I slide along his length once more, stopping me from smearing the come over the tip.

  “Don’t kill me, woman.”

  I turn my head up and he gives me a lazy smile.

  “Sensitive?” I ask.

  He nods slowly, then steps back. His cock falls from my hand. “I didn’t get any on your dress, did I?” he asks, squinting through the dim light.

  I quickly examine the front of me, then look down into my hand. “Nope. Looks like I caught it all here.”

  He gives me the handkerchief and I wipe my hand clean, tossing it into the trashcan after he gives me an odd look for offering it back.

  I watch him from across the room as he buttons his pants, tucks his shirt in, but leaves his tie undone. I’m glad. I like it like that.

  He moves to the window and stares down at the party. His hair is a mess from my fingers. The back of his shirt is wrinkled.

  He looks amazing.

  “Now what do you want to do?” I ask, staying a few feet away.

  He doesn’t speak for several seconds. Just stares below, hands in his pockets and shoulders dropped. His head shakes ever-so-slightly, as if to jerk himself out of a trance. After a loud exhale, he turns around and moves toward me, determination weighing down his steps. He grabs my hand and heads for the door.

  “I want to drink. Let’s go hit up Asshat.”

  I stare at his profile. “Who?”

  ASSHAT, OR THE BARTENDER REED decided to nickname, keeps the Jim Beam flowing over the next hour. Molly and her bored-to-death looking fiancé are nowhere in sight, so we stay parked at the bar. I decide after watching Reed slam his first drink back that I’ll be sticking to water. Someone’s going to need to drive home. I ask if he wants to dance, or go for a walk by the lake. He tells me he just wants to sit and talk with me.

  So that’s what we do. Or it’s at least what I do.

  Reed drinks while I ramble about living in Kentucky with my mom. I stick to the good parts of my life, because again, I had decided not to drink. Bringing up my mom’s death, living in my car, or anything to do with Rocco would have me reaching behind the bar for something besides water.

  Reed engages with me the whole time I talk. His hands stay on me somehow, his eyes glued to mine. Focused and intrigued. As the drink count rises, he becomes more shameless with his affection. He pulls me into his lap and kisses my neck, telling me how good I smell. How amazing it felt to be in my hand. He asks me after Asshat walks away if he can make me come right here in front of everyone. When I blush, he tells me I would love every minute of it, then his eyes darken when he goes into details about what those minutes would entail. I decide to cut him off when I begin to worry he’ll actually act out these vulgar acts.

  He’s brave enough to do it. I’m turned on enough to let it happen.

  “Come on. Let’s go home.” I take his arm and loop it over my shoulder, securing my other hand around his waist. We get through the tent and make it down the lawn, slowing when we hear arguing coming from somewhere in the parking lot.

  “You are such an asshole! Why do I have to keep coming to find you? This is our engagement party, Craig. You should be by my side the entire night!”

  Reed and I both stop and turn our heads in the direction of the yelling.

  Molly is standing in front of a parked car, illuminated by the headlights that are turned on and shining on her. Her hands are fisted at her hips as she st
ares at Craig, who’s leaning against the driver’s side door, smoking a cigarette.

  He blows the smoke above his head. “What do you want from me? I’m here, aren’t I? Why do I need to be stuck up your ass all night?”

  “Because we’re getting married! You should want to be with me all the time!”

  “I am with you all the time! Christ! We’re always together, Molly. Give me a fucking breather!”

  “Maybe we should keep going.” I try and move but Reed keeps his footing, securing us in place.

  “Nah. This is good.” He looks down at me and grins. “I think I need to hear this.”

  I shrug, surrendering to this severe invasion of privacy. Maybe Reed does need to hear this. And it’s not like they’re secluded or keeping themselves isolated from wandering ears. They’re right here, out in the open with it, airing their dirty laundry for every guest at the party to hear. This technically falls on them.

  “Can you at least do me a favor and keep your hands off my cousin, Ronnie? If I see you hug her one more time . . .”

  “She’s hugging me! And you know what? If she wants to do more than that, maybe I’ll let her. God knows you’ve completely forgotten how to work a dick.”

  “Oh shit,” I utter under the hushed sound of Reed’s laughter.

  Molly points a finger at Craig. “When you can get it up for me for longer than a few seconds, I’ll show you how I work it. Now put out that fucking cigarette before my daddy finds you smoking out here.”

  “Fuck him. If I have to put up with your bitching for the next two hours, I’m lighting up. This shit is unbearable.”

  “Asshole!”

  “Bitch!”

  Reed and I keep our laughs quiet as Molly stomps across the grass in the direction of the tent. She doesn’t see us, which keeps my breathing even. Craig mumbles something as he pushes off from the car, flicks his cigarette, and goes after her. Slowly.

  I don’t blame him. I wouldn’t be in any rush either.