Naughty Bedtime Stories: In Three Words

by Rue Volley

  "I did. Every time. I fucking love you. Andrea. I fell for you the minute I saw you and clung to the hope that maybe—one of those times you called to ask for a pale imitation of your dead husband—that you might really be calling to ask for me."

  A silence filled the room, making the space smaller, more claustrophobic with its expectant air. Andrea stumbled from the bathroom, disregarding her underwear and searching for her clothes. He followed her into the bedroom, wearing a towel around his waist and a scowl upon his face. Her swift escape convinced him of her feelings on the matter.

  "I won't do it again. It hurts us both now and I can't hold out for something that will never happen," he continued. His determination evident in the sharp way he delivered his vow. Every syllable sliced through her.

  "I can't believe you are doing this to me."

  "Doing what? I am only telling the truth. "

  "Fine. I have heard you. You can leave."

  "I will go. But I want you to know something. Something you make me say, but never really hear."

  "What? Just say it and go."

  "They may be his words but for the last four years it was me saying them. I meant them. I love you for the woman you are..."

  "Stop."

  "For the mother you could be..."

  "Please stop!"

  "And for the years I hoped I could grow old with you." He swiped at a lone tear. Tucked his towel in tightly and opened the door to leave. Andrea knew he kept a room next door even though they never spoke about it. She just couldn’t bear him leaving.

  "Jack, no. "

  Jack stopped and spun to face her. Shock written clearly in his raised brow and crinkled forehead.

  "Did you just...did you say my name?"

  Andrea nodded, too scared to move or speak. She was so far from the script and the rules that she was sure she was lost.

  He closed the door with a soft slam and bounded over to her in three long strides. His hands gripped her face and pulled her head up to look at him.

  "Andrea?" He questioned. Terrified and thrilled by what this might mean.

  "Don't leave me."

  "Why? Why do you want me to stay?"

  "I...I don’t know."

  "That’s not good enough, sweetheart. I can’t risk it for 'I don't know'."

  "You are my last link to Jamie...you..." he dropped his hands and Andrea wailed at the loss of contact, "I need you!"

  "Me or Jamie?"

  "You. Both of you. "

  "No, baby. That's not going to happen."

  "Don’t do this. Don't go!"

  Jack glanced down as if looking at her for the last time, shook his head in defeat and fed her another kiss. This one gentle and giving. Her lips moved to his, a soft moan escaping as his tongue penetrated her lips and swept against her own. He kissed her until she lost her breath and her body curled into his. Only when she gave herself over fully did he break away. His dark pupil-filled eyes held hers before he walked over to the bedside cabinet and rummaged through the pockets of Jamie's uniform for something. He pulled out a black strip of cloth and laid it out upon the bed.

  "I am grateful that we never made love as Andie and Jamie. At least when I touch you, when I feast upon you and make you come, you will only think of me and not him. But to be sure I am leaving this here. If you want me—me and not him—then come to my room, 226, and wear this blindfold. I will show you how much I love you. How much I want to be the one to make you smile and not cry. I will never be him. I will never hurt you. It is up to you now."

  He walked to the door and this time left without looking back.

  Andrea fell upon the bed. Her whole body felt beaten, her chest ached worst of all. She had experienced pain like this before. The day they arrived to inform her of Jamie's death. Lying here, watching Jack leave was like losing Jamie all over again. Only this time she couldn't rely on the numbness to cradle her.

  She spent long lonely months feeling numb. It was as if her mind had thrown up a barrier that blocked all feeling. Not just the emotional kind but the physical too. Condolence hugs were just the heavy weight of someone allowing you to hold them up. Those few familial kisses were a gentle pressure lacking warmth or intent. A squeeze of a hand or shoulder, the pat of a back, none of it registered as anything other than an irritation until Jack.

  Her crazy plan to bring Jamie back had royally backfired.

  It began as a bit of a joke. Annie, a well-meaning colleague said something about, "Finding another love just like Jamie," and like a bulb the idea flashed in her mind. She could find a man, similar in features to play out her time with Jamie. It was intended to be a positive thing, a way to hold onto all the good memories of the two of them together, but she hadn’t been able to get passed that last night together. And so it became the scene she replayed on the anniversary of his leaving.

  Jack was a happy accident.

  He appeared one morning at her local coffee shop and sat two tables down from her regular seat. The instant her eyes drifted to his, he took her breath away. For a tiny moment she thought she was looking at Jamie. Only after a few heartbreaking seconds did she realize her error but it was already too late. He noticed her prolonged stare and smiled in response. Andrea thought the fates were smiling on her, telling her that her idea was the right one—that this was the way to reclaim her lost love, a way to mend her broken heart.

  Perhaps they were, but not in the way she imagined.

  Her hand reached out to grasp the thick silk ribbon Jack had left for her. She ran it through her fingers before laying it across her eyes.

  Andrea tried to take Jamie out of the equation, an almost impossible feat given the situation.

  Jack was a good man.

  Who else would indulge a grieving woman in this way? What other man would play out such a morose scene knowing he would receive no gratification from the act? What other man would walk away and obey her rules for no contact until a week before the next anniversary and even then she never once acknowledged him for the man he was.

  Yes, he was a good man and Andrea was a fool because there was only one kind of man that would do all that. A man in love.

  Still how did she feel about him? She looked forward to their time together despite the weeks of sadness it would provoke. She was attracted to him—it was hard not to be—and she was always thrilled whenever she witnessed his desire for her in the touches, looks or whispers he would risk during their scene. She wanted him to want her. The question was, would she want him without having Jamie too?

  You haven't had Jamie in four years and to believe anything different would be lying to yourself, she thought sullenly.

  Andrea had a chance. A real honest-to-God chance at love again. Sure, she wasn't on the same page as Jack yet but perhaps, given time, she could be.

  Again her stomach fluttered but unlike earlier the feeling was lighter. More hopeful. She was going to do this. She was going to try and if it didn't work out then she would have no regrets because she would have lost Jack tonight anyway.

  ***

  Jack lounged diagonally across the queen size bed, his head hanging off one end and his feet another.

  His gut rioted in sync with the bitching voice in his head that was certain he had just made the biggest mistake of his life.

  He tried too many times to forget about Andrea. When they met that fateful day over coffee and shy smiles, he thought all his ships had come in at once. Here before him was a bounty worth clinging onto. Andrea was exactly what his heart had been hoping to find.

  Beautiful, intelligent and so very loving.

  She broke his heart with the story of her recently deceased husband. Watching the grief pour from her soul had triggered some protective part of him. He wanted to stop her pain and if that meant agreeing to the strangest proposition ever then he would do that for her. He did it all for her, but as each year passed he realized that the real reason he kept coming back was for him.

  He tried to move on. He dated. H
e fucked. But there was no love that could surpass what he felt for his broken, Andie bear.

  No. Not his Andie bear. Jamie's.

  Shit. Even he felt confused by it all. How must she feel? He would soon know. He checked out of the hotel for the last time at noon tomorrow. If Andrea didn't show before then, it was done. He would move on. Nurse his broken heart and allow it to heal. He deserved that.

  So why did he feel like he was sabotaging himself?

  Jack tried to straighten himself up. He pulled his body up to a sitting position against the headboard and ran his long fingers through his hair.

  The kiss played on his mind.

  It wasn't the best of kisses. Jack would have rather taken his time, played with her tongue, caressed her lips and nuzzled her neck until he could feel her heart's rapid thrum against his tongue. But the situation hadn't afforded him the luxury. Still, the most amazing thing happened. Something he hadn't expected and had no idea how to analyze.

  She kissed him back.

  Her body and mouth, her lips and tongue all responded to him. She tuned into him for that small moment and it was all him she was feeling. She never allowed him to kiss her mouth, to taste her. That was forbidden. Only the scripted touches were allowed. Only the things Jamie gave to her that last night so long ago.

  Jack felt an unreasonable anger and jealousy toward the dead man. He had been loved—was still loved—so fully and yet each time he left her, he tried to convince her of how noble he was to leave her and come back.

  Time and time again he walked away from the best thing in his life and Jack wasn't sure if that was the most stupid or honorable thing he ever heard. One thing was for sure. Jack wasn't half the man Jamie was because he could never have walked away knowing that he might never come home to her.

  He slammed his fist into the headboard. This shit was driving him crazy. Jack needed air. He needed five minutes to just get his head together, but feared leaving the room for even a second in case he missed Andrea.

  Who are you kidding? She's not coming.

  Standing, he pulled on his jeans and t-shirt, ran his hands through his hair and approached the door. His hand hovered over the handle for a few moments. His body and his head warring over whether to stay or go. His head won. He pulled open the door and came face to blindfolded face with Andrea.

  His breath caught in his throat as he stared at her in startled silence. She wasn't aware that the door had opened. Her hand came up to knock and fell instead against his chest. He grabbed her small fist with his own hand and pinioned it to his skin. Right over his heart. He wondered if she could feel it thumping out of his chest. So eager to be hers.

  "You came."

  "I did."

  He swept her inside, realizing with a delayed reaction that she stood naked in the corridor. Another attribute that he loved her for. She was the bravest person he knew. What other woman would willingly break hear own heart, year in and year out, just to relive a treasured memory? Foolish or not, it was still brave.

  Leading her to the bed, he stood before her and permitted his fingers to trace the curves of her cheeks. Her skin was smooth and cool but at his touch they pinked with an endearing blush and heated. When the tip of his finger brushed her lip she surprised him by pursing her lips and kissing it.

  "Whose voice do you hear, sweetheart?"

  "Yours, Jack."

  "Who touches you?"

  "You do, Jack. I want you."

  "Are you sure? There's no going back."

  "I don't want to go back anymore. I lived too long in the past already. I am ready to step forward now."

  "Turn around." Jack commanded. Andrea turned. She trembled as Jack ran first his hands and then soft kisses down her spine. He ended his trail by kneeling, his face in line with the beautiful curvature of her ass.

  "The bed is in front of you. I want you to bend over until you can rest your elbows on the covers."

  Slowly, torturously slowly, she bent until she rested against the mattress. Jack ran his hands over her backside and mumbled an indistinct compliment. He exerted a gentle pressure at her lower back. "Tilt your ass up for me, sweetheart, and widen your stride."

  Andrea did as she was told, her back rising and falling with her deepened breaths.

  Jack stripped his own clothes off and kicked them out of the way. He stepped back and stared at her, bared for his eyes. She was perfect just as he knew she would be. He ran a lone finger over her the crease between her swollen lips, a sultry echo of his earlier action at her mouth. She shuddered and moaned, pressing her face into the mattress to hide her arousal. She liked it.

  "Don't muffle that voice, sweetheart. I want to hear you. You understand? I want to know when you feel pleasure." She turned her face to the side, trying to face him but not knowing which side he was on. He could see a flicker of irritation in her expression and suspected that the blindfold was not her friend right now. He would remove it soon but first he needed her to be sure. He wanted to be certain she wanted him and him alone.

  He removed his finger and replaced it with his lips. He played small kisses up and down the seam of her pussy. With each sweep he gave her more. A little tongue, a little pressure, a subtle taste of clit, a sweet delve into her eager opening.

  Her pussy flooded with juices that he devoured with a greedy urgency. So intent was he that he hardly noticed she was moaning loudly and writhing against his hot mouth. He pulled back a little and watched with pleasure as she thrust her ass back, looking for him.

  This time, when he returned his attention, he added his fingers. Whilst his tongue worked her clit, his finger slid into her hot pussy and pumped a slow rhythm. As her muscles gave way to him and her panting took the form of moaning, he added a second finger. Satisfied she was comfortable with the new stretch, he focused on stimulating the bundle of nerves that he knew would be his salvation. One way or another he was going to find out how she really felt. Who she really wanted.

  When she tried to pull away, he knew she was nearly there. Her moans had transformed into broken words. She mumbled, growled and squeaked them out between sharp pants but Jack didn't slow down. He increased his pace, alternating between massages and thrusts, crooking and straightening his knuckles erratically to increase the fiction and pressure. When he felt her clamp down on his fingers, he sucked hard on her clit and was rewarded with a scream of pleasure. She rocked with spasms, trembled, thrust, withdrew. Her body had no idea what it wanted but her mouth—that sweet, plump lipped, honey tongued mouth—that knew exactly what she wanted.

  "Oh. Fuck. Fuck. Jack yes! Yes."

  His heart swelled, only rivaled in pleasure by his cock, which wept its own happiness to hear his name shouted from her lips. He stood up just as her knees gave way and lifted her carefully further onto the bed.

  He kissed her over and over again, everywhere his lips could reach, and then took her mouth when she turned her face to his and offered it to him. His hand held her cheek lovingly so that he could better angle her face to meet his. His thumb ran soft sweeps across her smooth skin, catching a wet tear as is slipped down her face. Startled, he pulled away and watched her.

  "Are you crying? Are you okay?" She bit her lip nervously but without seeing her eyes he couldn't determine how she was feeling. He slid the blindfold up and off her face. Her blue eyes trained upon his immediately. He was pleased to see they held no confusion or regret. There were no signs that she expected someone else when she found him staring back at her.

  There was an expression she wore often in their usual meetings, a dark look that told him she had lost her focus. Jack knew instinctively that something about his eyes tore her away from the illusion of Jamie. He always watched for it, hoping that one day finding him there instead of her dead lover would spurn a warmth, a desire for him. It never had, until now.

  Now she saw him. Only him.

  "Are you alright?" he asked again.

  "Perfect. I am happy. Truly happy for the first time in...oh, God, I don
't know how long."

  "I'm glad. I'm glad you came."

  She giggled. It was a foreign sound and the first time Jack ever heard her laugh so innocently. He loved it. The sound was beautiful to him. "I did, didn't I. Who knew your tongue was so clever?"

  Jack laughed too. She nestled closer at the sound, pressing herself to his body with a satisfied smile upon her face.

  "That wasn't what I meant and you know it."

  "I know. I am glad I came too."

  The held each other for a while. Both just happy to become accustomed to this new physical dynamic between them.

  "You know I am not finished with you yet."

  "That's okay, we have next year." she whispered quietly and Jack felt his heart crumble. Had he just been played?

  "What?"

  "Or tomorrow. I have no idea what your schedule looks like," she teased, shooting him a devious grin and a wink. His relief was immeasurable. His annoyance morphed into passion when she turned into his body quickly and pushed herself on top. She straddled him, her wet heat flush to his eager cock.

  She raised an eyebrow and glanced down, his cock twitched at her gaze. She licked her lips and then looked back up into his eyes.

  "Or you know...tonight," she said, teasing him with a bored shrug. Her eyes danced. Her hands clutched his with their fingers intertwined. He pulled their hands to his lips, forcing her body to lean into his, her nipples swaying against his skin.

  There was nothing he wanted more that this woman. Nothing that would stop him being with her in every way he could. He truly loved her for everything she was, is and would be. So he made her a vow. Just three little words to tell her how he felt and what he promised to give her.

  "Tonight. Tomorrow. Forever."

  Room 13

  Rue Volley

  The phone rings. It’s three in the morning.

  I roll over and slide my hand between my legs, anticipating his voice on the other end of the line. I pick it up and let out one heavy sigh as I flick at my humming clit.

  “Daddy,” I whisper, biting into the side of my finger almost immediately after.

  “Do you miss me, baby girl?”