I Fell In: A mostly true story about lust, redemption, and true love.

by Tiffany Winters

  I Fell In

  A mostly true story about

  lust, redemption, and true love

  By Tiffany Winters

  Copyright © 2018 by Tiffany Winters

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever. This includes distributing or transmitting in any form or by any means, or storing in a database or retrieval system without the express written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Printing, 2018

  ISBN: 978-0-9981584-2-6

  Cover Design: Andrew Coonfield

  Editor: Meg Hofer-Capocy

  For permission, contact: twintersauthor@gmail.com

  www.tiffanywinters.com

  For JP.

  I wanted you to have a happy ending.

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  EPILOGUE

  Author's Note

  Thank You

  SAVING BEN Chapter 1

  CHAPTER ONE

  Fuck the rest of it

  Present~

  "Nick, you home?" I propped my foot against the door, holding it open as I dragged bags of groceries inside the house, mail clamped under my armpit. When I bent over, my purse slipped from my shoulder and fell on its side, spilling lip gloss, keys, sunglasses, hair ties and most of what else was in there onto the rug.

  "Goddammit!"

  "Let me help you, baby."

  My husband's smooth, deep voice was a balm to my frazzled nerves, as usual. I smiled at him gratefully as he picked up the grocery bag handles, slung them over his shoulder as though they weighed nothing, and sauntered into the kitchen. After scooping everything back into my purse, I followed.

  He was already unloading groceries, biceps flexing as he put cans into the cupboard.

  "That's the prettiest thing I've seen all day." I stood in the doorway, shoulder to the frame as I caught sight of his rounded ass when he bent over.

  “Yeah?" Nick's deep chuckle told me he was probably grinning, though all I could focus on was the sight in front of me.

  "Yeah." I sighed and picked up a bag, taking it to the counter and loading up our fruit bowl with apples and bananas.

  Nick's arms wrapped around me from behind, his breath against my neck. "Tough day, Jess?"

  My hand paused, mid-air as I nodded, leaning against him. I felt the weight of my job as a social worker anchor itself deep into my bones. "I had to stay late to secure a foster placement for a kid who was definitely going to get the shit beat out of him, if he'd gone home tonight. I was on hold with CPS so long, I almost gave up and just brought him here. If we hadn't turned the guest room into a nursery..."

  Nick squeezed harder and rested his chin on my shoulder. "If we had to, we would've made it work. But, remember what happened with that one kid, what was his name?"

  "Sammy." I smiled at the memory of the twelve-going-on-just-plain-old boy and his mom, both of whom I had brought home. "OK, I admit that was a disaster. I didn't know she was an active user."

  "I liked that watch," Nick mumbled. "One of a kind..."

  I nodded, guilt forming a ball in my stomach as it did every time the subject came up, which was too often for my taste. "I did, too. Sorry babe." There was no defense, even though I'd bought Nick a really nice replacement for his birthday. We'd been robbed of more than just a watch, but it had also led to Sammy's placement with his aunt—the only sane member of that family. He was a thriving sixteen year-old now, judging by the updates I'd received.

  "You can't save them all." Nick's deep voice brought me back.

  I plopped the bananas in the bowl and gripped Nick's forearm, turning my head so that we were nose to nose, breaths intermingling. "Tell that to the terrified eight-year old who sat in my office for three hours today after I'd promised him he'd be safe tonight. I couldn't leave him hanging without knowing for sure I was keeping that promise. Over my dead body was I handing that kid over to his ass-crack of a step-dad."

  Nick kissed my cheek before releasing me. "My girl wants to save the world."

  I shook my head, a slight smile tugging at the corners of my mouth as I turned to face him. "Not the world, just every single child in this city. And, I'm sorry about your watch, but I saved Sammy."

  "You saved Sammy." Nick said the words with me and winked as I turned back to the bag I was unloading.

  The crisp hiss of a beer being opened made me turn around. He leaned against the grey edge of our concrete countertop and took a long pull from a brown bottle. My eyes traveled greedily up his body, taking him in, reveling in the solidness of him. I'd seen him in every way a person could—relaxed, stressed, sick, turned on, but I'd never tired of the sight of him.

  He was so effortlessly hot. The kind of man noticed only by women smart enough to let their eyes linger and appreciate the subtlety of his beauty. The jaw that was almost too angular, hair that needed a cut but framed his face like it was supposed to be messy, his long nose perfect between alert green eyes. Thick, almost black eyebrows completed the illusion of danger, though I'd never felt safer than when I was with Nick.

  He watched me back, eyebrow arching even as his eyes crinkled with humor. His attention made me squirm. It always had. We both knew what one look from him could do to me, but the reality was even clearer when I shifted my weight from side to side and squeezed my thighs together to ease the ache.

  The tilt of his head, combined with his smirk, made him beautifully vulnerable. He knew I was checking him out but was humble enough he still needed me to like what I saw. His legs were crossed at the ankles, feet bare, with loose, dark jeans that hung from a lean waist. His light blue T-shirt hugged broad shoulders, and a small patch of dark chest hair peeked over the collar.

  His jaw, covered in thick five o'clock shadow, flexed and relaxed as he swallowed. My mouth watered as I thought about all the times I'd run my tongue over the stubble there. He grew a beard easily and detested shaving. As a result, I'd become accustomed to the ever-present scruff. Even better, I loved feeling it rasp over my skin.

  I mirrored his posture, leaning back against the opposite counter, my head resting against the dark walnut cabinet behind me. I narrowed my eyes at him when he finished swallowing, making him grin as he tilted the bottle in my direction. His silent offering was met with a shake of my head, though it was hard not to smile back.

  "What are you doing?" I looked purposefully toward his hand before locking eyes with him.

  "I'm enjoying a beer. It's Friday. You want one?" He made a motion to open the fridge door.

  I shook my head side to side. "Yes."

  He watched the gesture, and once my words registered, he laughed, low and husky, before taking another pull from the bottle. My mouth watered more as I watched his Adam’s apple bob with each swallow.

  When he lowered the bottle, I stepped in front of him, grabbing the bottle out of his hand and setting it on the counter. "You're not supposed to drink."

  He looked mournfully at the beer. "Oh, come on, babe. One drink isn't going to kill all my sp
erm."

  "Even if it only kills half, we need them for the insemination on Monday. And the doctor said no alcohol for a reason, so," I pulled on the hem of his T-shirt until he was pressed against me, belly to belly, "No. Alcohol."

  He smiled, lowering his head, brushing his lips against the corner of my mouth as I suppressed a shiver. They were soft, one of my favorite parts of his body. He knew where and how to use them; against my cheek, my neck, my shoulder, lower. He nibbled at my bottom lip before sucking it into his mouth, running his tongue along the sensitive flesh.

  "Mmm. You taste good." My husky whisper was quickly swallowed by another kiss. I welcomed the pungent, slightly acidic flavor of beer against my tongue. His kisses almost always started out slow, each one a seduction, no matter if we were on the verge of making love or he was just saying goodbye on his way out the door in the morning. When he kissed me, it was as if we had all the time in the world.

  I bit his lip and made him yelp. He pulled back, eyes no longer amused but something darker. That look went straight to my clit. God, I wanted him to need me so much he lost his mind a little. I gripped him harder, scratching my nails over the fabric covering his back, anticipating the rough fucking I craved. Instead, his eyes focused on my mouth, Nick's expression softened. He leaned in again, his lips trailing lightly over mine as he slowed down the pace. I did my best to hide my disappointed sigh.

  This was good. It was right. Rough sex wasn't all it was cracked up to be.

  Sexual volatility between two people could never be contained to the bedroom, anyway. That kind of sex was dangerous. I'd learned that fact the hard way, and I'd vowed never to let myself be destroyed by a man again. I turned the sigh leaving my lips into a sharp inhale, urging him closer with my hands on his back as I opened my mouth to accept his.

  He lifted me up and set me on the counter before moving between my legs, never breaking the kiss. His hands slid up my thighs, taking the fabric of my skirt with them as I scooted to the edge to bring myself closer to the thick length pressing against his jeans. I could feel it building, the heat, my need to feel him inside me. It'd been so long since we'd had spontaneous sex. So much of our lives had been on a schedule lately. The wickedness of deciding to fuck right there in the kitchen had me panting.

  His cheek rasped against mine as he nipped at my earlobe before whispering, "We should test out your theory, see if I have any strong swimmers. Maybe one of them will be a winner tonight."

  My stomach clenched. I pulled away at the familiar, but unwelcome, sensation. I knew it was there, written on my face. The feelings were reflected on his in the same instant. I fought the tears that threatened, my nose stinging as I watched his brows furrow with regret.

  "Oh, baby. Dammit. What an idiot thing to say. We'll figure it out, all right?" He pulled my head into the crook of his neck, running his hands up and down my back as I fought to control the emotions welling inside of me. His hold on me tightened when I couldn't quite stifle a sob.

  "Shh. It'll be OK."

  "I think I'm broken." I pulled back, playing with a loose thread on his shirt.

  His thumb and forefinger gripped my chin, gently bringing my gaze back to his. “How can you think that? The doctors don't even know what's wrong, Jessa. If it were something to do with you, all the money we're paying them, don't you think they'd tell us the truth?"

  I sighed, tasting unshed tears as they ran down the back of my throat. "Maybe I just need to believe it's me...like, somehow that means I can fix it, right?"

  "Babe, you've been listening to those relaxation CDs, taking supplements, going to acupuncture, massage, reading books, doing that visualization shit. If someone's told you something worked, you've tried it. Meanwhile I've been beating off into a cup at the clinic once a month, and that's the extent of my efforts. If anything, it's probably my fault."

  "I'm older, though." I pushed my face further into the crook of his neck, inhaling the comforting scent of sandalwood and lime, ever present on his skin.

  His tone was amused as he twined a lock of my hair around his fingers, tugging the strand playfully. "By two years. It's hardly a May-December romance, baby."

  Our age difference had never bothered me. In fact, I had hardly thought about it until we started trying to get pregnant. I sighed. "It's so unfair. You could be eighty and screw your trophy wife and make a baby. Meanwhile I needed to start planning my fucking wedding when I was still a teenager, apparently. Goddamned biology."

  His abs tightened and shook with silent laughter.

  "Trophy wife? On a teachers salary? I think not. Besides, the only wife I'll be screwing when I'm eighty is you. Assuming we still remember each other by then. By the way, happy anniversary."

  My jaw went slack. "Oh, my God."

  Nick brushed his lips against my cheek, now hot with humiliation. "Eight of the best years of my life with you."

  I gripped the hem of his shirt, slack around his hips. "I'm so sorry. With everything that's been happening, I totally forgot. Jesus, I'm such an asshole."

  He laughed. "You're not an asshole. We never make a big deal of it, you know that. I just wanted it to be said, I love you and I'm so fucking glad we're married."

  As I looked into his eyes, love was a physical pressure on my chest. I drew my fingers down his temple to his throat before linking them with my other hand around the back of his neck and took a good, hard look at my husband. His looks could've produced an arrogance in the way he carried himself. Instead, Nick had a quiet confidence, and, I suspected, this was what made him such a popular teacher at the high school.

  My eyes filled with tears. "I love you, too."

  Strong emotion had always been a curious bedfellow with my sex drive. Opening myself up to Nick, saying I loved him or getting pissed at him turned me on. Didn't matter whether the feeling was positive or negative. With Nick, it was foreplay. And tonight a swirling mix of apprehension and guilt fueled my need for a way to forget. The lust darkening his eyes said he was definitely going to take advantage.

  I squirmed, my body tingling in all the right places. It didn't escape his attention. His hands resumed their position on the outside of my thighs, threading under the fabric of my skirt once again to caress bare skin.

  "Forget about all of the fertility shit and baby-making. Just for tonight, OK? Right now, it's you and me—no one, nothing else. You want me," he kissed the side of my neck and I shivered, nodding, "and I definitely want you," I yelped as he jerked me toward him until my damp panties were snug against his erection, "so fuck the rest of it."

  His tongue invaded my mouth, tangling with mine as he swallowed the whimper that escaped. We made out like teenagers, right there in the kitchen of our small three-bedroom house. The chill of the counter against my sensitive skin made me hyperaware of every other way his body pressed against mine. I wanted to fuck, hard and fast, but Nick took his time. When I thought I'd go crazy from teasing, he trailed his lips to my jaw. Feather-light kisses on my neck down to my collarbone, followed by the sharp sting of pain where he sucked hard. His hands against the skin of my back released the clasp of my bra.

  Soon, his warm palms were cupping my breasts, thumbs stroking across my nipples and around my areolae with a pressure and timing that said he knew my body, knew what I wanted, and was going to give it to me. Yes, this is what I needed. Nick had always given me what I needed.

  He lifted the fabric of my blouse, not bothering to unbutton it, instead simply gathering the material and tucking it up under my chin, before his thumb and finger fed a nipple to his mouth. He laved it with precision, sucking only enough to send bolts of sensation racing through my body. When his teeth nipped the sensitive underside of my breast, I gasped as a surge of wetness between my legs further soaked my panties.

  He trailed kisses down my belly to the hem of my skirt. It was already unzipped. When had he managed that? He slid it off along with my lacy thong, dropping both to the floor. When I moved to toe off my heels, he stopped me with a
hand on my calf.

  "Leave 'em on."

  I bit my lip, stifling a moan at the sight of his wicked smile.

  He dropped to his knees on the bamboo floor, pulling one leg over his shoulder as he licked and bit his way up the inside of my thigh. I watched with rapt attention as his lips met my aching pussy, fighting the urge to drop my head back and close my eyes. The sensation of his mouth on me for the first time in months was almost too much. But seeing it, watching him work me like he was a cartographer and I was undiscovered territory was so alluring, such a visible show of love and lust, I couldn't look away.

  He kissed my pussy the way he kissed my mouth. His lips caressed, his tongue tasted, thrust, and circled, his teeth pulled and nipped as I tensed with the effort of holding back my orgasm. I didn't want it to end. I needed the raw sexuality but, more than that, I was thirsty for the kind of intimacy that only existed between me and my husband. I drank the feeling in, letting it soak into my pores, refilling that unnamable something that had been depleted between us. I'd hardly been aware I'd missed it, until I found myself gorging on the sensations as a starving woman at a banquet. The sight of his head bobbing between my legs pushed me closer to the edge with each breath. God, I'd almost forgotten how good he was with his mouth. It became impossible to stave off my orgasm any longer.

  When the pleasure crested and overflowed, I cried out, forgetting where I was but vaguely aware I'd slammed my head into the cupboard behind me. I didn't care. I was tumbling headfirst into glorious oblivion. The cascading pulses of pleasure were only prolonged by the continued tongue-fucking Nick gave me.

  Eyes closed, I was still floating when the head of his cock rubbed through my soaked slit. He gripped my hips, bracing as he slammed inside, my slick pussy tight, my muscles still contracting from my orgasm. Every thrust was a strange combination of torture and bliss, but I wanted more. I dug my heels into his ass, locking him against me.