Gnomeless

by Jennifer Zane

  “Am I doing the right thing now?” he asked, his voice rough with so many emotions.

  I nodded against the pillow, my wet hair wild about me. I'd fought my desire since I first laid eyes on him again, sprawled unconscious on Violet's floor. The love that had never gone away for me either. The need always lingered.

  Even when he went back to Florida, he'd still be in my heart. But this night, this time together, was ours. The outside world—Violet, Crazy Lady Lorraine, lawsuits—was just that. Outside. Here, in my bedroom, it was finally, once and for all, just me and Jack.

  “It's right. Everything between us is right,” I whispered, taking his hand and placing it on my breast. “I love you, Jack. Don't stop.”

  Jack froze in place at my words, looked at me, searching maybe to see if I told the truth. He groaned and took a deep breath as if he still struggled, doubted. Then I saw something shift in his eyes. Worry and guilt were replaced by something else. I saw love. Lust, too. That combination, knowing he wanted me, body and soul, was the most amazing feeling ever. Knowing he felt it too made it even better.

  Jack yanked at the zipper of his jacket, sliding it down and ripping the coat off. His sweater, shirt, pants, boxers, everything followed. He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a condom, tossed it on the bed.

  I stared at him, in all his naked glory. He was everything I'd ever imagined rolled into one, and then some. Hard muscles over tanned, smooth skin. A smattering of dark hair across his chest dipped lower, to a line that ran down to his magnificent erection. It was thick and long and everything Goldie's romance books talked about. But it wasn't fiction, it was pure, hard—very hard—fact pointed straight at me. And it was all mine.

  “It's big,” I commented, staring at him.

  “If you keep looking at it that way it's going to get bigger.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Before I had a chance to think about that, he moved on top of me, one leg nudged between mine, spreading my thighs so he could settle between. He placed his forearms on either side of my head so our faces were close, so close I could feel his warm breath, see the dark flecks in his blue eyes.

  I saw him clearly in that moment—his frustration with the person he'd become. The boy he used to be. The man I knew he really was.

  I wanted it all. I ran my calf up and down his thigh. “Jack, please.”

  He lowered his head to mine, kissed me and I forgot everything but the two of us in this moment. He plunged his tongue into my mouth. His hands roamed my body, never stopping as if he was afraid I might disappear. I all but melted into the bed, his body so hot above me, his touch setting little fires everywhere his hands moved. He nibbled at my ear, my neck, my shoulder, lower to lick one hard nipple, then the other. Opening his mouth, he sucked on one, pulling it taut. A zing of pleasure shot to my core and I felt wetness coat my thighs.

  “This isn't the girl's body you wanted at sixteen,” I said breathlessly, worried I might be lacking. My frayed robe and wet hair hadn't made me the alluring siren.

  He looked up at me from my breast. He flicked his tongue over the tight tip once, smiled like a Cheshire Cat. “I know.” He moved his head lower pressing kisses to my abdomen, my hip bone, and then moving to the center, blew out a hot breath against me there. “I bet that girl wouldn't have let me do this.”

  And then, spreading my thighs, cupping my butt with both hands, he pressed his mouth to me, his tongue darting out and circling me, up one side and down the other. Two fingers dipped in, moved in some magical way, and I exploded. Pleasure seeped into every cell of my body, hot fire racing through my veins. I cried out his name, my head thrown back against the pillow.

  Jack kept his mouth on me as I kept falling, falling forever. He didn't stop until I lay limp and sweaty, replete.

  I chuckled as he started kissing his way back up my sweat slicked body. “You're right. That girl didn't even know what that was,” I said.

  He grabbed my hips and rolled us so he was on the bottom, I, on top. I adjusted my legs to straddle his thighs, looked down at him. “Veronica, seeing you this way, you're my undoing.”

  His hair was tousled, his skin hot under my palms. The crinkly hair on his chest was soft to the touch. “Ride me. I want to see your pleasure when you come again.”

  I looked into his eyes, saw everything there. Us.

  I reached down between us and took him in my hand. He was big, and oh so hot to the touch. Smooth and so hard. Stroking him once, twice, Jack groaned and bucked his hips.

  “Miller,” he begged. I grabbed the condom and slid it on him. Jack placed his shaking hands on top of mine to guide me.

  I lifted my hips, held him in one palm and directed him into me. Slowly, slowly I slid down until he was deep within me. “Reid,” I cried out. I felt so full, so complete. He did fit. Perfectly.

  He grabbed hold of my hips, lifted me, and then drove me back down onto him. “Tell me not to stop,” he said, his voice rough with need, his skin damp from his exertions.

  My hands mindlessly went to my breasts and I pulled on my nipples, feeling my body open, get wetter for him. “Don't stop!”

  He didn't. Jack drove me to the brink of another orgasm, then slowed his movements, then took me up again. This time, he reached between us and touched me. That one brush of his thumb set me off. I came again as Jack surrendered to his own pleasure.

  ***

  We fell asleep, our bodies entwined, sheets tangled about us. I woke twice in the night, the first time with Jack buried deep within me, his hips moving in incredibly slow motion, my orgasm building just as slowly. The second, Jack spooned me, his front to my back. He'd lifted one of my legs on top of his and his fingers were slipping into me, around and over all the crucial spots before sliding his hard length into me from behind.

  We didn't move from my bed the next day other than to go to the door to pay the pizza delivery man. Having a new kitchen was great, but there was absolutely nothing to eat in the cabinets or fridge. Since Jack's plane wasn't until after dinner, we spent the day completing only the most important tasks. Sex and more sex.

  I was insatiable. I couldn't get enough of Jack, his scent, the feel of his skin, his taste, the weight of his body pinning me beneath him. His hot mouth on mine, on other places. Having him deep within me.

  Jack drove me with a need that I recognized partially as desperation. He knew he was leaving, but didn't know what he would face on his return to Florida.

  Both of us clung to the time alone together, hiding from the world in my remodeled home.

  Eventually, the world intruded in the form of a phone call from Goldie.

  “Bring the gnome,” she said. No 'hello', not 'It's me, Goldie'.

  “Tonight?” I asked, breathless. Jack was trailing his hot mouth down my back as I leaned across the bed for my cell.

  “Yes. Zach wants it back and I'll be seeing him in the morning.”

  “Sure, no problem.” Goosebumps rose on my skin as he kissed, then licked one dimple, then the other, at the base of my spine.

  “Don't let me keep you from your muse. Or what he's doing to you,” Goldie said with a chuckle, and then hung up.

  I rolled my eyes as Jack flipped me over. Smiled down at me with that little upturned corner of his mouth, desire in his eyes. I forgot all about Goldie and George the Gnome for another hour.

  Eventually, grudgingly, and with a sad heart, I had to go to Goldilocks for work, and Jack soon after to the airport. He drove me in his rental car, both quiet on the way, and walked into the store just after six. I tried to put his departure out of my mind, but it was impossible. It was painful to breathe, to take a step knowing he'd soon be gone. I'd wished he'd fly away, get as far from me as possible. Boy, had I been wrong.

  After only a few short days, my life had changed. Drastically. I'd put Jack Reid out of my mind in ten years, only popping up occasionally to wonder where he was, what he was doing. Or to wonder, imagine 'what if' scenarios.

 
What if Jack had really wanted me instead of Violet? What if he hadn't left town?

  Now I knew all the answers, to every question. And it hurt. Hurt knowing I had him just for one night, knowing he loved me and showing me just how much, with every brush of his hand over my body, with every look, with every whispered endearment.

  The worst of it was knowing we had wasted ten years. Ten years of living without each other. And now, I didn't know when I'd see him again. We'd said our 'I love you's', but that didn't mean he was coming back, that we were more than these past few days.

  He had to go. I knew it, grudgingly accepted it. Okay, not really resolved, but at least understanding. Didn't mean I had to like it.

  Goldie smiled at both of us from her perch behind the counter. “Well, look what the cat dragged in.” She waggled her eyebrows at us. I rolled my eyes at her in return, no doubt I had a just fucked flush to my cheeks. I looked around the room, three customers. Not bad for after a snowstorm.

  “Here,” I told her, placing George the Gnome on the counter, facing him out so he could survey the store. His cheeky smile now called out to me, 'Way to go!'

  I patted the ceramic garden gnome on the top of his pointy hat. “Now, I'm gnomeless.”

  A customer came up to the counter. She was in her early thirties, bundled up against the weather in heavy coat, hat, and snow boots. “Can I get this wrapped?” she asked Goldie, handing over a pocket pussy.

  “Sure thing. Something for your husband?” Goldie asked.

  Goldie was good at making small talk. She picked up on clues from all of the customers. In this case, it was the honking large diamond on her left ring finger. Even I couldn't miss that one.

  Customer smiled. “He's going on a business trip to Texas. He'll need something to relieve some of his stress while I'm not there.”

  Goldie nodded her agreement. “Good choice. A pocket pussy is a great way for a man to masturbate, and it's small enough to travel with.”

  The device looked like a flashlight with a silicone replica of a woman's downstairs at one end. A man could stick his erection in it and simulate having sex. Obviously I hadn't tried it, but I guess it worked if they were moving off the shelves.

  “Do you have something for yourself while he's gone?”

  The customer nodded and said, “Christmas present.” She pointed to the glass case filled with high-end dildos.

  “Good to hear. Come back before your husband's next trip and you and I can pick out something else that's special.” Goldie winked as she handed over the bag with the fancy tissue sticking out the top.

  Customer beamed at Goldie, handed her two twenties. “All right, I will.”

  “Tell him to have a safe—and fun—trip.” Goldie handed over the change.

  Jack had taken to checking out the displays of fur lined handcuffs during this exchange. The tips of his ears were red. Interesting.

  “So, Jack. Into handcuffs, are you?” Goldie asked.

  He put the hardware down with a clatter and shoved his hands in his jeans pockets. Like a kid caught with his hand in a cookie jar. He cleared his throat.

  “I'm more interested in handcuffs than,” he pointed his finger toward the door where the woman just left, “the thing that woman got.”

  Goldie nodded, tilted her head down to stare intently at Jack over her reading glasses. “A pocket pussy. It's for a guy that is all alone.” She had that furry angora sweater on again, little motes of fluff lifted off and floated in the air around her when she moved. “I heard you're leaving tonight.”

  Her lack of subtlety was not lost on me and I enjoyed watching Jack squirm. He could never work in an adult store if he couldn't say the words 'pocket pussy' out loud.

  “Yes, ma'am. I've got things to take care of back in Florida.”

  “We sure will miss—”

  The door slammed open, cutting off Goldie's words. There, backlit by the brightness of the late afternoon sun and a half foot of snow, stood Lorraine. She hobbled in, shoving the door shut behind her, a cold breeze whooshing over us. She looked worse than I'd ever seen.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  The pink coat had down falling out of it in places like it had mange. Her nose was buried beneath big white bandages, and she had two black eyes giving her the appearance of a raccoon. Her hand was still wrapped in its own bandages, but a loose end hung down, all snarled and tangled. On top of that, she wore a big black medical boot on her left foot, velcro straps securing it in place, her jeans cut up the front to part around it, toes peeking out the end. They had to be cold walking in all the new snow.

  “Lorraine, what happened to you?” I asked, approaching her, concerned.

  She held up a hand to stop me, her eyes wild, her breathing ragged. Jack stilled me by grabbing my wrist, pulling me back gently toward him. I felt his warm, solid chest against my back. His thumb ran idly over the back of my hand.

  “You! You did this to me!”

  She thunked over, hobbling like a peg-legged pirate, to point her bony finger into my chest.

  “How?”

  Before she could reply, her eyes darted to the counter. “Holy shit. What the hell is that thing doing here? Is this a sick joke or something?”

  I turned my head and saw George staring at Lorraine, his smile now looking like a leer.

  Goldie must have sensed the garden gnome's imminent danger as she grabbed it and stuck in behind the counter, out of sight. “That's my grandson's garden gnome. It can't harm anyone.”

  “Oh, yeah? How do you think I got this?” Lorraine held up her bandaged hand and pointed to her nose.

  Goldie stood behind the counter, slack jawed, watching. Lorraine was like a talk show come to life and it was all happening right in Goldie's store. She was in heaven. “Now that I know what happened to your nose, what happened to your hand?”

  Lorraine had a cagey look on her face, her eyes darting from Goldie to me. “I...um...I burned it.”

  A niggling feeling settled in my stomach.

  “That is a deadly weapon,” Lorraine replied, talking about George. Not one to be steered off track, she turned back to me. “I saw you this morning with Ronald and I followed you.”

  “Me? You couldn't have seen me. I was with him.” I waved my thumb over my shoulder behind me. Jack shrugged his shoulders as I turned to look at him.

  “Ha! I knew you two got together,” Goldie added triumphantly.

  Lorraine laughed, and not in a ha-ha funny sort of way. Clearly she was losing her mind.

  “With lover boy here? Yeah, right. I saw you. This morning. Driving with Ronald. Remember, you told me you'd be leaving around nine? Well, you were a little late, but I was definitely able to follow you.”

  “I wasn't with any man but—”

  Jack squeezed my shoulders. “Miller, I think there's an easy explanation for this.”

  All eyes were on him. Goldie remained frozen where she was, her head tilted as if she were trying to listen extra closely. Lorraine was breathing heavily, but was listening, and so was I.

  “Violet's home,” I said.

  “Your imaginary twin?” Lorraine asked incredulously.

  Realization dawned on me. That weaselly, two-timing, look alike, conniving sister. “Lorraine, I think we can get this resolved right now.” I pulled my cell from my pocket, speed dialed my sister.

  “Hey V,” Violet answered after the third ring.

  “Are you back in town yet?” I asked.

  I heard some rustling, a door slam. “Doing laundry.”

  “Hey, listen, I'm at Goldilocks and someone dropped a package off here.” I wasn't about to ask her about Ronald and the voicemail I'd left for her. She could duck out with some excuse and I'd be stuck with Lorraine. I wanted Violet and Lorraine in the same room to work this out.

  Lorraine was watching me with interest, but still didn't believe the twin story.

  “There's some confusion if it's for you or me, so I need you to come down,” I told Violet.


  “Right now?” Violet sighed. “I've had a long day and I need—”

  “No.” I cut her off. Enough about what she needed. “I need you to come down right now!” I pushed End and wanted to strangle my sister through the phone. Jack squeezed my shoulders in what I thought was a very reassuring gesture.

  Goldie must have come to her senses as she came around the counter and pulled up a stool for Lorraine. “Here, you have a seat. Tell me what on earth happened to you.”

  Lorraine seemed pacified by Goldie's attentions, by the strange clucking noises she made. Lorraine settled down once she got comfortable. She pointed to her leg. “This, from skiing.”

  “Um, excuse me?” a customer asked, interrupting Lorraine right at the good part.

  Since Goldie was doing her tending bit, I stepped up. “What can I do for you?” I wanted to hear Lorraine's story, but the customer came first.

  The man was in his fifties with a pot belly and a receding hairline like Homer Simpson. Light coat. He was one of those men whose internal temperatures burned extra hot because he was sweating, little beads dotting his bald forehead when the rest of us were cold, even with our long underwear beneath our clothes.

  Everyone stared at him. Jack, Lorraine, Goldie and I were giving him more attention than he probably wanted. Poor man.

  “I...um,” he leaned in close to me, all but whispered, “I rented Cream Pie Academy last week and wanted to know if there was a sequel.”

  “Sure, let me check,” I smiled at the man, trying to reassure him Goldilocks was a discreet place to shop. I went behind the counter and looked under the C's.

  “You went skiing today?” Jack asked Lorraine while I was occupied. I turned to look back over the counter. Drat, I wanted to hear this.

  “I was following you,” she pointed at me again. “You and Ronald went down the mogul run. I don't do moguls. You were too fast for me and I fell, broke my ankle. Ski patrol had to bring me down the mountain then an ambulance into the ER. They know me by name over there now.”

  Maybe it was safer with me behind the counter. Sounded like a painful, miserable experience.