by Ruby Lang
“You were five.”
“It wasn’t just that time. Think of how much more damage we could do now.”
“I’m sorry for how your parents and Winston treated you. I’m sorry about the other kids and parents in town, that my dad shamed you in front of a whole congregation. I should never have stood by and just watched. And I regret that I didn’t say anything to you back then, because I did and do care about you. I’m asking for a chance.”
She nodded.
Another step.
He was close.
She closed her eyes.
“Tell me what you want me to say,” he said.
“I want you to say that me kissing you will be all right.”
“I can’t tell you that. But I will try to make it good.”
• • •
Once again, he took her hand. He led her down the hall to his bedroom, and he shut the door.
“I feel like you’re trying to make sure I don’t run away,” she said.
“I just don’t want the dog barging in, but sure.”
She laughed nervously.
“Come on,” he said, tugging her to the bed.
The bedroom was dim. There was a bureau with a few coins on it, a nightstand, a charger, and a wide, slightly rumpled bed. He led her there. They took off their shoes and sat cross-legged on the covers, facing each other.
“I feel like we’re in some sort of new-age therapy session. Hi, I’m Sarah. I like cruciferous vegetables and list-making. Lately, I’ve felt adrift.”
“Okay,” he said, putting his hand on her knee. He began to stroke his way up her thigh. “I’m Jake. I like a woman who speaks her mind. I like playing catch with my dog. And I’m a little nervous right now.”
“Why are you nervous?”
“Well, here you are, despite yourself. I’ve brought you here with promises . . .” His voice dropped low, and she felt a little throb right between her legs. “And now you’re here and I want to pull all your clothing off and stare at you and lick you everywhere and fuck you. But it probably won’t be that good for you if I try that all at once. So you’re going to have to tell me what we should do first.”
They looked at each other, a little surprised at what had come out of his mouth. “I’m never going to get used to hearing you swear, Jake.”
That sly grin again. Well.
She nodded. “Take off your shirt.”
He trailed his fingers down her thigh and reached down to his waist. He pulled up the hem of his shirt, and Sarah stared at the shadowed spot where his skin began, watched as he pulled his clothing up slowly, over his head, and dropped it on the floor beside her.
He was lean and strong, his muscles forming long cuts along his shoulders, his chest. The deeper grooves of the forearms she so admired tightened as she rose to her knees to touch his faintly gleaming skin. Just a touch. Two fingers in a hot slide over his pectoral muscle, a palm skating down his abdomen.
She could hear his breathing. Or was it hers?
“Sarah.”
“Take off your jeans and lie down.”
His gaze at her was almost angry as he unfolded himself and stood beside her. She turned her head and stared at his zipper, at the strained lines tracing his erection. She watched the pop of each metal tooth as he undid his pants and pulled everything down in one movement.
She could see all of him now. His head bent, his torso tense, that thick, hard cock, and the severe lines of his legs, poised to spring.
“Down.”
He lowered himself gingerly, and she watched intently as one leg came up beside her, then another.
As if he couldn’t help himself, he brought his hand to his cock and took a long pull.
She threw off her t-shirt at that and pulled her own jeans down.
It wasn’t until he rose to look at her that she suddenly felt self-conscious, standing in front of him in her underwear.
She had never been shy about her body. But this was Jake, and that was strange, and all she’d done was want and demand and push him around. She had to muffle a desire to laugh hysterically.
So instead, she said, “What should I do now?” in the surliest tone possible, and she put her hands on her hips and waited for him to make a move.
“I’m going to get condoms while there’s still some sort of sense in me,” he said, reaching for the drawer of his bedside table. “And why don’t you take a seat?”
“So courteous.”
“I feel like if I talk things through a bit, if I narrate, maybe we can figure it out. I probably don’t have as much experience as you.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” she asked tensely.
He took a breath. “It means I married the only person I ever had sex with.” He paused with the unopened box of condoms in his hand. He said, “It means I feel self-conscious.”
His frankness was bracing, adding another layer to the excitement she already felt. She did sit down on the bed then and pulled the sheet over her.
“Well, I feel self-conscious, too. That you’re judging me. Because it’s different for boys. I treat teenage girls, and it’s still the same. The boys sleep around, and they’re studs. The girls do it, and some idiot tells them their cooch smells like hot dog water.”
“Cooch.”
“Thank you, yes. I collect terms. Professional interest. I keep a spreadsheet of slang and euphemisms for vagina.”
He shook his head. “I’d like to see your spreadsheet,” he said, his voice a little strangled.
“I do know my way around a pivot table.”
He put one hand around her ankle.
“You know, for a guy who says he’s self-conscious, you’re pretty bold.”
“I was a jerk when I was a kid,” he said, stroking his way up her leg. “And I’m certainly not perfect now. But I’m learning, and I’m working on it. I need to work on a lot of things. So, like I was saying, I am going to talk through this, and I’m going to trust you to tell me what’s right for you. I’m going to need you to tell me how you feel. And when it feels good, I’ll do it again, and keep doing it again and again right there until it’s perfect.”
He looked right into her eyes at that moment, and they both seemed to take a deep breath together.
“So tell me,” he said. “Tell me what to do.”
She shook her head. She took the hand that had been on her leg and brought it higher up, to the warm, soft skin inside her thigh.
His thumb moved as if to soothe her, but she was too stirred up, her blood too thick for this. She kissed him and rolled over him, and he plunged his hand deeper, past the warm cotton of her underwear, and he began to stroke between her legs.
“More of that,” she said.
And he flipped her to her back, pausing only to remove the rest of her clothing, and he stroked again, his other hand reaching out.
They were attached that way, now. A crisscross of gazes and arms—hers on his chest, his cock, his on her breast, between her legs—each stroke bringing them closer together.
“I need to—”
“Get the condom. Now.”
He tore into it, his face looking almost relieved as he rolled it on. Almost.
Maybe it was wrong of her, but she couldn’t help it. She took a moment to admire his cock with the rubber, almost translucent, stretched over it. She ran her finger over the snug band at the top and then cupped his balls.
He groaned.
She pushed him down on the bed, and even though her heart was beating so hard, her entire body hot and pulsing, she raised herself up slowly, took him in her hand, and rubbed him along herself.
“Sarah, please. Sarah.”
She sat on her heels—onto him—in a hard slide, and her muscles gave an involuntary squeeze at the pressure of him. He groaned again and grasped her hips tight, his fingers telling her he wanted her to ride him even as he restrained himself.
She rose again and looked down at his cock sliding out of her, wet with her, and wen
t down again. “I need—I need—”
His legs thrashed and his jaw tightened, but he put a palm against her mound, pushing into her as she moved on him, twisting his hand around as she leaned over to kiss him. “Yes, there,” she said, and he did it again and again, just as he’d promised he would.
He pressed once more, and she could just feel it looping toward her as she leaned down to take his mouth in a sloppy kiss. He cried out, his teeth hitting her lip as his body jerked. But she was moaning, too, her hand slipping on his sweat-slicked chest onto the sheet below, and she felt her whole being stiffen before she broke apart and fell down, down onto him and let herself go limp.
Chapter Seven
He was probably dead, Jake thought, after a few minutes. That was the most likely explanation for how he felt. He wasn’t tired. He could sense his body, but it was different. Tingling. He had just experienced all the feeling in the world, on his skin, in his vitals, all over his mind. And now he just was.
Sarah was draped over him, her breathing slowing down with his.
She rolled slowly off him, and the drag of her body letting go of his cock woke him and nearly sent his nerves over the edge again.
He looked down at the condom.
“It’s broken,” she said, slowly.
So many different expressions were flitting across her face right now. Her content had been chased away by disbelief. Annoyance. Exasperation. Fear.
He opened his mouth. He closed it again. “Sarah, are you on the pill? Are you allowed to use the pill after—after your treatment?”
“I’m on the pill.”
“I mean, I doubt anything will happen—”
She held up her hand. “Believe me, I know the risks. And pregnancy is the least of my worries.”
A pause.
“Right, I don’t have any—you know. I just want to—”
“Don’t try to soothe me right now. It’s fine. I’m also clean. It’s fine.”
“Okay.”
“Maybe go get rid of the rest of that.”
He rose.
“Agreeing with me to placate me also counts as soothing,” she said, following him.
He shook his head. “Are you coming after me to hector me?”
“No, I’m going to use the bathroom to prevent the risk of UTI. Then I’m going to go back to bed to hector you from atop a pillow.”
He blinked, took a deep breath, and tried not to glance down.
“Oh my god, you’re turned on by that,” she said, her gaze going to his groin.
“Something about the combination of pillow and you yelling at me,” he said helplessly.
She relaxed, her whole face and body softening, and she went on her tiptoes and kissed him. He grabbed her with his free hand and pulled her closer to him. But after a minute, she wriggled away. He was happy to see that she was as breathless as he was.
They ended up not going back to bed. They took showers—separately. By the time he got out, she was in the kitchen with the dog, drinking something green.
She pushed a glass toward him. “I raided your fridge. It’s called a Makes Me Stronger smoothie.”
“Fun name.”
“Well, the full name is That Which Doesn’t Kale Me Makes Me—”
He took a big gulp and it was . . . pretty good.
His relief must have shown on his face, because she laughed before taking another sip.
He focused on making sure that Mulder had enough food and water. They were hungry, so he made eggs and toast, and she sat at the kitchen table and laughed at the dog.
He liked it. So of course he had to go and spoil the moment.
“Would it be so bad even if you did turn out to be pregnant?” he asked.
She paused with a fork to her mouth, and her body stiffened.
But he’d already started. He might as well say his piece. “I mean, we both work. We’re both mature—well, over thirty. And we’re not terrible people. I’m just saying it wouldn’t be the worst thing for us. Right now. I know you have sensitivities about this stuff—”
“Sensitivities.” She laughed humorlessly. “We are not going to talk about having children right now.”
“Well, you were unhappy about the condom. It’s not unreasonable to choose this particular time to say that it really wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world in the unlikely event that it did happen.”
“I think that this might be the very, absolutely worst time in the world, actually, Jake. I think it might be the worst time in the world because we just had sex for the first time—and possibly for the last. And because I clearly don’t want to talk about it right now.”
“I’m not saying this because I want kids right now. I’m just trying to reassure you that I wouldn’t shirk my responsibility.”
He was messing this up. He was ruining it at every turn. He was supposed to know how to talk to people about hard things—he was supposed to know what to say, but he couldn’t say the right thing to Sarah.
“And I’m trying to tell you that I know my job as an ob/gyn. I understand how to take a contraceptive pill and administer an emergency contraceptive pill.”
“I’m not questioning your competence. You know way more about it than I do. I mean you’re a doctor and a woman. I just . . . I just want to point out that I would be there and it wouldn’t be a terrible mistake.”
“For you.”
“For me. Yes.”
Another pause.
“Despite the fact that Winston would probably accuse me of entrapping you. And my parents would probably believe him. Your dad would probably say so, too.”
He pressed his lips together. “I can handle Winston.”
Again, it was the wrong thing to say.
“No, I’d have to handle Winston. And everyone else. No matter how good your intentions are, you can’t shield me.”
“That’s because their words still hurt you.”
He regretted that as soon as it left his lips.
“Of course they do.”
She finished her drink and started to rinse out the glass.
“I’ll do that.”
She didn’t answer.
“You have good intentions, Jake. But I am so tired of being put in this position for doing nothing wrong. In the end, everyone believes what they want to believe—and you are like my family in so many ways. Just the way you automatically had us co-parenting after one time in bed—the way you insist on talking this through now. We’ve known each other a long time. And because of that, I think you fall into old ways of thinking with me. Listen to the way you were talking. Like you had to save my virtue. . And then you had a future planned out. You were willing to raise a kid with me just a few minutes ago.”
“I shouldn’t have brought it up. But it was so nice afterward, and I kept thinking of how it would be great if it would go on.”
God, could he get any more pathetic? Sarah was angled away from him, and all he wanted to do was grab her and kiss her. Instead he ran his hands through his hair. “No, you’re right. I stop thinking I can save you but I’m trying. I’m really trying.”
“I don’t have time to guide you through your newfound enlightenment, Jake. And that’s the other thing: you were still married not that long ago and . . . I can’t be a placeholder woman.”
He growled. “You’re not and you know it. And it’s not like you aren’t as vulnerable as I am right now.”
They held each other’s eyes for a moment. Sarah looked down first. “Yeah. That’s the problem, I guess. I’m not over everything. I’m still battling memories of what my parents did to me. Our pasts are too intertwined. I’m not ready for this. Like you said, I’m weak right now.”
“I said you were vulnerable, not weak. Sometimes, when those cracks are showing is when you can start something.”
“No. I’m not ready.”
Her voice was so small. He had never heard her this way before, and it hurt.
She put the glass away. She went upstairs
and he followed her. She started to put on the rest of her clothing.
“Let me at least drive you home,” he said.
“I’m calling a cab,” she said, her phone in hand. “I can’t talk about this right now. I need some time.”
And with Jake and Mulder trailing her like a pair of ghosts, she went back down the stairs. She leaned down to pat the dog, then walked out the door.
• • •
“And then he told me that it wouldn’t be the worst thing if I got pregnant.”
Helen nodded. She was driving today.
Sarah and Helen were secretly scoping out a yoga retreat for Petra’s shower-ette, or bachel-ower, or whatever the hell they were going to end up calling it.
Helen, as usual, had refused to turn on the GPS, and now they seemed to be lost.
Sarah told herself that that was why she felt tense. “Listen, do you want me to just check the map on my phone?”
“It wasn’t the best thing to say, given your history. But I am having a hard time condemning him for it. And maybe I admire that he yet lives after arguing with the great Sarah Soon, that he was trying, in his very awkward way, to take responsibility for the whole thing.”
“I can be responsible for my own body.”
“I know that, Sarah. He wasn’t saying you weren’t. He wanted to talk practicalities, and you went in with all those feelings.”
“Feelings? I was very practical. And need I remind you we slept together once? Once.”
“But it was different for you—he’s different from the men you’ve been with before. He had you thinking things even before you had sex with him. He started out at the next level, Sarah. You went into it with more than you usually do.”
Sarah sighed, but she wasn’t able to deny it.
“You’ve known him a really long time.”
“That’s the problem. I don’t know him and I do. He doesn’t quite look the same anymore. He doesn’t sound the same. But then he suddenly he does, and it’s terrible and comforting and really confusing at the same time.”
Helen pulled off the freeway and made her way to a gas station. Sarah surreptitiously pulled out her phone and Googled the directions while Helen spoke to the attendant.
“You’ve got to learn to trust that other people—people other than you—are capable of doing things,” Helen said when the car starting moving again.