by Lexi Whitlow
“You don’t know the half of it,” he growls, gripping my hip, slipping his cock between my legs, rocking me into position to admit him. “God, the dreams I had. The things we did.”
“Show me,” I say, feeling slick, hot moisture gathering at my snatch, begging him inside.
Jeb rolls my shoulders forward, pulling my hips back into his, pressing the head of his cock against tight muscles. He groans, breaching, slipping in, filling me up, making my entire body ache with the pleasure of him. He goes slow, drawing out long strokes, teasing me, then easing back in deep. His pace is perfect, gentle, languid; it’s liquid pleasure as we rock together in an easy tide.
Sleepy, early-morning sex is the best. It’s spontaneous and a little bit raunchy, and always ends well, if always ending too soon. I have a hard time coming in the morning, but I still like trying to get there.
“Fuck, this is so good,” he moans, wrapping my hair in his fist, gently drawing my head back, then – with his free hand – reaching forward to my breasts. His fingers torture my nipples, making my pussy quiver in response. “I feel that,” he says. “God damn, you’re so fucking tight.”
He’s relentless, coaxing a slow-burning, slow-building orgasm that when it finally breaks, shakes me to my core, making me cry, making my fists clench, my entire body stiffen, and my toes curl. It lasts a long time, rolling through me with wave after wave of crushing ecstasy. When it finally subsides, I’m weak and breathless, laughing convulsively as Jeb laughs with me.
“On your knees,” he says, pulling out slowly, shuddering my body, making me moan.
He draws my ass up, gripping my shoulder with his hand. In an instant he’s inside again, filling me up, going so deep, fucking me hard.
“You’re so beautiful,” he croons, rubbing my ass and thigh with his free hand. “You’re perfect. I… ah… Maddie… I lo…”
I hear the word almost come out, and I hear Jeb catch himself before he says it. Instead of saying that terrifying word, he let’s out another long moan, then explodes, crying out, hauling into me roughly as he rides out the waves of his own pleasure. When it’s passed, he collapses over me, heaving for air, covered in sweat, eyes glazed, a dazed expression on his face.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Maddie,” he huffs, staring up at the ceiling, “Jesus fucking Christ. I fucking… I lo…”
“Shhhh,” I quiet him, pressing my fingers to his lips. “Don’t.”
He looks at me, his eyes confused, almost hurt.
“Don’t spoil the fantasy,” I say for him as much as for me. Men say that word and it’s all over after that. They own you. It’s a magic word that can melt even the most cynical, hardened heart. I know if I hear that word I’m going to fall apart, fall into his arms, and be done for. I’ll lose all my free will and what tiny shred of independence and self-respect I’ve gained since leaving Joe and leaving Indianapolis.
I can’t do that to myself, or to Justin. I can’t make us subject to someone else’s control, no matter how right it feels in this moment.
Jeb is quiet for most of the drive home. The fantasy is over and it’s back to the real world. It was a wonderful, fascinating, sexy week; but it was just a week. It’s over now.
Once through the traffic of Columbia, heading south into the Low Country, Jeb reaches over and takes my hand in his.
“I know you don’t want to hear it, but I’m going to tell you this much,” he says. “The fantasy doesn’t have to be a fantasy. I don’t want to let go of it. I don’t want to let go of you.”
I nod. “I understand,” I say. “I don’t want the fantasy to end either, but at the end of this road is a little boy who’s waiting for his mother, and a baby girl who missed her father. There are jobs, and obligations, and a ton of things that are reality. We don’t get to do just what we want. Sometimes we have to think about other people.”
“Maddie, I haven’t known you long, but in all the time I have known you, I’ve never known you to think about yourself first. Maybe you should try it, just once, to see what it’s like.”
I did once, a long time ago, and it led me to the worst decision I ever made. It also gave me Justin, so I wouldn’t change anything. I have learned my lesson, however.
Justin is in the yard with Marco and Philip, Rose and Maria, when we roll in, raising a cloud of dust behind us. As soon as he sees the car, Justin breaks out in a hard run toward it. I barely get the door open before he piles onto me, hugging me, tumbling into my lap.
“I missed you so much,” he shrieks, grinning from ear to ear. “You were gone so long! A whole week!”
I hug my boy, listening to him talk fast about his adventures while I was gone, sorry I missed them.
“Tell us all about it!” Rose coaxes. “How was the Inn? How was Biltmore?”
How to not draw this out?
“It was wonderful,” I say. “The Inn was incredible. The food was amazing, and I even got Jeb to go to the spa with me and lie still for a massage.”
Rose’s eyes light up with glee.
“And somewhere in our bags I’ve brought back some ‘Thank You’ gifts, but you’ll have to wait for me to find them.”
I want to take my kid, go to our place, and hear all about his week. My week is over. It’s back to being Justin’s mother, first.
“We’re having softshell crab for supper,” Rose says, beaming. “I bet they didn’t have any of those in Asheville. Justin loves them. He caught this mess of them all by himself.”
I need to hear about that.
I glance at Jeb, looking for help. He catches my drift.
“We’ve been on the road for hours, Mama, and gone for a week,” he says. “I’m gonna help Maddie carry her bags to her place, and I’ll be back up in a few minutes.”
She nods, still smiling. “Yes! Yes! Get settled in. We’ll talk at suppertime.”
Jeb walks us down the path toward my cottage, with Justin running ahead.
“I really don’t want to let you go,” he says wistfully. “It was a good week. It feels weird, going to separate places.”
“Yeah,” I say, feeling the same, but trying not to show it. “Listen, about supper, will you make my excuses? I want to spend some time catching up with Justin. Tell Rose I have a headache or something.”
Jeb sighs, disappointment drawing his features. “Yeah, I guess,” he says. “If I can’t talk you into changing your mind.”
“Don’t try,” I ask. “Please.”
He leaves me at my front door with a kiss on my cheek and a squeeze of my hand. “Unpack those suitcases tonight,” he says. “Otherwise your clothes will be all wrinkled, and smell like a suitcase.”
I smile. “Okay. Anything else?”
He bites his lip. “I better not, or I’ll probably be in the dog house.”
“Good night, Jeb,” I say, leaning on the door. “It was a great week.”
He nods. “Goodnight Madison James. It was a great week.”
“What’s this, Mom?” Justin asks, lifting a tiny bag from the pile of clothes in my suitcase. I never got around to unpacking, and now I’m scrambling to find something clean to wear to work.
The little bag is black and shiny, and looks like it came from somewhere expensive.
“I don’t know,” I say, taking it from Justin’s hand. I peek inside. There’s a card and a small, giftwrapped box.
“Jeb got you a surprise and snuck it into your bag,” Justin says, grinning. “He’s so whipped!”
“Justin!” I cry. “Don’t say that! Where did you learn to say that?”
He shrugs, shaking me off. “Everybody says it, Mom. Everybody knows it.”
“Everybody knows no such thing,” I state, pointing him out the door of my bedroom. “And I don’t like to hear you talk like that. It’s disrespectful to Jeb and to me.”
Justin smirks. “It’s true though,” he says, shrugging again, heading out.
The card has a pink hear on the front. Inside is written, “I got this when you wer
en’t looking. I hope you like it. So we can remember… — Jeb.”
I unwrap the box, pulling off the ribbons, then lift the lid. Inside is nestled a beautiful silver cuff bracelet with an intricate braid design wrapping its edges. It’s solid and weighty, and I love it. I know where Jeb got it; from a jewelry shop we passed by at The Pavilion in Asheville. I lingered at the window, admiring this piece and several others like it, but this one was my favorite. I also know this was very expensive. I can’t imagine him paying so much for such a frivolous trinket.
I lift it from it’s box, examining it. Spotting something engraved inside, I squint my eyes, reading,
“Life isn’t measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away. You’ve left me breathless, again and again. – Jeb”
Oh my lord. I feel tears welling up, heavy behind my eyes.
“Is it nice?”
I look up, Justin is peeking in, watching me.
I nod, trying not to cry. “Really, really nice,” I say. The best. Come see.”
Back at work for a double shift, prepping for Wednesday night dinner after just finishing cleaning up after lunch, Ally and I finally have a chance to catch our breath and talk. She wants every detail of the trip; what we saw, what we ate, and where we stayed. I regale her with almost every detail, including showing her the surprise I found in my suitcase this morning.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” I ask, showing her the bracelet, but not the very intimate inscription inside.
“It looks pricey,” Ally says, touching it gently with her fingertips. “He really likes you. He never took anyone on vacation before, and I never heard of him buying expensive gifts. You’re Yankee-girl mojo is working on him.”
I think Ally might be right for once, and I’m just about to say so, when I see her expression darken as she looks up and past me.
“I think trouble just walked in the door,” she says in a low voice.
I turn to see what she sees, then stop cold, feeling all the blood in my body rush to my feet. My head spins for a second, ears filling with the sound of rushing water, then a sharp pain.
No. No. It can’t be.
“Hey, you know that Gringo?” Ally asks, gently laying her hand on my arm.
I nod, feeling every hair on the back of my neck stand on end. Joe.
He stares at me, expressionless. He’s cleaned up, shaved, wearing new clothes. He looks almost respectable, if it wasn’t for all the shitty tattoos peeking out of his shirt sleeves and from underneath his collar. He might look like a reasonable person, if it wasn’t for the badly healed broken nose and the scar he got above his right eye, getting his ass kicked by a couple Army Privates he started a fight with in a bar.
“He Maddie,” he says. “I just came to talk. I swear. I don’t mean any harm.”
I turn to Ally, feeling my hands starting to shake and my voice tightening. “Get Ronny, and call Stu to find Jeb. If anything happens, call the cops. Don’t hesitate a second.”
“I’m all over it,” Ally says, backing away.
I put my bar towel down, stepping from behind the counter, but not getting too close.
“I’m at work, Joe,” I say, trying to steady my voice. “You can’t be here.”
He looks around, assessing the place. “It’s a public establishment,” he says. “The sign outside said you open at 4:00. It’s 4:00. Can I get a beer and some fries?”
I shake my head. “Fryers don’t warm up for another hour. All we’re serving right now is salads and cold seafood. You really need to go.”
Joe smiles at me. “I’ll take a beer then,” he says. “Miller lite.” He walks past me to the counter, settling on a stool near the taps.”
Shit.
I put his beer and his tab in front of him, staring at him, my heart pounding in my chest, my hands still shaking.
“Lighten up, Maddie,” he says, taking a swig of the crappiest beer on the planet. “I came to apologize. I came to tell you I’ve turned over a new leaf. I’ve got a job, a good job. I start in three weeks. I quit drinking and…” He looks down at his beer, grinning awkwardly. “I quit drinking the hard stuff. A beer now and then won’t hurt anybody.”
I nod. “That’s great,” I say. “Apology accepted. I’m happy for you. But really, this is my workplace. You can’t just walk in here like this. Just go back home Joe.”
He cocks his head at me the way he used to when I started to piss him off.
“Where’s Justin?” he asks.
I feel familiar rage building. My hands clench into fists. Blood pumps hard into my head.
“The last time you asked about Justin, you were tossing him into a wall, then threatening to kill him and me. You have no right to ask about Justin. How the fuck did you find me? What the fuck are you doing here? And what do I have to do to make you go?”
Joe gives a hurt look. “I need to apologize to Justin too,” he says. “He deserves a better father than I was, and I need to do better by him. I need him to hear that from me.”
Damned if he’s not almost convincingly contrite, but I’m not buying it. I know him too well.
“Everything okay out here?”
Ronny’s voice steadies me. I take a breath and take a step back.
“I’ve got some work to do in the back,” I say to Ronny. “Can you cover the bar? This guy owes us six bucks. I already ran his tab. He’s apparently quit drinking recently, so one is his limit.”
Ronny nods, sizing Joe up. “I got it,” he says, trading places with me, laying both hands flat down on the bar top, leaning in, meeting Joe’s gaze.
I make for the back room, finding Ally lingering by the kitchen door, waiting.
“He looks like a son of a bitch,” she says, her voice low, cool. “So, he’s the ex you never talk about? Justin’s dad?”
I nod, clenching my jaw, trying to gather myself. “Did you get up with Stu?”
“Yeah. He’s getting Jeb. They’re on their way.”
I shake my head, feeling everything crashing around me. My week with Jeb was fantastic. It was perfect. That was pure fantasy, and this is my permanent reality.
“He’s going to ruin it all,” I say out loud to no one, and everyone, and the universe. “He’s going to ruin everything.”
Ally stares at me, concern straining her face. “No, he’s not,” she says. “He’s nobody to you anymore. And honey-child, you’ve got more friends that you even know about.”
A few minutes later Ronny appears with us in the back room. “He’s gone,” he says. “He’s gonna be back though. He said he was coming back for dinner. What do you want me to do?”
I shake my head, feeling helpless.
“I don’t know,” I say. “I had a restraining order against him in Indy, but I don’t think that reaches all the way here.”
Ronny shakes his head. “Pretty sure it doesn’t.” he sighs. “If he causes any trouble, I won’t hesitate to toss him and call the cops. Let’s just wait and see. You hang out back here, catch your breath. You look like you just saw a ghost. There’s no customers yet, so just chill for a while.”
Chapter 18
Jeb
I swing the Land Cruiser into Flo’s parking lot, trailing a cloud of dust behind me. Stu called, saying it was urgent, but not willing to say why. As soon as I pull in I see him lingering under the shade of the porch, arms crossed over his chest, impatient. He starts moving in my direction before the dust settles.
I step out, swinging the truck door shut, asking him what’s the drama about.
“I got a call from Ally,” he says, stepping in front of me. “Maddie’s ex from Indiana showed up here…”
What. The. Fuck?
“…Maddie asked Ally to get me to find you. I talked to Ally about it, and then I talked to Ronny. Maddie’s pretty shook up.”
I step around Stu, heading for the door. He follows, then stops me, stepping in my path again.
“Jeb, you need to be cool about this,” he
says. “Ronny told me the guy left, but while I was waiting for you, I think he came back. If it’s him, he’s in there. He’s at the bar.”
“Understood,” I say, taking a deep, calming breath, steadying my heart rate, checking myself.
Old sniper school training kicks in. I open my eyes, taking everything in, breathing deep and steady, ready to think on my feet, and think clearly.
The restaurant is nearly empty, just retirees in for an early supper. There’s a couple in a booth near the bar and one guy sitting on a stool by himself. Ronny’s at the bar. He looks up, seeing us come in. He nods, his expression unmoved, his eyes dark. Stu and I take our regular seats at the far end.
Ronny pulls two beers, setting down Stu’s favorite lager and a new IPA for me. He cocks his head to the guy at the other end, saying nothing except, “How’s the oysters?”
“Spawning,” I reply. “By the billions. Gonna be a bumper crop come September.”
I turn, sizing up the man at the other end of the bar. He’s solidly built, like a middleweight boxer. Not too tall, but not small either. He’s inked from his knuckles to his neck, which would make me think he’s done time in prison, but Maddie never mentioned that. He looks like a city-tough; a guy who makes his way on intimidation rather than actually doing shit. He’s got a beer-paunch and a lazy posture that tells me in a face off, I could probably drop him in ten seconds or less.
He turns, looking at me, then nods, lifting his beer, smiling. I return the gesture, then direct my attention back to Ronny. “Where’s Maddie?” I ask in a low voice.
“In the back,” he says. “I set her up with a bucket of oysters to shuck so she could lay low until it got busy.”
“I’ll be back in a minute,” I say to Stu. “Keep an eye on the guy.”
Stu nods. “You know, we could remedy all this pretty quick. Let’s just invite him outside for a genuine Maiden Island ass-kicking, then send him back where he came from.”