Kick, Push

by Jay McLean

  I swallow loudly. “So… we’re alone?”

  She tilts her head to the side, inviting me. I kiss her—my hands drifting higher on her leg. “What were you doing anyway?” she asks.

  “I’m just loading the drivers for the printer.”

  “Mmm. Keep talking nerdy to me.”

  I chuckle against her skin and jerk my hips up. “Yeah? You like that?”

  “Mm-hmm.” She starts grinding, her ass making slow circles against my cock.

  “Megabytes. Hard drive. Gigawatts.”

  “Shut up,” she says through a chuckle, turning her head to face me. She runs her tongue across my lips and I no longer have to question what she wants. I capture her mouth with mine, one hand on her breast and the other between her legs.

  Breaking the kiss, she moans, her voice cracking when she breaks away from my kiss and spreads her legs wider. I kiss her shoulder while I cup her sex. She pushes against my hand and whispers my name.

  “Is this okay?”

  “God, Josh… I want…”

  I lick up her neck and bite gently on her ear. “Tell me what you want, Becca.”

  “More,” she breathes. “I want more.”

  Gently, I move her panties to side and run a single finger between her slit. Her breath catches. So does mine. “Please,” she whispers, the back of her head resting on my shoulder and both her hands gripping my forearm.

  I slowly slide a finger inside her, my heart hammering against my chest—hoping to every fire trucking thing in the world that I’m doing it right. Her nails dig in, her entire body tensing when I replace one finger with two.

  She moans, her hips gliding back and forth, meeting my hand thrust for thrust. “Holy shit, Josh.”

  I involuntarily lift my hips, pressing harder against her.

  “Please don’t stop,” she says, one of her hands moving to her breast and squeezing gently.

  “Fuck, Becca. I couldn’t stop even if you asked me to.”

  Her eyes drift shut when I push the top of her dress down, and then her bra, and when I cup her bare breast, she jerks forward, her legs squeezing my hand between them.

  “Do you want me to stop?” I pant.

  Her head drops forward, her hair a curtain around her face. “Fuck no.”

  Then her hips find a rhythm and my fingers follow. So does my cock against her ass. I kiss the back of her neck and pinch her nipple lightly. “You’re so fucking wet, Becca. So fucking perfect.”

  “Holy shit,” she moans. Then faces me quickly, her eyes wide. “Kiss me.”

  I do as she as she says, and a moment later she tightens around my fingers. Her moans start low, and get louder with each thrust. “Fuck, Josh, I’m gonna…”

  “Fuck.”

  “I’m gonna…”

  Her eyes squeeze shut, her sex pulsing around my fingers as she pants out my name, over and over, all while she shudders in my arms. I kiss her neck, her jaw, her mouth. Tiny, quiet moans escape her lips until she finally relaxes, her breaths heavy, mixed with mine.

  “Holy shit,” she says, pushing my hands away.

  Then she stands up, her dress completely disheveled. Her eyes are hooded, filled with lust. “I’ve wanted to do that for so fucking long,” I tell her. And something switches in the way she’s look at me.

  In a single move, she takes off her dress.

  And then her bra.

  “Holy shit!” My hands reach out, my gaze on her tits. Her hands circle my wrists and lead me to the places I’ve only dreamed about. I squeeze them gently, licking my lips and taking her in. “You’re so fucking perfect.”

  Her chest falls with her heavy exhale before she steps forward and leans down, her fingers curling in the band of my shorts. My eyes stay on hers and I push back all my insecurities, all my questions, and lift my hips so she can free me.

  I needed to be freed.

  She smiles softly, her gaze on my junk and then, still facing me, she sits down on my legs—legs that tense as soon as her soft hand curls around my cock. My mouth finds her nipple, licking and sucking while she strokes me and I know I’m not going to last. It’s been a long fucking time.

  “Holy shit,” I whisper, moving from one nipple to the other.

  “Is this okay?” she says, her voice husky and sexy as fuck.

  “Yeah, baby.” I want to say that it’s better than okay—that it’s perfect, just like her, but there are so many better things I’d rather be doing with my mouth. Like suck hard on her nipple—making her back arch and her hand tighten. She starts to stroke faster and my hips thrust forward. I grab a handful of her butt and bring her closer to me—which is a huge mistake because now my dick’s pressed against her wetness—the only thing separating us is the thin fabric of her panties. Her free hand combs through my hair and tugs lightly. I pull away from her breast and look up at her, right into her eyes. She starts to grind against me while still stroking and I can feel the wetness soaking through her panties and onto… “Fuck, Becca, I want inside you so bad.”

  Her head lolls back, her groan loud.

  Then she releases me and scoots back before standing up.

  And for a second I think it’s over—that I fucked up and I’m going to live the rest of my life with blue balls.

  But then she spreads my legs apart and drops to her knees in front of me—smiling, right before she takes me in her mouth.

  Swear it, if heads could explode, mine just did.

  My head throws back, my eyes unfocused as I stare at the ceiling trying to breathe through and prolong the pleasure she’s giving me. Then she does something that pretty much seals the deal on her perfection—she takes my hand and places it on the back of her head and I shit you not, I go blind.

  Legit, certifiable, blind.

  All I can see are flashes of white.

  My legs tense, my cock pulses, and a few seconds later I’m warning her and tugging on her hair for her to stop. She won’t. She just doubles her efforts and I bite down on my lip to stop myself from screaming because it feels too fucking good to be true. She looks up at me through her lashes and that’s all it takes for me to come. I close my eyes, partially because I can’t help it, but also because I’m too ashamed to see what the outcome of over three years without sex could possibly be.

  Her hands are gentle as they settle on my legs. “Are you okay?” I think she says, but it’s hard to hear her over my heavy pants and my pulse pounding in my ears and the sounds of triumph running through my head.

  Trumpets.

  I hear trumpets.

  “I’m blind and I can’t feel my legs.”

  15

  -Joshua-

  When Becca had to cancel our date because an old friend was coming to visit her, honestly—I was a little disappointed. But she said she couldn’t do much about it—that it was kind of a surprise. She didn’t give me any more information. In fact, when I’d asked her about it, she seemed to get even quieter than she normally was and when my curiosity peaked and I asked if it was a guy—an ex-boyfriend or something—she snapped.

  Then I told her she was being evasive about it all and that I had to assume something was going on. She apologized quickly but still didn’t offer up anything more.

  But, my disappointment and curiosity turned to full-blown intrigue when Chazarae’s car pulled into the driveway on the Friday afternoon of what should have been our date night. When Becca had said “friend” I had assumed a friend from high school—not the thirty-something-year-old blonde woman who’s stepping out of the car.

  I watch from my living room window as she gets her luggage out of the trunk and drags it behind her, her free arm linked with Becca’s as they make their way into the house.

  She must’ve been some friend if Becca was letting her touch her.

  I fake a smile when Becca looks up and sees me, but she quickly averts her gaze and nods at whatever her “friend” is saying.

  Stupid—that’s pretty much how I feel, because a part of me though
t—hoped even, that Becca would want to introduce me to her friend—a friend that might help me understand who Becca is—or was—before she moved here.

  Clearly, I was wrong.

  And honestly, it fucking hurts.

  With a sigh, I look behind me at Tommy. “You ready to pack your bag?”

  “Where go?”

  “You’re staying at Kim and Robby’s for the weekend.” We’d already planned it and I thought I’d be busy with Becca and her “friend” so I didn’t want to cancel, just in case.

  I fake another smile, this one for Tommy. “They have so many things planned for you. You’re going to have the best time.”

  “You too?” he asks.

  “No, bud. Just you.” …while I stay home by myself, wondering what the fuck is happening with Becca.

  An hour later we step out and I almost freeze in my spot at Becca and her friend sitting on the porch steps talking quietly.

  “Can I bring my skateboard?” Tommy asks, pulling me from my daze.

  “Sure, buddy.”

  The second we’ve climbed down my stairs, he runs toward them—where his skateboard is—and as soon as Becca sees him coming, her eyes widen and her face flushes.

  “Hi Becca,” Tommy shouts, stepping between them.

  Becca smiles, but it’s cold. Distant, almost.

  Tommy grabs his board. “Bye Becca!” he shouts, running toward my truck. I lift him in his seat, my back toward Becca. I take my time, silently buckling him in, hoping that she offers something. Anything. A greeting, an introduction, any form of acknowledgement that I exist in her life. Because up until this point, I was sure I played a pretty big part in it.

  But she doesn’t do any of those things.

  What she does is hurt me.

  And that hurt is something I carry with me all the way to Robby’s house.

  “You all good?” he asks.

  “Yup.”

  “Sucks Becca cancelled.”

  I shrug. “It is what it is.”

  He crosses his arms and leans against the doorframe, his brow bunched as he eyes me down. “You want to hang out here for a bit?”

  “Nah.” I shake my head.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Skate.”

  I don’t skate. Not right away. I do what my instincts tell me not to—I go home and give her time.

  One more chance, I tell myself.

  Maybe she just doesn’t want to be rude to her guest—give her time to settle before she makes the introductions.

  They’re no longer outside when I get home so I busy myself cleaning the house from top to bottom—something I can only do when Tommy’s not home. I take out the trash, and that’s when I see them, walking arm in arm up the driveway and right toward me.

  I stop in my tracks, my eyes on Becca, but she won’t look at me.

  Her friend waves.

  I wave back.

  “I’m Olivia,” her friend says.

  I wait for Becca to speak, and when enough time passes and all she does is turn away from me, I finally reply, “I’m Josh.”

  Becca clears her throat and for a second, I actually get excited. “Josh lives over there,” she says, pointing to my apartment.

  That’s it.

  That’s all she says.

  She drops her gaze, her thumb going between her teeth and her eyes squeeze shut. Olivia’s hand circles Becca’s wrist. “Becca,” she whispers, her voice calm but firm.

  Becca releases her thumb but doesn’t open her eyes.

  “Well…” I push back the lump in my throat and speak through the sinking of my heart. “Have a good weekend. I’ll see you around, Becca.” I walk past them and drop the trash in the can. I don’t bother going back to my house. Instead, I get in my truck, wait for them to get the fuck out the way, and I skate.

  Because skating is the only thing in my life that’s never disappointed me.

  Becca

  “He seems nice,” Livvy says, looking over her shoulder as Josh reverses out of the driveway. “And he’s cute.”

  “Excuse me,” I tell her once we’re in the house.

  For the next fifteen minutes I hide out in my bathroom, my sobs silent.

  I don’t respond to the knock on the door. I know who it is. And she already knows something’s wrong, even if I try to hide it. Because she knows me.

  She knows me better than anyone. Even Josh.

  “Sweetheart, open the door.”

  I unlock the door, wiping my eyes as I do.

  I can’t speak. And right now, I don’t want to.

  “You bit your thumb when Josh was there.”

  I sniff back a sob but don’t respond.

  “Becca, please be honest with me. Are you and Josh…” She breaks off on a sigh before continuing. “Are you having sex with him?”

  I shake my head but I can’t look at her. “Not yet,” I whisper.

  She inhales a sharp breath and starts to speak but I cut her off. “It’s not like that, Livvy. You have to believe me,” I plead.

  She closes the door behind her and folds her arms over her chest. The air in the room’s so thick I can barely breathe.

  “Why didn’t you say something earlier? Or when he introduced himself?”

  “Because I don’t want you to be disappointed in me.”

  “Becca…”

  I look up, letting my tears fall freely now. “I know how you feel and I know what you’re going to think, but I swear it’s not the same…” I hold a hand over my heart, unable to breathe through the pain. “I’m in love with him.”

  “Oh, baby,” she whispers, taking me in her arms.

  A sob bubbles out of me, followed by another, and another, until I’m crying in her arms. I cry so hard I fall to my knees, completely overwhelmed by my admission and my fear and my shame, and my love.

  “Does he know about your past?”

  “I can’t…”

  “Does he at least know about your future?”

  I shake my head.

  “It’s just going to make things worse the closer you get,” she says, like I don’t already know that.

  I try to push her away. “I can’t. I don’t want to!”

  “Okay,” she says, trying to calm me.

  She tugs on my hand, pulling my thumb out of my mouth. I hadn’t even realized I’d been biting it.

  “It’ll be okay, Becca. Everything will be okay…”

  ★★★

  Olivia sets herself up in the guest room while I stare out my bedroom window waiting for Josh to come home.

  Minutes turn to hours and by the time he pulls up at four in the morning—my thumb’s completely numb from the aggressive onslaught, not just from the physical pain I’d caused, but from my shame.

  My regrets.

  And most of all, my past.

  16

  -Joshua-

  I see the handle on my front door turn for the third time while I stand behind it, fighting a war in my head trying to decide what the right thing to do is. I’ve been hiding all day, skating the hours away at the half-court because I didn’t want to face her. “Josh?” Becca says, her voice barely audible. She knocks again.

  I curse under my breath and finally open the door, just enough to slip outside and close it behind me. For the first time since she moved here—I don’t want to see her and I sure as hell don’t want to be near her.

  I keep my head lowered, my hands in my pockets, and I wait for her to speak—too afraid of what will come out if I do it first.

  She takes a step back, then shuffles on her feet.

  The silence between us so fucking deafening I almost turn around and go back inside. But then she speaks, and what she says makes me wish I had. “Where were you last night?”

  I sigh, shaking my head slightly. “Is your friend gone now?”

  “Yes,” she whispers.

  “So it’s cool for you to acknowledge me now?”

  “That’s why I came here…”
>
  Finally, I look up at her, but she’s looking down at my feet, just like I had been. And I can feel it—the wall slamming between us. “You know, one of my biggest fears in life is that Tommy’s going to grow up being ashamed of who he is because of me. Because I couldn’t keep it in my pants and that’s how he came to.” I sniff once and push down the hurt she’d caused. “The thing is—it’s not me who’s going to make him feel like that, Becca. It’s the people around him who are going to judge him, who are going to belittle him, and who are going to make wrong assumptions about him. And it fucking destroys me to know that I’ll be the cause of that.” I lean against the door, my emotions making me too weak to stand. “So I try really hard to give him a life that’s better than all those shitty judgments. And when he starts school and has his friends over, I don’t want them to see the struggle that’d been his life—the struggles I’ve tried so hard to hide, the ones I’ve overcome to be who I am.” My voice strains against the pain of my words but I push forward, because she needs to know what she did and how much she hurt me. “I just want them to see me—a dad who’ll do anything for his kid. But people are assholes and they’ll choose not to see that. It’s going to be hard enough for him to make friends—not because he’s not an amazing kid—because he is, Becca, and you know that—but because the other kid’s parents are going to look down him because of me. And as much as it isn’t fair—as much as I wish it weren’t the case—it’s the truth. It’ll be hard for him to have friends over because of the stigma that comes with being a male looking after kids—and that’s going to be hard on him. I know that. And I don’t want that for him.” I clear my throat, barely able to speak. “I don’t want to have to hide who I am and what I’ve made of my life. I just want to be respected. That’s all. I know it isn’t always going to happen and I expect that.” I look up at her now, right into the eyes that had me falling for her from the first moment I saw her. “I just never expected that it’d be you—that you’d be the first to make me feel like that.”