by Lex Martin
Jax mumbles against me, “Babe, you’re so hot.” He moves to my other breast while his fingers flick at the ring, and I think I could come right here, right now, without any other stimulation, which would be nothing short of miraculous.
His head starts to disappear between my thighs, but he pauses and looks up at me. The question hangs in the air between us, and I nod, giving him permission.
My undies slide down my thighs, his fingers scoring into my skin.
He groans, and I look down at him. The smile on his face is breathtaking.
“You’re fucking perfection.”
I laugh, realizing he’s appreciating my Brazilian wax. “You like that, huh?”
“You have no idea.” His head lowers, all the while our eyes are locked. I start to turn away, but his grasp on my thighs tightens. “No, babe, watch.”
He smirks, and I wonder why he called me devilish because he’s the one who wants to put on a show while he goes down on me.
I hold my breath as his tongue dips into me, my hands gripping the couch. His hot mouth on my most delicate, bare skin has me writhing on the edge. Watching his lips connect with my body makes me painfully aware of how wet I am, but he seems to be enjoying it.
Jax brushes his nose against that little bundle of nerves, and I shiver, wondering how long I can hold on. He reaches between my legs and slides his finger into me, and I feel all my muscles constrict, the pressure at my core building. It takes a single flick of his tongue, and I come apart, light sparking behind my eyes as my back lifts off the couch.
I ride the high, tangling my fingers into his hair. My chest is heaving when he crawls back up.
I open my eyes, and he stares down, grinning.
“That was hot.” I giggle, amused that I just admitted that out loud.
“That was.” He licks his lips, and I blush knowing that he’s tasting me. I try to push that thought out of my head and focus because I want him to fall apart now.
“Your turn.” I start to get up, but he places his hand on my shoulder.
He shakes his head and closes his eyes for a moment. When he opens them, there’s a seriousness that catches me off guard. “You… you don’t have to do anything you don’t want.”
I laugh. “Who says I don’t want to do this?” I grab the waistband of his jeans and pull him to me. I sit up so that my thighs are wrapped around his and we’re nose to nose. “Why don’t you tell me what you’d like?”
He gently brushes the hair out of my face, and it’s a tender act that makes me melt. His arms wrap around my waist, pulling me tightly to him, and he exhales on my neck. “I want to bury myself in you.” He says it like an apology, and I want to ask why he’s hesitating, but I don’t.
I bite his shoulder. “I’d love nothing more.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
- Jax -
I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me, but I can’t do this. I want to have sex with her. God, do I want to, but she’s beautiful and luminous, and I think if I fuck her, I’ll somehow tarnish her. Because that’s all this’ll be, sex in a dark club, and she’s not the kind of girl I want to use and abuse for one night.
Shit. I sound like a chick.
I’ve never, ever turned down sex before, but I know how I treat women, and I don’t want to do this to her. She doesn’t even know my name.
“Babe, really, we don’t have to do this,” I say against her mouth, unable to peel my body off of hers.
I’m trying to think of a way to stop our momentum when the door rattles with a knock.
Danielle jerks back as someone yells, “Open up. I gotta get my shit.”
Danielle leaps off me and races around the couch, grabbing her clothes. Her long hair is tangled around her, and the only thing I can do is sit here and watch. Her pale skin looks radiant against the black of her clothes.
“Hold on a sec,” she yells as she flings my shirt at me. She sees my expression and stops. “You okay?”
I clear my throat and nod as I stand to tug on my clothes.
When she’s dressed, she turns to see that my shirt is on, and she unlatches the door. The blonde on the other side looks pissed. I think she’s one of the bartenders.
“Sorry,” Danielle says, looking genuinely remorseful.
“It’s about fucking time.” The girl checks me out, her eyes traveling slowly up my body. She smiles seductively, apparently not caring that I’m here with someone else or that Danielle is watching her flirt with me. The woman unwraps her black apron from her waist as though she’s doing a striptease, and I can see the tension in Danielle’s body.
I walk up to my little angel, throw my arm around her shoulder and kiss her forehead.
“Yeah, sorry. My girl and I got carried away.”
The blonde rolls her eyes. But the smile on Danielle’s face damn near breaks open my chest.
It’s crazy that I’m feeling like this because I don’t know anything about her except that we have volcanic chemistry, but I’d like to know her, and for that I need more time.
Yeah, I definitely need her for more than one night.
* * *
My biggest problem at the moment is my raging hard-on. We walk slowly back through the dark hall, and I rack my brain to think of something to lose the boner before we make it to the bar.
Then it comes to me: Will Ferrell.
Better.
The moment we reach the dance floor, Danielle pulls away. “I need to run to the bathroom. Can we meet up at the bar in ten minutes?” She looks unsure, and there are a thousand things I want to tell her, but the music is deafening.
I nod. I know I should kiss her. Reassure her. She must think I’m a dick. Most girls do after we hook up. Or they want more. I can never find the happy medium except for Natasha, but a steady diet of her is like eating Starbursts for every meal.
I’m about to ask Danielle for her number in case we get separated, but she turns and darts through the crowd.
When she gets back, we’ll make plans for dinner tomorrow night. I want to know more about this girl.
I watch her disappear into the darkness. It doesn’t escape me that I’ve been calling her baby all night. There’s only one other girl I ever called that.
“Jax!” I turn to find Jenna, my sister’s roommate. “Where the fuck have you been?”
She’s drunk. She’s hysterical when she’s sober, but when she’s drunk, my friends piss their pants. Her boyfriend Ryan sidles up to her and drapes his arm around her. If I was dating Jenna, I’d want the world to know it too. She’s gorgeous. But don’t let the blonde hair and hot bod fool you. She’s smart as hell.
“Thanks for the party, man,” I tell her boyfriend. Ryan had a shit ton of people over at his house to celebrate before we came to the club.
He grins. “My pleasure. Dude, you should come over next Sunday. We’re watching the Notre Dame game, and the girls are making us lunch.”
“Sounds great. I’m there.”
Ryan is the lead singer of some indie band. I can never remember their name, but I heard them play once. They’re really good. By the end of their show, girls were tossing their clothes on stage.
He and Jenna have been together a while. At least a couple of years. I never understood it before now, how he could have girls lining up for him after a gig, but he always went home with his girlfriend. He deserves some kind of medal for his commitment. But these days, I kind of get maybe wanting something more. No doubt it’s a sign of the apocalypse.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out to see a text from Hannah.
“I need your help! Got locked out. Chloe’s inside. Left something on the stove. Where are you? I’m freaking out.”
Shit. Hannah is a great mom, but she can be a total space cadet. Chloe is probably asleep, but this isn’t good.
Her texts keep coming.
“Can’t get hold of building manager.”
“What if food on stove burns?”
“Chloe’s dad
went out of town.”
“What do I do?”
Goddamn it, Hannah. She and her husband argued all week, and he leaves just in time for this to happen.
“Dude, I gotta go,” I tell Ryan. “See you next weekend.” I do the dude slap on the shoulder and head toward the exit.
My phone lights up again. “I can hear her crying. She’s afraid of the dark.”
Ah, hell.
I text back. “I’m on my way. I’ll be there in fifteen.” Even though she’s a good twenty-five minutes away.
Once I make it on the street, I’m about to hail a cab when a red Mustang pulls up. It’s Natasha. I told her to join us if she was around.
“I need a ride home. It’s an emergency.” I hop in the car. I don’t even have to explain. Her wheels screech, and she honks, making a dozen people jump out of her way.
And then I remember Danielle.
Fuck!
CHAPTER NINE
- Dani -
Half an hour ago I had the most intense sexual experience of my life with Jax, and now he’s gone. I see some friends and a couple of my roommates at the bar but no Jax. I’ve been scanning the crowd like my life depends on it, and he’s nowhere to be found.
I fight back tears.
This is stupid. I knew this was just sex. Shit, he didn’t even ask my name. Why would I be dumb enough to think he’d somehow want more with a girl who gave it up without even a proper introduction? He probably thinks I’m a tramp who puts out every weekend.
Wait. He tried to stop me from going all the way. Maybe he wasn’t into me after all. How embarrassing. God, I feel like a total loser.
I find Travis, who looks around me like I’m missing something. “Where’d he go?”
I shrug, biting the inside of my cheek to keep the tears back. Travis’s head tilts down, and he scrutinizes my face. All of a sudden, he looks pissed.
“Did he hurt you?”
“No! Of course not. He was amazing. I came like a fucking category-five hurricane.”
Travis laughs so loudly that people around us stop to stare. “Okay.” He says it as though it has five syllables. “So why do you look like someone peed in your Wheaties?”
“Can we go? I’ll explain if we can get out of here.”
He makes a sad face, like he’s humoring me, and I give him the finger, making him laugh. He throws his arm around my neck, gives me a noogie, and drags me out to the street. Because I look miserable, he decides the only proper way to dish is over pancakes, so we stop off at the I-Hop around the corner, and once we’re safely in a booth, I spill my guts.
When I’m done, Travis raises his eyebrows. “Let me get this straight. He tried to talk you out of doing the deed?”
I feel mortified, but I answer the question. “Yeah.”
“But then he acted like you were together when that girl came in?”
“I guess.”
“And you had a screaming orgasm?”
My face burns ten shades of red. “Yes.”
Travis grins widely and runs his hands through his hair. “Shit, girl. I think he likes you.”
I snort in disbelief. “Did you miss the part where he didn’t ask for my name or phone number and then ran like hell when we were done?”
Travis frowns. “That is a tad confusing.”
“No shit.”
He takes a sip of his water and then runs his finger over the condensation. “Okay, this may not be what you want to hear, but the whole point of the down-and-dirty one-night stand was to get your mind off of Reid. Did it work?”
That’s an easy question to answer. “Reid who?”
He laughs and then takes another swig of his drink.
I shake my head. “The thing about Reid is he couldn’t find my clit if it had a neon sign and balloons attached to it.”
Water shoots from Travis’ mouth, and I have to reach around and pat him on the back to keep him from choking.
By the time our food comes, Travis is no long in danger of aspirating. We eat our stacks of pancakes in comfortable silence. When we’re done, he pays the check. It’s pointless to try to give him money. He’ll just stick it in my dresser or purse or closet when I’m not looking.
Travis nudges me with his elbow. “Wanna come back to my place?”
“Yeah, is that okay?” I feel weird about going back to my room after I told Jenna we’d hang out tonight. I didn’t even try to find her. I know I’m being a sucky roommate.
“Course. I’ll even let you spoon me, and you know I hate to be the little spoon.”
I laugh. “Thanks. You’re my teddy bear. What would I do without you?”
He pulls me into another head lock. “I know this was tough, sweets, but in a week, you’ll be over it. Look on the bright side. You totally told off Reid and that bitch. You had this major breakthrough, a hot little hookup, and a fab meal with yours truly. In my book, this was a great night.”
I smile up at him. “You’re right.”
CHAPTER TEN
- Dani -
In my head, it was so much more than oral sex.
Jax looms larger than life in my fantasies. I can see every erotic moment play out in the low light of the lava lamps, but in my mind, we do it on every surface in that room.
I’ve always liked sex okay even though no one ever really did it for me. Until last Saturday, my best orgasms came courtesy of my battery-operated friends. It was like I was batting clean up for the home run. I’d just go home, break out my vibrator, and finish it off properly. And the guy was none the wiser.
But with Jax… I clench my thighs just thinking about him. I groan at how pathetic I’m being. Our hookup was so, so hot, but then he was gone. I’m still kicking myself for running off to the bathroom, but I can’t justify why he disappeared the moment my back was turned.
As much as I want to pretend it didn’t mean anything, that it was all for recreational purposes, my chest aches as I remember standing there like an ass, looking for him in the crowd.
It doesn’t help that Reid never went down on me. He seemed offended if I ever suggested it, and he didn’t seem to like blow jobs, which I never understood. I thought all guys liked that.
“Danielle. Are you listening?” My mother’s small voice breaks through my thoughts.
“Sorry. I’ve got a lot on my mind,” I mumble into the phone.
Like how I can’t stop thinking about the guy I hooked up with this weekend who took off like Vin Diesel in The Fast & The Furious before I could tell him my name.
#SoFuckingEmbarrassing
My mom tsks at me. “Honey, stop being afraid. Live a little.”
How does she arrive here from my one comment? I told her I was worried about her, and this is where the conversation ends up. I call it the “Life Lessons 101” convo. The one where she tries to jam in every piece of wisdom she’s ever learned in a ten-minute chat.
“Danielle, if I’ve learned anything, it’s that you need to live without regret.”
My stomach churns.
I thought that’s what I was doing. I thought that’s what Jax was all about. Taking a chance. Shedding that good-girl persona for one night. Then why do I feel so miserable?
“I should be closer to you,” I say under my breath.
What if she gets sick again? What if she needs someone to take care of her? But she won’t even entertain the idea of me transferring to a school near home.
She laughs in my ear. “I’m in remission. I’m great knowing that you’re where you need to be, and now that you’re taking some art classes, I think you’re going to be happier. I never thought business was right for you. Stop trying to fit your square peg in a round hole, dear.” She laughs again, making me wish I could see her, only her laptop camera stopped working last week so we can’t Skype.
I don’t have the heart to tell her that I couldn’t work the art class into my schedule.
She sighs, and I know there’s more coming. “Honey, you should curse more. It feels fu
cking good every once in a while.”
“Mom!” I know cancer changes you, but my mom dropping F-bombs is something I’ll never get used to.
“What?” She feigns innocence. “Dance in the rain. Fool around with a good-looking boy who’s not your type.”
My face flushes again. Oh my God. Been there. Done that.
“Mom, stop. You’re embarrassing me.” Nothing freaks me out more than talking about guys, kissing, or sex with my mother. I used to think she was shy too, but since the cancer, she lets it all hang out.
“Don’t feel ashamed. Embrace it. Stop feeling sorry for me. Figure out what you want, and go after it. That’s what college is for. If you find you don’t like your major, change it. But don’t live quietly. No regrets, okay? Promise me.”
I’m surprised when fat tears roll down my face. Knowing that my mother, the only person I have on the planet, almost died reaches into a part of me I didn’t know existed. I never cried when she was sick. I thought she needed me to be strong. I held it in until we got word it was in remission and then I bawled until my eyes nearly swelled shut. I was never a big crier before that, but I’ve had a hard time shutting down those floodgates since then.
I sniffle. “No regrets. I promise.” I pull the phone away from my face to take a deep breath. “Mom?”
“Yeah, baby?”
“I love you, and I’m really proud of you. You’re the best parent I could have had.”
Fortunately, she skips the joke about how she’s my only parent. Which isn’t true, of course. I have a father somewhere. Or at least he’s the one who deposited sperm, played house until I was ten and then took off because he “couldn’t handle the stress.” Whatever that means.
“Sweetheart, you’ve made it easy. I love you.”
* * *
Despite the pep talk from my mom, the week starts out painful, every class a drag, every shift at work irritating.
By Wednesday, though, I no longer want to dropkick Laura. She seems to be picking up her end of this partnership and is actually helping around the art lab. She’s a techie and can solve any student’s software issues in the time it takes me to identify the problem.