by Kira Blakely
They had taught him that it was easier to stay with someone they did not love or particularly want than it was to leave and start over.
His head bowed as he tried to press back the memories of all the angry words and the hours-long rants, often fueled by some kind of amphetamine. The hatred and the blame had always battered against his ears. He had learned to hide at night, to lock himself into his room and pray that that night would not be one haunted by hallucinations that would cause some crazy shit to happen.
He had had to huddle under a mattress while his parents, feeding off each other and a new report that stated there was a tornado warning, hid out with him, sure that at any minute they would all be whirled away into some insane version of Oz.
There’d been times one or both of them had hallucinated that they were on fire. There had been times when they had been suicidal. Talking them down from whatever it was they were on had always fallen to him, and they would eventually pop some pill that would let them come off that unnatural high and sleep so they could get up in the morning and do the respectable thing – go to work and act like a normal family.
They had been anything but normal.
His folks were clean now, and still together. Not because they loved each other, although they would never admit that, and maybe they did not even know that they had no love between them, but because it was easier than being alone.
They said they had been through too much together to divorce. Jackson thought that was a shitty reason to keep a thing going, but he never said so.
He didn’t talk about all the years they had been addicts either. It was like they had buried those memories forever and wanted nothing to do with them anymore. Jackson wished it was that easy for him, but he had those memories implanted in his brain, and he had that horror to thank for all the things he had now.
In a way, their addiction had given him something to escape from, and he had managed to do so. He had found video games and books. He had done well in school, and he had stayed far away from the drugs and the lure of easy money and everything else so readily available where he had grown up.
Even as a kid, he had known that if it all came tumbling down, neither of them would want him. They would both try to force him off on the other. So, he had prepared by being as self- reliant as possible. He had learned to cook, to wash his clothes, and to take care of himself. He had learned to earn money and keep it.
He had learned how to do everything but love.
HOPE LOOKED UP FROM A SLIDE to see that it was a quarter after six. Her stomach was filled with butterflies, and her mind raced through every possible excuse she could make not to go out with Jackson even as she admitted that calling it off now was a lousy thing to do.
She had been putting off that phone call all day, even though she knew she should not do that. She had buried herself in the work she could manage to get done, and now, at the end of the day, she was really considering just hiding out there in the lab.
“For what? Forever? Or just until he figures out you were a coward and ditched him at the last minute without a word, rather than make a phone call?’
The question was soft even though the part of the lab that she was in was unoccupied by everyone but her. It was a conundrum she did not want to be a part of. Jackson was hot, and he was nicer than she would have guessed. He had a well-deserved rep for being a player, but what if he had grown up and changed like he seemed to have?
There was still the sticky issue of him being a super-rich guy with a lot of ambition, and she was always going to be a struggling researcher trying her best to save humanity. It was a noble thing, and while there might be money at the end of it all, most of what money the cure she would, maybe, one day create would be eaten up by the grant boards and the pharmaceutical companies.
She sighed. There were two options: call it off or head across campus and make that date.
Torn between badly wanting to go and badly wanting to cancel, Hope finally finished up and headed for her apartment, running as was her habit.
The air was cold and crisp, and the trees were beginning to look brighter every day. Usually, she reveled in such things, but right then she did not even notice. Her feet kicked up a litany of reasons to go, and a litany of reasons not to go.
By the time she reached her apartment, it was six thirty, and she knew he would already be on his way. It was a long drive through heavy traffic, and he would have left his house a few minutes before to be on time.
That made her feel better. She could not cancel now. She dashed inside and showered fast. After she dried off, she rubbed a sweet-smelling lotion into her skin and then headed into her bedroom to dress.
Once in the bedroom, she waffled again. Should she go sexy and seductive? Wear something guaranteed to light up his senses on the chance he was interested in her? Go low-key so as to avoid being embarrassed if he was interested in nothing more than writing a program?
Frustrated, she dug into the back of the closet to pull out her one good little black dress. She had bought it for some party at her parents’ house, and it was suitable for either seduction or a fancy dinner.
It was a strapless thing with a sweetheart neckline that made the most of her slim shoulders and toned arms. It clung to the curves of her chest and hips, and it belled out slightly near her thighs, ending in a bubbled hem that made it float and skim over her legs.
She grabbed a set of black panties and a pretty, strapless bra. She shimmied into her undergarments, and then she misted perfume into the air before walking through it, letting the droplets collect on her hair and skin before putting on the dress.
She waffled again, and then she added a set of stockings – daring little things with lacy tops that were made of sturdy elastic neatly hidden in the lace. They slid onto her legs, and she stood in her bedroom feeling both naughty and sexy and eager for that bell to ring.
She had just slid her feet into shoes when the doorbell did ring. She hurried into the living room and opened the door,
Jackson looked crazy good. He wore a simple suit, all black and a light blue shirt below. He said, “You look great.”
“So do you.”
Her breath came out in a soft squeak. Jackson said, “I started to bring flowers, but then I remembered that you said to a guest at the party that you were not a fan of the flowers in the room.”
She gawked at him. “You heard that?”
“I was not that far from where you were standing. It was not like I was eavesdropping or something,” he said in a defensive tone.
“No I mean you heard me. Never mind. Thank you for not bringing flowers.”
She moved toward him and ended up in his arms. It felt good, so she moved closer. She lifted her head, and he smiled down at her.
Then he kissed her, hard.
She kissed him back. Her body squirmed closer as passion surged from a low ebbing tide to an overpowering crest. His fingers went to her hair, fisting it. Her hips pressed against his, and she felt the press of his dick against her body.
He groaned out. “We have reservations.”
“To hell with them,” she muttered between kisses.
His hands found her clothes and then dropped them onto the floor. Naked and panting, she climbed up his body, her toes digging into his calves and her arms winding around his neck as he carried her to the bed.
They landed on the bed, fingers working to get his clothes off. She finally found the button and zipper on his slacks and tugged them down.
His mouth went down her body, finding the throbbing ridge of her clit and teasing it. His fingers pressed into her body. Her ass shook as he licked and suckled and thrust his fingers in and out of her body.
He groaned out, “God damn, you taste so good.”
She kicked and writhed as he took her ever closer to the edge of an orgasm.
He finally sent her into release. Her walls clenched and opened, sensation created by friction and heat soared even higher, stiffening her nipples yet a
gain and making her toes curl. Heated oils slid from her inner walls, spilling over his silken and rigid flesh as he kept moving within her, taking her higher and higher still.
He came up and she flipped him over, eager to touch and please him as much as he had teased and pleased her. Her mouth circled his nipples, her tongue licking and sucking, and then she moved downward again.
She took the hard length of his shaft into her hand and she fisted it loosely. His meat was thick and pulsing, wrapped with blue veins. Her tongue found the silky head of his dick, and she licked it gently. Then, she took the head into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the flesh where the shaft met the head. She bobbed her head, taking him down her throat. He groaned and writhed, his hips arching upward until he was impaling her throat.
She kept sucking and bobbing and using her hand. Jackson’s fingernails left tingling trails in her scalp, and she whimpered, opening her mouth more widely so she could take him down even further.
He said, “Damn it, Hope. You are going to make me come if you do not stop and soon.”
“Maybe I want to make you come.”
She did want to make him come, but more than that, she wanted to feel him inside her body. She wanted to feel him all the way in her, and she wanted him then.
She came up and poised herself over his body. Her legs straddled his thighs and she glided her hips downward until he was inside her, pulsing and penetrating her with his powerful organ.
His hands found her hips, and she whimpered as she moved upward, releasing him from her clenching folds. Her oils dripped and ran, and she grit her teeth before moving downward again. Her hands flattened on his chest, and her ass humped up and down.
His ass tilted, and he held her hips even more tightly. He pushed upward with his heels, and she whimpered as her walls began to spasm and a smaller but powerful orgasm began to roll through her body.
Jackson grunted and then he came – a thick spurt of come burst into her body.
She fell flat. His hands ran up and down her body, his fingers caressing her ass and back.
She got off him and flipped over onto her back, staring at the ceiling. It was official.
The man was turning her into a nymphomaniac.
HOPE SPOKE IN A LOW MURMUR. “Well, that was amazing.”
He chuckled and buried his face into the hollow between her shoulder and neck. “Thanks. I was just about to say the very same thing.”
Her fingers ran through his hair. “Well, if I had known what was going to happen, I would most certainly have foregone panties.”
“I owe you a pair of panties,” he lifted his head and gave her an unrepentant grin. “Tell me where to buy them, and I will get you a dozen pairs.”
She laughed at that, but her laughter was interrupted by a loud gurgle from the direction of her belly. She slapped a hand down and went a little red. Her smile turned sheepish.
“We should get you fed.”
He sat up slowly and stared down at her. Sprawled out across her narrow bed, she was a vision, and he wanted to stay right there and make love to her again and again. She sat up with her hair spilling over her shoulders in a glorious tumble. She said, “I almost canceled our date.”
He said, “Me, too.”
Her mouth hung open. Then she asked, “Why?”
He tilted his head to one side. “I could give you the long answer or the short answer. Your pick.”
“Go short.”
He wished he had not admitted that, but now that he had, he had no choice but to say why. “I do not want you to feel like you have to do this just so I will create that program for you.”
“I never thought about that.” She brushed aside a tangle of hair. “Is that why you offered?”
“No. I offered because I wanted to.”
“Because you’re bored.”
He shrugged, “Well, that and the tax deduction.” The joke fell flat, so he pressed on. “Look, I really want to get to know you and…hell, to be honest, I have not done many good things in my life, so I would like to maybe do one thing that is totally for someone else.”
“I see.” Her eyes dropped then came back to his. “Listen, I don’t know what this, exactly, that we are doing, but I am not doing it because I feel like I have to.”
Relief hit. “That’s good to know.”
His relief was short-lived. “But you should know that I…well I…I don’t know what we…I mean I don’t know what you want from me exactly.”
He didn’t know either. Might as well admit it. “Yeah, me neither.”
Her eyes widened. “I see.”
“Then could you explain it to me, please?” He gave her his most disarming smile. “Seriously, I just want to spend some time with you. Beyond that, I don’t know. I know you care a lot about your work and that you are busy and that you do not date in a serious way.’
“Wow. How do you know that?”
“I asked Ashton, and he sort of asked Laura.”
He held his hands up in a placating gesture. “You were checking up on me?” There was a flatness to her voice.
“No, I just wanted to know more about you, and I asked before that party. That answer was why I stayed away.”
Hope frowned. “So you knew before the party that I did not date in a serious way, so you did not want to talk to me?”
Jackson shrugged. “Honestly, I am a bit sick of the one night stand and NSA thing. I want a woman who wants me around. I get that you are busy and you have a career that does not leave you with much free time. I’ll take whatever time you have to give right now, if you want to spend it with me. If you do not, it’s okay. I won’t get all pissy and not write the program, and I will not try to force you into it either because that is not how I roll. I believe in consent and mutual wanting.”
Hope gawked at him and then burst into laughter. “You’re a feminist!”
“I’m a guy who thinks a woman has the right to call the way her life will work out. Call it whatever you want.”
She swung her lean legs off the bed and stood, giving him a delightful view of her heart-shaped ass. “I am starved.” Her words floated back to him. She looked over her shoulder. “Also, I do not really want to go to some fancy place where we have to be polite and distant and order the perfect wine. How do you feel about pizza and beer?”
“You are speaking my language.” He climbed off the bed and gathered his clothes. “I might be overdressed for pizza and beer though.”
“You’re naked,” she pointed out.
He laughed. “Yeah. True. But I meant…”
“Oh, The Pit gets all types.”
She opened a door and yanked out jeans and a shirt, a denim jacket, and a pair of boots. She dressed quickly and he did, too.
He asked, “The Pit?”
“It’s here on campus. It’s cheap and grimy, and on Friday nights there is usually a fight or two.”
“Sounds perfect.” He wanted to say a dozen other things, but it seemed she was done talking about the serious things for the moment. Okay then, he would just roll with it. He really did want to spend time with her and he really did want to get to know her, so now would be the perfect time to start.
She grabbed her keys and they headed out, Jackson shrugging into a jacket as they went. Once outside, he went toward his car, but she said, “You will never get a parking space. Let’s just walk it. I always do. In fact, I walk most of the time here on campus because it means I do not have to look for parking.”
He had to ask, “How long have you been living here?”
They swung out of the small complex and onto a paved-brick path. She said, “Ever since I graduated med school and finished my internships at the research hospital, which is part of the campus, too, you know.”
“No, I didn’t know.” He paused, then added, “You just seem awful young to have done so much.”
She laughed at that. “You should meet my sister. I graduated high school at fifteen…”
“Fifteen?
Holy shit!” He had known she was smart, but god damn! “You’re a genius!”
She said, “I’m glad you think so, but it’s not as uncommon as you might think. Lots of kids graduate even younger than that. Hell, my sister graduated at fourteen, so I do not even hold the record in my family.”
He heard the irritation in her voice. He guessed that that was something of a sore spot. “You have a sister?”
“Yes. Clara. She’s a hedge fund manager and very good at her job. My stepfather is very proud of her.”
No mention of him being proud of her, and no mention of her mother either. Jackson mulled that over as they wound down paths past frat and sorority houses and then onto a small street fronted by stores.
He asked, “So why be a doctor? I mean, your kind of doctor? Was it just always what you wanted?”
“My dad died.” Her words held no emotion. “It was right after I was born and I do not even remember him, but I always wondered what my life would have been like if he had lived.”
He stopped walking. “Oh shit, Hope, I’m sorry. That was a lousy thing to bring up.”
She turned to face him and her feet halted, her smile reassuring. “It’s okay. You did not know and really, I never knew him. I was just that young. I was not even a year old and…and well, my mom got remarried not even a few months afterward.”
Wow. He searched her face. “I see.”
“No, you don’t. It is one of those things people always tiptoe around because, really, what kind of woman weds again when her husband’s barely cold in the grave? I don’t know why, but if I had to guess, I would say she was scared and alone and Robert, my stepfather, gave her a convenient out from those things.”
“Now that I really do get.” He did. He shuffled his feet. “I’m still sorry if the question dredged up anything you would rather not talk about.’
“It’s fine. Come on, let’s walk. It is getting cold out here.’
They started walking again, their hips and hands occasionally touching. She said, “My dad was in a car wreck, and he was in a coma for a few days before he was taken off the machines. There was no saving him, and I get that. But there are many people in comas who might still be in there somewhere. I mean, we just don’t know. We have the idea that they can hear us but can’t really communicate with us. I want to try to find a way to do that, and not just to do it but to use the communication sort of like a map to bring them back.”