by Jessa York
Pushing back, I said, “No, no, nothing bad. But he just never… Well, he never took the care and attention that you are. And he was my fucking husband.” I sobbed again.
“I’m going to need more of an explanation to stop myself from hunting him down and beating the shit out of him.” The look on his face proved he was capable of just that.
I sighed and turned to him. “He just…I don’t know. Let’s just say that the physical part of our marriage was lacking. And I didn’t realize exactly how much I’d been missing out on until just now.”
A sad smile arose on his face. “Shit. I’m so sorry.” His hands moved the hair back from my face. “I can’t for one minute understand why a man wouldn’t give that to you. You’re a fucking goddess.”
My body shook with laughter. “I don’t think so.” Did that man just call me a goddess? Now that was freaking funny.
“I do.”
Giggles continued to bubble out. “Right, makeup running down my face, hair a God-awful mess, dress disheveled, but I’m a goddess.” I snorted and grabbed my middle, laughing at what a catastrophe I must have looked like.
He eyed me up and down. “Makeup running down your face, hair a wild, sexy mess, a dress I’ve already pictured peeling you out of at least a hundred different ways, and you sitting here, pouring your heart out? Yes, I’m afraid you put all other women to shame,” he said, holding my chin with his thumb and index finger.
My breath stopped, and I stared at the man who just said the kindest words any man had ever said to me. I had no response to that, but my mind swam, and my body floated from his sweet endearment.
“Why don’t we go upstairs?”
I glared at him through mascara-stained eyes thinking he must be freaking crazy. After acting like a nutjob, he thought I was still in the mood to jump into bed with him?
He chuckled at me and stroked my arm. “Just to rest? Stay the night, please? No funny business, I promise. Stay and I’ll make you breakfast in the morning before I have to go to work.” He sounded like he meant it, but how could I possibly stay? I’d embarrassed myself enough for one night—hell, more like for one lifetime. If I followed him now, I definitely had a screw loose.
But that was precisely what I did. I resolved to finish what I started. First, I stood and coaxed him and his big, strong hands up. He stood and kissed the top of my head before drawing me to the grand staircase.
Jack took us past the first door, but I couldn’t see in because the door was shut. The next room was a bathroom and the final door led to the master bedroom. He turned on the light and dimmed it, then let go of my hand and walked to the side of the bed. There, he switched on a bedside lamp.
Even though he had said we would just sleep, my stomach did nervous flips while I restlessly played with my hands. It had been so incredibly long since I’d been this intimate with a man. Going any farther scared the living daylights out of me.
“Honey, turn off the big light for me, please?” he said, taking off his watch and placing it on his side table. I didn’t have a clue why I found that so sexy, but I did. His smooth movements and the control he had over his entire body turned me on in a big way. The way the light shone on his tanned torso made me feel like I was in some kind of fantastic sexy dream. This hot, caring, understanding man asked me to stay with him. He wanted me.
Feeling braver, I switched off the big room light and walked to the center of the large master bedroom with a specific purpose. Reaching behind me, I unzipped my dress. His eyes darted directly to me at the sound of my zipper. I shrugged off one strap, then the other, and let the dress drop to the floor, leaving me in just my white lace panties. I was self-conscious for sure, but I still believed the night could be saved.
“Fuck, you are stunning,” he said, stalking toward me. “There are T-shirts in the top drawer.” He motioned to his dresser, but I strutted toward him and pressed my soft body against his hard muscular one.
The sensation of skin on skin was intoxicating and I stretched up on my toes and kissed him, winding my arms around his neck. He clutched my body, then his hands traveled slowly down my back to grip my ass. I took the kiss deeper, and that was when things got a tad out of control, and somehow, we ended up in a tangled mess on his bed. His hardness ground against my panties in the exact right spot and turned my aching into a deep throbbing need. Desperate to find relief, I pressed my hips against him, searching for anything to alleviate my frustration.
Jack growled and moved his hand up to fondle my breast. Sparks ran through to my core. “Oh yeah,” I whispered, grinding my hips harder and faster against him. He replaced his fingers with his hot wet mouth and I groaned out loud.
His magical fingers roamed down my stomach and into my panties. “You are so wet for me, baby,” he murmured, kissing his way over to my other breast. His hand started doing wonderful things, and I couldn’t believe it, but I was getting that same feeling that happened just before I…
“Oh God, Jack.”
“Yeah, ride my hand. Fuck, you are so hot.” Then he sucked even harder on my nipple and there was no stopping it as I came.
“Oh God, yes. Oh fuck,” I gasped as I convulsed on Jack’s hand, over and over again. My thighs clenched, and I rode out my pleasure with the aid of his nimble fingers. The delicious motions he made down there drew out every last spasm from me.
He journeyed a path up my chest to my neck, jaw, and face, placing tender kisses as he went. “That was fucking spectacular,” he said against my lips as I lay boneless and unable to move. “Are you okay? All of that was fine with you? Wasn’t it?” he said with a worried expression on his face.
I laughed at his use of the word “fine”. Then I pulled his face down to mine, gazed directly into his eyes, and said, “It was so far from fine, it wasn’t even funny.” My eyes misted up, but I blinked back the tears.
Jack looked down at me and smiled like he was amused. “Lift up,” he said and moved the comforter over both of us. “We’re going to stick with our original plan.” The plan seemed awesome when he lifted the comforter and spooned me. He felt glorious—my nearly naked body next to his nearly naked body. The way his arms held me and sheltered me, I felt like nothing bad could touch me.
It felt better than nice, but a nagging thought wouldn’t let go. “Jack?” I nudged him. “What about you? You didn’t get to, you know,” I said, barely able to keep my eyes open.
“Don’t worry about me. I’m good,” he whispered into my ear, giving me the full-body shivers. “No, I’m fucking great. We’ll get some sleep, then I’ll make you breakfast in the morning before we go to work. Sound good?” He kissed the side of my face and pulled me in deeper. I didn’t think it was possible to get closer to him, but he completely engulfed me, and I loved it.
“Yeah.” I yawned, unable to stop it. His body shook with laughter, but I didn’t care. The combination of the soft bed, an extraordinary orgasm, and being all wrapped up in Jack were too much. Sleep won out.
Something woke me, and for the second time in as many hours, I was hazy until I felt Jack draped all over me. A sudden sense of panic to flee overcame me. I had never done the one-night stand thing before, and I wasn’t judging people who did, but that was never my thing. Granted, I met Gabe at a young age, so I didn’t have a ton of time to sow my wild oats, but I preferred relationships rather than doing the deed and saying goodbye.
The more I thought about it, the more my anxiety gave way to out and out mortification. What did Jack think of me? First, I fell on him in a bar, and then a couple of hours later I jumped into his bed? And we hadn’t even managed to “do the deed” because of my crying fit. My stomach knotted up and it was getting difficult to breathe. The tightness in my chest was unbearable—I needed to get out of there. Right then.
As carefully as I could, I moved out from under his heavy arm.
I scrambled around in Jack’s dresser drawers and found a pair of shorts. Pulling them up my legs, I saw they were way too big, so I fo
lded the waistband down few times and made them more secure. One hand still had to hold them up to fend off an unfortunate wardrobe malfunction, but whatever. Beggars couldn’t be choosers. The T-shirts were right beside them, so I dug to the bottom of the pile—in hopes of taking a less popular choice so he wouldn’t notice. Then I picked up my crumpled white dress and tiptoed out the door.
Like a ninja—well, a big slutty one anyway—I slinked down the stairs, one foot at a time. My formerly cozy, warm toes were now chilled from the hardwood floors. Movement was easier and less risky on the first level. I traveled with more speed, hoping not to be heard. I spied my beautiful heels sitting by the couch and realized I couldn’t wear those with my newly stolen shirt and shorts.
Hmm, maybe one of Jack’s former night guests left shoes behind. The thought of him with another woman made me ill, but there was no time for thinking, so I walked to the closet beside the front door. As it opened, I saw something disturbing—a closet that was tidier than any closet should ever be. What was wrong with this dude? This space should be cluttered, and stuff was supposed to topple on you when you opened the doors. However, this one looked like it belonged in a museum.
Riffling through the footwear with uncaring abandon, I didn’t even try to keep things straight. Okay, I enjoyed purposely knocking stuff around. Way at the back, I located a pair of flip flops directly behind the sweetest pair of pink pony rain boots I’d ever seen. Huh. And right beside those were a tiny pair of pink pony sneakers. Why would Jack’s niece keep a supply of emergency shoes here? Whatever. I snagged his flip-flops, but they were roughly ten inches too long for my feet, give or take, but they had to do.
After grabbing my purse from the small table by the door, I sensed something missing. Taking inventory, I noted the Styrofoam box, which contained the most delectable cake known to mankind.
Well, I’d already stolen his clothes, sandals, and time—what was a little cake?
8
Jack
Boy was I wrong about that one. Should I be surprised? Not like I had a great track record with women, but honest to God, I thought Harper was different. Fuck me.
When I woke up and she wasn’t lying there beside me, I assumed she went to the kitchen or the shower. After scouring every fucking corner of my place, I realized she split in the middle of the night. Not only did she leave, but the little thief took my clothes, flip flops, and motherfucking cake, too. And could she have left a bigger mess? It appeared as though a fucking tornado hit my dresser and closet. Lucky me, now I could add calling the housekeeper to the list of shit to do today.
Not exactly the morning I had planned when I went to sleep last night with her sweet little body in my arms. Fuck, she felt perfect—her lush skin and full breasts were enough to make the average man weep. Kissing her mouth wasn’t just an action, it was an erotic adventure. Never had I gotten that wound up simply by making out with a woman. The way she used her tongue in my mouth made me curious what other areas of my body she could explore.
Had I imagined her ecstasy when she came apart in my arms? The way she reacted, I didn’t think anyone was more surprised than her when her sweet pussy squeezed my fingers in a death grip.
Then tell me why the hell she left? She promised to stick around while I made her breakfast. But where was she? No note, no tap on the shoulder before she ran. Nothing.
I shook my head and decided to shower and grab a coffee on the way to meeting number one, of at least five for the day. There was nothing more to be done here, except get more and more pissed off every time I thought of last night. Jesus. What the fuck was I thinking? The very last thing in the world I needed right then was to jump into another pointless relationship. Enough craziness arrived on my plate daily. No matter how much I craved running my hands up Harper’s legs and squeezing that tight, perfectly rounded ass, there was no need to add an insane woman to the mix.
While my hair was still wet, my phone rang. “Hello?”
“How did last night go? You get your girl? What’s she like? Is she nice?” My mother’s voice boomed over the line and shot questions at me like a machine gun. Guess we were playing twenty questions, but I had no answers for her.
“Ma, I gotta run. Early meetings.” Early meetings, late meetings, all the time with the fucking meetings. My head nearly exploded just thinking about it. I rolled my shoulders and took a deep breath. Ma deserved better than my juvenile attitude.
“She didn’t like the pink squirrel?” she asked. I hung my head and adjusted my tie. Yeah, she liked the cocktail, all right, but not enough to stick around. Probably had better places to be. Perhaps that ex-husband wasn’t so “ex” after all.
I sighed and tried to control my temper. “She was nobody special. Don’t worry. I shouldn’t have called you so late. I’m sorry about that.” In fact, I was sorry about a lot of things, like wasting my time on women who ran out on me.
“No, Jacky, I’m sorry. I just... Well, I hoped that you...” From the tone in her voice I knew where this shit was headed, and it needed to be shut down. Now. “Honey, not everyone is like—”
“Ma!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, cutting her off. If I had to hear her lecture me one more time, I would... Well, do absolutely nothing. My mom earned the right to dole out shit to me. But Christ, I was done with this conversation. “Look, I’m sorry for yelling. I’ve gotta go. Will you come by for lunch? I’ll make your favorite.” The woman snapped my last nerve, but she was also the only real parent I ever had. Silence. Fuck. “I said I was sorry. Don’t be pissed. You got me at a bad time and I’m going to be late if I don’t leave right now.”
“I’ll see you at two o’clock. And, Jacky?”
I grabbed my keys and rolled my eyes at the hall closet. “Yeah?”
“Don’t give up, Son. You’ll find someone. Stop closing yourself off to the rest of the world. There’s more to life than work.” Then the phone clicked off.
Advice that worked for some, but not for me. Work I could count on. But women? Never.
Harper
Looking in the bathroom mirror, I gave myself a scare. My hair stuck up everywhere and my makeup was smeared willy-nilly, but I reread my new shirt and smiled. Not a shirt I expected to see in perfect Jack’s drawer, and it made me happy to unearth a silly side. Then that made me sad because I’d never learn anything else about him because we would never see each other again. And that made me even more depressed.
Initially, I was embarrassed when Vivienne’s ride-sharing app guy picked me up from Jack’s apartment and laughed at my shirt—and likely other things as well. I must have been quite the sight outfitted in Jack’s shorts, huge flip flops, and a ridiculous T-shirt, carrying my beautiful shoes and dress.
Talk about the worst walk of shame ever.
But he took it in stride and drove me home, assuring me he’d seen much worse. That didn’t comfort me, but I shut up and took my lumps.
Vivienne had programmed his number into my phone “just in case”. Boy was I thankful to be rescued. As soon as I jumped into the car, he beamed his smile at me and it filled me with relief. After asking for my address, he pulled out onto the nearly abandoned street and said, “I personally think Ricky Martin got a bum rap. I liked his stuff back in the day. Sure, I was just a kid,” he glanced over at me and grinned, “but I loved his music.”
More than a little confused, I tilted my head and tried to understand why we were discussing Menudo alumni at this late hour. A few moments of awkwardness later, the man pointed to my shirt, so I peeked down and straightened my stolen garment. I deciphered the shirt easily. Even upside down the words “Livin’ la Vida Sofa” displayed loud and proud on the front, with a picture of a couch smack-dab in the center. My chin fell to my chest, and I groaned an, “Oh my God.” This night just kept getting more and more humiliating.
He noticed my reaction and said, “Oh, I see. It was a dig and dash? Hard to pick out the good stuff in the dark, right? Been there, done that, got the stolen T-
shirt.” He smiled his sweet as heck smile at me and turned back to the road. “I believe mine was a pink night shirt that read ‘I Hate Mondays.’” I giggled at the thought of him wearing women’s sleepwear, and he smirked and shrugged his broad shoulders. “I’m Connor, by the way. Nice to finally meet you, Harper,” he said, then offered his hand. I shook it—his big, strong hand... Yes, I looked—and smiled back.
Did he say, “Nice to ‘finally’ meet you?” Even though I thought it was an odd thing to say, since he only drove Vivienne and her gang around for one night, I let it lie.
Anyway, I was able to escape from Jack’s place with minimal effort, but plenty of regret. I felt like a complete ass, so I had to go. Didn’t I? He’d asked me to stay over and wanted to feed me breakfast, and I’d agreed, then bolted. Shit, did I ever blow that.
Running on a few hours of sleep wasn’t helping matters. I had a bit of a dull head, but nothing a few cups of caffeine wouldn’t cure. A quick peek at the clock said ten to eight.
With my hand on the door, my phone rang. This was fairly strange for not even eight o’clock in the morning. “Hello?”
“Harper? Dean. Look, Vivienne called in sick. She can’t even crawl out of bed. I need you to fill in for her.”
I chuckled because first, there was no way I understood how to do Vivienne’s job. To have me fill in for her was the joke of the century. Secondly, that woman was a machine and never asked for help. Not once in three years had she called in sick. Or “sick”. I wondered if she suffered from the revenge of the pink drink.
“I can’t do Vivienne’s job. How about I call her clients and reschedule instead?”
“You know I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. This client can’t wait. His orders must get submitted as soon as possible, and I don’t know when I can make it back there. I’ve been on the road from San Francisco for the past two hours.”