by Kahlen Aymes
He pushes himself up off the floor and holds out his hand for me. My cane has fallen, but he ignores it and so do I. He carefully pulls me up from the chair but I can't help the wince. My body is protesting but I'm determined to ignore it. Jack doesn't though. He bends down, slides an arm behind my knees and with the other around my back, he lifts me up.
"Put me down," I protest on half a giggle. "You're gonna put your back out." And I'm not kidding either. I'm not a lightweight. However, Jack ignores me and marches me straight to the bedroom, where he lays me on the bed, dropping down on the mattress beside me. He rolls on his side and props his head on his hand.
"Still no expectations," he says, letting his eyes roam down the length of my body before coming up to mine again.
"Liar." I smile, feeling incredibly daring. I know I have some expectations now, and they involve very little talking. I watch as Jack bursts out laughing, his strong white teeth showing, the lines on his face evidencing years of laughter. He rolls on his back as the rich, deep rolling sound curls around me. I reach out and put my hand on his heaving chest, feeling the vibrations travel up my arm. When his eyes open on me, I pull back my hand, but he's faster—grabbing me by the wrist and keeping my hand firmly in the center of his chest.
"I like your hand on me," he says, suddenly turning serious.
"I like my hand on you, too," I admit, spreading my fingers against the thin fabric of his shirt. I'm a little disappointed he bothered putting on a shirt in the first place. I wouldn't have complained if he'd come out of the bathroom just sporting a towel around his hips. If that.
If the body hidden underneath these well-worn clothes has just half of the promise of a fully dressed Jack, I can't wait to get him naked. I drag my eyes away from his face to watch my hand explore the contours of his chest, feeling his heart pound under my palm. This is affecting him as much as it is affecting me.
"Bernie..." is the only warning I get before his hand hooks behind my head and pulls me down to his mouth.
This kiss is nothing like the earlier, tentative explorations. This kiss doesn't hide the hunger that wants to feed off me, and any reservations that may have lingered disappear under its onslaught. This one has my toes curling and goosebumps rise on my skin. I can't even remember what I was doing or thinking before he came to sit across from me. I don't know what that says about me, but what once was the sum of my existence is now simply a before and an after Jack. A chance encounter at a stopover that could just as easily never have occurred. Here I am, in a hotel bed with a man, who I only know from what his online bio describes. Yet I know him—I know him. I'm not necessarily a believer in fate or in predestination, but despite the persistent nagging of my common sense, I know in my gut—in this moment—this is exactly where we're supposed to be. With his mouth on mine and my hand feeling every beat of his heart. What started as an innocent chat over a fast food meal has turned into a life-changing event, and for once, I want to be a willing participant.
I willingly tangle my tongue with his and let him have his way with my mouth. God, this man can kiss. I don't think it's just my lack of recent experience that has me light up like the sky on the Fourth of July. I'm pretty sure I've never experienced this kind of full body reaction to a kiss before.
CHAPTER 3
I love the feel of Jack's hands skimming over my body, as if he is trying to map out every contour to memorize. My hands do the same from his shoulders, down his chest, and as far around to his back as I can reach.
In an unexpected move, Jack rolls me to my back without letting go of my lips. His body follows, leaning over top of me, and I finally am able to explore the wide expanse of his back. I follow the thick solid muscle, rippling with his movements, down to the curve of his ass. A very fine ass from what I'd been able to ogle, even finer under my hands. Just as I slip my hands under his shirt to feel the heat from his skin, he finds the curve of my breast, letting the weight of it settle in his palm. He takes my breath when he casually skims his thumb over my distended nipple. As if attached with a wire, the sensation sends a pulse between my legs, and I moan loudly in his mouth.
Never have I given myself with such abandon to sensation. With no thought to my less than perfect body, I just allow myself to float on the need I feel coming from Jack. I don't feel anything but the scrape of his rough hands over the skin he is exposing second by second. Before I realize it, he's pulling my tunic impatiently over my head, dislodging our mouths. I'm tugging at his shirt as he pushes up on his knees, his eyes scorching my body. While he grabs the back of his shirt and yanks it in one move over his head, I struggle to rid myself completely of my top. The sight of his strong chest, lightly covered with hair the same pepper and salt as on his head, makes my mouth water.
"Jesus, Bernie," he mutters, as he reaches out and strokes his fingertips over the tops of my breasts before roughly pulling down the cups of my bra. The rush of air hitting my exposed nipples has me suck in my breath. Nerve endings fully sensitized, I jump when he brushes the rough pad of his thumb over the tip. "So fucking responsive," he says, bending his head to close his mouth on my breast, sucking hard.
"Oh God!" flies from my mouth as I feel my arousal slip from my body.
"So gorgeous," he mumbles around my flesh. "So sweet."
My hands, eager for a hold, find his head, pressing him closer to me with my fingers tangled in his hair. This is bliss. I swear I could come from his mouth tugging on my breast alone. My head cloudy, I barely notice his hand kneading the soft flesh of my belly, but I'm very aware when his fingers deftly unzip my jeans. Eager, I lift my hips off the bed, so he has room to tug them down.
I don't expect it when he releases my breast with a pop and gets off the bed. Exposed and naked as the day I was born, I don't flinch when I watch him look me over from tip to toe. I don't care that it's been days since I've picked up a razor. I don't care it's been years since I've had anything waxed. I don't even care about the network of stretch marks covering my stomach and thighs. Not when the man's eyes are so generous in their appreciation. Even if I had insecurities, they'd disappear for the sun the moment he drops his jeans and boxers, giving me a front row seat to an impressive, blood engorged erection, jutting out high from his groin.
By its own volition, my hand immediately reaches for his cock, barely fisting its circumference. His hand quickly closes over mine, lazily stroking the hot steel against the palm of my hand.
"Christ, baby. You undo me," he growls, as he pulls my hand away suddenly. "I want to be inside you too much to let you have your way with me." In sure moves, he climbs back on the bed, slinging one leg between my legs, propping me open. He teases his fingers through my red curls, letting out a sharp hiss of air. "All natural. Fuck, but I like that."
"Please..."
"Getting there, gorgeous. I'm getting there," he whispers, as he drops his mouth on mine for a plundering kiss. At the same time, his fingers dip into the slick path my body seems to have created just for him, and he groans in my mouth. My back arcs off the mattress as his thumb brushes my clit. "I'm too impatient to play with you. I'll save that for later." His mouth moves against my lips and I lay panting underneath him. When his hips settle between my legs, I spread myself wider, boldly inviting him in. "Bernie. Look at me." I open my eyes to find him looking at me intently. "I don't have a condom," he says, regret marring his face.
"Hysterectomy," I manage breathlessly. His eyes scan down my body as his fingers find the ridge of my scar, running almost from one hip to the other. They flick up to mine again and the relief is visible.
"I'm clean, I swear," he promises. "But I'll stop if you want me to."
"I haven't...not since...not in years," I stammer, but he hears me nonetheless.
"Where have you been?" he asks, looking at me with something akin to wonder on his face, as he runs the thick head of his cock through the wetness gathered between my legs. "Where have you been?" he repeats, as he slides inside me in one, slow, sure move.
> Buried to the hilt, I can feel his balls tickle my butt cheeks as my body adjusts to his size. My God...so full, so good.
"Are you okay? Am I hurting you?"
All I manage to do is shake my head as a deep guttural groan escapes me the moment he starts moving. My hands find purchase on his ass and my hips tilt to take him deeper still. Every firm stroke of him inside me spins me higher. My body, already more than primed, spirals me to climax. "I'm coming..." I warn him, but instead of slowing down, his hips start pumping as he drops his head to the crook of my neck, swearing and muttering against my skin. His erratic movements alert me to his impending release. The moment he yells out, and I feel the heat eject inside me, my body bursts apart into a blinding orgasm.
The slow rocking of our bodies soothes me into a light doze as we come down from our respective highs. My heart rate slowly returns to its normal pace. Jack's lips have been pressing featherlight kisses along my shoulder, into my neck, and on my face as I've been catching my breath. So when I feel the weight of his body lift from mine, I whimper. "Don't," I plead, trying to pull him back down.
"I'll be right back," he promises, slipping from my body with a sweet kiss on my lips. "Spread, baby," he says, only seconds later, and I feel something warm and wet between my legs. When I crack open my eyes, I see him sitting on the edge of the bed, his eyes trained between my legs where he is wiping gently at the mess we jointly created. Not ever, not even once, has a man taken such care of me. When he's done, he leans in and presses a kiss on the slightly tender tissues between my legs. He says I undo him, but this right here? It undoes me. There is no stopping the warm tears slipping from the corners of my eyes. I'm utterly overwhelmed by this experience. I want to stay in this moment forever.
"Come on, beautiful." He wipes at the tears, before standing up and holding out his hand. "Let me take care of you." He pulls me up and wraps his arm around my waist, holding me steady as he guides me to the bathroom. It's now I notice the sound of water running. He's filling the tub. My sore joints and muscles, not used to the kind of workout they just received, groan in relief at the thought of a warm bath. I let Jack help me in the tub and slowly sink down in the warm, fragrant water.
"Move up a little," he urges, as he scoots in behind me. He tucks his legs along mine and with his arm around my waist, tucks me back against his chest. "Relax, Bernie," his voice whispers in my ear and I do as he says. I let my body slump against him and lay my head back on his shoulder.
"This feels good," I mumble, feeling almost weightless in the water.
"It does," he responds behind me. "It feels perfect." Somehow I think he's not only talking about the bath as his lips press against the side of my head, and his hand on my stomach holds me skin to skin with him. "Tell me about you. I want to know everything."
I'm feeling at ease; with myself and with the world. For once, I don't worry about how much information is too much—I just talk. And Jack listens, not once stopping the gentle circles his fingers draw on my skin. Not until I get to the part where I describe the end of my marriage. Then his hands still, and I feel him take in a deep breath, before his fingers take up the soothing motion again.
"He's a fool," he growls behind me, putting a little smile on my face. "He obviously couldn't see the value of what he had in you."
Yes. I'm starting to believe that myself. I was already coming to that conclusion on my own, but after experiencing the solitary focus of Jack's attention tonight, I believe it. "After he left, and with my health going downhill, I wasn't sure of that. For years I struggled, especially after the kids left home, I felt rudderless. Then I found writing, and it's been an absolute blessing in my life. It's a safe way to connect with people, to share of yourself, and the response has been beyond my imagination. You must feel that, too? When an image you took elicits a visceral response from the public? The feeling you actually touch people, without physically touching them?" I tilt my head so I can see his face. With a smile on his mouth, he bends down to kiss mine.
"I do. It's one of the most gratifying things about what I do. Having others see the beauty around us through my eyes. There's nothing like it," he explains.
"It's why I chose romance," I admit. "I know it's fantasy, but I try to create scenarios that are relatable. Stories that highlight there is good out there for everyone, if you open yourself up enough to see it."
"Is that what this is?" he asks quietly. "A fantasy?" I turn over in his arms, so we are chest to chest as I look him straight in the eyes.
"No. Not a fantasy. This is the part where everyone can find something good, as long as they have the courage to grab it."
His eyes are dark as his arms tighten around me. "I don't want to let you go," he says almost soundlessly, before pulling me to him for a bittersweet kiss. I don't want to let go either. I don't want time to move on.
"I don't either," I mouth against his lips. Trying not to think too hard about tomorrow morning, when our respective realities come crashing down. Mine being that I have two children in Canada. Friends and family. I'm afraid to let myself think of what might be.
It's much later. After Jack takes his time washing every inch of my body and carefully dries me. After, he makes my body sing with his lips and tongue between my legs and I return the favor. It's when I'm lying in his arms, his hand possessively on my ass, and my fingers playing through his chest hair, that he whispers in my hair, "Can I keep you?"
My mouth wants to say yes, despite the fact he's not expecting an answer. Not really. It doesn't stop my mind from plotting through different scenarios. Still, I'm afraid to voice my thoughts because truthfully, this is a fantasy. One that I can plot out in my head, but is not so easy to translate into real life. So instead, I focus on the scent of him in my nose, the feel of his skin under my fingertips, and the taste of him still lingering on my tongue. Staying in the moment...until sleep finally overtakes me.
CHAPTER 4
The moment I open my eyes and see the harsh light of morning stream in through a crack in the curtains, a deep sadness descends like a heavy weight on my chest. With my eyes barely open, I start negotiating with myself. What if he could stop by when he comes to Ontario for his work? What if my books suddenly take off and I could afford to live in the U.S. and fly back to see my kids regularly? What if...? I stop the desperate cycle my mind is running in and surreptitiously wipe the tears escaping.
"Don't cry," his voice ragged with sleep says. Or is it something else? With his body wrapped around mine from behind, I don't know how he could know I'm crying. "Don't think, baby. Just feel."
And I feel him. His heat, his lips on my shoulder, his hand slipping between my legs. The hard length of him against my butt. I feel all of him. His fingers gently rub over my clit as he angles his erection behind me to slip down my crease.
Like that, in the light of the morning sun, he slides himself home inside me and rocks me gently to completion. By the time he reaches his own climax, my hair is damp with the mix of our tears.
Jack must’ve ordered while I was having a quick shower. When I walk out, after finally getting a grip on my emotions, he has a couple of trays and some very welcome coffee sitting on the coffee table.
“Feel better?” he asks, a slight frown furrowing his brow. I have to swallow hard to keep that bit of control before it slips away from me. Two innocuous words but spoken with so much care, it almost has me in tears again. Enough. I plaster a bright smile on my face when I answer.
“Yes, thanks.”
His frown seems to deepen slightly before his mouth slightly tilts up in a smile. “Good.”
“So what’s for breakfast?” I ask, trying to lighten the heavy air in the room.
“Ordered a bit of everything. I don’t know what you like, other than salad,” he says with a shrug. He lifts the lids off the assortment of plates on the trays. “Take your pick.” Waffles, eggs and bacon with toast, and a bowl of cut fresh fruit are my choices.
“Looks great.” I smile a
t him. “You want a refill?” I ask, pointing at his coffee cup. On his nod, I top up his coffee before pouring myself a cup. “I wouldn’t mind the fruit and a waffle.”
“Have at it.” Is all he says, grabbing the plate of eggs for himself. We eat in silence, oddly comfortable in each other’s presence. It’s a weird situation, the awareness we’ll be parting ways, like ships passing in the night, pushed firmly to the background. Still, it’s there, although neither of us seems eager to pop the bubble we’ve created.
“Come sit by me,” Jack says when we’re both done breakfast. I willingly move to sit on the couch beside him. He puts his arm over my shoulder and pulls me close, kissing the side of my head. “You smell good.” His nose is pressed in my hair.
“It’s just hotel shampoo,” I note on a little smile.
“It’s you,” he mumbles undeterred, making me smile bigger.
“You know...I wish—”
“Shhh,” he says, putting a finger to my lips before replacing it with his mouth. Giving me a sweet kiss, lazy but thorough, with a hint of regret. Regret I feel too, not for what happened between us, but because it is coming to an end.
Time is not on our side and soon we are packing up our belongings. I stand in the doorway, taking one last look around the hotel room, committing it to memory. A very good memory; one I will treasure forever.
Unlike last night, when he led me to his suite with his arm around me, this morning Jack has his hands full with our combined luggage. Two big reinforced cases he had stored in the closet, along with my carry-on, which he still insisted on taking for me, and he has no hands left over. It feels cold when we step out of the hotel, despite the warm Atlanta sun beating down on us. I don't feel any pain this morning. Not in my body anyway, the bath last night had gone a long way to soothing my discomfort. My heart, though? That is another matter. Every step closer to the terminal feels like another sliver lodging in my chest.