by April Fire
I leaned across the bar, placed my hand on his cheek, and kissed him. He seemed surprised at my advance, but his tongue slipped quickly past my lips, exploring me, tasting me. Heat pulsed through my veins as he pulled me up on to the bar and laid me down on the dark wood, brushing my hair from my face.
“You sure you want to do this?” He panted.
“Fuck, yes,” I replied, reaching up and grabbing his face again. I knew the CCTV cameras would catch us, and didn’t care- hell, it just turned me on even more. His body felt strong and heavy on top of mine, and I ran my hands down his back, pulling up his t-shirt and exposing his muscled neck and shoulders. He moved his head, kissing down my throat, and I threw my head back to allow him more access. After everything that had happened, my inhibitions were out the window, completely gone- and it felt incredible.
He moved down, yanking my sweater off over my head and throwing it to the ground, hooking his fingers into my bra cup and exposing my breasts. He teased my nipples with his teeth, lightly grazing my skin with his lips and making me shudder. I was already growing wet as he moved further down, pressing kisses along my hips and slowly shuffling my jeans downs my legs so I was in nothing but a bra and panties. The cold air prickled my skin but I couldn’t have cared less, aching for more, aching for him.
He kissed me once, lightly, through my panties, and I let out a loud groan -- the heat of his mouth against my pussy was too much to bear. I needed him inside me, needed to lose myself to the feeling of him.
“Fuck me,” I murmured, and he looked up, his eyes glowing from where he lay between my legs.
“You sure?” He panted, and I nodded.
“Fuck me!” I repeated, his time with more force, and he didn’t need telling twice. InI a scramble, we tossed aside the rest of our clothes, and he sheathed himself quickly. I climbed on top of him, pushing him down on to the counter. I felt deviant and sexy, totally in control, as I wrapped my hand around the base of his cock and lowered myself down on his impressive length.
“Ah,” I moaned as he penetrated me, his cock filling me in the most satisfying fashion I could imagine. He gripped my hips and watched me as I placed my hands on his chest and began to move up and down on top of him. I took my time at first, using him for my pleasure, and soon began to build up a pace, letting my mouth drop open and my eyes close as I forced him deeper and deeper inside of me.
He felt so good- his chest muscular and strong beneath my hands, his arms powerful as they held me up-when he suddenly flipped me over on to my back, the small growl he let out into my ear was almost enough to push me over the edge there and then.
“Are you going to come?” He panted in my ear, running his hands up my legs and pushing them back so he could get even deeper inside of me.
And that was all I needed to hear -- his invocation, as if he drew it out of me. I let out a small cry and let my head fall back as it hit me, my climax sweeping through my body. It felt almost cathartic as my pussy clenched around him, again and again, as though I was letting go of everything that had happened. As if I was making a statement on my new start.
He came a few moments later, thrusting deep and groaning in my ear before slowly withdrawing himself from me and disposing of the condom. I lay, panting, and watched him as he moved around -God, he was hot. As hot as he’d been in high school, at least. I reached up to run my fingers down his strong arms, and he turned to look at me, grinning widely.
And then, he dived down on top of me once more, gripping and grasping and grabbing at me, and we had lost ourselves to each other once more.
Chapter Two
As the taxi delivered me back to my apartment, I tightly gripped the note Jones had left me in one hand. I had woken up that morning in my hotel bed, alone, and it hit me like a ton of bricks- what had happened, what I’d done the night before. The hangover clutched at my stomach and my head as I sat up and saw that I was by myself once more, a note sitting where Jones had passed out next to me the night before. I picked it up and squinted at the messy writing on the hotel-branded notepaper.
“Sorry, I had to leave early for a game. Hope you’re doing okay and that you had a good time last night. J x”
I rolled my eyes as I read it -- yeah, he was just as much of a thoughtless jock as he ever had been. I was reminded at once of all the shit he pulled with girls back in high school, how many hearts he left broken in his wake -- well, that wouldn’t be me. I was already firmly getting over one guy, I didn’t need another on top of that.
I settled up with the hotel and made my way back home, glad that at least David and I had kept separate apartments up until we had planned to marry. It was still a stab to the chest, the reminder that we weren’t going on our honeymoon, that we weren’t coming home to house-hunt together. But I had to move on -- I had no choice but to keep going, to push David and Tam and all of it from my mind as best I could. First things first, though? I had to handle this hangover.
I spent that day as I spent many of the following ones -- alone, in the apartment, drinking beer and eating takeout and watching all the crappy reality TV that David had convinced me I was too good for, whatever that meant. I found myself actually enjoying the solitude.
The wedding planning had required me to be in contact with pretty much everyone I knew and then some almost all the time, and finally I could enjoy some peace. Mom and Dad stopped round a couple of times, checking on me. I put on a brave face for them because I knew they needed to see it-- they needed to know that I would survive this. I knew I would, but it was difficult articulating to them just how okay I was going to be.
I think it was harder losing Tam than David. With romantic relationships, there’s always that innate, built-in knowledge that one of you can leave at any time, no matter how shitty it might make the other person feel. With friendships, it’s different -- you’re meant to be there for each other, without an easy out-button, for better or worse. David had always been a moderate- level dick, even if I hadn’t been able to see it at the time, but Tam was a friend - my best friend, the kind of person I considered my soulmate in so many ways. For her to have been the one lying to me all this time, that hurt doubly as much as it did with David.
But, I got on with things. I felt wobbly and raw for a long time. It’s hard to explain how you put your life back together after a break-up of that magnitude if you’ve never done it, but trust me when I say that it’s the hardest thing you’ll ever do.
But the other option is simply to give up -- to back down and let the world shit all over you just because one guy wanted to fuck your best friend over you. I felt these powerful jolts of pain, reminders that I could barely handle the enormity of once in a while -- his coffee mug in the back of the cupboard, a pair of his boxers in the drawer. But the reminders of his existence became less potent as time went on, growing less important with each passing day.
After a month, I could think of him without wanting to burst into tears. After six weeks, I allowed myself to get really, really fucking mad, and hated him for all I was worth, hated them both. It felt damn good.
In all that time, I didn’t give a lot of thought to Jones. I appreciated that he had come to see me after it had all happened, but I couldn’t help but wonder if he had planned all of it somehow, as if he had hoped that the two of us were going to hook up. Maybe he was trying to get me on the rebound? He had certainly been quick out the door the next day, not keen on hanging around much longer than it took him to get dressed and call a taxi.
Yeah, maybe he did have a game, but he was lax on mentioning that the night before, and did he honestly think that another guy leaving without notice was going to do me the world of good after what had happened?
The note he’d left me had been such a brush-off, a mild nod in my direction to acknowledge that a shitty thing had happened to me but that he wasn’t going to be the one to deal with it. Not that I thought he should have been or anything like that, but damn. Show a little decency. Especially after all his talk abo
ut proving to me that not all men were assholes.
Well, yeah, maybe I did give some thought to Jones. And I certainly spent plenty of time thinking about the night we spent together, too. That was the kind of shit that stayed with you, in the best possible way. When he was rich and famous, I told myself, I can sell an expose to a gossip mag and make a bundle. Till then, it’s our fun little secret.
It was two months after the wedding when I realized that something was…missing. I’d been working on a flurry of freelance graphic design projects- partly to keep me busy and partly to pay back the money I owed on some of the wedding stuff. During that whole time, something was nagging away at the back of my brain, something that said there was an aspect of my life that wasn’t in place. I assumed it was just the David stuff and did my best to ignore it- until it suddenly clicked. It wasn’t David. It was my period. I hadn’t had one since the wedding.
I made my way down to the drugstore on the corner of my street, and prayed that no-one I knew would bump into me, which was of the downsides of living in a small town. I could barely breathe without someone reporting back to my mother on the manner in which I’d done it. I furtively picked up the pregnancy test and slipped it into my basket, paying for it with cash in some paranoid fugue.
By that time, I’d made it back to my apartment I had myself convinced that everyone in town knew my predicament- although what they might think and the actual truth were probably pretty far apart.
David and I had agreed, a few months before the wedding, not to have sex until our wedding night. I agreed, thinking it was romantic. I guessed that I wouldn’t have found it quite as charming had I known that he was banging my best friend to make up for it, but hey, hindsight is fifty-fifty. I’d had a period the week before the wedding, so that meant that if I was pregnant, there was only one person it could belong to. Jones.
I paced back and forth in my apartment a few times, trying to pluck up the courage to take the damn test. Maybe you’re just late, I told myself, even though I knew it was bullshit. I was never late, not ever, my menstrual cycle going like clockwork. This could only mean one thing, and I had to be certain of it. I had to know.
Finally, I managed to get myself into the bathroom, and hunched over the toilet as I waited for the results to come through. I held my breath, my mind racing- after everything that had happened, God would have to have a pretty sick sense of humor to do this to me as well. Surely, I was just overthinking -- maybe it was the stress that had finished off my period, or my bad diet or the drinking or…
I don’t know if you’ve ever waited for a pregnancy test to come up with a result, but those will be the longest three minutes of your life, let me tell you. I sat, frozen, on the toilet as I clutched the little stick in my fingers, staring intently at the small panel that would tell me my fate. I bargained desperately, praying that I wasn’t about to see the result I knew was inevitable.
Finally, finally, the panel changed, showing two perpendicular lines. I stared at them for a moment, then scrambled around for the box so I could figure out what they meant. I knew, but I needed to be sure -- needed to be certain. I grabbed the little cardboard package, and scanned the insert.
Pregnant. I was fucking pregnant.
Motherfucker.
Chapter Three
“Uh, hi?”
My voice sounded squeaky, but I couldn’t exactly blame myself- after all, I was about to talk to the father of my child for the first time since we’d conceived our baby.
It hadn’t been hard getting hold of Jones - -our families were friends, and all it took were a few well-placed hints from my mother and I got hold of his number. I needed to talk to him because he deserved to know about the baby. The baby that I had decided to keep.
I knew I was likely being completely crazy, but I had made the decision to have my baby. I had discovered I was pregnant two weeks prior to calling Jones, and had been through a lot of soul-searching since then. This kid was a chance for a new start -- one I wanted to take. A reminder that I didn’t need a husband or anyone else to pursue my dream of having a family. Working from home gave me a lot of flexibility with childcare, and I knew Mom and Dad would help out where they could, too. When I told them, that was.
“Hello?” Jones voice came down the line, making me jump. I placed a hand on my still-flat stomach, as though expecting the child to react to the sound of his father’s voice.
“Hey, it’s Kyra,” I began hesitantly.
“Oh, hey!” He perked up. “How are you?”
“Doing okay,” I replied casually. “You?”
“Yeah, great!” He agreed. He paused for a moment, and I realized he was waiting for me to explain exactly why I had called him.
“Oh, um, I was wondering,” I took a deep breath. “I was going to be in the city anyway, I thought maybe we could…get together?”
“Sounds good!” He replied at once, his voice flickering with a hint of suggestiveness. “I was coming home next week, actually, if you want me to give you a life back up?”
“That sounds great,” I nodded, relieved, glad I wouldn’t have to fork over my meagre savings to pay for my ticket up there. “Can I call you closer to the time and we’ll figure things out?”
“I’ll get in touch soon,” he agreed, and I could hear the excitement in his voice. Was I that good that night? Obviously so. We exchanged numbers and hung up, and I felt a flicker of anticipation in my stomach. Or was that just straight fear? Hard to tell, I’d been in such a mess of emotions since I found out about the pregnancy.
I thought long and hard about what I was going to say to Jones when I saw him again. I really had no idea what the etiquette was for breaking the news of an unwanted pregnancy -- I mean, we had used a condom, this was probably the last thing he expected. There he was, likely imagining another kinky night together, and I had to drop that bombshell on him.
I carried on with work and tried to put Jones out of my head, but it was difficult, knowing that I was about to change his life. And, on top of that, he was the only person I’d slept with since the break-up- fuck, he was the only person I’d slept with apart from David in my entire life. I didn’t have a lot to compare him to, but I was pretty sure we had a serious connection. And yeah, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to exploit that, though I couldn’t be sure that he would ever want to see me again when I told him what I was there for.
He texted me a time to meet, the following Wednesday, and I agreed with a little flicker of excitement lighting up in my chest as I thought about seeing him again. He sent a taxi for me, and I piled my bags into the back seat and set off. I had no idea where we were going -- I assumed I’d meet him at the train station or the airport or something, and the two of us would head back up together. Instead, I found myself pulling up to an airstrip outside of town- and and spotted Jones as he strode across the slightly slick tarmac towards me.
“You have got to be shitting me,” I murmured to myself as I got out. There was no-one else around as far as I could see, so this had to be a private jet. I didn’t keep up with football, but Jones must have been seriously successful to be able to afford all of this. He was pulling out all the stops just to impress me -- and well, he could color me impressed.
Jones hurried over to help me with my bags as I stared up at the plane.
“This is yours?” I asked, incredulous, and he glanced over his shoulder as if he’d half-forgotten it was there.
“Oh, yeah,” he flashed me a broad grin. “I rented it out for the trip back. I usually do - can’t risk the paps catching me at the airport, you know?”
“The paparazzi?” I raised my eyebrows.
“Yeah,” he shrugged. “Anyway, you want me to get your stuff on board?”
“Sure,” I replied, and the two of us climbed up the steps, the rain whipping at our hair and our jackets. As soon as we were inside, Jones rubbed his hand together, fighting off the cold.
“You want a drink?” He asked, making his way over to
a sleek drinks counter opposite us. The whole place looked good,-impeccably clean and done in in neutral leathers and pale wood. I wondered how much it cost to get this plane just for one trip, because I would love to travel like this more often. Down to the shops, maybe, or across town to Mom’s place. It would certainly make an impression- and people finally might stop talking about me in relation to what happened with David.
“Yeah,” I replied without thinking, and then shook my head. “Um, wait, no. I’m okay. Thanks.”
“You sure?” He poured himself a scotch, and made his way back over to me. I nodded.
“Yeah, I’m trying to…to cut down,” I smiled at him bashfully.
“Fair enough,” he raised his glass to me anyway. “Glad to see you either way.”
“Me too,” I blurted out, and I was There it was again, that chemistry between us, as though the universe was waiting with baited breath for us to launch back into another hot-and-heavy encounter.
I did my best to ignore it- when should I break the news to him? Now? He seemed so relaxed and laid-back, and I didn’t want to ruin that. I would at least wait till we were in the air, so he couldn’t kick me out. I needed to get away from Turretsville and everything that came with it, namely, the fact that each and every person in that place seemed to know what had gone down between David and I. The thought of going somewhere where I was anonymous, where I wasn’t a cautionary tale, was too tempting for me to blow yet.
“I’ve been thinking about you a lot,” Jones announced suddenly, just as the plane began to move.
“Really?”
“Yeah,” he nodded, a smile curling on the corner of his lips. “Ever since that night. I can’t believe…well, any of it.”
“I thought you were a big famous football player,” I teased. “I assumed you got down to that kind of crap all the time.”