by J. Darling
“Something scary’s on this. It’s like, really pulling and yanking on the line,” she said, trying not to lose control of the wheel while peering down the hole. She waited. Nothing. “Jake, I can’t do this. Are you coming?” she asked, as she reached for the line, then jumped back when it snapped with energy. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Jake facing away from her, his hands braced on the doorjamb and his head looking down. He was breathing hard. “Jake! What’s wrong? Jake? Talk to me!”
His head came up, and she could just barely see his jaw clenching. He looked like he was in pain somehow.
“Jake?” She waited. “I’m calling Linnie.” Letting go of the wheel, it rattled away as she headed for her phone. Stepping towards her purse, he turned quick and stopped her with one hand, while grabbing the wheel with the other.
“I’m…okay.” Deep breaths. He pulled her close and buried his face in her hair. “I was…praying.” More deep breaths.
She tried to pull back to look at him, but he wouldn’t let go. “What?” she asked confused, as she wrapped her arms around him.
“Jules, you…you’re…so beautiful. I needed to pray for strength, to be the gentleman I was raised to be.”
She urgently pushed herself back and looked down at herself, bra, camisole top, long underwear bottoms, and socks all accounted for. All that was showing were her shoulders, the rest was imaginary. Relieved, she was about to look up, when she saw his bulging erection. She looked up at him, and smiled a little, feeling contrite. Stepping up, she gave him a peck on the cheek. “We need to take care of that line.”
Letting go of her arm, he turned and focused. “Yep, you’ve got a whopper. Surprising, considering the lure we’re using, but its there. Come on, let’s do this.”
She wheeled, as he knelt and helped coax the line in. The fish pulled and tugged, snapping to and fro, fighting them with a vengeance. “Goodness, what is it?” she asked, feeling a little scared.
“Probably a northern or a muskie”
“Is that good or bad?”
“Depends.”
They worked at it for some time, then Jake put his hand in the water, struggling to get a hold of the fish as she tempted the line in closer. Jules jumped back, nearly knocking Jake over, when his hand emerged holding a behemoth of a fish by the gills. Jules eyes went wide. The thing was monstrous. Were those teeth? “Whawhawhat is it?” she stuttered.
“A muskie.” Leaning over and grabbing a stick, he laid it next to the beast. “Forty-two inches. Nice, very nice.”
“Do you eat it?”
“You could,” he said, as he focused on removing the hook, “but at this size, most throw it back or mount it. Kris could mount it for you if you want, he does some taxidermy.”
“Really? You mean I could have it forever, a memory of today, of being here with you?”
His head snapped up, and he paused as he looked at her, then he nodded.
Looking into his eyes, she said with all her heart, “I want it. I want this. I never ever want to forget us. Ever.”
He cleared his throat. “What are you saying?”
“That I think you’re the kindest, most handsome man I’ve ever had the pleasure of spending time with, and that I’m quite fond of you too.”
Grabbing the fish, he laid it in the cooler, baited the hook, and set the line. Standing, he washed and dried his hands, while holding her stare. Tossing the towel aside, he put his hands on his hips as he let out a deep sigh. “Help me out here. I don’t want to screw this up. Tell me where we’re at in all this.”
“What I’m wearing stays on, but if you show me what to do, we could work on my prereqs, and possibly take care of that little problem of yours. Well...actually… not so little, from what I can tell.”
“Thank God! I don’t know how much more of this I can take.” He kicked off his boots and pulled off his shirt. “I need you. Now!”
CHAPTER 9
“Really? Now? That bad?” she asked, feeling a little heady.
“Ahhh, yeah, that bad,” he said with emphasis, garnering no misunderstanding, “From the moment I saw you at the airport.” He scooped her up and carried her to the bed.
She thought about it. “Jake that was like, five weeks ago.”
“Try more like five weeks and three days, thirty-eight looong and tortuous days,” he said, as he lay her on the bed, following her down. “But then who’s counting?” He started kissing her neck, then stopped abruptly. “And just so you know, I’m not stopping for some dumb fish.”
She laughed as she put her arms around his neck. “Ever since the airport? Truly?”
He pulled back and looked down at her. “Oh, yeah, definitely. Jules, I’ve had a thing for you ever since seeing you in Chicago.”
“But, that was…like…years ago,” she said perplexed, as she began massaging his shoulders.
He nibbled on her earlobe. “Mmmhmm. You’re sexy when you do mental math.”
She laughed. “What? You’re being silly.” She threaded her fingers through his hair and he moaned. “You just moaned.”
“Men don’t moan,” he said, as he kissed and nibbled on her shoulder.
She smiled. “You do.”
“No, I groan.”
She laughed. “So I should stop what I’m doing, is that what you’re saying?”
His head snapped up and he looked at her with alarm, “Ahh, no,” he said, shaking his head.
“You moaned then,” she said, smugly.
Continuing to shake his head, he said, “Women moan, men groan.”
She laughed at him. “Gender has nothing to do with it! But apparently male pride does. Moan with pleasure, groan with pain, just saying.”
“You know, as teacher of this prerequisite, I’ve decided you’re talking too much in class. You need to get back to work.”
She put a quick kiss on his lips. “Doing what? You haven’t given me any assignment.”
He took a deep breath and let it out slow. “Touch me,” he answered, as he quickly went back to exploring her shoulder.
Bringing her hands down and around his waist, she trailed them up and down his back. “Where? Here?”
“Are you going to be one of those problem students who talks all the time during class?” he asked, as he slid the straps from her bra and camisole over one shoulder, leaving them to dangle around her upper arm.
She smiled. “Are you going to be one of those teachers who don’t like it when their students ask for assistance?” She massaged and teased his upper arms. “Here maybe…I bet you want me to touch you here?”
“Lower,” he growled, as he kissed her shoulder.
“Oooooh, that helps.” She moved her hands to his wrists and rubbed the insides with her thumbs, then tried desperately to hold back her laugh.
“You’re talking too much and not listening enough. Now focus, I said lower.”
“It’s okay,” she said, teasing. “With proper direction, I’m an expert multitasker, and I did go lower, upper arm to lower arm, see.” She moved her hands back and forth along his arms.
Snapping a wrist out of her hold, he grabbed her hand and brought it down to his erection. “How’s that for direction?”
“Perfect. Show me what to do, and I’ll try and take care of this for you.” She gently slid her hand up a little, rubbing with her thumb.
He moaned, and she stopped, their eyes locking onto one another. She smiled when she started to release him and his hand clamped onto hers, holding it to him, shaping it to him. He tried helping her with the action but his jeans proved to be a bother. Leaning to his ear, she said softly, “Lose the jeans if you want.”
“Hell yeah! Now you’re talking.”
Rolling onto his back, he was out of his pants in a flash. Pulling her close, he had her on him in a snap. Using her hand, he molded it to himself, as he showed her what to do. She worked at it, testing things out, trying new techniques. She listened, took notes, all the while studying and cataloging his reactio
ns. It wasn’t long before his erection had worked its way free of his briefs, and she decided it was time to do a little applied research based on the data she’d garnered from the sample study.
Taking matters into her own hand, she came into full contact with him and he “groaned” as he called it. She paused and slowed a bit for reflection.
Shaking his head, he lay there with his eyes closed. “Don’t stop, keep going,” he encouraged, then put his hand on hers, helping her to pick up the pace.
Being truly naughty, she said, “Since you don’t moan, how am I supposed to qualify a good groan from a bad groan?”
“With you, all groans are good groans.”
She bit back her smile. “Conjecture. Statistically improbable, the data used for that assertion is flawed.”
“No arguing with the teacher.”
“Just pointing out the obvious.”
“Are you playing with my mind again?”
“Among other things.”
He moaned.
She smiled.
Teasing a little more, she continued. “Now, if that’d been a moan, it would’ve told me to keep going, do more. But since it was a groan, I’m not so sure. Guess you’ll need to help me out.”
“You’re killing me here, you know that?”
“Really? Scientifically speaking, you don’t look like you’re dying. In fact, I’m holding evidence to the contrary. Therefore, I refute your thesis based on hard proof. And, if I may be so bold as to render my professional opinion, I’d say you look and feel very much alive.”
“God, you’re sexy.”
“Man, you’re big.”
“Oh God……I love your mind.”
“I love your moans.”
“Oh God…”
“Harder?”
“Ooh God…”
“Better?”
“Ooh God…”
“Faster?”
“Ooooh God…”
“Stonger?”
“Oooooh God!”
“All of it then?”
“…Oh, God, JULES!…”
“Now, Jake? NOW?”
“OOOH……GOOD GOD IN HEAVEN!”
*****
Jake lie there stunned and dazed after having internally combusted. His body jerked as another spasm rolled through him. With his muscles stripped of their ability to function, he struggled to breathe. Holy hell, now he knew what a fish felt like when out of water. If she took instruction any better, he’d never survive phase two of the tutorial.
“…but Jules is wicked smart.”
Ahh, yeah, and try precise for that matter. She’d whittled that lesson down to a science. Damn!
The best part, he’d survived to tell about it, the bad part, he couldn’t tell any of the guys. Hell, they’d just accuse him of barking like a dog and telling fish stories anyways. He needed to take inventory, eyes crossed and seeing double, ears buzzing like electrical lines, throat parched and coated with sawdust, lungs compromised, heart pounding like a jackhammer, arms dead weight, waist on down nonexistent.
“…you need to make it really, really good for her.”
Aha, right, she’d paralyzed him for Christ’s sake. One of those rattles go off now and they were screwed. That’s what you get for letting a chemist play with a loaded stick of dynamite and a couple packets of explosives, you dumb shit. Damn! She ought to come with a warning label, or she was bound to kill a guy. The lucky SOB.
Where was that towel? Letting his arm flop over the side of the bed, he hunted blind, praying it was within arm’s reach. Catching a corner, he dragged it over and pulled it up, doing his best to wipe himself off and stuff himself back in his shorts. Which was pretty damn amazing, considering he had no control of his large muscle groups. Noting that his legs were starting to tingle, he wiggled his toes, excellent, almost back to normal. Chances were good he was coming out of this with nothing more than a permanent lisp.
Was there such a thing as normal anymore? Hell, she’d managed to single handedly raise the bar on normal when she blew his paltry excuse of a sex life right out of the water. Seriously, why should a man settle for ground round when there’s prime rib waiting right in front of him? He sure the hell wasn’t stupid. He wanted prime rib! He deserved prime rib!
She was being awful quiet. Most women liked to talk after, apparently not her. But she sure the hell liked to talking during. Boy did she. Note to self, let her talk all she wants. Finally able to take a deep breath, he gathered his faculties and turned to look at her. God she was beautiful. She was lying on her side, facing him, with her hands held at her chest, and her hair pulled over one shoulder. She was chewing on her bottom lip, but when their eyes met, she gave him a charming little smile.
“Did I do okay?” she asked softly. “I tried.”
She sure the hell had. He nodded.
“You sure? You’re so quiet.”
Licking his lips, he said, “Def-ly.” Damn, he’d lost two syllables. He needed an easier word. Moving his tongue around his mouth and swallowing, he tried again. “Parfett.” Well, he’d almost got it. Fortunately, the sharp cookie she was must’ve understood, because she sat up quick and smiled all excited.
“Really, Jake? Really?” she asked with glee, as she started putting quick little kisses all over his face. “Really? Oh, thank you!” Big peck on the lips. “Thank you.” Big smack on the lips. “Thank you for teaching me!” Big smooch on the lips. “Why didn’t you tell me you spoke French?”
Huh? What the hell had he said? She was doing it again.
“…you’ve always been pretty dang lucky…”
Couldn’t argue with that logic right about now, could he? She’d just thanked him for his letting her give him a hand job! Hell, all he’d done was tag along for the ride as she sailed to the head of the class in her quest for excellence.
Stringing together the only French words his feeble mind could ever remember hearing, he went for it, “Parlay voo fronsay, ma sherry?”
“Oui, mon cherie, ja sais parler francais.”
No way! Get out! It’d worked? She positively beamed. That settled it, on their way home he was stopping in town and buying a lottery ticket. He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve this slice of pie, but he needed to throw in the towel, quick, before his luck ran out. No way was he risking becoming the village idiot.
“Come here,” he said as he reached out and pulled her on top of him. Getting her situated, he reached up and caressed her face as he stared into her blue, blue eyes. “I don’t know what I just said, but whatever it was, I hope it was something along the lines of, you were, are, and always will be, phenomenal. Thank you, Juliet Rose, for taking me to places I didn’t even know existed.” Then gently, he placed her head on his shoulder and held her.
He knew it’d been the right thing to do, when she cuddled up and let out a long blissful sigh.
*****
“Okay, so what is it we’re doing here,” Nik asked.
“Taste testing,” Jules answered. “Jake and I each cooked a portion of our catch, we’re having a cook off. The five of you need to decide who the winner is.”
“What’s the prize?” Kris asked.
“The winner gets to pick what we do tomorrow.”
Both Kris and Nik howled with laughter, then Nik gave Jake the thumbs up along with an optimistic wiggle of the eyebrows.
Jules shook her head in disgust. “Alright, see, I haven’t been around you guys that much, but I’ve been around enough to know that that whole exchange was bad. Shame on you.”
Nik and Kris fell back against their chairs, unable to stop the hysterics.
“Don’t mind them, Jules, they’re idiots,” Linnie said, giving them each the eagle eye. “Who made what?”
“Jake made a beer battered walleye with fries and coleslaw, and I made almond encrusted walleye with saged buerre noisette, rice pilaf, and roasted vegetables.”
“Buerre noisette?” Nik repeated, with a fork in one hand and a k
nife in the other. “Sounds fancy. What is it?”
“It’s French for brown butter,” Jules answered. “I’m excited to finally be able to try this recipe out. Well, let’s get started before it gets cold.”
Bowls and platters went around and the first bites taken. Moans and sighs were heard all around.
“Oh my,” Linnie said, as she went for another bite, “is this ever good, Jules.”
Nik scooted his chair back and looked over at Jake. “Sorry man, can’t front for you, too risky. If I do, she might never cook for me again.”
Jake rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Whatever.”
Jules sat up with a start. “Oh, I forgot.” Then she hopped up and went to the fridge.
As she did, Nik pushed her chair closer to Jake, as Kris smacked him on the arm and pointed to his ring finger, motioning to Jake to get a ring on Jules’s finger, fast.
“I made this sour cream dill sauce for Jake’s fillets,” Jules explained, as she came back to the table with a dish. “It was simple to make, sour cream, fresh dill, chives, lemon, and a little white wine.”
They passed it around. More moans.
“Jake,” Kris said, getting his attention, “I like what you got here, and I sure wouldn’t turn it away, but I’m really liking the almond crust on this bad boy. The dill sauce does bring yours up a few notches though. A nice change from the traditional tartar.”
“I think we should take a vote,” Linnie said. “All for Jake raise their hand. Jules, you’re not allowed to vote, put your hand down. That’s three for Jake. Hands up for Jules. Jake, put your hand down. Okay, we have some people voting twice, that’s five for Jules. Jules you win! What do you have planned for the two of you tomorrow?”
Sitting up with a big grin on her face, she said teasingly, “I was thinking all day shopping.” Pitiful groans were heard from all around the table. “At the mall.” More groans. “I thought I’d get my hair and nails done.” Louder, more miserable groans.