Fourteen
Jarrod
It was after round three, and now we were lying in bed. Well, I was lying in bed and Katy was using me as her mattress, which I had zero issues with. As someone who’d always liked their space and who hadn’t embraced the whole cuddle mentality, this should have irritated me, but I was enjoying it.
She’d been tracing over the tattoo that went all the way up my right arm, across my chest, and ended at my left elbow. It was meant to have been the same as the left one, but I’d run out of symbols for it, so I’d decided to leave it as a work in progress rather than blindly pick things on the internet.
“Do these mean anything,” she asked, rubbing her finger over one of the symbols.
Lifting my arm up, I pointed at them, starting with the one on my wrist. “This one is a Mayan symbol that means a shield, the one above it here is a Viking rune that meant strength.” Twisting my arm so she could see the inside of my forearm, I continued, “This is an ancient Egyptian symbol for family, the one here on the inside of my bicep is also an ancient Egyptian one that means destiny…” I trailed off when she sat up. Then again, she was naked, having lost the nightie completely during round two, so that was why.
Moving so that she was straddling me, she leaned in and squinted. I’d had ancient symbols from all over the world that meant something to me tattooed, and then we’d filled in the blanks with tribal tattoos, dark slashes that joined them all together. With how they’d been done, you had to look carefully to see some of the symbols, but I knew what was where.
“How long did all of this take?” she asked, lifting my right arm to look at that one more closely.
“About a year. I could have probably had it done sooner, but it cost a lot so I wanted to break it up.”
Nodding, she skimmed her hand over the area on my right forearm that was still blank. “What about here?”
“Still looking for inspiration, I guess,” I shrugged. “Because all the symbols mean something to me, it’s hard to find the right ones. I figured I’d wait until I turned forty and I’d have a new phase of life that symbols applied for to complete it all.”
Tilting her head slightly, she thought about this. “I could always help you look.”
Images of The Witcher and gaming characters hit me and I burst out laughing. “I don’t know if Henry Cavill’s face with his long white wig on would fit in with the rest of the ink, baby. Or even Luigi smiling out at people.”
“Drat,” she muttered, making it clear her disappointment was her joking. “And there was me thinking of the cute little mushroom from Mario.”
She was too fucking cute and a total dork.
Running my hand over her unmarked skin, I thought about a tattoo that would suit her. There were a lot of ancient symbols that came to mind, but at the same time I kind of liked her skin free of ink.
With her lying with her chest on mine, the top of her tits were visible, like if she was wearing a corset. Somehow my dick still had it in him to start rising, so he did even though I figured she had to be sore and it would make me a nicer guy to ignore him.
Apparently she didn’t want me to be a nicer guy, though, because the second she felt him, she looked up at me at the same time as lifting up so that she could slide her hand down my stomach. Once she was at her target, she wrapped it around him and started to move it up and down.
“Fuck being nice, I’ll start that tomorrow,” I growled, pushing up and shifting us so that she was now the one on the mattress and I was braced over her. “How many condoms did you get?”
Her eyes rolled up to look at the headboard of the bed as she counted, and then she rolled them back down again. “Three packs of ten, so thirty.”
“We’ll get some more next week.”
Katy
Walking into work on Monday was problematic, but not because of all the sex I’d had over the weekend (although that didn’t help). My pain and stiffness was because yesterday we’d decided to go out to pick up some Thai takeout – regardless of the amount of groceries I now had sitting unused in my kitchen – and just as we’d pulled out of our development, a car that hadn’t had its headlights on hit the side of Jarrod’s Explorer, and then roared off.
Fortunately, Jarrod had just started to move into the road, so the car hit the front of his vehicle, but still. Also fortunately, he’d called Ren, who’d called through to the tow company that the garage used, and someone was out within thirty minutes to tow his car to the garage.
I was slightly bruised from the seatbelt and slightly sore from the impact, but it would have been worse if Jarrod had been further into the turn he was making onto the road that ran along the side of where we lived, because it would have hit his door.
This also meant that we’d had to drive my car in today. After a five-minute argument over who was driving it, with Jarrod telling me he had a dick so he was driving and me arguing that vaginas ruled the day, I’d given him the keys and stormed round to the passenger side. All my pissy-ness was forgotten as I watched Jarrod try to get his long body behind the wheel of the car. Obviously I could have helped him by pressing the button to move the seat back, but after ten seconds of watching it, I’d realized that it had to be witnessed by everyone, so I’d videoed it with my phone. In the end, he had to put the soft top down, move the seat as far back as it could go, lean the back of the seat back, too, then sit behind the wheel with his legs either side of it. Fortunately, I had an automatic because I had no idea what he’d do if he had to use his left leg to push the clutch to change gears constantly, seeing as how it was trapped between the wheel and the door. His right one wasn’t so bad because the center console didn’t take up that much space in my Mini.
So, we’d driven into work with the wind in our hair, but especially in his because his head was so high in the air.
“You need a new car,” he’d growled as soon as we’d left the development, after he’d pulled onto the road more carefully than I’d ever seen him do it. Not that I blamed him, even I was paranoid now that someone was going to hit us even though you could see clearly either way at the turn.
Still, he’d just insulted my baby. “No, you need to chop five inches off the top of your head. Or better still, chop your ankles off.”
“How is that better?”
I hadn’t actually realized I’d said that, so I had to think up an excuse on the fly. “Because you have big feet so your shoes are double the price of normal ones.”
Letting out a frustrated sigh, he stopped at a red light. “They don’t cost more. In fact, you wear more expensive shoes than I do.”
I could say I doubted that with some of my shoes, but I definitely couldn’t say that with all of them. I liked shoes, I’d always liked shoes, and we had an outlet mall not far away from where we lived. Those shoes were heavily discounted, but not all of them were classed as cheap, we’ll just say that.
Looking down at his boots, I tried to guesstimate how much shoes that big would cost. Surely with the extra acreage they had to cost more? I mean, it was a lot more leather than a pair in my size would be, and then there were the soles. I was a size seven, and he had to be a size thirteen or fourteen. Did that mean they put more holes for the shoelaces than they would on a pair in my size? If that was the case, more holes meant longer laces, too. Ergo they’d be more expensive – which was an argument I laid out for him.
This time he looked at me like I’d gone insane until a car behind us beeped to let us know – oh so kindly – that the light had changed to green. Figuring that we were best to ride the rest of the journey in relative silence, I turned on the radio and hit play on one of my favorite songs.
Leaning back, I closed my eyes and listened to the opening guitar part of it, smiling like I always did when I heard it.
“Is this Clapton, too?” Jarrod asked, ruining the silence part of my plan. Then again, I guess I’d said relative silence.
“No, it’s George Harrison.”
He listened a whi
le longer, a smile breaking out on his face, too. “This song’s awesome, what’s it called?”
“It’s mine and Maude’s song,” I told him, smiling when he just chuckled and shook his head. “It’s called Cheer Down.”
Shrugging, he signaled to turn onto the road that the garage was on. “It suits the two of you. I’m a huge Harrison fan and I’ve never heard it.”
“Now you’ve heard it once, you’ll listen to it a thousand times and still not get sick of it. In fact, I bet you’ll be sitting with your guitar trying to figure out how to play it later on.”
Slowing down to turn into the garage, he shot me a look that made ‘little Katy’ twitch. “I’d play it for you a thousand times if you wanted me to.”
There was absolutely no way in hell or heaven that I’d ever say no to that. “You’re on!”
My happy bubble was back in place… at least until Cole and Ren spotted Jarrod’s head and then my car (which was how it went in my head when I played the scene out again later on).
“Holy shit,” Cole howled, holding onto the frame of the entrance. “Where’s the rest of your car?”
Seriously, his head did clear the top of the car!
“Fuck!” he growled, sounding so much like Geralt in The Witcher that I sighed and shifted in my seat. Realizing immediately, he shot me a glare that softened when he saw the happy smile on my face and then he just shook his head.
Getting out of the car was just as amusing as getting into it, and Cole and Ren got a show as he had to wriggle out from behind the wheel. What was even better was that Duke was in the back seat, and just as Jarrod bent over to stand up, his leg still next to the wheel, Duke jumped and landed on his back, using it as a trampoline to get out.
Realizing that it would be a good idea for me to get to the office, I skedaddled as quickly as my sore body would let me, and scurried past the two Townsend men who were still laughing. Just as I passed where they were standing, though, I whispered, “I’ve got a video of him trying to get in.”
Both men stopped laughing and then followed behind me to watch it.
And then the day went a bit weird when I went down to the forecourt and saw that creepy guy Shane again, standing with his arms crossed in front of him, watching me with a look on his face that didn’t exactly scream happy things. In fact, they were so far from happy things that I turned around to tell Jarrod, but when we came back out again he was gone.
Easy come, easy go, I guess!
Any thoughts of creepy Shane fled, though, when other members of the Townsend family turned up at the end of the day to watch Jarrod getting back behind the wheel of my car. That shit was totally going viral.
* * *
One week later…
“You’d tell me if it was one of my brothers who kept moving my stuff around, wouldn’t you?” I asked him as I walked out of my kitchen with two plates of leftovers that Gloria had dropped round.
“Absolutely,” he replied with zero hesitation.
“You’d tell me if it was one of your brothers doing it, too, wouldn’t you?” I asked this time as I sat down beside him and passed him his plate.
“I’d kick their asses myself.”
Balanced on the edge of my plate was a pink plastic bowl with the same food we were eating for Elodie, and as soon as she saw it she came toddling up to me. I didn’t normally let her eat in the living room, but Jarrod had bought her a purple place mat to put on the coffee table and had spent the last week teaching her to eat sitting on her knees beside it. Initially, she hadn’t liked this because his plate was bigger, so now he had a blue version of her bowl in the cupboard and tonight was his first night as a big boy.
On that note, I decided to point it out in my own special way. “Is your food too hot?”
Lifting his head up, he glanced over at me. “No?”
“I see,” I mumbled, looking down at my plate. “Do you need different cutlery, or would you like me to put a cork on the fork?”
“Katy, why the hell would I need a cork on my fork?” he asked, sounding totally confused now.
“So you don’t hurt yourself, honey. Those are sharp edges.”
“You’d have to check with Mom, but I’m pretty certain I’ve never caused myself an injury with a fork,” he replied with forced patience.
“Ok, be careful with that plate now. It’s heavy and if you break it you could hurt yourself,” I pointed out helpfully.
Placing it down on the coffee table, he turned so that he was facing me now. “Do you need a cork on your fork?”
“Nope,” I replied before shoveling in a mouthful of Gloria’s heavenly delights, my eyes on the kid's movie playing on the television.
“Then did you hit your head when I wasn’t looking?”
“Nope.”
“So why don’t we put this bizarre conversation to bed and finish our dinner?” he suggested, and I had to swallow down the laughter that was building inside my chest. I’d only just managed to do that when he went to reach for his plate and let out a little growl. Looking down, I saw my niece sitting on her knees in front of his plate, happily feeding herself from it. “Petal, that’s my plate,” he said softly, calling her by his new nickname for her.
Turning around, she frowned at him and shook her head. “My!”
“No, baby, it’s mine,” he told her and held his hand out. “Can I have it back?”
The glare on her little face reminded me so much of her mother’s when she was little. “No, my!”
Before he could say anything else, she picked up her pink bowl and passed it to him, then turned back to the plate.
I only just made it to the kitchen before I started laughing.
Reaching into the cupboard for his ‘special plate’, I lifted it down and emptied the rest of the Rubbermaid containers that I’d heated the food up in onto it, and then carried it through to him.
Retaking my seat beside him, I lifted up a forkful of food and asked, “Now do you need a cork on your fork?”
The rest of dinner passed silently with only little squeals of excitement from Elodie breaking it. Then, just as I was picking up the plates to take them through to the dishwasher, she walked on her knees to where the big man was sulking, climbed up onto his lap and wrapped her arms around him. “Wuv cawot,” she whispered, unable to say his name and figuring carrot was close enough.
His reaction to her eating off his plate might have seemed like he was pissed, but seeing it in first person, he’d been proud of her for her ingenuity and for eating off an adult plate. There was nothing that either of us did that ever truly pissed him off even if he acted like it, and seeing him wrap his arms around Elodie and hold her tighter to him, I knew that the perfect I’d thought he was, was nowhere near the perfect he actually was.
Saying I’d fallen in love with him was an understatement, and I didn’t need any GYMP to make it happen.
Walking around the back of the couch, I headed toward the kitchen, pausing when I heard him say back, “Cawot loves ‘Lodie, too.”
I’d had a lot of dreams about Jarrod in the months after I’d started working at the garage, fantasies that ranged from tame to downright dirty. Not one of those dreams had even come close to the reality of being part of his life, though. When your dreams pale in comparison to the reality of your man, you know you’ve found the needle in the haystack.
* * *
Three hours later…
I was face down on the bed, my hands gripping the sheets to stop my body being pushed up the mattress with each thrust.
We’d started with me kneeling at the side of the bed with him on his feet because of his height, but then he’d shifted me further up the mattress and had joined me on his knees. This had also posed a problem because his legs were so much longer than mine, so he’d had to lift the lower half of my body off the bed to do what we were doing now. This meant that with each thrust there was a real danger of me sliding forward, so my grip was fierce on the sheet and I hoped it didn’t
ping off the edge of the mattress each time he plunged into me.
“Can you stay quiet?” Jarrod taunted on a hard thrust, and a small groan left me.
Deciding honesty was the best policy, I shook my head. “No, no, I can’t.”
Chuckling at my response, he slid his hands from where they were gripping my hips down my ribs and in so that he now had one of my breasts in each hand. Gently, he pulled me up until I was sitting upright on my knees in front of him, with him still inside me.
Leaning down so that his mouth was next to my ear, he whispered, “Then I’ll help you.”
Those words really didn’t fill me with confidence that he’d succeed, but they sure as hell sounded ominous.
The first thrust in the new position was a hard thrust upward that made me reach back to hold on to him, digging my nails into his side. With a growl, he moved me up and down so that I was riding him, periodically adding a hard thrust of his own. No matter how many times we’d done this, I still felt overwhelmed by the size of him as he moved in and out of me. Even thinking about the fact that he was inside me at that moment made me clench - as it always did - around his length, earning myself a harder thrust than previously from him.
It might have been the position, it might have been the thrusts, or it might even have just been because it was Jarrod, but in a matter of seconds I went flying over the edge. He only just managed to turn my head and kiss me in time, swallowing down the loud moan that came out of me as I clenched around him.
When he felt it leave me, he lifted his head and smiled down at me. “Told you I’d do it.”
I didn’t have it in me to get irritated at his cockiness, I was too absorbed in how it felt being so sensitive after coming so hard, with his thick length still moving inside me the way it was. I did have one thing to say though. “When you come, I want to be kissing you, too.”
His eyes flared slightly, and then he doubled his efforts, lifting me up and dropping me down more quickly and thrusting up constantly now. The ironic thing was, I was waiting for him to come when another one hit me. At the same time, we moved to kiss each other, and I swallowed his growl while he took my second moan. It was phenomenal.
Talk Flirty To Me: Cheap Thrills Series Book 4 Page 17