by JA Lafrance
“It’s what I’m sayin’. I want to get a head start on Dominic’s tranny for tomorrow.” The lie falls from my lips as if it were the truth. Reading Faith’s text sucked, but there was no way I wasn’t waiting for her. I didn’t offer to drop her car off like I usually would. I didn’t want to miss a chance to see her again. And no way was I about to admit to Steph how twisted this chick had me, either.
“Okay, boss, whatever you need to tell yourself. I’ll drop it.” He pulls his Jays cap on, flipping the bill to the back. “See you bright and early, then. Promise me, though, if you end up ‘working’ all night,” he air quotes, “clean the place up after yourself, will ya?” The jackass smirks, tossing me a peace sign as he makes for the door before I can lob a wrench or something equally as damaging at him.
Cranking up some old school Pearl Jam, I get to work on Dominic’s Mustang. It isn’t until almost three hours later when the shop’s bell above the door chimes that I come up for air.
“Chance? You in here?” I hear her before I see her. Cleaning myself up as best I can, I quickly make it to the front as she steps inside the dusty garage. Still as gorgeous as she was hours ago, I smile, taking her in. Hair in a messy bun thing, tight jeans showcasing her long legs, a deep-blue winter coat covering her top, the colour making her baby-blue eyes pop as she shifts her gaze, taking in the mess of my shop.
“Hey, Faith. How you doing? Everything okay at work?” I ask, having been concerned since I read her last text.
“Yeah, I had to assist with an emergency surgery, but it went perfectly. Thank you for asking.” She steps further into the shop. Her eyes trap mine. “Did you wait for me?” She tilts her head in question. She’s so damn cute.
“Yeah, it’s no big deal, though.” I catch when her features seem to fall in disappointment at my words.
“Oh, god. I forgot about paying you. Shit, I’m so stupid. I would have come in the morning after I’d had a chance to stop by the bank, Chance. I’m really sorry I’ve wasted your time.” Faith reaches for her purse with urgency.
“Faith,” I call out to stop her. “You didn’t waste my time. I could give a shit about your money,” I tell her, taking a step closer toward her.
“Then why wait for me?” Shit, she’s slow for such a smart woman. I shake my head, letting it sink in before spelling it out for her.
“Truth?”
“Definitely,” she smiles, dropping her purse to the ground, finally starting to pick up what I’m putting down. “Well?”
“I wanted a second chance at seeing you,” I admit, shoving my hands in the front pockets of my tattered blue jeans, suddenly feeling less cocky.
“I see.” She gives me a pause. “You know, technically, it’s the third time.”
“You know what they say about the third, right?” I tease, my eyes drifting over her from head to toe, as she laughs at my comment. I hear the sound of a zipper and look up in time to catch her coat falling off her arms, landing in a blue heap at her feet. She’s stunning in a tight scoop-neck, army-green T. She’s stacked, and I can’t look away from her. My eyes narrow, ghost over all of her from head to toe, and back again.
“Sorry, it’s a little warm in here.” She blushes, and I was right. It suits her.
Watching her shift nervously from foot to foot, I find myself admitting out loud, “I’ve thought about you all day.”
We inch closer to one another. Like two magnets being propelled by attraction.
“Same. I can’t explain it. But I have. I haven’t ever felt like this. Reckless and brave, confident...most of all, I feel a sureness like I know you so well already,” Faith shares, looking up at me from under her long lashes.
We’re so close, yet still too far.
“Faith?” I ask, barely audible, because she makes me feel the same way, it’s a first for me, too.
“Yeah?”
“Baby, I need to taste those lips.”
“You do, do you?”
“Fuck, yeah, I do. Been thinking about them all day. Shit, since the night you gave me stitches.”
She hesitates only for a moment. “I guess you better do it, then,” she says as she snakes her arms around my neck and pulls me down to her.
“Yeah?”
“Most definitely,” she utters as our lips crush into one another.
Chapter 10
Faith
The kiss is frantic, it’s heat and passion.
It’s lust, it’s need.
Most of all, it’s want.
I want this man.
Badly.
It’s true what I said earlier. I have never felt this kind of connection with another man like I do with Chance. I have never been a one-night-stand kind of woman, either, yet with him I feel as though I’d take whatever I can get. Even if it turned out to be just one night.
“Fuck, you smell so good,” Chance says over the shell of my ear, goosebumps erupting in his wake. “I need to feel you, Faith.” His voice is gravelly as he scoops me up. Instinctively, my legs wrap around his waist as he carries me across the shop, our eyes locked on one another, before he sets me down on the hood of some old car. I brace myself by planting my hands behind me on either side of the car’s hood, my legs open in silent invitation despite my mind reeling from the shock of my behaviour right now. But then Chance steps in between my legs, and any worry I have fades. I decide to go with it. I widen my legs, to give him more space. Chance leans in, kisses my cheek, tells me how pretty I am, then slowly slides one hand up the side of one thigh then the other, as if giving me time to back out. I offer a nod, telling him this is okay. Next thing I know, two strong hands are gripping my ass cheeks. I swallow a squeal when he pulls me forward to the hood’s edge, his hard cock suddenly pressed up against my core. He moans huskily, and it sends a shot of desire right through me. “Do you know how hard it is to fix cars with a raging hard on?” he asks into the sweet spot of my neck where it meets my shoulder, his words making me whimper. I need friction. I shift, moving my legs to wrap behind him and pull him towards me.
“I want to feel you.”
He grins, seemingly happy to oblige with my request. He begins to grind against me, nuzzling my neck, as he moves us against each other in some kind of delicious rhythm that has me about to explode from the friction. I release a moan, so damn close to coming I’m not sure I can wait any longer to feel him. Chance tilts my head back, takes my bottom lip between his teeth, and that’s it, I’m a goner.
“Please, Chance.” I plead.
“Tell me what you need, baby.”
“You. I need to feel all of you. In me,” I purr.
His hands reach for my arms, and I raise them, giving him silent permission. Slowly, he starts to raise my T from my waist up and over my head, tossing it who knows where.
“Beautiful. You are exquisite, Faith.” He licks his lips, seeing me like this for the first time. Lowering his head between the valley of my breasts, he continues his praise, “So soft. Perfect. Fuck, I want you so bad,” he admits, slipping his tongue into the cup of my black demi bra, lapping over my nipple again and again. When I can’t take it anymore, I reach behind me, release the clasp, and toss the bra as if it’s singed me. Thankfully, Chance rewards my actions by sharing his attention between both my girls. Sucking, licking, biting, causing a pang of lust to shoot straight through me. I moan out his name.
“Condom?” I ask, reaching for the belt on his jeans and pulling it open.
“Wallet,” he says, and I’m on it, like a girl on an expedition to some great discovery.
We undress each other, discarded pieces of clothing flying this way and that.
“Lift,” Chance commands, when it’s time to rid me of my jeans. He easily peels them from my legs, his eyes zeroed in on my black lace panties as he slides them off, too.
“Lay back a little,” he says, licking his fingers before spreading my legs wide again. I gasp when Chance starts to run his strong fingers between my lips. I moan when he finds my c
lit and gives her the attention she needs and deserves. “I cannot wait to taste this sweetness,” he grunts, as he sinks two fingers inside me. “So damn hot, too fucking sexy,” he growls into my neck.
“Please...” is all I can muster as he continues finger fucking me, his mouth playing with my nipples. I toss my head back at the sensation of his touch, I savour the feelings as he continues to fine tune me like the mechanic he is. I’m soon barrelling down the rabbit hole when I feel him move his fingers in that magical “come hither” motion, and with one swift move, I’m pushed, dangling on the precipice.
“You ready for me?” he asks, mouth around my nipple.
“More than,” I manage to whimper. Pushing his hand out of the way, I reach for his cock and jerk him a few times, before becoming too frantic with desire for this man. I sheath him in the condom and position him at my opening.
“Fuckkk...” he groans, when he starts running his tip along my wetness, “Shit, that’s sexy.” His eyes are glued to where our bodies touch.
“Chance,” I whisper, as he finally starts to nudge himself inside, inch by inch, so fucking slowly I might go out of my mind.
“You feel like heaven, Faith. My very own sanctuary.” He pulls me in for a scorching kiss, and begins to drive into me at a faster pace. He’s big, I feel him everywhere. I love it.
“Yes, ohmygod, Chance, I’m going to come!” I moan. He grips my waist with both hands and drives into me even harder, making me lose my mind, faster and faster. “There, right there. Don’t stop,”
“Never.” He grabs onto my nipple with his mouth and sucks as he fucks me hard. Within seconds I’m coming, and with one last thrust, Chance comes too, landing on top of me, his body jerking, overcome with his own orgasm.
We lay on the hood awhile afterwards, me sprawled across Chance’s chest, his hand running up and down my back. We stay silent for what seems like ages.
“Faith?” he says, after some time.
“Uh huh?” I move to look at him. He runs his finger along my cheek tenderly, looking deep into my eyes, and smiles. Not the devilish one, no, the one that you can’t help smile back at—the beautiful one. It’s such a sweet gesture after laying here afraid to be the first to speak, I could cry. I have never ever done anything like this before in my life, and as we’ve been laying here I’ve been a little bit at war with myself, grappling with how to feel about what I’ve just done.
“I hope you know…I’m going to need to see you a fourth, a fifth, a tenth, a fiftieth, and pretty much a zillion more times. This won’t ever be enough.” he says, with so much sincerity I know without a doubt this is much more than a one-time thing between us.
Wiping a tear before it escapes, I move in closer to Chance’s face. Taking in all of his gorgeous features, I whisper an almost silent “Thank you for that,” over his soft lips before kissing him once again.
Once I’ve had my fill, I lean back, grin and say, “I think I’m ready to give my testimonial now,” then burst out laughing.
Epilogue
Chance
Fourteen months later…
“Did you ever think we’d see the day?” my brother Trevor asks both our pops and our older brother, Corey. They stare back at me in the full-length mirror where I fight to adjust the stupid tie around my neck so it sits properly.
“Nope.”
“Absolutely not. Still in shock.” Corey adds.
“See what?” I ask, adjusting my tux jacket over my vest, then turning to face them. They’re all dressed the same as me, except my vest is white to match my bride, and theirs, of course, are a light shade of purple, to match, well, Faith, and every other flower and decoration.
“I called it, though,” my dad replies, all smug.
“What?” I try once more.
Pops passes us each a bottle of his favourite beer, still ignoring my question.
Shaking my head, I give up.
My dad raises his bottle of Moosehead, and the three of us follow suit. Looking at me, Pops bears a shit-eating grin. “Love, son. I called it.”
I clue in to where he’s going with this and chuckle.
Cheeky bastard.
“I’m proud of you, Chance. I know you’ll be the best husband to Faith. She’s an incredible woman, and your mom and I adore her.”
“Thanks, Pops.”
“Lame,” my brother Corey jokes, and the rest of us share a look. We know better, especially Trevor, who took a long-ass time to see what was right in front of him, but that’s a story for another time.
My pops cuffs Core upside the head, and continues, “As I was saying. Let’s raise our drinks to love, and her uncanny ability to come and bite when you least expect it.” He winks at me before we all salute, “To love!” and take a long pull.
In the end, I guess Pops didn’t curse me that day, he blessed me. And love, well, she brought me Faith, and she turned out to be the best part of me. So, here’s to love, may she bite each and every one of you when you least expect it.
About Gillian Jones
Wife, mother, pun lover, part-time pantser of words. Connoisseur of red wine, lover of a good IPA. I write real-life romances that sometimes hits you in the feels.
The Valley
Bethany-Kris, Edited by Eli Peters
Kisska Matthews ran from her small Canadian town six years ago and promised she wouldn’t be back. Except life has a funny way of working, and her past seems to think it’s time to call her home—back to The Valley, her sister, and the memories she left behind.
But it wasn’t just the town she wanted to leave …
Welcome to The Valley.
The Valley
Welcome to The Valley.
The swirly, happy script of a welcome sign at the top of the hill greeted any and all drivers passing or taking the exit off the Trans-Canada highway into the heart of the town down below in the gully. Except Kisska could already see the matching hills connected by a black, steel bridge and the painted mountain looming behind the Welcome to The Valley line perfectly every time she blinked. It was there.
Imprinted forever.
She knew it was coming, and like the first time she had driven into The Valley when she was just five years old, not much had changed. Smooth, black asphalt continued on beyond the sign, another larger one about a kilometer further on the highway would point travelers to the following towns that would greet them on their way.
When the red Dodge Ram truck ahead of her didn’t turn on a blinker to take the exit for the town known for being split in two over Valley River and connected only by a single bridge, Kisska almost kept driving, too.
Six years wasn’t enough.
Those years away from The Valley—the only place she knew well enough to call her home—certainly hadn’t dulled the heaviness that came to sit on her chest when she turned on the blinker and checked her mirrors before taking the exit off the highway. Nor did those years away keep her breath from stopping as her shitty 2001 Toyota Corolla sped over the crest of the exit’s hill.
The long road down to the town was both painful and amazing. There was something to be said about the views of rural Eastern Canada in the summer. Rolling hills of dense, colorful forest stretched on for as far as the eye could see. Fields of greens and yellows chased the cars on the highway for sometimes hours. Bright, wide blue skies that occasionally filled with rainclouds that would dump hot rain for a few hours before passing on.
She hadn’t run far when she left home—just enough that people wouldn’t know her name, or where she came from, or even why she didn’t want to go back. Four hours to the city of Saint John, New Brunswick had done the job of giving her what she craved.
A place to hide.
And there, she licked her wounds.
The past was a memory that had been tattooed to the back of Kisska’s mind since the day she walked away from it. But like tattoos on the skin, her memories of what used to be were permanent. She pretended it wasn’t there, letting time do its job of
blurring the edges of her memories and fading the raw scar tissue of her history into something less … tender.
But then she had to come back.
And driving into The Valley?
Population 1503.
Well, she hadn’t been ready for that. Except it was too late now. Valley River glistened with a fast current and boats passed under the bridge as swift as the water carrying them. The road on the left side of the gully passed through town to an old courthouse that was no longer used, the lawyer’s office and high school, and then beyond. Out of town where the road continued through rural outskirts and smaller counties that used The Valley as a hub of sorts.
For anything they needed.
It was the other side of town that had her pausing longer at the four-way stop even as she flicked on her right blinker to turn onto the bridge. Two banks waited at the end of the bridge, and a library just to the right where she had first learned to read back when her mother was still trying to stay sober.
She’d lived in the rundown apartment buildings on the back road, and the one over top the pizzeria that had been torn down when the river flooded the town from the spring thaw a decade ago. Even in the backroads of The Valley loomed old Victorian-style homes that had been repurposed and turned into low-income apartments that she had called home as a child.
The funny thing was … that part of her past wasn’t what sent her running from a town full of people who had judged her and determined her future to be fated like her now-dead mother’s as she struggled to grow up. Being faced with reminders of a childhood that was less than kind or healthy didn’t send the panic welling in her chest or holding back her breath, either.