Page 95
Story: Jett
I slide under the covers, and she does the same. We’re both turned on our side, facing each other. I move her hair off her shoulder, exposing her neck, and I see the hickey I left there. I’m tempted to leave more. To brand her, claim her as mine. Being with her—even before tonight, maybe when I saw her close her eyes with fear on the plane— I realized there was so much more about Cari that I didn’t know. And I wanted to.
I also realize that some things worth having, you have to chase. They don't just land in your lap, the way my previous girlfriends did.
I want more. I want warmth, stability, desire, and love all intertwined. Cari, looking at me, listening to me earnestly, giving me her undivided attention, is the person who can make that possible.
“Do you know what enough is?” she whispers in the dim light.
“Being here with you, is enough. I don’t need anything more.” I press a kiss to her lips. We are covered by a thin sheen of sweat and the room smells sinful. As hard as it is to leave the bed, I get up and open the windows some more. The gossamer-thin curtains ripple gently in the night breeze.
When I come back to the bed, she's turned the lamp off.
“Why did you do that?” I turn it back on again.
“Because ...” I sense the old Cari returning. My PA. Now that we’re not in the heat of the moment, post-sex reality seems to have hit her hard.
“I want to see you, Cari. Every inch of you. You're beautiful, as are these ...” I flip her over onto her back and start feasting on her breasts again. I lift my head, midway through a long, delicious suck. “They’re perfect.” She has an insecurity about herself, and I'm determined to erase that from her mind.
I slide my finger into her mouth and she sucks it willingly. I trace it along her lips, growing hard for her instantly. God. I want her again. But something comes to mind from earlier, something she said that bothered me. “You're not alone, Cari.”
“Alone?”
“Earlier you said at the party, you felt so alone, and you never expected me to stand up for you. You really felt alone, even with me and Brooke there?”
“You weren't there for most of the time, Mr. Hotshot. You were busy holding court with your female admirers.”
“I was trying tonotfollow you around.”
“Hmm.” She appears to consider this.
“I'm sorry this has been such a chore for you. The moms’ lunch and those hideous women tonight.”
“Celine is nice.”
“She’s an old friend of the family.” Cari stares at me expectantly, but I don’t want to talk about the past. “Are you sore?” I ask, hating that I might have hurt her in any way.
“I don't think so.”
“So, we can go again?” I waggle my eyebrows mischievously. I love the smile that spreads on her lips. She's been smiling and giggling and laughing so much more recently.
“I'm not ... I don't have as much experience as you ... and I haven’t had sex in a long time.” She sounds shy—embarrassed almost—but I'm over the moon happy to hear this. It means I can teach her things. Do things with her that she's never done before.
Be her first in a lot of ways.
I cup her face gently. “You should have told me. I would have gone slower and been more gentle. I mean, I tried … but …” I put my hands between her legs again and cup her there. “I couldn’t resist this. You turn me into a beast.”
Another full smile, before she lowers her head and kisses my chest.
“How many boyfriends?” I ask, my hand still between her legs.
She looks up at the ceiling, then at me. “Three, including the last guy. The one who sometimes met me at work.”
I remember him. “The loser who wasn’t there for you when you needed him to be.” What an asshole. During her mother’s illness, she was so fragile, so broken. She’d cry a lot and try to hide it, but it was impossible to ignore her bloodshot eyes, or her trash can filled to the brim with tissues.
“Yes, and the two before him were very short relationships.”
Three lovers? She has much to learn. There is a lot I can teach her. “Define short.” She seems surprised at my questions. “I want to know all about you, Cari. I know a few things, that you like pepperoni pizza with a ton of olives, you also like turkey and avocado on toasted sourdough, you live with your best friend, you love The Mayflies, you're reading up about businesses—”
“How do you know that?”
I also realize that some things worth having, you have to chase. They don't just land in your lap, the way my previous girlfriends did.
I want more. I want warmth, stability, desire, and love all intertwined. Cari, looking at me, listening to me earnestly, giving me her undivided attention, is the person who can make that possible.
“Do you know what enough is?” she whispers in the dim light.
“Being here with you, is enough. I don’t need anything more.” I press a kiss to her lips. We are covered by a thin sheen of sweat and the room smells sinful. As hard as it is to leave the bed, I get up and open the windows some more. The gossamer-thin curtains ripple gently in the night breeze.
When I come back to the bed, she's turned the lamp off.
“Why did you do that?” I turn it back on again.
“Because ...” I sense the old Cari returning. My PA. Now that we’re not in the heat of the moment, post-sex reality seems to have hit her hard.
“I want to see you, Cari. Every inch of you. You're beautiful, as are these ...” I flip her over onto her back and start feasting on her breasts again. I lift my head, midway through a long, delicious suck. “They’re perfect.” She has an insecurity about herself, and I'm determined to erase that from her mind.
I slide my finger into her mouth and she sucks it willingly. I trace it along her lips, growing hard for her instantly. God. I want her again. But something comes to mind from earlier, something she said that bothered me. “You're not alone, Cari.”
“Alone?”
“Earlier you said at the party, you felt so alone, and you never expected me to stand up for you. You really felt alone, even with me and Brooke there?”
“You weren't there for most of the time, Mr. Hotshot. You were busy holding court with your female admirers.”
“I was trying tonotfollow you around.”
“Hmm.” She appears to consider this.
“I'm sorry this has been such a chore for you. The moms’ lunch and those hideous women tonight.”
“Celine is nice.”
“She’s an old friend of the family.” Cari stares at me expectantly, but I don’t want to talk about the past. “Are you sore?” I ask, hating that I might have hurt her in any way.
“I don't think so.”
“So, we can go again?” I waggle my eyebrows mischievously. I love the smile that spreads on her lips. She's been smiling and giggling and laughing so much more recently.
“I'm not ... I don't have as much experience as you ... and I haven’t had sex in a long time.” She sounds shy—embarrassed almost—but I'm over the moon happy to hear this. It means I can teach her things. Do things with her that she's never done before.
Be her first in a lot of ways.
I cup her face gently. “You should have told me. I would have gone slower and been more gentle. I mean, I tried … but …” I put my hands between her legs again and cup her there. “I couldn’t resist this. You turn me into a beast.”
Another full smile, before she lowers her head and kisses my chest.
“How many boyfriends?” I ask, my hand still between her legs.
She looks up at the ceiling, then at me. “Three, including the last guy. The one who sometimes met me at work.”
I remember him. “The loser who wasn’t there for you when you needed him to be.” What an asshole. During her mother’s illness, she was so fragile, so broken. She’d cry a lot and try to hide it, but it was impossible to ignore her bloodshot eyes, or her trash can filled to the brim with tissues.
“Yes, and the two before him were very short relationships.”
Three lovers? She has much to learn. There is a lot I can teach her. “Define short.” She seems surprised at my questions. “I want to know all about you, Cari. I know a few things, that you like pepperoni pizza with a ton of olives, you also like turkey and avocado on toasted sourdough, you live with your best friend, you love The Mayflies, you're reading up about businesses—”
“How do you know that?”
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