Page 79 of June: Jess' Story
And then I tell her about Alex and me now, the arrangement. She doesn’t say anything, but her eyes go a bit wide at the truth. I tell her how I’m pretty sure I’m just some sort of weird consolation prize to Alex. The wife and daughter he could’ve had. It’s fucked up, and it’s weird, and I accept it because I want so badly for him to want me because I loved him the moment I saw him crouched over two headstones. And what kind of person does that make me?
Sandy leans forward, wiping a tear off my face. “Oh, sugar.”
“Alright, ladies,” Rick says, setting plates in front of Sandy and myself. In front of Eden, he sets down a grilled cheese already cut up into bite-sized pieces and an applesauce. Bless him.
“Thank you, so much. Really. You have no idea,” I say to him, almost certain I’m still crying.
“Thank ya, baby.” Sandy echoes me.
“Holler if you need something,” Rick just barely gets out before backing off quickly. (Doesn’t like tears, does he?)
“Well, honey, they say honesty is the best policy for a reason,” Sandy says. It doesn’t come off condescending like one might think. “You just gotta be brave enough to make that jump. And you will.” She sounds so sure. Like everything will just be alright.
“And everything will be fine then?” I ask her, hoping she says yes. Because if Sandy says yes, I think I could really believe her.
“Oh heavens, no!” she laughs. “But at least you’ll be able to sleep at night.”Fuck me.
TWENTY-TWO
Jess
When we get back to the house. It’s not even 8:00 P.M. but all the lights are off, casting the glow from the lights on the back deck into the house. Alex and Caleb are sitting around some sort of tubular fire pit thing.
The kitchen has been cleaned at least. Food processor has been disassembled and laid out to dry, and my stomach sinks. It was my first time cooking for him and it was shit. (Not my food, the night. The night was shit.) It’s stupid stuff like that that sends me into a tailspin because it means a lot to me. And nothing to him. The only other man I’ve ever cooked for was Tommy.
I drop the diaper bag in the mudroom and head upstairs, grateful Alex is outside. This way I can grab pjs and wash my face without him here. As soon as I’m changed, I pull my hair up into a high pony and head to Eden’s room for her nightly routine.
As we walk, Eden pulls on my hair and for the first time, I have this insane desire to chop it off. Like that’s what’s weighing me down. (Not the fact that I’m lying to people.) Maybe I’ll do both, though. I’ll tell the truth, cut off all my hair, and just live that villainous lifestyle. I’m hardly the princess in the tower. I need to stop acting like it.
We do bath, pjs, lather on lotion, read two books, and I sing. Eden goes down relatively easily, allowing me to plug my phone into the charger, hit the lights, and crawl into the daybed in her room to (hopefully) fall asleep.
The sleep will not come.I refuse to look at my phone, lest the time will taunt me, but I’m awake when I hear footsteps. Footsteps that stop outside the bedroom where I was supposed to sleep last night, but didn’t. Then they resume and stop outside Eden’s room.
My pulse quickens and my palms sweat, worried he’ll poke his head in or something, but he doesn’t. Then the footsteps fade when he enters his bedroom before coming back out into the hall again. The sound of footsteps grows nearer, but then they stop, and retreat again. And I let loose the breath I didn’t know I was holding.
“Hey,” his deep, raspy whisper rouses me.
“Hmm,” I stretch my legs and yawn, but don’t open my eyes.
“Come to bed?” I think it’s a question, but then he’s lifting me out of the daybed and my half-awake body betrays me by slipping my arms around his neck. My head falling a bit slack against his hard chest.
I open my eyes briefly, then take one slow blink, and he’s lowering me onto my side of his bed. I immediately pull the pillow tighter and roll to face away from him, praying to just fall back asleep, but he doesn’t let me. He pushes his large, warm (mostly naked) body against my back, and my fucking traitor body sighs out and relaxes. I try not to focus on it, otherwise I’ll get pissed and that’ll wake me up. And I’m pretty sure if I’m awake in a bed with Alex, it will eventually lead to fucking. And my heart can’t take much more of that.
“Jess…” It’s whispered, feather-soft across my temple as I feel his engorged cock slide against my ass while his fingers hold a biting grip on my hip. I instinctively grind my hips back before I can even tell my body not to. It just feels so fucking good. His cock, but also this feeling that he wants me.
His hand leaves my hip and slides into my pajama bottoms, finding me hot and ready for him and he growls in my hair. I go to turn towards him, but he stops me, flipping me onto my stomach.
It’s so fast, I feel like the winds have been sucked out of my sails. I gasp slightly at the roughness, but then he’s at my back pulling me up on all fours, and the asshole asks, “Do you want this?” His dick is there, pushing against the fabric of my pajamas.
I moan when he slides his dick forward, pushing it up so it strokes my clit through the thin fabric.
“Yes,” I whisper back. And he slides my pajama pants down to my knees, letting them stay there. Then he lines himself up and pushes in.Fuck. Fucking hell. His cock has this curve to it that makes the most delicious sensation when he rubs against my inner walls. With him behind me and my ass up, the sensation is doubled.
My hands clench at the sheets, my toes curl, my walls tighten, and when he slams into me, I let out a quiet huff. And then his hands are at my scalp. I don’t know if he’s aware he does this, but each time we’ve had sex, his hand always finds its way into my hair. He tangles it. He tugs it. He lets his fingers glide through it. It feels amazing. I love this feeling that he has something about me that he loves.
“Louder.” The command takes me by surprise. I’m not a moaner, a screamer, never have been, but the fact that he wants to hear me makes me swell with pride a little.
He slams into me from behind harder, and this time I let the pant leave my mouth with a little more gusto.