Chapter Eleven
I was still leaning against the door when there was a knock, jolting me out of my stupor. Ben had good timing, actually. There wasn’t any way I was getting out of my tank without help unzipping it.
But when I opened the door, it wasn’t Ben I found standing there. It was JC. The hormones, which had just started to calm ever so slightly, roared back into a storm. The look in his eyes said his had never calmed at all.
I was rushing to him even before he spoke. “I’m here for our second date,” he said just as our mouths collided, our teeth clacking in the frenzy of our kiss. He was already taking off his jacket as he pushed me toward the wall, and I was madly working at the buckle of his pants, my lips never leaving his, my tongue slipping and sliding against his.
Then his hands were under my thighs, lifting me to perch on the console table. My shoes fell to the ground as I spread my legs to let him stand between them, the movement knocking my mail organizer and the roses he’d brought me to the floor. I barely noticed, my sole focus on him, on getting as close to him as possible, as soon as possible.
His buckle was undone now, and after another couple of seconds, his pants were unzipped, and I slipped my hand down to grasp his cock through his boxer briefs. It was so big—bigger than I remembered—and hard and hot under my palm. I squirmed, wanting it out and inside me, my desperation ratcheting higher the nearer it got to happening.
JC was just as desperate. His hands fell to my knees, sending a delicious shiver down my spine as he skated his hands up and under my skirt.
And then he found the hem of my shorts. He pulled away to examine the clothing that stood between his fingers and the sensitive skin of my thighs.
“Fuck,” I hissed, wishing now that I hadn’t been so goddamned precautious. “Take it off,” I urged. “Take it off.”
He didn’t hesitate, moving to the waistband of my skort. I braced my hands on his shoulders and lifted my ass while he pulled the garment and my panties past my cheeks, then sat and lifted my thighs so he could take them all the way down and off.
Huh, I guess they weren’t that hard to take off after all.
I threw my arms around his neck and scooted toward the edge of the table, eager to be pressed against him in all the critical places.
But JC’s fervor slowed, his attention moving to my now exposed cunt. He smiled as he slid two fingers down the length of my folds toward my opening. I let out a soft sigh as he entered me, so wet that his fingers slipped in easily.
His eyes flew up to mine. “Holy shit, Gwen.” He added another finger, and I bucked as he rubbed against the magic spot inside that only he had ever been able to find. He pressed his thumb against my clit, and I thought I might come right then.
“You’re so beautiful when I’m fucking you with my fingers.” He stroked in and out of me, his tempo excruciatingly lazy. “I could watch you like this for hours.”
“No, no,” I moaned. “Please.” I couldn’t form anything more coherent while he was pleasuring me, but as good as it felt, I wanted him to stop. I needed his cock inside me, and every second that passed that he made me wait for it was torture.
“Shh.” He bent in to nip my lower lip before pulling his hand from my pussy and placing a single wet finger over my mouth. “I know what you need, Gwen. And I’m going to give it to you because I need it too.”
He smeared my juices over my lips, then leaned in to kiss me, his mouth bruising me with his greediness to devour my taste. Damn, it was hot. Naughty and dirty and so, so hot.
As he ravished me, his hands were absent—taking out his cock, I hoped. I inched my hips toward him, frantic to sheath him.
Somewhere in the haze of my desire, it struck me how much this was like the first time we’d been together, when our lips had been molded and my legs spread around him as I sat on a stainless steel table and eagerly waited for him to enter me.
Then it struck me how different it was as well. How far we’d come since then. I wasn’t doing this to hurt myself. We were sloppy in our kisses, but out of longing, rather than newness. And I didn’t have to be in charge like I did then. So far we’d come together pretty equally, but the minute he demanded my submission, I’d give it to him, willingly.
Eventually, his hand tangled in my hair and he pulled me backward, abruptly breaking our kiss. Now, I thought. Now is when he’ll let me become his again. I glanced down and saw his cock was out. I watched with hungry eyes as he lined himself up to my entrance. “Please,” I begged. Please, please, please.
But he paused, and I knew why. Because this was the time where a condom would go on. Or not. We’d never used condoms. I’d been on birth control and he’d provided a medical record that showed him free of disease. That first time, however, before we’d discussed it, we’d been reckless and ignored any thoughts of responsibility.
This time, JC paused.
I still had an IUD. But I’d been with someone else. I knew he had to be thinking about that as he stood there, his cock in his hand, ready to enter me, and I knew I had to say something.
I searched for a way to say what I needed to while leaving Chandler out of it as much as possible. “I’ve used condoms,” I said between ragged breaths. “There’s never been a time that I wasn’t protected.”
His eyes never left mine. “Yeah, but do you trust me?”
Until that moment, it hadn’t occurred to me that he could have been with anyone else in the year we’d been apart. Jealousy raged through me. And anger. I had no right to either since I’d had my own affair, but there they were, real and pulsing with the same magnitude as my desire.
And there was no way I was letting go of my want. Not when it was so close to being met, no matter what my other emotions were.
I tilted my chin up and gave him my answer. “Fuck me, Justin.”
He didn’t wait another second. With his hands gripping my hips, he shoved into me, burying his cock deep inside. I cried out from the relief, from my anger, from the unbelievably exquisite pleasure. He pulled out and drove in again, out and then in, quickly attaining a rapid speed. He filled me completely, but I was so wet, so slick, that I adjusted to him easily, my walls fitting him like I’d specifically been made for him to be inside me.
God, it was everything I’d remembered and more. Being with him. Even with my lingering fury and frustration, I was transported to a state of bliss. Only he could ignite me this quickly, this thoroughly, lighting every nerve in my body like his cock was a torch and my cunt was a pool of gasoline.
My fingers clutched onto his shirt, and my mouth tilted up to latch onto his. I wanted to be as close to him as I could, every part of my body touching his. I hated the clothes that separated us from contact, but I hated the idea of halting to disrobe even more.
And it didn’t matter what I wanted anyway, because it was then that JC took total charge, breaking our kiss and pulling back so that the only place we were connected was between my thighs. In an act of defiance, I swung my legs around his waist, but he reached behind and wrapped his fingers around my calves and pushed out and back so that my knees were bent and my body spread.
I followed his gaze down to watch him fuck me, his cock stroking in and out of my pussy. The sight was so erotic that I automatically clamped tighter around him, and my orgasm began its upward climb.
JC leaned in to my ear. “Tell me what it feels like,” he demanded in a husky voice.
He’d always liked talking during sex, liked me to verbally acknowledge what he did to me. I hadn’t forgotten, and I’d always liked being prodded by him. My head spun so much when he was inside me that it was hard to form thoughts, let alone words. His questions helped direct my attention, made me have to focus and participate in the pleasure, which made it that much more enjoyable.
“It’s good,” I told him now. “You feel good.”
“How else?” He took my lobe in between his teeth and bit.
“Ah,” I cried, the sting at my ear humming through my entire body. “You turn me on everywhere. And you’re so deep. So hard. I love how you feel.”
“More. Tell me more.”
His tempo had changed since he’d begun talking, slowed to a torturous pace. I tilted my hips forward, urging him to pick up the speed. “I’ve missed this so much. Missed having you inside me like this. Please, JC.”
But he went even slower, his cock moving languidly inside me. “Go on.”
“JC. Please. I need. I can’t. Please.” I squirmed and pled, unable to concentrate on anything but the tension in my belly, begging to be unraveled, aching to be pummeled into release.
He ran his thumb along my jaw then lifted my chin up until our eyes met. “I’ll go on when I’m ready, Gwen. Tell me what I want to hear.”
I didn’t know what he wanted to hear, and fuck, I was going to die if he didn’t let me get to my orgasm, like, now.
But the look on his face said that his patience wasn’t leaving any time soon, and he had no problem tormenting me. He placed his thumb on my clit, just to make sure I was clear on that.
At the pressure of his touch, the tension grew tauter. I was desperate now, frantic with need. Keeping my gaze on his, I tried again. “It feels so good. So right.” I paused, searching for what else. “Like I was made for you.”
I wasn’t sure, but I thought his face brightened. He swirled his thumb around my nub, and I knew that despite his leisurely pace, it wouldn’t be long before I burst.
But it was the words that truly brought me closer to release. The intimate, honest words he was drawing from me. More fell from my mouth, raw and unshaped. “Like you belong here. With me. Like we belong together.”
His eyes definitely sparked. “That’s it, Gwen.” He pulled my legs in, keeping them bent, and wrapped his arms around them so that his hands could dig into my ass while he rammed into me with revitalized ferocity. “We belong together. We’ve always belonged together.”
The new position paired with his driving pace sent me over the edge. My body went rigid and my eyes slammed shut. Sensation roared through my body—my limbs tingled and my chest expanded and my pussy clenched and vibrated with intensity, screaming in ecstasy. On the underside of my lids, I saw rainbow streaks of light. My whole face contorted as I sang out with a long guttural sound that I didn’t recognize as coming from me. It felt like crying, but without tears, my body shaking as though sobbing, my throat opening with the long-needed release. It was wonderful and painful and cathartic, my entire being letting out so many emotions I’d kept buried.
“Fuck, Gwen. Yes. Like that, yes.” JC chased his own orgasm, spurred on by the sight of me, by my sounds, and I realized in that moment what this really was. Realized that this was his reclaiming of my body and soul. He’d demanded it before he set me free. Demanded my acceptance of his ownership over me.
And something else—I couldn’t explain how or why I knew this—but I was certain that at least a part of him resented me as much as I resented him.
That final realization was punctuated with his climax. He ground against me, jabbing into my cunt, and groaning as he came.
His arms flew up to embrace me as soon as he finished, and we sat like that, sweaty and spent, finding our breath, calming down. Me slumped on his shoulder while he held me.
My head was quiet in that moment. Every emotion had been driven out by my lust, and now, with that sated as well, I felt only peace.
JC broke the tranquility when he pulled out of me. He took a step back and put his hands on his sides to study me.
The separation jarred me from my serene state of nothingness, and rapidly, feeling crept back over me like a cluster of spiders emerging from their cocoon. Doubt and uncertainty layered in on top of frustration and irritation. Envy came next. Then bitterness. The emotions choked and strangled, and I didn’t want to face any of them. I wanted to be calm and blissful again. Or, at the very least, numb.
That, I could achieve. I was good at being numb. At being ice.
Unable to meet JC’s eyes, I jumped to the ground and found my clothes. I pulled them on, not bothering to clean up, wanting only to be covered and no longer exposed. Needing further distraction, I bent to the ground and began picking up the mail that had fallen during our manic interlude.
“What are you doing?” JC asked softly.
I didn’t look at him. “Cleaning.”
“No. You’re shutting down.”
I winced at his ability to read me so easily. It made me feel more vulnerable than my nakedness had. Just breathe, I told myself. Breathe and let him in.
But I didn’t breathe. Instead, I tried to distance myself further. Grabbing the flowers from the floor, I headed to the kitchen. “I’m just cleaning,” I protested sharply.
He followed me. “You’re not. You’re shutting me out.” He was right behind me now, his body pulsing with warmth that threatened to break past my cold exterior.
I pulled a vase from the cabinet and set it in the sink to begin filling it with water, hating my behavior, unable to change it.
JC reached around me and turned off the faucet before the vase was full. He turned me around forcefully and took my hands in his. “Don’t do this, Gwen. Talk to me.”
My instinct was to pull away. But the jolt of heat that seared through me at his touch was too intoxicating. I wanted more of it. I wanted more of him, and, as Ben had implied earlier, I wouldn’t get that if I kept myself closed off.
I took a deep breath in and let it out. “You’re right,” I admitted, my attention on the waist of his pants. He’d put himself away, but his buckle and snap were still open. “I don’t mean to shut down, but I can’t help it. I’m telling myself not to and still here I am closing off. I can feel it, but I don’t know how to stop it.”
It felt better just to say that. My shoulders relaxed, and I took in another deep breath.
JC loosely shook my arms. “You’re stopping it like this. By talking to me. We can do this. We’re just out of practice.”
I glanced up at him. Yes, I was out of practice. The walls I’d rebuilt after he left were fragile and likely easy to topple down, but I didn’t remember how.
But he was going to help me remember how. He ran his hands up my arms, slowly, sweetly. “What’s going on in your head, Gwen?”
Shit, wasn’t that the question of the century? I leaned against the sink behind me, closed my eyes and tried to pinpoint the emotion consuming me most. When I found it, I crossed my arms, forcing him to drop his. “Our year apart…” I started tentatively. “Were you with anyone else?”
His eyes remained on mine as he shook his head. “No.” He stepped closer and cupped my cheek with his palm. “No, I haven’t been with anyone since you.”
The weight on my chest loosened, and I sighed into his hand. Immediately, I felt guilty about my relief. “I have no right to be happy about that.”
He stroked my face with his thumb. “It was different for me, Gwen. I knew I was coming back. You didn’t.”
I rolled my eyes up toward the ceiling. “I love how you’re consoling me when I’m the one who cheated.”
“Stop it. You didn’t cheat.” His other hand perched on my waist, and even with my arms crossed in front of me, I felt him moving in, felt myself letting him move in. “I told you to go on with your life. I was prepared for that.”
“And you’re okay?” My voice sounded strangled. “I mean, we’re okay even though—” I couldn’t finish the statement. He’d still wanted me, even after knowing about Chandler, and that should have been enough.
Still, I was asking for more.
“Oh, Gwen.” He brushed his hand up my face and through my hair. “I thought you weren’t available. I thought I would never have you again like this. In my arms.” He leaned his forehead against mine, his nose stroking against my own. “So, yes. We’re okay. You’re with me and we’re okay.”
I opened my arms and threw them around his neck. It was difficult for me to believe that he would be so easily forgiving of another man in my bed, but I wasn’t going to push the issue. I was with him and that meant we were okay.
Then why did I still have so much apprehension?
“Is this all that’s causing you to close off?” JC’s ability to read my trepidation was uncanny. It was probably a blessing, since I would have likely pretended everything was hunky-dory now.
I pushed away from him, crossing to get my kitchen shears as my excuse. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to be touching him—I did. I always did. It was just easier to say some things without the distraction of his body against mine.
“I don’t know.” I pulled the scissors from their drawer but kept my back to him a moment longer. “It’s my defense when things don’t go the way I’ve decided they should go.”
“How have you decided they should go?”
I turned to face him. He was leaning against the sink, his arms braced on the counter on either side of him. It was somewhat surreal to see him in my kitchen, standing next to my fridge. He fit into my life so effortlessly. Why was it so hard for me to let that be okay?
That was exactly what he was trying to help me figure out.
“Well.” I ran my tongue along my bottom lip as I considered how to answer. “Like tonight. Like earlier. That’s how I think we should be doing this. We should date. We should get to know things about each other before we jump back into this other stuff.” I took the scissors and returned to the sink, reaching behind him to turn on the faucet.
“Tonight was great,” he said as I picked up the roses. “I loved every minute of it. But we can’t play at innocent forever.”
“Well, that definitely wasn’t innocent,” I said, nodding to the foyer where our sexcapade had taken place.
“That’s not what I’m talking about. Eventually we have to address that there’s a whole history between us.”
“A whole history based on sex.” I pulled off all the plastic water containers at once then stuck the ends of the flowers under the running water.
“So? Does that invalidate how I feel about you? Because I know more about how to make you come than about who you voted for in the last election? Some people, not all people, meet and establish a relationship outside the bedroom first. But when they move to the bedroom, they don’t suddenly give up on everything they have outside of it. We’re just going the other direction. We’re sexual people. It makes sense that we establish a connection there first.”
I’d trimmed the stems as he’d talked, but now I halted, mulling over what he’d said. It challenged traditional thinking, but that didn’t make it irrational.
JC reached over and turned off the faucet then took the bouquet out of my hand, dropping it into the vase and setting that on the counter before he faced me. “It doesn’t mean my feelings for you aren’t real. It doesn’t mean we’re doing it wrong. It means we’re doing it the way that’s right for us.”
“The way that’s right for us,” I repeated. I liked that. It sounded so easy. But was it too easy?
And if it was, was there anything really wrong with that?
I didn’t have an answer. All I knew was I was still reluctant. I shook the excess water from my hands then crossed my arms. “We can’t simply pick up where we left off.”
“Why not?”
“Because we can’t.” I stomped off across the room, having no destination picked out, just needing to get some space.
“Why. Not?” he asked again, following after me.
Jesus, this was ridiculous. I couldn’t think of one good reason. There weren’t any. His points had made sense, and I’d liked them in theory. Get to know each other while we still had sex? Great idea. Stop worrying whether my affair with Chandler was an issue? Yes, please.
Yet there was still the urge to resist, the urge to refute. The urge to shut down. And the reason was embarrassing and not one I wanted to admit, but another part of me wanted to tell him everything.
With every ounce of courage I had, I spun to face him. “Because I’m scared. That’s why. I’m scared.” I flashed a tight smile that I couldn’t hold and rubbed my hands up and down my arms. “You broke my heart when you left, JC. It shook my world, and I’m so afraid that…” That he’d leave again. That he’d decide he couldn’t ever love me like he’d loved her.
I swiped at a tear as it rolled down my cheek. Great. Now I was crying. God, I was so lame.
JC stepped toward me, his arms out, but I stepped out of his reach.
He sighed, but he didn’t try again.
I stared at the floor and caught the next tear with my knuckle at my eye before it fell. “I’m sorry I’m such a coward. It’s not fair for me to hold your leaving against you. You didn’t have a choice.”
“You should hold it against me.”
My eyes flew up to his.
“I did have a choice, Gwen. I knew when I met you that if Ralphio ever got brought in that I might have to go under. I knew I wasn’t available, and that getting involved with you wasn’t the right thing to do. And I did it anyway.”
There it was, the source of his resentment. He hadn’t wanted to get involved, and yet he did. His life would probably have been a whole lot easier if he hadn’t met me.
But, damn, wasn’t I glad that he had?
This time when he stepped toward me, I didn’t move.
“I couldn’t stay away,” he said, wrapping me into his arms. “I couldn’t stop myself from loving you.”
“You tried though.” I nuzzled into his shoulder, feeling several times braver in his embrace.
He kissed the top of my hair. “And I hurt you then too.”
“We hurt each other.”
He leaned back so he could look me in the eyes. “But we don’t have to hurt each other anymore.” He cradled my face in his hands, his thumb wiping away a lingering tear. “‘I know you’re scared, I can feel it. It’s in the air, I know you feel it too. But take a chance on me, you won’t regret it.’”
He was quoting the opening lines to the song he’d introduced me to. A Maroon 5 song called “My Heart is Open.” He’d said it made him think of us. I’d played it over and over so many times in the past year, wishing he was there to tell me the words again.
And now he was.
“My heart is open, Gwen. Whatever else has happened, whatever other things are standing between us, my heart is open.”
I reached my hand up to run it through his hair. “I don’t want to lose you again.”
“You never did.” He bent to kiss me with long languid strokes of his tongue. Then he pulled me in tighter, clutching me to him as he buried his face in my hair. “I should have begged. On my knees.” He said it so quietly that I was surprised I heard it.
I was also surprised he’d said it. Surprised that he still had thoughts about asking me to marry him when he’d only proposed so I could go with him into protection.
Though, I still thought about it. So why shouldn’t he?
As long as we were being honest…“If you had,” I admitted. “I would have said yes.”
He pulled back again, his hands on my upper arms. “Say yes to me now.” He paused and my pulse started racing. He couldn’t be asking again, could he? But then he said, “Tell me your heart is open.”
I was almost disappointed it wasn’t a real proposal. But this I could answer without having a complete panic attack. “Yes. My heart is open.”