Jake
I flick through the pages of the contract for the millionth time since receiving it. I read it once. The moment it arrived, and haven’t been able to focus on the words again since. Ink. That’s all it is. Blotches of carbon black, all seemingly smudged together if my inability to read it is anything to go by.
“You know…” Aubrey’s arms move around my waist, the soft smell of her perfume tickling my nostrils as her cheek rests on the naked skin of my back. “The words aren’t gonna change the more you stare at them.”
Sighing loudly, I push the pages away rubbing a hand down my face in frustration. It’s been almost a month. Four solid weeks of back and forth about what we should do.
We’ve listed pros and weighed them against cons. We’ve told our family, and listened to their words of congratulations, of encouragement, of excitement. But I’ve watched them hard enough to see the worry seep into their eyes at the thought of us leaving.
I curse the day that music exec stumbled into my life. A fucking university of all places, visiting his daughter. It was an in and out gig, a decent injection of cash and then I’d be back home to fuck my wife. Instead, he’s thrown a curveball in my life I just don’t feel ready for, by offering me something I was one hundred percent certain I never wanted.
Until it was dangled in front of me in the form of the contract now taunting me from the kitchen counter.
“Tell me what you want. From our life. Help me decide.”
She takes a step back, her hand tugging at my waist, encouraging me to turn. I do, reluctantly, knowing she won’t give me what I want.
My lower back rests against the kitchen counter and I watch the concern in her crystal eyes scan over me.
“J-Babe, you’re killing yourself with this. I told you time and time again, I want you. I don’t need anything but you. I go where you go. You’re my home.”
Her fingers trace in the intricate tattoo inked into my hipbone, her eyes remaining glued to mine.
“But our friends, our family…”
“They’ll all still be here, a phone call or plane ride away. It’s not another universe, Jake.”
My thumb traces the soft cushion of her bottom lip, my gaze following the movement before I drop my mouth to let my tongue do the same. It’s not enough though, that teasing taste, I need more. I always need more. Aubrey Dean is my drug of choice. The high I can’t ever come down from, and I’m glad as fuck I can’t.
Her lips open against mine and my tongue teases hers, beckoning it into my mouth. She takes the invitation eagerly, massaging her tongue against mine, moaning softly. Our kiss is languid. Lips caressing, tongues exploring, soft moans and rough growls swallowed down before they can escape.
My palm finds her neck, sliding up and into the messy waves of her auburn hair. I pull her up and against my body, deepening our kiss. Her fingers graze up my naked torso to rest on the quickening pace of my heart. A constant side-effect of my Aubrey addiction.
She breaks our kiss and I attempt to pull her back in, chasing her lips.
“Jake.” She pushes against my chest and I sigh loudly. “Baby, you can’t keep living like this. You’re killing me. I will follow you anywhere, but you need to be confident in your own decision. What are you afraid of?”
My teeth catch my bottom lip, gnawing roughly. “I always stood by my belief that music was my outlet. That’s it. Sure, it’s my art, but it’s mine. I never dreamed of signing with a label, of having my art dictated to me. Of being famous,” I finish unsteadily.
Aubrey nods, her palms still pressed solidly against my chest, letting me feel her support.
“That life, it doesn’t interest me, Strawb’ries.”
She opens her mouth to speak, but I cut her off again. “Then I feel like a giant dickhead even contemplating that I’d get to that point. You know, famous. Those fools can’t predict that any more than I can.”
A small smirk plays at her pretty lips and I’m tempted to touch them with my mouth again, distract myself from the mess of my mind.
“J-Baby, you’re hot as fuck. You have a phenomenal voice, you can play guitar like no one else I know. You’re a rock star. Whether you wanna be or not. You just have to decide if you want to live like one and if you want the world to know that about you.”
Her eyes are so open, staring into mine with an intensity that I know she’ll follow me anywhere. She’d also stay if that’s what I wanted. She’s the other half of my soul and she’d do anything to let me discover my place in this world.
“That’s easy, not on my fuckin’ life do I want the exhaustion, the politics, the fame, the headache of being well known. But then I think of the things I could be throwing away. The life you and I would have. The travel, the money, the experience, the opportunity.”
It’s her turn to sigh and she does it dropping her face into my chest, kissing my sternum.
“I just don’t know what to do, Strawb’ries. What they’re offering, it’s a deal of a fuckin’ lifetime. People sell their souls for much less and I’m considering turning it down. Am I crazy?”
Kissing my chest where my heart beats, she rests her chin against my skin, looking up at me. “You’re torn, and you’re allowed to be. Know that whatever you decide, you have my support. And what’s the worst that can happen? We stay, and you regret it, fine,” she shrugs, her bottom lip tipping out, “we change our minds, and we go. We go, and we fucking hate it, we come home.”
Her fingers move up to trace the lipstick print inked into my neck. Her mark. Her claim on my pulse point. I watch the hunger, the love, the desire in her eyes as I consider her words. She’s right. I know she is. Problem is, I want my first decision to be the right one. I don’t want regrets. I don’t want to second-guess myself.
“I love my Valentine’s present.” She reaches for my hand, her thumb caressing my knuckles as she takes in the strawberry inked there. “I don’t know which one my favorite is.”
Her strawberry is red, swollen and tender as fuck. You’d think with the amount of ink I have I’d be used to it. Still stings like a bitch.
“I keep second-guessing myself.” I watch Aubrey kiss my knuckles, letting go to let my hand stroke her cheek. “Was I so adamant that I didn’t want fame, that I didn’t want music to launch me into the spotlight because I was afraid of rejection? Have I always wanted it but have just been too afraid to try?”
She doesn’t answer. Not that I need her to. She’s giving me what I need, listening to me talk through every thought in my wrought-out brain.
“Or even before signing on the dotted line, am I selling out? Do I even fucking want this, Aubrey? Do I? Really? Or is my mind already selling me out to wanna be some record label’s bitch because I want people to chant my name in a fuckin’ crowd?”
Aubrey’s hands come up to rest on my cheeks, her eyes demanding mine. “Hey. Whatever you, we, decide, you are not selling out. J-Babe, stop twisting every choice and the possible outcome to be a fucking disaster. Baby, you gotta chill, look at what you’re doing to yourself.” Her thumbs stroke along the dark pockets of my eyes, worry creasing her forehead. “You’re not sleeping, you’re barely eating, you’re moody, which is so unbelievably out of character. You’re twisting yourself in knots.”
I take her in. Every last beautiful inch of her. “You look really pretty by the way,” I distract. And she does. Her hair is artfully sculpted into messy waves falling over her naked shoulders. Her porcelain skin displayed in a gold strapless dress that clings to her body the entire way down.
“You’re gonna look prettier than Will, he’ll be pissed,” I joke, and her lightly pink stained lips stretch wide to accommodate her smile. She winks, and I groan.
“You look prettier than Will too, and you’re not even fully dressed,” she retorts. She’s right. I got as far as my dress pants and was sidetracked by the contract that has become the bane of my existence. My shirt’s still thrown over my bed, my suspenders hanging down against the side of my pants.
Smiling down at her, this time she groans, moving up on tiptoes to kiss my dimple.
“Sit up on the counter,” she whispers against my skin and I hoist myself up, quirking a brow in question.
“You need to relax, this is gonna be a happy day, a fun day.” Her delicate palm flicks the button of my pants, sliding the zipper down slowly with a sly smile.
“You wanna help me relax?”
Grazing her bottom lip through her teeth she looks up at me through her lashes. “Mmmm,” she nods, pushing her small hand into my boxers.
The first touch of her hand forces my hips to thrust upward, pushing the hardening length of my cock into her palm.
We groan simultaneously. “Wanna tell me how you plan on helpin’ me?” My palms slide backward on the counter, legs widening until I’m splayed out, at her mercy and fuck me, this feels like as close to heaven as I’ll ever be.
“Oh.” She shrugs innocently, giving me doe eyes as she pulls my cock from my boxers. How’s that for the hottest fucking contradiction of your life? Your straining cock, leaking at the tip, held in the hands of a beauty bleeding purity. We both know that ain’t true, fuck, Aubrey handles cock like a fucking vixen. But watching her play, Jesus, this likely ain’t gonna last long. “I don’t know. Maybe a simple kiss?”
“Ain’t nothing simple about your tongue, Strawb’ries.”
Her thumb plays along my crown, spreading the beads of pre-cum over my swollen head, paying special attention to the bar decorating my tip. My throat strains, my neck tipping back heavily, a growl lacerating my vocal cords on exit.
My dick twitches in Aubrey’s hand, and her palm closes around me. Sliding down slowly, her wrist twists on an upward drag, and I force a heavy push of air through my nostrils, groaning loudly.
Eyes closed, my hips pump up fast as Aubrey’s tongue dances around the thick head of my cock. “Baby, don’t tease. Swallow my cock, lemme hit the back of your throat.”
Her painted lips part eagerly, her tongue gliding along the pulsating underside of my length as she enthusiastically chokes on my dick.
Fists clenched on the bench, I push upward, forcing more of myself down her throat and her eyes water, her moan vibrating along my sensitive flesh.
My hand twists into her hair, easing her off before pushing her back down. The crystal color of her eyes anchor on mine and I bite my bottom lip, turned way the fuck on.
Her cheeks hollow, her eyes glimmer and she laps at my dick like a woman possessed.
Pulling back, her tongue and lips play with my piercing, causing an array of expletives to tumble from my throat. Cursing her. Praising her. Begging her. It makes her desperate for more, her small palm moving in time with her mouth, making certain I feel her all over my straining cock. Her free hand moves to cup my balls, massaging them within her palm and I growl long and hard, my neck flying back as I rip at her hair; pushing her down and pulling her back, not actually certain of what I want; her dancing tongue on my tip or her wet, hot throat suffocating me on the way down.
“JESUS. FUCK. MY EYES.”
Archer’s loud bellow ricochets through our apartment, and Aubrey flies back, wiping along her swollen mouth, breath heavy in unrestrained need.
One minute. That’s it. That’s all I fucking needed to explode into Aubrey’s willing mouth.
“FUCKING KNOCK, WOULD YOU,” I yell, forcing my swollen dick back into my pants.
Aubrey’s soft giggle echoes around the room and I scowl over at her. “Glad you find this funny, Strawb’ries. I’m in a whole lotta fuckin’ pain right now.”
“You’re in pain?! My eyes are scarred. For life. They need an acid wash,” Archer grumbles, his face twisting in horror.
“Fuck are you doin’ here anyway?” I gripe, hating the world as I move toward the bed to grab my shirt. The simple movement of walking uncomfortable and I readjust, groaning internally.
“Belle and I have been out front for the last fifteen minutes. Now we’re late.”
“Oh! Shit!” Aubrey stammers. “Sorry, we gotta little, uh, sidetracked.”
Archer shakes his head to rid himself of the thought, and I smile to myself as I work quickly at fastening my buttons. Serves the asshole right for barging into our house unannounced.
Throwing my suspenders over my shoulders, I ask Aubrey to grab my shoes, shoving my cell and wallet into my pocket as I collect our bags.
“Ready, Strawb’ries?”
Grabbing her purse she moves toward the door, nodding. “Yep. Let’s go.” Touching Archer’s shoulder in greeting, he steps from her touch quick as lightning.
“Do not put your lips near my fuckin’ face.”
She laughs loudly, looking over her shoulder and offering me a wink before shimmying her way past Archer and through the door.
“What took you guys so long?” Annabelle grumbles, watching the three of us pile into the car.
She’s been moody as fuck of late. I can’t pinpoint what’s griping on her, but Jesus, it’s exhausting.
“Don’t fuckin’ talk to me about it.” Archer’s words are barely audible, his eyes meeting mine in the rearview mirror before adjusting the mirror to take me outta focus.
“Archer may have walked in on me kissing Jake,” Aubrey chuckles.
“Oookaaay,” Annabelle glances to Archer then back to Aubrey, confused.
Clearing his throat, Archer starts the car, reaching for the radio. “Let’s just say she wasn’t kissin’ his fuckin’ face.”
Quiet descends for a breath of time before Annabelle’s loud laughter booms through the car.
“Not fuckin’ funny, Belle. I need to bleach my eyeballs.”
Aubrey leans forward, inching her face closer to Archer’s. “What can I say? Happy Valentine’s Day, oh, brother dearest,” she jibes.
“Knew I fuckin’ hated this day for a reason,” Archer mutters, but the smile creeping onto his face gives away the obvious amusement he feels at my wife’s teasing.
I watch her laughing with Archer and Annabelle and fall back into my seat, observing quietly. She listens intently as Annabelle speaks, talking about flowers and some shit none of us are interested in, but Aubrey hangs on every word.
Me aside, Annabelle is her lifeline. I watch three of my favorite people candidly, them oblivious to my inner turmoil and my heart seizes in my chest.
Aubrey’s hand rests lightly on Archer’s shoulder in easy affection as he drives, her seatbelt pulled to full extension as she sits as far forward on her seat as she can. Her beautiful face is focused on Annabelle, listening intently, adding commentary where it’s necessary. They laugh. They listen. They speak.
Archer’s eyes catch me in the rearview mirror and I keep his stare for as long as he can manage it without crashing the car.
He is for me, what Annabelle is to Aubrey. He’s my brother, my best friend, my sounding board, my voice of reason, as I am his.
Could we live without this? Day in and day out? Could I wake up every morning knowing that we might not see our closest friends for months at a time. That sometimes time zones wouldn’t even allow us to chat on the regular?
Is there really enough money in the world to compensate for living without parts of your heart, pieces of your soul?
Aubrey laughs loudly at something Archer says, her free hand coming to rest on my knee and I reach forward to squeeze her hand. She glances back, her lips tipping up in a sweet smile.
“I love you,” I mouth, and her smile grows.
Sliding back to cuddle into my side she tucks her head under my chin, sighing contentedly. “I love you more.”
Not fucking possible.
“Good, Kid?” Archer pulls my attention.
“Yeah,” I nod easily, dropping a kiss to Aubrey’s forehead. “Yeah, I am.”
And that’s the honest truth, because for the first time in a month, I know without a doubt, where I’m meant to be.