Jack

My head is so clear when I wake up, I must be living in someone else’s body. I open my eyes and squint into the sunlight pouring in through the hotel room window, waiting for a headache or fuzzy memories from the night before to come trickling in . . . but it doesn’t happen. Even more unbelievable, I never crashed last night after being with Katie. Never retreated to those dark corners of my mind to get lost in the past, swapping the current good for that past moment of weakness. No, I was right here with Katie, feeling her inside me, as well as out. Sensing she could feel me in her head and chest, too. We were in it together.

For a long time, lies have gone hand in hand with sex for me. Lies I tell myself about why I kept chasing the high, when what I secretly wanted was the crash afterwards. The honesty between me and Katie kept me elevated in this warm, inviting place, though. Made me feel like I belonged there.

Do I, though? I’ve shared more truth with Katie than anyone in my life, but I haven’t been entirely honest, have I?

I ignore the troubling reminder and focus on her.

A rainbow variety of Katie versions that dance through my mind. Bright, moving, beautiful pictures that I captured last night. There’s another one right in front of me that I quickly snap with my mind’s eye. I’m spooning Katie and we’re both facing the window, my face buried in her red, tumbled hair. My left eye is covered by the incredible-smelling strands, but my right travels over the messy length of it. Wavy ends gather in her neck, whorl around her ear, brush against her mouth. Sunlight sets the long mass of it off, making her hair look like dark red fire and my arms tighten around her, dragging her as close to my body as possible, tucking my knees into the backs of hers, warming her feet with the soles of mine.

She’s a heavy sleeper and my chest aches with the secret. Something no one, save maybe her parents, knows about her. A fact her brother probably knew, once upon a time.

The smile I wasn’t aware of fades at the reminder of Katie’s pain. She’s in New York to celebrate the memory of her brother. Would I fit into that if she knew about my problem?

Relax. It’s not a problem right now. It won’t be again. If I could survive talking about my past last night while drinking nothing but a Coke, I’m not going to fuck up. Not while Katie is in New York and not after, if I can damn well help it. The reminder she’s leaving, however, lands me smack in the middle of the problem that kept me awake into the early hours of last night. This girl—the one I’ve begun referring to as mine—is leaving in a week.

And God, I don’t want her to go.

Which is flat out, fucking selfish. She’s the only girl I’ve ever slept with that made me feel . . . whole. Afterwards, there was no impending doom clogging my throat. No nausea. Hours later, I’m still floating on the relief. I’m not broken with Katie. When we’re together, I’m grounded in the moment. I don’t want to blink or look away. Since we met, she’s been challenging me to be better and I’ve shocked myself by rising to the occasion, proving I’m not useless at the academy, spending time with her outside the bedroom.

I want to keep doing those things. For her. For myself.

But the way she repairs my damage with her touch, her presence, isn’t a reason for Katie to stay. What am I doing for her? How am I making her happy? So I provided a decent date, made her moan and chaperoned her murder excursions. Compared to what she’s done for me? My contribution ain’t shit.

I’ve never been a driven person. Do just enough to get by. Don’t take anything seriously. Those sentiments were how I operated. Right now, though, I’m feeling suspiciously close to ambitious. Is that what this is? Ambition? Wanting to do whatever it takes to better myself? Right now, I would be selfish asking Katie to stay in New York.

But what if I had something to offer?

Katie murmurs in her sleep, shifting her ass against my lap. I press my lips together to keep from groaning as my balls tighten up, my dick thickening along the inside of her bare thigh. Yeah, knowing there isn’t going to be a sickening fall after we have sex is making me a horny maniac. Not to mention, Katie herself, with her sunlit skin and warm curves. If last night hadn’t been her first time, I’d wake her up the way the devil intended, but I want to make sure she’s not sore. Which means talking to her first. Fuck, I can’t wait to talk to her.

She’s leaving. What the hell am I going to do?

Katie’s sleepy voice cuts into my panic, all scratchy and muffled by the pillow. “It’s silly to feel guilty waking up naked with a man on a Sunday, right?”

I laugh into the curve of her neck. “Is this the famous Catholic guilt I’ve heard so much about?”

“Its powers are not to be underestimated.” Her ribcage expands on a long breath, as if she’s gathering courage before rolling over. And I know I was right when she’s finally facing me and her cheeks are painted pink. “Good morning. How long have you been awake?”

“Long enough to count the freckles on your back.”

The pink turns to fuchsia. “What number did you reach?”

I rub my knuckles under her chin and she sighs. A warm, muffled sound that belongs to lazy mornings, but I’ve never heard it with my own ears. “I lost count around eighty-seven because I was distracted by that minty smell of yours. Where does it come from?”

“A combination of tea bags and my hair conditioner.” She tucks a corner of the comforter under her chin, snuggling into it. “My parents think I’m from another planet for not liking traditional Irish tea. They drink loads of the stuff, but it was always too strong for me. My mother brought home the mint tea one day as a laugh, but it backfired since I loved it.” Her lips curve into a smile. “It became a running joke after that. Mint flavored everything. Mint bath soaps for Christmas and so on. The smell makes me happy.”

It makes me happy, too. “Tell me about your parents. They dragged you to church every Sunday?”

“Yes, ten o’clock mass, like clockwork. My brother and I called it Itchy Clothes Day and we’d stomp around making sure Mam knew we were miserable.” We make eye contact over the mention of her brother, but Katie continues on without missing a beat. “My father is a perfectionist. He clips his nails every day, needs the newspaper folded a certain way. I’m sure he was in the sixth row at Sunday mass this morning.”

“And your mother?”

“There beside him.” Katie’s voice grows softer. “She’s messier and more spontaneous than my father. She loves to give presents, especially gag gifts and you never know when one is coming, but it makes people feel so special. That’s why she does it. Her dream in life was to have a gift-wrapping room, so my father turned our garage into one.” I’m so drawn into the soft warmth of Katie’s voice, my pulse leaps unexpectedly when she reaches beneath the covers and rubs my chest, up and down in the center. It feels so incredible, I press into the touch. “It’s the happiest room. Colorful paper everywhere. Ribbons and glitter. My father can’t go inside without trying to tidy up, so he’s been banned.”

What would it be like to walk into that room with Katie and meet her mother? What would her parents think of me? Will I ever have the opportunity to find out? I barely manage to stop myself from asking Katie what their judgment would be, but I keep on wondering.

Katie’s denim eyes are quiet and solemn as they watch me, probably guessing about what I’m thinking. “Tell me something happy about your mother, Jack.”

There it is. This is why I’m losing my shit over Katie. Why I feel so fucking great when she’s around. Because as soon as she asks to hear a happy story about my mother, I realize how badly I’ve wanted that. To say something positive out loud about her, instead of reading sympathy on the faces of others when they find out how I was raised. Katie not only sees what’s going on inside me, she wants to go exploring. She actually cares that there’s more to me. All I can do is show her what’s there and hope she’s happy with it.

Most of it, anyway. There are certain things I’ve got inside that are too ugly to bring them in the same vicinity as Katie. Yeah. My own private hell stays right where it is.

“She kept me home from school once when I was thirteen. Didn’t warn me, just surprised me with packed lunches and bus tickets. We went to Atlantic City for the day.” Katie’s hand is still on my chest now and I circle her wrist, carrying her fingers to my mouth so I can kiss them. “Best part? We were standing on the shore and she felt sand crabs under her feet. Lifelong city girl didn’t know what the hell they were. The scream she let out, Katie . . .” My laughter vibrates the bed. “Afterwards, she laughed about it, though. Sitting right there on the sand. I’d never seen her laugh like that.” I press Katie’s hand to my forehead, as if her touch has the power to keep my memory from fading. “It was a good day.”

“It sounds like it.” She passes me a serious look. “What are sand crabs?”

We’re both laughing when I drag Katie up against me, turning so half of my body is on top of her. As soon as she feels my hard cock on her thigh, the laughter dissolves into a moan and we kiss. A long, searching kiss that I will gladly turn over my man card to admit makes my head spin. Damn. She’s got a lot more confidence now, her tongue rubbing mine, hands copping a feel of my ass, and it’s no wonder, right? Last night, I came so hard for her, I almost split the fuck in half.

The heel of my hand skates down her belly, massaging a circle against her pussy. But when she jerks, a wince crossing her beautiful face, I remove my hand like I’ve been burned. “Sore?”

She shakes her head, but seems uncertain. “It’s fine.”

Sorry, dick. This is going to hurt. “We wait.”

“Jack—”

I stop her protest with a thorough kiss. One I hope is comforting so she realizes I’m not going to blame her for my blue balls. “We wait.”

Katie tilts her head on the pillow. A red eyebrow goes up. “Or.”

“Or?”

After biting her lip for a moment, she pushes me onto my back. I’m momentarily hypnotized by the bounce of her amazing tits as she kneels over me, tugging down the sheet. I snap right out of it, however, when she grips my cock in both hands. “It seems only fair after you’ve . . .”

“Say it and feel my dick get harder,” I rasp. “Go on, honey.”

“After you’ve gone down on me,” Katie murmurs. “Twice.”

My stomach fills with pressure, edged with a delicious twist of my abs.

“Wow.”

My laugh turns into a groan, because she’s giving me a nice, tight stroke, leaving no inch behind. “Definitely don’t mind the word wow when you’re holding my dick. Just thought I’d mention it.”

“Noted,” she whispers, leaning down, her breasts swaying, lids drooping. So fucking sexy I’m going to come the second she wraps her mouth around me. Her lips brush over the head, her tongue joining them in the barest of touches, but my balls feel like they’re being squeezed in a fist. “They definitely frown on blow jobs on Sundays. No question.”

“Think of it as a form of healing.” Intense sexual frustration makes my voice raw. “Healing is a kind of miracle, right?”

Another too-light lick, right along the top ridge has my hips jerking off the bed. Through the blurred quality of my vision, I can see the teasing curve of her lips against the thick stalk of my erection and my blood goes up in flames. “I suppose if I’m your only chance to be healed, I’ll be forgiven.”

“You’re my only chance, Katie. Please. Please,” I ground out, gathering the comforter in my hands, twisting the material and moaning when her mouth takes in at least four of my swollen inches, her lips tightening as she drags back up to the tip. “Oh, that’s good, honey.” My voice is a shaking, slurring mess. “That’s real fucking good.”

Katie hums on her way back down, that red hair falling like curtains onto my thighs and I swear to God, I’m on the edge of blacking out. Nothing about sex is new to me, but everything about sex with Katie is bright, fresh and incredible. I didn’t need liquid courage to be with Katie, liquid courage to brace myself for the fall afterwards, because deep down I had faith it wasn’t coming. Not with her. I never want a drop of that shit in my system when I’m with her because it might obscure one single second, dim the perfection of this. Of her. Of how strong I am when I can overcome the need to blur my memories. She’s woken up this belief that I can be more than a drunk lay, the next morning’s regret. Hell, I don’t want a drop in my system period. Not ever.

My nerve endings are exploding bombs going off beneath my flesh. I can feel every stroke of her tongue right in the pit of my belly, causing my climax to speed towards me. My feet are digging into the mattress, my hips upthrusting slow and nasty, like I’m a stripper working the stage on my back. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

When I realize Katie is looking up at me, that’s when I begin to lose it. Her lips stretch as she sinks down to my root, keeping those blue eyes on me the whole time. She’s excited. There’s a light in her gaze, like she can’t believe what we’re doing. Can’t believe how much I’m enjoying it. As if . . . it’s her first suck-off. Jesus Christ. Am I a pervert for wanting to flip our positions and fuck her mouth hard now? Just like last night, when I hit this point of no return, all I want to do is claim her. Make her mine.

The one thing I want more than that, though, is to make her happy.

“Come here, Katie.” Holding back my climax has me roaring the command, smacking my chest. Once, twice. “Sit on my chest . . . and for the love of God, don’t stop what you’re doing.”

Blue eyes widen as she visualizes what I’m asking, but she hesitates only a couple of seconds before crawling up the bed alongside me and doing what I ask. She’s still wearing underwear when her cute ass perches on my chest, body facing away, but as soon as she bends forwards and wraps her lips around my pulsing erection again, I waste no time shoving the silk to one side, revealing the pink flesh I had for the first time last night.

“Look at you, so fucking wet.” I wrap one arm around her waist, tugging her hips back just enough to greet her pussy with my tongue and begin stroking that tiny nub, up and back, up and back. Fast. “You’re sore where I pounded, but not so sore you don’t want your clit licked, huh, Katie? Good girl, giving me that pussy so I can lick it all better.” I yank the panties more securely to the side. “Tilt your hips for me so I can tongue the whole thing clean.”

“Oh my God . . .”

Speaking of holy Sundays, I’m pretty sure Katie’s ass up in the air is what heaven looks like. Her trembling thighs are the pearly gates and I’m just a sinner, begging Saint Peter to get inside. I’ll work on that metaphor later. Right now I’m a little busy sixty-nineing with the girl I never had the courage to dream about. She’s going for broke now on my cock, whimpering as she sucks down, down to the base, thanks to the tongue whipping I’m giving her. My lungs are going to explode I’m breathing so heavy, my hips pumping like a desperate animal’s. Fuck, I could have busted already, but I’m determined to taste Katie’s pleasure before that happens and—

“Jack!” She grinds back against my mouth, thighs shaking out of control and come shoots up my cock so fast, I groan and flick my tongue along Katie’s convulsing flesh, refusing to stop until she’s wrung out. My stomach constricts so hard with the climax, I must be dying. My body moves without any kind of mental command, writhing and bucking, trying to get rid of the liquid lust that seems to be never-ending.

Across the room, I catch sight of Katie in the mirror. Bent over, her eyes are squeezed shut, but her hand pumps up and down my dick, white drops of moisture landing on her tits . . . and another round of spasms seizes me, turning me inside out. “Katie, Katie. Jesus, Katie.”

As soon as I’m back down on earth, I sit up and wrap her in a bear hug from behind, truly not giving a rat’s ass what fluids end up where. My universe slides into a sweet spot when she sags back against me, her head lolling against my shoulder. “Amen,” she sighs.

Our winded round of laughter is interrupted a few seconds later when my phone rings, somewhere in the room. A quick check of the bedside clock has me frowning. Who the hell is calling me at ten o’clock on Sunday morning? The mystery is solved when I find my jeans and retrieve my cell from the pocket.

“Ma?” I answer, sitting on the edge of the bed. “What’s up?”

“Jackie, you around?”

For some reason, my mother can’t seem to grasp that I don’t live in the neighborhood anymore. In her mind, I should still be downstairs playing video games with Danika. “I’m across town.” Sensing Katie curling up on the bed behind me, I reach back and stroke her hair. “Everything okay?”

“There’s no hot water again and the super is on vacation.” I hear her roommates in the background, cursing the man to an early grave. “Can you come have a look at the boiler? You’ve still got that key to the basement, right?”

If by key, she means the jimmy I used a few times to beat the lock, then yes, I have it in my sock drawer, back at my apartment. Dammit, I was going to take Katie out for breakfast. I’m still new at having a girl, so eggs are as far as I’ve gotten, but a plan for the rest of the day would have formed once I got some coffee into me. No way I’m dragging her across town on Sunday morning, either. Not when she looks so peaceful, glowing from an orgasm in the messy white sheets. And asking her to meet my mother could freak her out when everything is so new. I can’t chance it. “Yeah, Ma. I’ll be over in about an hour. Hang tight.”

I hang up the phone, stowing it in the pocket of my jeans as I pull them on. “Hey, my mother needs me over in the Kitchen—just for a while.”

She nods, studying me. “You have to go.”

“I don’t want to, Snaps, but yeah.” Finding my shirt and shoes on the floor, I make quick work of getting dressed. After I pull on my coat, I lean over Katie on the bed, taking a long inhale of mint. “I need to see you later.”

She smiles up at me, stretching her arms up over her head like a lazy kitten. “You know how to find me.”

My mouth works hers in a slow, promising kiss. “Damn right I do.”

When I take one last look at her beautiful form on the bed and leave the room, I don’t expect to be a different man the next time I see her.