Chapter 12 - Jael
The air feels heavier with each step we take down into Lark’s basement, like it’s been waiting for us.
Rhett’s hand swallows mine, warm, rough, calloused from work.
And for a second, I remember exactly how that hand once felt on my hips, my back, my neck.
It dwarfs my palm now, and there’s something dangerously comforting about that, something exhilarating too, like leaning too far over a ledge that catapults me back into my childhood.
I don’t know if I’m supposed to brace myself for whatever’s waiting down here or just give in and be swept away. My pulse chooses for me, racing ahead, and I decide that for tonight at least, to just let go.
Lark’s basement is darker than I expected, the shadows swallowing sound. Rhett flicks on an old-fashioned lamp, the kind with a pull chain, and its weak amber glow blooms across the room.
Slowly the space takes shape: a sprawling model-train world raised three feet high, tiny bulbs glowing in miniature streetlamps and windows, casting little constellations across the platform. It looks like a whole secret town someone’s been building in the dark.
“Wow… you and Lark built all of this?” I ask, stepping closer to appreciate the design and details that are on display.
“Yeah. We’ve been working on it together for the past year. He wants to finish and donate it to the museum that has the real train that used to run through Whitewood Creek in it.”
“It’s incredible.” I take my time admiring the work while trying to ignore the way Rhett’s presence looms behind me, close enough for me to smell and feel his breath on my body.
“You look beautiful tonight, Jael,” he says quietly as his hands find my waist, gently turning me to face him after a few minutes pause.
His eyes are full of desire, darker in this lighting and his strong jawline is tense as if he’s holding himself back from doing what he wants to do.
I wish he wouldn’t.
I know that we’re both tipsy and dangerously entering the drunk phase, but none of that matters anymore.
I’ve been thinking about Rhett and what’s underneath his clothes since the moment he burst into my mom's trailer home five days ago and I want this. I want him. I want to get lost for a moment in the way things were before everything went so wrong and I’m sober enough to consent.
“You look pretty good yourself,” I say as I step closer to Rhett, my breasts now brushing up against his strong chest as he looks down at me. My nipples harden on contact, aching to be touched by him, wanting more.
He lowers his face, breathing into my neck on a sigh. “It's been a while.” His breath tickles the hairs on my neck. My heart’s beating harder now and when he says, “It’s been too long,” I take his big hands in mine and press them into my breasts, squeezing his fingers to cup them tightly.
“Is this what you needed? Me to touch you?” he asks as his thick fingers take over, caressing, cupping, and squeezing me through my shirt.
I bite my lip hard and nod my head. “Yes. More please.”
Slowly, his hand snakes down to my waist to unbutton my shorts and peel them from my body. When they drop to the floor around my ankles, I spread my legs wider, giving him permission to touch me. He brushes his fingers across my underwear then dips lower, right over my opening.
“Fuck. I can feel how warm and wet you are through the fabric.”
He shoves the placket of fabric aside firmly, exposing me to the cool air in the basement before one of his finger’s swipes across me, parting me open, before gently slipping inside.
“Dammit, you’re so wet,” he groans. His head drops to my neck where he sucks on the tender skin there.
Then his kiss moves upward across to my lips but never touching.
One at the corner of my mouth, by my nose and near my chin before he slips another finger inside my opening and curves them, hitting me right in that spot that I can never reach.
“Yes, Rhett. Fuck, that feels so good.”
His palm rubs gently against my clit as he pumps his fingers in and out of me then he withdraws them, dragging my wetness upward to my clit and across it before plunging them both back inside as far as he can reach.
“Yes,” I hiss out. My heart races and I can feel his thick erection pressing into my stomach. I want him so badly I can’t think about how any of this is a bad idea.
“Tell me exactly what it is that you want,” he commands as he continues to stimulate and tease my body, edging me on.
“Make me come. Please, Rhett,” I beg as he picks up his pumping then slowly removes his fingers and guides me down onto the carpeted floor so that I’m lying on my back.
His hands move to my underwear, tugging it down until I’m completely exposed to him. Then his head lowers before planting a kiss on the inside of my right thigh then my left as he slowly moves upward teasing me.
“More,” I beg.
He kisses right where my inner hip connects on one side, then the other, the anticipation killing me until finally he drops a kiss right across my opening, then flattens his tongue and licks me there, back to front.
“Yes, more of that,” I moan.
His fingers slide inside of me, pumping firmly as his lips capture my clit in a harsh suck.
“Y-yes,” I moan, and he does it again.
His tongue moves with purpose, sweeping across me in patterns that leave my legs trembling, mimicking the rhythm of his fingers inside me.
The heat starts deep in my core, spreading outward, making it impossible to think of anything but him.
My nipples harden under my shirt, and when his free hand moves up to pull the fabric down, rolling one sensitive peak between his fingers, my back arches off the ground at the contact.
“God, I always loved these nipples,” Rhett mutters against me, his voice rough with need.
“Yes,” I whisper, my voice breaking as his touch becomes firmer, rougher, more desperate. The raw need in me pushes past reason. “More, Rhett. I need more.”
He growls low, the vibration teasing me as his mouth returns to work.
His tongue circles and flicks against my clit at a speed even my vibrator can’t match until I’m panting, my orgasm close.
When his fingers stretch me deeper, the pressure builds, coiling tighter, all I can do is hold on to him, my nails digging into his shoulders.
“Hold me where you need me,” he murmurs, and I do, anchoring him in place while his mouth and hands drive me higher towards my release. His movements are relentless, calculated, and then my orgasm crashes over me.
My body clenches, shaking as wave after wave takes me under, stealing my breath and leaving me raw and exposed on the basement floor.
I’m still gasping, trying to piece myself back together, when Rhett finally pulls back, his lips curved into a wicked smile. His eyes are dark and intense, as he takes me in.
“You’re so damn gorgeous when you come, Jael,” he says softly like he’s committing the moment to memory.
I manage a shaky laugh, wiping at my face as I try to catch my breath. But he’s already moving, reaching for his wallet in his jeans pocket and pulling out a foil packet. His gaze meets mine before he opens it, looking for permission.
“Tell me what you want, Jael.”
My eyes drop to the condom in his hand, and something inside me answers before my lips can. I meet his gaze, my voice steady even as my body trembles still from the aftershocks of my last orgasm.
“I want you to fuck me like I’m not fragile.”
Something about his expression changes instantly when I say that. His brows draw together, the heat in his eyes dissipates almost instantly giving away to something completely different. Something that looks a lot more like hurt.
He rocks back on his heels, his hands resting on his thighs as he watches me, like he’s trying to decide what to do. And then finally he pushes a shaky hand through his light brown hair before shaking his head firmly.
“Jael… I… I can’t.”
“What?” I ask as I lean forward on my elbows to look at him. He looks wounded, maybe a bit scared and that’s when I realize that was the wrong thing to say.
My mind spins to the last time that we spoke and now I’m panicking too.
“W-what are you doing Rhett?” I ask, because the look on his face says that he’s thinking about it now too. About the past and all the hurt. It’s like a cold bucket of water dumped on both of us and now he’s backing out, retreating into himself.
My heart races as I wet my lips, trying to think of a way to make this right. To take back my words. To rewind the last thirty-seconds, or maybe it’s the last ten years.
Because this can’t be happening and now, I’ve screwed it all up.
Again.
“I can’t… I can’t do this. I’m sorry, this was a mistake,” he murmurs again, tucking the condom back into his wallet, avoiding eye contact, and moving to stand, leaving me spread out on the floor with no pants or underwear, and vulnerable in so many more ways than just physically.
My heart had been scabbed over for years, dull and protected, but in the span of a few minutes Rhett ripped it open, exposing raw skin that still bleeds.
“Rhett, please don’t do this,” I whisper, hating how my voice sounds—small, shaky, like it belongs to someone who hasn’t learned how to protect herself yet. I’m stronger than this, yet when I’m with Rhett all I feel is weak.
He’s standing a few feet away, fists clenching and unclenching like he’s fighting some invisible war with himself.
Like he’s afraid that one more step toward me will undo whatever self-control he has left.
And yet minutes ago, he was between my thighs, coaxing pleasure out of me I haven’t felt in years, touching me like no one else ever has.
“We’ve both had a lot to drink, Jael,” he says finally, voice low and rough. “And I don’t want you to regret this. I don’t want you to regret being with me.”
The words hit me hard, and my jaw drops in shock.