Chapter 7 #2
We decided saying a little bit of the truth but twisting it up was the best way to handle Jensen.
He’s smart, but easy to manipulate if you can get under his skin.
That’s what I was told. Now that I’ve met him, I believe that statement.
Underneath all that cowboy roughness, I feel he’s got a sensitive side. I hate that I’m taking advantage of it.
Am I really, though?
I study him. Whatever I’m feeling, it’s not fake.
“So, you have farm hands out here helping you?” I say, trying to change the subject.
“Yeah, I got a couple who keep things running, but they’ll be out in the fields by now,” he says.
I have a sip of coffee, the bitterness spreading over my tongue. I was worried about what would happen when I finally got him alone. Would I feel safe? Or would I be wishing I had a pistol in my boot the way Leland had me feeling?
Instead, I feel the safest I’ve felt since my daddy was alive, sitting on his porch with this man I barely know. I swallow hard. It’s not fair we had to meet under these circumstances.
“You got anybody else?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “I work a lot, stay pretty busy.”
“No friends?”
He shrugs. “Yeah, I got some.”
My coffee is about halfway done, and it’s cooling off.
I set it on the railing and close my eyes, turning my face up to the sun.
My skin is hungry for touch, and my heart is starving.
Snapping my eyes open, I climb down the steps, walk down the short path to the grass.
It’s soft near the house, just starting to brown.
He gets up and goes to the railing.
“You said nobody was around?” I say.
He nods, taking a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket.
He lights one and inhales, holding it as he gazes at me.
Slowly, I strip his shirt off my body, leaving me fully naked.
His lips part, a little trail of smoke rising from them.
I step backwards, letting the shirt drop to the ground for dramatic effect.
He lifts a hand and runs it through his hair. That’s when I notice he’s got a little cross tattoo on his ribs. Surely, he’s not religious. That would be strange, considering what we did last night.
He reaches down to adjust the front of his pants.
That’s enough to distract me from the cross, my eyes moving to the outline of his hard cock hanging by his thigh.
I let him look, hands tucked behind my back.
But in my head, I’m trying to draw the lines between the bullseye on his chest, the cross on his side, and the Ruger on his dick. One plus one plus one equals…what?
Nobody told me what to expect when I met him. He’s a mess of flavors I wasn’t anticipating.
He clears his throat. “You trying to get me to make a mistake?”
“How is a little fun a mistake?” I tease.
He comes around the railing, standing halfway down the steps. “I don’t have a condom, but that might not stop me.”
My stomach flip flops, but not for the reason I thought it would. That shocks me from my head to my feet. Is it possible I could want him enough to sleep with him bare? After what Leland did? That has to be some kind of miracle.
“How about that parking spot you promised me?” I say.
He cocks his head. “Parking’s free before noon.”
“Oh, well, I’d better hurry up then.”
He stabs out his cigarette and jerks his head. “Get inside, baby.”
I could go…or I could make him work for it.
I turn, shaking my hair back, and take a step.
He gives me a behave-or-else look, but his eyes are glittering.
This is something new and addicting. Leland never teased me, he never played with me.
Everything was so damn serious all the time. Just real fucking grim.
I take another step.
He comes down the stairs. Then, he takes a quick step at me.
I whirl and take off running, but he’s faster than I anticipated.
I get less than ten steps before his arm wraps around my waist. Cradling me, he drops us to the grass.
Our eyes meet, and a thrill goes up my spine, then down again, centering right where I want his tongue.
I’ve never wanted anything the way I want him. It’s pure, like a deep mountain spring bubbling up. All I want to do is roll around with him until we’re both spent. Eat, drink, sleep it off, then do it all over again for days. Maybe weeks.
He kisses me, and he tastes like coffee, smells a tiny bit like tobacco.
Maybe it’s being naked out in the sun like this, but I swear, I feel everything more clearly than I’ve ever felt.
The grass against my back and thighs. The warm weight of his body.
The rough calluses of his hands on my wrists, the side of my face.
He pulls back. “You’re a handful.”
“I think your hands are big enough.”
Instead of answering, he grips my waist and flips me as he rolls onto his back.
I reel, but he keeps me steady, lifting me and setting me down, my knees on either side of his face.
His eyes flash, pale blue. Then, he disappears between my thighs, and his tongue is hot on my clit.
The muscles of my hips tighten, rising. My head falls back, only blue overhead.
His mustache rasps against my skin as he presses soft kisses to my pussy. His jaw is stubbled, prickly against my inner thighs.
“Relax, baby,” he says, muffled.
I sway, unsure where to put my hands. One of them goes in his hair, but that doesn’t seem right, so I brace it behind my back.
Overhead, the pale sky is a clear arch. A breeze picks up, and it’s sweet like hay.
His tongue drags over my sex, dipping inside before moving to my clit.
Then, he sucks it between his teeth and starts flicking it with his tongue.
“Oh, fuck!” My spine jerks back.
His fingers dig into my thighs, holding me still.
He’s stronger than I anticipated, even after last night.
And he’s merciless, keeping my clit barely balanced between his teeth and the suction of his mouth as he flicks it.
There’s pain, pleasure, and suffocating overstimulation, but he knows what he’s doing, because I come out of nowhere, a wave of pleasure like falling into clear water.
My thighs give out, my weight sinking onto his face. He groans, slapping my ass as I come down. I’m shaking so hard, he notices and has mercy on me, lifting me onto his chest.
His eyes glitter. “What were you saying about me not being able to make you come yesterday?”
I’m too flushed to answer. It’s not the pleasure that has me shaken. It’s the crumbling of my own understanding of myself. I thought my body was just quiet, that I felt desire but didn’t enjoy the acts it led to or the participation of another person.
I cried over my body refusing to respond to Leland and his lack of interest in doing anything to fix it. It turns out, none of that was my fault. I think I never felt safe enough to relax in his hands.
Jensen was supposed to be my savior.
But he might be my awakening too.