Chapter 16 Jessie #2
“I think it was my fault.” I cringe when I say it. It’s so incredibly stupid I can hardly bear the sound of my voice saying the words. Every rational part of me knows it’s bullshit. I was a kid, they were adults. Divorces happen all the time. “The divorce. I think it was my fault.”
“How’d you figure?” That’s what he does. He lets me talk even when I’m talking crazy. Instead of making me feel like shutting down, he makes me want to say more.
“I started getting interested in girls and spending a lot of time with my friends, and I was playing baseball all the time. I had three practices during the week and a ton of away games on the weekend. I was away from home more than usual. They always fought a lot, but they were much better when I was there. I dropped the ball. I looked away for a second, and by the time I looked back, my dad was moving out and it was too late for me to take it back. That was the first thing I thought when they told me – I should have been there. I should have been home. I shouldn’t have let them spend so much time on their own. ”
He's quiet for a long time. He puts a hand under my T-shirt and slides it up and down my back slowly. He does it so slowly, after a while I start feeling like I might fall asleep. Something about that infuriates me.
“Do you agree that I caused my parents' divorce? Do you think that’s what happened?” There’s a manic, accusing tone in my voice.
I can’t tell if I want him to agree or miraculously prove to me once and for all, where therapists and school counselors have failed in droves, that the divorce wasn’t my fault.
He meets me with a cool, level gaze. “I think they probably behaved a lot better when you were home. I bet they tried to keep a lid on the fighting to protect you, so it probably did feel like things were alright when you were around.”
“So you don’t think it was my fault?”
“I know it wasn’t.”
“How?” Crazy, childish hope flaps in my chest. Irrational hope that somehow he’ll know the exact words I need to hear. “How can you know that?”
“’Cause I know you’re a good person, Jessie.”
I mash my face into his chest and take in big gulps of salt air. His hand moves up my spine, to my neck and then curls in my hair. I grind my hips against him and find him stiffening like I am.
“Is this supposed to happen during cuddling?” I ask.
He gives me the hint of a smile, adjusting himself so his hips rock against mine. “It is a pretty common feature of cuddling done right.”
“You mentioned that you used to want to spend time with your friends, the other day when we were cuddling.”
“Yeah.”
“Do you still have friends like that? It’s just you haven’t mentioned anyone you know from Australia, and I haven’t seen you calling anyone other than your mom.”
“No. I don’t. I’m close to my cousin, Drix, but that’s about it.”
He lets the silence fill in the gap. I used to have friends.
Good friends. I used to let people get close to me.
I did it my whole life, until I stopped thinking I deserved it.
Until I stopped thinking I was a safe option for other people.
When I realize how flawed my logic there is, he nods lightly, as if he’s able to see my thoughts as they process.
“It’s okay. I’ll share my friends with you. They’re crazy and they’re a lot, but they’re also the best. You’ll see.”
We’re on my bed, sitting side-by-side with our backs against the wall. He has me pinned against him, a strong, beefy arm around me pulling me tightly against him, making me feel slightly off balance. I lean down and smile into the nook where his neck meets his shoulder. “Thanks, I guess.”
“Except for Izzy,” he adds in a serious, firm tone I’m not used to hearing from him. “I’m not sharing her with you.”
“You don’t need to worry about her. I’m not into her and she’s sure as hell not into me.”
“She’s not?”
“No, you ass, she’s into Chase.”
“What? Are you serious?”
“How do you not know this?”
“I don’t know, I mean, I guess I can kind of see it. It’s just they’ve been friends for so long and nothing’s ever happened between them. Why hasn’t one of them said or done something?”
“Ah, a classic case of two scared, stubborn assholes, I’m afraid.”
“Wow, sucks to be them.” His smile twists, turning it into something that’s far from sweet. “I like our way better.” He reaches into my shorts and curls his fingers around my dick.
“I thought we were just cuddling,” I tease.
“We are cuddling. This is me cuddling your dick.” His eyes are back to sweet, open and blinking as he looks up at me. “Whoa,” he breathes, “look how fast it changes.”
He looks down at my cock, mouth turned up at the corners.
Mesmerized. Not moving his hand, just holding me.
Not even holding me tightly. It’s enough, though.
More than enough, especially when combined with the way he’s looking at my dick.
Awe and amazement – that’s how he looks at it.
Like it’s fantastic. Like it’s magic. He does it every single time he watches me sprout a boner.
It’s happened so many times now, but every time it’s the same.
Honestly, if being with Luke has taught me one thing, it’s that male virginity is way, way under appreciated.
Teaching him and watching him discover new things is a whole different type of pleasure than anything I’ve experienced before.
I feel it deeper than my skin. Deeper than my bones. Soul deep, that’s how I feel it.
“You’re so easy to please.” I lean in to kiss the sweet smile off his face.
“You calling me easy?”
“I mean, if the shoe fits.”
He laughs and gives my dick a firm tug. “If I’m easy, what are you?”
“Oh,” I pant, “I’m super easy.”
I push my pants down to my knees to prove my point. He scoots around, so he’s on his hands and knees beside me on the bed and leans down to give the head of my dick a kiss. It’s a soft, sweet kiss that would be chaste if it wasn’t so hot.
He gnaws on his bottom lip. “I don’t know about easy, but I’ll tell you what you are, Jessie Lewis…the best I’ve ever had, that’s what you are.”
I throw my head back and laugh. “The best you’ve ever had, huh? I thought I was the only guy you’d ever even kissed.”
He teases my slit with slow, deliberate strokes of his tongue. “Oh, you are.”
The way he looks when he says it does something strange to my insides.
He’s not playing. He doesn’t play games.
He’s honest about how he feels. So honest, it makes me feel like I have to be honest too.
“You’re the best I’ve ever had, too.” My confession makes the mood in the room shift suddenly.
His eyes shine with pleasure and he looks at me like there’s nothing he wouldn’t tell me. “Why did you wait?”
“Had to.”
“Why? Wasn’t it hard?”
He grazes his erection against my knee. “Of course it was hard. I’m always hard.”
“You know what I mean.”
“It wasn’t hard. I had no choice. I’ve never met anyone I want as much as I want you, so I had to wait.
” He takes my dick into his mouth again, deeper, not even close to chaste this time.
He pulls up and releases it with a soft pop.
“Plus, I thought the pandemic would last for like, three to six weeks tops, I had no fucking idea I’d be waiting for years. ”
I choke out a laugh that comes out sounding like a lot more of a groan. He swallows me again. And again. He does it until my face is scrunched up in ecstasy and I have the bedlinen balled up in my fists. He doesn’t stop until he’s swallowed all of me. All of it. Everything I’ve got.
He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and gets up to get the lube from my drawer to jerk himself off. I’m so braindead, I can’t move. I don’t even think until I hear a sharp intake of breath.
“It’s nothing,” I say, reaching out quickly and trying to grab the sketchpad out of his hands.
“It’s not nothing!” He holds the pad tightly, twisting to keep it away from me. “It’s amazing.”
I snatch it out of his grip, harder than he’s prepared to hold onto it, and harder than the situation warrants. I rip the page out and I’m about to tear it down the middle when I look down in my hands. I see Luke and me. I smell Jasmine and feel the same eerie sense of déjà vu I felt that night.
I sigh very heavily, hating myself even more than I hate this fucked up situation I’ve found myself in. Then I hold the page out to him, rolling my eyes and giving another exaggerated huff when he takes it and clutches the page to his chest.
“Did you mean it,” he says a few days later when the lights are out and we’re curled up in bed. “When you said I was the best you’ve ever had, did you mean it?”
It’s been at least twenty minutes since the last time I came and my mind is feeling the clearest it’s felt in days, if not weeks.
Part of me wants to pretend I’m asleep and that I didn’t hear the question, but the rest of me is so close to Luke.
It’s like he’s everywhere. His arms and legs are wrapped around me, squeezing me tightly, and his body is pushed up against mine.
He’s warm and hard and soft at the same time.
He’s not just around me. He’s up my nose and under my skin.
I should hate it. I really should. Seriously, three weeks ago I would have despised it.
It would have freaked me the fuck out. I’d have been feeling hot and claustrophobic, but I’m not. I don’t want to move.
Fuck me.
I’m getting way into this cuddling shit.
“I meant it,” I whisper, grateful for the blanket of darkness.
“Do you think it’s because I’m a guy? I know you’ve mainly been with girls in the past. Do you think that’s why? Is it different because we’re both guys?”
“It’s not because you’re a guy.”
He’s quiet. I can’t tell if he’s disappointed or not. His hand moves in my hair, stroking so gently, I get that feeling that I might fall asleep again.
“It’s not ‘cause you’re a guy,” I say, mumbling a little this time. “It’s because you’re you.”