9. Jagger
JAGGER
“ T o what do I owe this pleasure?” Jude answers on the first ring.
I’ve wrapped up my time at Lyric’s, doing everything I could to maintain a semblance of control.
A damn hard thing to do when trying to conceal the way my cock kept perking up, no matter how many times I tried to keep the dumb piece of flesh from doing so.
Every time she walked in front of me, the soft and subtle sway of her hips each time she took a step made the dress of her skirt cling to her ass.
It made it damn impossible not to take things a step further.
I’d shake off the thought, remembering how much unfinished business we had to discuss, none of which I wanted to bring up at that moment.
“Fuck, I have no goddamn clue,” I reply, standing at the railing of my back deck. I finished the estimate for Lyric an hour ago, made a sandwich, grabbed a beer, and walked out back to enjoy the fresh air .
“You’ve got it bad, my man. She as pretty as her picture?” Jude is doing nothing to help my case.
“Prettier. You find anything else out that I need to know? Husband or man in the picture?” We didn’t get into the nitty gritty of her background. Kind of hard to ask questions when she fell to pieces in my arms.
“Nobody in the picture except a woman named Naomi. One of her mom’s friends who kept in touch when she passed away.
Naomi is from Paris and hopped on a plane the day everything went down.
I checked her flight plans. She’s been back and forth to see your girl every summer like clockwork, staying the longest during Lyric’s mom’s final days and for weeks after.
I took a look at her recent trip. It seems Naomi will be staying even longer with the way her paperwork reads.
Other than that, Lyric’s been alone, friend and man wise.
” Motherfucking fuck, she’s been doing it on her own for all these years.
Who the hell knows what happened during her teen years?
Jude said the battle with her mom really started once Lyric went to college, but what if there’s more?
What if this shit started when we lost touch?
And what if I’ve been an asshole for no damn reason?
“Shit, man. Thanks for looking into this.” I rethink every last moment I spent with her today.
“Not a problem, you know that. Did you get the estimate done?”
“As if you’re not monitoring everything that comes through the network even on a Saturday.” Jude keeps tabs on everyone. It’s his schtick, and while sometimes, it can be intrusive, there are times like now when it comes in handy.
“Yep, saw it. Also, that’s quite a steal. You sure you want to do that?” I may as well get it all out. He’ll more than likely take it back to the group; it’s one less thing I’ll have to bring up the next time we meet up.
“Yeah, she deserves a break. Lyric also doesn’t want anything drastic.
It needs new drywall, paint, and flooring.
The roof is still in good shape. The electrical and plumbing, I’ll take a look at once she gets it hooked up.
She doesn’t even want to take the tile down in the bathroom.
I figure we’ll work on the master bedroom and bath, close off the hallway as much as we can to keep the dust down,” I relay to him what I told Lyric.
The thought of her spending money on staying in the bed and breakfast didn’t sit right with me.
Especially since she’ll be paying utilities at the house and a whack when it comes to the estimate I emailed her a few minutes ago.
“Doesn’t hurt that you want her,” Jude states a fact that I can’t deny.
I’m about to make a crude joke about how I want her beneath me, on top of me, against me, and any other way I can have her when I realize this is Lyric I’m thinking about.
She’s the one who got away, the one I’ve been trying to do anything to get over, to ease the ache in my chest and the burn in my gut.
No amount of people in the past accomplished that; neither did the adrenaline rush I’ve become accustomed to.
I should have gotten off my ass, talked to my friends who are more like brothers, and while they all knew Lyric meant something to me, I also made them swear to not do anything involving finding her.
Apparently, I can hold a grudge for a long-as-fuck time.
“No, it doesn’t. Hey, gotta let you go,” I tell Jude when I look down to see a black cat slithering in between my legs.
The cute thing doesn’t have a collar on, and the ear isn’t clipped noting it’s a feral animal, which means he or she is probably lost, or the poor thing has been dumped.
I’m thinking it’s more along the lines of being left out on the dirt road before it leads to my property.
“Alright. Later, Jagger,” Jude responds.
“Later.” I hit the end button, drop my phone to the railing, and bend down to pet the midnight-black cat.
“What are you doing out here? You’re a tiny thing.
” The cat keeps weaving in and out, rubbing its face along my jean-covered leg while I resume stroking the length of its back.
I pick her up and bring her to my chest, figuring a sweet thing like herself must mean she’s a girl.
“Come on. I should have some canned tuna inside. Hopefully, you’re weaned, because going into town will take some time, let alone finding replacement milk in our area.
” I talk to the cat as if she can respond to me.
It looks like on my list of things to do tomorrow is stop at a pet store and load up on everything I’ll need for the kitten.
For now, I’ll make do with canned food, a container of water, a box I’m sure I have in the garage, and whatever shavings I can sweep up from the floor until tomorrow.
I planned on getting started on Lyric’s house first thing in the morning, but I guess it’ll have to wait until the afternoon.
It’s probably for the better. There’s still a lot to do, like ripping the carpet out, pulling down the kitchen cabinets, and starting on the drywall.
The downside is, I don’t have a roll-off dumpster, which will mean making a mess in Lyric’s front yard after she worked her ass off on it yesterday.
I walk inside, keeping the cat close to my chest. Her soft purring vibrates against me, and when I place her on the ground, she doesn’t so much as move away.
It seems I’m not the only one who’s starving for affection.
I move through the kitchen, pulling down a paper plate and a glass bowl before fixing the little thing up some dinner and water.
She’s black with specks of brown mixed in, has a long tail and bright yellow eyes.
The minute I pop open the can, her ears perk right up, the meowing goes up a notch, and I move fast in case she hasn’t eaten in a while.
I place the food on the ground, the glass bowl filled with water beside it, more than ready to take a shower, have another beer, and relax for the night.
Once I’ve got the cat settled, I move through the house, hitting the door for the garage and going about finding what I need for her to use the bathroom.
I’m playing it by ear, hoping that I don’t wake up to a mess in the morning and figuring I might need to do some studying on what a cat needs.
I grew up with a golden retriever, and losing him was hard.
My parents never brought another pet in, and with my schedule, I knew it wouldn’t be fair on a dog to be stuck inside all day.
Now, it seems I’ll have a cat, and there’s no way I’ll be sticking her outside unless she really makes it known that’s what she wants.
It only takes me a few minutes to locate a box and find what can be used instead of litter.
A combination of wood shavings, some paper scraps from discarded plans we’ve had to re-do that were in the recycling bin, and I call it good.
By the time I’m back inside the kitchen, the unnamed cat is done eating the small amount of tuna I left out and drinking a lot of the water.
I place the box down, making sure I rip an entrance, so to speak, and place her inside it.
She does her thing, learning the way of the land pretty damn fast, then walks out.
“You and I will get along just fine.” I give her another scratch to her chin and then head toward the bathroom.
My home being on all one floor means I won’t have to worry about where she goes.
I’ll just close the doors to the two bedrooms and bathroom, leave my door open, and clean up whatever mess she happens to make.
She follows me for a little while until a blanket that’s tossed on the ground catches her attention.
I leave her be, needing the hot water beating down my body and my cock to finally find some relief.
There’s no holding back. After weeks on end without letting myself get off, tonight, I’m taking care of business.
I shuck off my clothes, pulling my shirt off by the back of the collar and dropping it to the ground.
My jeans join the pile as well as my boxer briefs once I’m in my bedroom.
I keep an ear out for the cat, realizing I need to come up with a name and call the veterinarian’s office to make an appointment.
Maybe I’ll call the Johnson family. Dean’s wife, Tully, has her own practice.
A perk of Lennie being part of the family is having help when you need it.
I keep that thought in mind and continue on to my shower.
I’m in the bathroom, turning on the hot water, ignoring the switch for the light.
There’s enough coming from the two windows in the room.
My gaze catches on the reflection in the mirror, my cock lying thick and heavy against my stomach.
When I fist my length, pre-cum saturates the tip, and I know the minute I let myself go, it’s going to be over before I’m ready.
The way I’ve kept myself from fucking my hand, it might be a two-session kind of night.
I move away from the mirror, more than ready to bring up any and every fantasy I can conjure of Lyric.
I’m going to start off with what I wanted to do today, her bent over, hands on the oak tree, as I lift her dress over her ass and see what she’s unknowingly teased me with.
I let go of my dick, reluctantly at that, open the glass door, and step into the tiled shower, making sure to close it behind me.
The steam envelopes me, and the hot water sluices across my taut muscles.
I rest a palm on the wall, my hand returns to my cock, and close my eyes.
In a different world, Lyric would be here in front of me, completely stripped bare, hair slicked back, eyes riddled with desire, and moaning my name.
I’d have her plastered against the wall, legs wrapped around my hips, hands digging into my scalp, and her pussy pulsing along the length of my dick.
“Fuck,” I mutter. My hips roll with each downward stroke, a slow twist of my wrist. My thumb gliding over the head of my cock comes away with more wetness than ever before.
I’m already on the damn brink of coming in my hand, and I’ve barely gotten started.
Lyric and I may have some differences to work out, but it won’t be long until I succumb to needing her any way I can have her.
I keep working myself, my grip tightening, my balls drawing up, and my spine starting to tingle.
The velvet clench of her cunt spurs me on as I take my fantasy to the next level, mourning the loss of her pussy as I pull out.
Her eyes plead with me, begging me not to leave her, and I keep her steady until her feet are planted on the ground.
My hands mold to her hips, spinning her around, taking her hands and pressing them on the cold tile, pushing her tits against them and watching her body shiver with desire.
Lyric hisses out my name, arches her ass in such a way that she’s gagging for my cock to be buried back inside her slick, wet heat.
“Lyric.” My voice goes hoarse as I picture me behind her, my fingers pressing into her fleshy hips, watching as she pushes her ass out even more, and the only thing I can do is fist my cock.
I rub the head along the lips of her cunt, feeling her saturate me, and it damn sure isn’t water from the shower.
My fist pounds on the tile, wishing like fuck Lyric were right here in front of me.
I look down. The head of my dick is red and angry, tired of holding back, and when I picture sinking into her with a force so solid there’s no holding myself back, my head tips back and I come on a solid roar with one woman in mind.
I’m done playing it safe. There’s no more holding a grudge.
Lyric Skye will be mine one way or another.
Any and all energy I had is zapped. My thoughts of going a second round have long since left.
Clearly, I’ve been holding back entirely too long, going weeks, maybe even closer to months, without giving in to my basic need.
I finish my shower, washing away the evidence of today and the cum I’ve painted the wall and floor with, then turn the water off.
If I stay in much longer, I’ll turn into a damn prune.
I open the door, step out onto the rug in order not to bust my ass on the tile floor, and grab a towel.
A few swipes across my face, head, and chest, and I call it good before wrapping it around my waist .
I walk out of the bathroom, hearing a soft trill in my bedroom. My eyes lock on the little bundle of black fur, bright eyes staring back at me, and it’s clear she’s looking for attention.
“Find yourself a makeshift bed, huh?” I move toward her, bending down to stroke her belly because she’s lying on her side, using my shirt to burrow into.
“I’m going to have to name you, and then we’re going to have to somehow convince Lyric that I’m not an asshole.
You think you can help me with that?” She doesn’t respond.
Instead, I’m given a meow, a clear sign she wants more rubs.
I do her bidding, coming up with a plan while I’m at it, one that involves Lyric.