Chapter 12
Twelve
Seth
Looking over, I see her eyes flutter with sleep, maybe dreams, and can tell from here that her nose is red.
It’s fucking cold in here. I know Jess mentioned there was a generator, but maybe it didn’t kick on?
No way I’m going to go traipsing around, trying to find her; for now, we’ll just stay warm until morning.
While I have a minute, I look at the weather app on my phone, making sure to turn down the brightness and keep as much of it away from Claire as possible. Don’t want to wake her up.
How the fuck can it keep snowing like this?
I watch the radar and it’s this massive blob of blue that just keeps rotating but never really moving anywhere.
It looks like white-out conditions are expected for tomorrow, and maybe even the next day.
Pulling up the airports around us, I find all flights are still grounded. Nothing going in or out tomorrow.
Just when I think we could try and make the drive, slow and steady, there’s a news article urging people to stay off the roads.
North Carolina is not equipped to deal with ice or large amounts of snow like this.
For fuck’s sake, it’s a good thing this place has a generator—one that I hope will at least work in the morning.
Part of me only suggested the whole one bed rule when I thought we’d end up making our way home in twenty-four hours. But, that would be too convenient, wouldn’t it? Now, I’m going to be doing the “hang-of-shame” while we try to wait out a random ass storm in October? This would happen to me.
And it’s not that I don’t want to spend more time with Claire—because I do—but I’m kind of thinking about how we were with each other. Felt very much like a one time thing, for this bizarre circumstance only, and we’d go back to regularly scheduled programming and the city in the morning.
Taking her in, her lips still swollen and pink, there’s this small crack in my chest, one that I’d barely feel if I was in my regular routine.
Normally, I’d let myself feel it for a few seconds, take a deep breath, and move on.
I’ve not had the space, time, or even want to feel much of anything like this.
That’s what a massive loss will do to you.
It’s been over ten years but still shapes so much of who I am, even when I think it doesn’t.
Now, I’m thinking about how easy this was with Claire. How I didn’t have to say much of anything to get her to jump in, head first. Maybe she felt the same way I was? Or maybe she was bored and didn’t want to think about going to bed at 8 PM on her birthday.
All I know is that I haven’t been with someone, this way, in a long time. Not even the sex— that was also something fucking wildly good and surprising—but the sleeping over, sharing a bed. I know this isn’t what I picked, and it’s just luck of the draw, but why can I see us doing this at my place?
Snap out of it, Seth. You’d never be spending the night with Claire if it wasn’t for an emergency plane landing and a rogue blizzard in the fall in a place that doesn’t really get snow. It’s not like she chose to be here, or vice versa.
And as I’m doubting what this is, trying to get out of my own head, Claire stirs next to me. I try to settle in and act like I’m not wide awake.
Claire’s arm unwraps from mine and fumbles to my chest. Slowly, it drifts from my chest to my shorts. She’s rubbing me, the fabric separating her hands from my dick, and she moans in her sleep. Then her hand goes from the outside to slipping in, her fingers grazing me.
It doesn’t take long for me to be hard and my eyes to find hers. She’s awake, grinning at me, the sleep still in her eyes but still daring and like she’s on a mission. One that I will happily help her complete.
First, she kisses my neck, her lips full and like velvet. Then she whispers, “Take your shorts off.”
She says it like a dare, like she wants me to push back. There’s no fucking way.
Once my shorts are off, my cock is hard and she’s looking at it, and then back to me. She straddles me, her silky panties bumping into the head, and I can feel the warmth of her through the fabric. It’s only a few seconds before she’s moving down my body, settling in between my legs.
She’s on her belly, holding her chest up, with one hand wrapping around me, one finger at a time. Claire strokes me, intentionally slow, I can feel it in the way she looks at me, like she’s waiting for my reaction.
So, I give her what she’s asking for.
“You’ve never looked better than you do right now,” I praise, watching as she examines her hands, moving up and down my length. Claire flips her hair, it falling onto one side, giving me full access to what she’s about to do next.
Carefully, she licks her lips, settles her hands at the base of my dick and then swirls her tongue on the head.
I let out a laugh, loving the way she pushes me.
“I take it back. This is better.” My abs flex when she strokes and licks, setting her own pace.
If I know something about Claire, it’s that she’s known for doing things the way she thinks they should be done.
She loves calling the shots and thrives with a decision.
My hands reach for her hair and she freezes. “No touching.” She takes control, smirking up at me. Another thing I know about Claire—her way is the best way, probably the right way, and who am I to argue?
“You can watch, though,” she offers as her lips hover in front of the bulging head. I’m desperate for her to suck on it, put it in her mouth, move her fingers on me—I’ll take anything.
I put my hands behind my head, clasping them and bending my elbows, doing exactly what I’m told.