Chapter Two
Afew hours later Jordan and I stumble into our building laughing. I am high on it all. I can’t believe something as stupid as dancing at that club made me feel like myself again.
Like a dancer.
As we wait for the elevator Jordan grabs my hand and squeezes. I look at him and squeeze back. I feel good right now. Not irritated with him. Not unhappy. Not lost. I started feeling like this a month ago and keep trying to ignore it, which just makes me act bitchy to him a lot.
Maybe things will get better.
He pulls me into the elevator and as soon as the doors close, he grabs my waist and scoops me to him while hungrily kissing my neck. His body feels strong against mine. He’s so mellow in his daily life, so I absolutely love it when he takes control. His stubble gently tickles my neck and I lean my head back and moan. He moves up to my ear and whispers, “I need to be inside you.”
Ecstasy runs through me. I put my hands in his hair and move his head so his lips are on mine. “I want you,” I whisper back.
He slides his hand up my legs, wrapping the string of my thong around his fingers and pulling hungrily at me. I move closer to him, intoxicated, as he pulls the thong down in an impressively fast and seamless motion and I step lightly, as if choreographed, out of the sliver of lace.
He touches me, reacting to how wet I am, saying gruffly into my ear, “Fuck, Jocelyn.”
He tastes so good. Touching him is as exciting as the very first time, but so much more satisfying still, now that he knows all the little spots on me that make me go crazy. Now that I recognize his natural scent and anticipate the way his hands feel in my hair and the way the hardness of his stomach feels against mine.
—
The elevator stops in time, stopping us. It’s a good thing, too, because I don’t think we would have waited. We hurry down the little hall to our flat, both of us suppressing laughter as we pass our judgmental, rude neighbor, Janice.
Once past her, I can’t help but explode with a snort.
“Shh!” he says, gently clapping a hand over my mouth and an arm around my shoulder, him laughing just as hard as I am.
He gets the big brass key into the lock, and we stumble in like a new couple in a rom-com instead of what we are, which is almost a year into domestic bliss.
We run through our small apartment, barely able to get to the bedroom fast enough. I’m pulling at his belt while he’s unbuttoning his shirt and the straps of my dress are hanging off my shoulders, exposing my breasts.
He pushes me onto the bed with just the right amount of force, and stands there for a moment to take me in.
“God, you’re beautiful. And so fucking hot .”
With this, he climbs on top of me, groaning into my neck with hunger.
I moan against the warmth of his skin, his shirt fully off now. He goes lower, taking my nipple in his teeth, where he gently flicks it with his tongue.
“Oh god,” I whisper, “please more.”
He moves his mouth to my other breast but continues to tease the first one gently between his fingers. I arch my back and inadvertently push my breast further into his mouth. He growls in pleasure.
My phone rings on the floor where I dropped it. I glance over at it: it’s another unknown number, so it can wait. I moan and turn my attention back to Jordan, whose tongue is still teasing my nipples. His hands move my dress down to my waist and his mouth follows, lifting up my hips and sliding the dress further down still. His mouth is warm on my skin. Between the euphoric feeling and the chill in the air, I shiver. He pulls the dress off completely, and once he’s between my legs I feel as if I could finish immediately. But I want to wait for him. Do it with him, together. I want to please him. So I push him back.
“Stand up,” I whisper, pushing him gently and going to my knees. His belt is already undone, as is the top button of his trousers. I look up at him with hooded eyes and pull the zipper down. His pants fall to his ankles and his black Calvin Klein boxer briefs are stretched tight against his hard cock. I start to move them down, never taking my eyes off him, making him wait just long enough before putting my mouth around him, both of us letting out a sound of relief as I do.
My mind wanders, but not far, as I think how a guy like him doesn’t need a big dick to be hot. Some guys do—some guys only have that kind of thing going for them. But Jordan is deeply sexy. The fact that he’s endowed like the hero of an old bodice-ripping paperback romance is just icing on the cake.
I get him close and then stop, wanting this to last. He lies down on the bed, pulling me by my hand, then my wrist, then my arm, closer and closer to him until his mouth is on mine. He moves me beneath him, moves himself above me.
We start slow. I raise my hips up gently at first as he pushes into me. We move together, our eyes locked. I can feel him getting harder and harder inside of me.
God, he looks so hot when he’s sex-drunk.
I wrap my legs around him, pulling him deeper and deeper until I can feel that he’s ready and I can hardly take any more waiting. I thrust my hips up again, harder this time, and he grabs my waist, holding me there. We pause and take each other in, both loving this moment more every time we come to it. We’re like puzzle pieces fitting together perfectly. We start to move again. His breathing and mine both becoming heavier, more serious. My thoughts become more concentrated and yet more abstract and synesthetic—which is exactly how I feel when I dance.
I pull him down to me now, his forehead to mine, our temperatures both now risen high despite the cold air leaking through the old windows.
“Jocelyn,” he whispers. “Are you ready?”
“Yes, yes, please.”
I groan as we finish together, bodies entwined.
As we lie together after in the soft glow of streetlights from outside, I hear my phone buzz over and over.
“Ugh, one second. This number has been calling me over and over, let me just answer.”
He lets me go, still holding me by the thigh, running his fingers up and down me.
“Hello?” I say into my phone, smiling at Jordan.
“Hello, Jocelyn Banks?”
“May I ask who’s calling?”
“This is Joel Carson. I’m…I’m a friend of your mother’s.”
I sit up fast.
“Yes?” I say, suddenly panicked. My nakedness now feeling completely inappropriate, leaving me too vulnerable.
“I need to speak with you. Are you somewhere private?”
“What happened?”
He takes a moment before saying, “She had a terrible accident last night.”
“What do you mean, accident?”
My heart rate skyrockets as I push Jordan off of me. As my mind starts to catch up with my nervous system, my hands begin to shake with the sudden surge of adrenaline. I’ve bitten the side of my tongue and I can taste blood.
“She was driving down L’Enfant around two in the morning last night and it seems like something went wrong with the car. She veered off the road and hit a tree.”
“Is she okay?”
Of course she’s not. If she was, she’d be calling.
“She’s in the hospital. She’s…it’s not looking good, Jocelyn. I’m so sorry to call and have to tell you this.”
My stomach feels like it’s filled with acid.
“Is she…going to die?” The words sting like an open electrical wire has just been placed on my tongue.
Jordan is sitting up beside me, looking steady and concerned.
Joel takes a long beat before saying, “I think you should try to get here as soon as possible, if you can.”
“I can’t, I can’t, I’ve got—no, I mean, fuck!” I’m scrambling, angry, misfiring it toward Joel when he didn’t do anything wrong. “Sorry,” I say.
“Don’t apologize.” We’re both silent for a long moment before he goes on. “I’ll text you the details, okay? I’m so sorry, Jocelyn.”
I hang up without saying anything else, holding the phone in my hand and staring at the wall across from me.
“It’s okay, baby, it’s okay,” says Jordan, trying to touch me.
“Stop it,” I say, swatting his hand away.
I walk over to the window and look down to the street.
I close my eyes but instantly regret it.
My mom.
A crash.
I gasp and inhale sharply, but it feels shallow.