35. Jay
Chapter thirty-five
Jay
I lead Cam into the lockup, locking the rolling door open to let some daylight into the windowless box. Against one wall, a long painter’s table holds an assortment of tools, with a plastic chair and a crate of bottled water pushed underneath. In the middle, and taking up most of the space, is my 1971 Dodge Challenger R/T. She cost a pretty penny, and even more to have her imported from the States, but she’s a beauty. The bane of my very existence and in need of extensive restoration, but a beauty nonetheless. I roll back the tarp to reveal my pride and joy.
“Nice,” Cam says lowly, walking slowly around the front of the car. Once the tarp is free, I fold it into a rough square and toss it under the table. “Are those wheels stock?”
“Custom. WELD S81s. I had Amie help me ship ‘em over.”
“They look killer.” Cam squats for a closer look, lips curved in an envious smile. “Got a little rust spot here on the arch, though.”
“Yeah,” I grumble. “Got a few of those. Whole fucking engine is a rust spot.”
“Pop the hood, lemme take a look. God, she’s gorgeous.”
“Isn’t she? Engine’s a mess but the rest of her is pretty decent. Could use a re-spray, but that’s not a priority.” I hear the pride in my voice as Cam unhooks the clips and I reach behind the bumper, fumbling for the lever to open the engine bay. It feels good to have a project to work on. It feels better to have a guy friend to shoot the shit with while we do it.
“Different colour?”
“Nah,” I successfully release the bonnet and stand, lifting it to its full height. Then, I lean against the car, watching as Cam admires her from every angle. “I love the grey. Took me a while to find a good one in this colour.”
I drag a box of tools to the front of the car, followed by a handful of engine components that are ready to be swapped. Cam and I lapse into a comfortable silence as we select a component each and get to work.
“So, Katy, huh?” Cam leans over the engine bay. “Hand me that wrench?”
“What about her?” I try to keep my voice steady as I wave the requested tool over the vehicle, and when Cam takes it, I dig my hands back into the engine block, grateful for the distraction.
“Don’t play dumb, Jay. You like her.” Cam turns the wrench once before cocking his hip and stopping to look at me.
I like Cam. He’s my sister’s best friend’s boyfriend. He’s my girlfriend’s best friend’s boyfriend too, for that matter. It sounds awfully contrived. The first time we met, at one of Ruth’s dinner parties, we bonded over our love of muscle cars, and he’s been a good friend and a great sounding board ever since. And he’s really useful for getting parts shipped over from the US. But he’s just hit a very uncomfortable nail on its even more uncomfortable head. Katy knows I’d tell the world about us if I could, about how I’m falling head over heels for her, but she’s determined that Ruth can’t find out about us. And hiding the best thing in my life from my sister—my best friend—is hard. I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out, and I close it again dumbly.
“You more than like her.” Cam tries again, pointing the wrench at me and pinning me with an animated green gaze. I used to pride myself on an impassive expression and a great poker face, but now I wonder if all of a sudden, I’m wearing my heart on my sleeve and my emotions on my face. I wonder if that’s Katy’s doing.
“It just… happened,” I say quietly. “Ruth doesn’t know. I don’t think Amie does, either, so don’t yap. Please. I don’t—Katy doesn’t want them to find out.”
“Katy doesn’t? Or you don’t?”
Cam drags a chair over from the side of the garage and throws a leg over it, straddling the seat and resting his arms on the back. He looks up at me with an expression that plainly says he’s not giving up on this line of questioning until he gets answers.
“I’d scream about her from the fucking rooftops if she’d let me. But she doesn’t want to hurt Ruth.”
“It’s gonna end in tears if you keep it from her, man,” Cam warns.
“I know.”
“Katy’s like a sister to me. I’ll say this one time, Jay. If your intentions are anything but honourable—if you have any doubts whatsoever about this being a serious thing—end it right now. If you hurt her, it won’t just be the girls after you. They’ll have my full blessing, and my help.”
I lock eyes with Cam, for once hoping that my feelings are plainly displayed in my expression. He’s become my closest friend, outside of my girlfriend and my sister. Now he’s my confidant, too. He said it’ll all end in tears if Katy and I don’t tell Ruth about us, but I can’t help but feel like it might all end in tears regardless of whether or not we come clean.
And Katy in tears—anything but happy tears—makes me feel sick to my stomach. Loving Katy was never in any of the plans I made for my life, but she’s warm like summer and soft like home, and I’ve never known peace like holding her close. I love my sister, but the way I’m falling for her best friend, that might not be enough anymore.
“I’m serious about her, man.”
After an afternoon of working on the car, Katy shows up on my doorstep with a four-pack of craft beer just as I’m getting out of the shower. The beer is a new one she read about last week, and we’ve both been searching for it to give it a try. Between us, we manage to drink half a can before she’s straddling me on the sofa, grinding against my dick and slipping her tongue into my mouth.
She tastes like beer and chai and Katy , and I’ve been hard since she walked through the door in that low-cut tee and hip-hugging jeans. Now I’m really fucking hard, in a permanent state of arousal for this beautiful woman in my lap. I lift her into my arms as I stand and walk her across the flat to my bed, dropping her in the middle of the mattress and crawling towards her.
“I love a man who crawls,” she breathes.
“Is that what the cowboys in your filthy novels do, Princess?”
She shrugs with a coquettish grin. She’s tearing her jeans off, chest heaving with heavy breaths, and I quickly rid myself of the T-shirt and boxers I threw on after my shower. When I pull her back into my arms, we’re both naked, and skin on skin has my dick twitching between us. I push my thigh between her legs and she circles her hips, desperately seeking friction. She’s fucking soaked; I can smell her arousal, and I need to taste her.
“Do they say things like come here, sit on my face ?” I lift an eyebrow, settling onto my back and gesturing with a nod of my head.
“I’ll suffocate you,” she protests, mewling as I roll a nipple between my thumb and forefinger. The sound travels straight to my dick like a sonic pulse, and it throbs in response, desperate to sink inside her wet heat.
“I can’t think of a better way to go than drowning in that pretty little cunt of yours, Princess,” I hum. Just imagining it is enough to make my dick thicken even further. Her earthen eyes remain anxious until I ghost a finger down her naked torso, brushing it through the soft hair between her thighs, and when I press lightly, she gives in. The concern in her eyes melts away, quickly replaced with desire, and she lifts onto her knees, shuffling forwards and raising her hips to allow me access.
“Good girl,” I say, pulling myself up the mattress and settling beneath her. “Hold onto the headboard.”
She grabs the leather, whimpering as I nip the inside of her thigh. Fuck , she’s dripping. I brush my lips over her sex once, twice, three times, and she trembles, bucking her hips against the sensation.
“Such a good girl for me,” I murmur against her, and a long keening moan leaves her lips. “Such a good fucking girl. Ride my face like a filthy little slut, Princess.”
I dip my tongue inside, gripping her thighs for stability. I need her to anchor me. I’m on a precipice, hanging off the edge of the ridge, and every single taste has my fingertips slipping further and further. I spear my tongue in and out, alternating between her entrance and her clit. She’s cool water on a hot afternoon, that first sip of beer after a hard day’s work. She’s the rain after a drought. She’s the best meal I’ve ever tasted, she’s hot and sweet around my tongue. I’ve always been a coconut kind of guy, but Katy Keller might just be my new favourite flavour.
She rocks her hips against my face and I moan against her. Fuck, she’s riding my face like she can’t get enough. I can’t get enough. She tastes fucking incredible, and the sounds she’s making are driving me insane. My dick is rock hard and leaking, aching with the need for release. Katy is bouncing on my face, crying out with every roll of her hips, and I can’t take any more. I’m about to blow.
My hips rock of their own accord, and warmth floods my body, starting in the base of my spine and spreading out. My fingers tighten on Katy’s hips and thighs, squeezing hard enough to bruise, and it only spurs me on further. Marking her, claiming her. Making her mine. My balls tingle and tighten, drawing up into my body. I’m about to burst out of my own skin.
I tug her clit between my teeth and nip lightly, before sucking hard, and she grips the headboard and screams my name.
“ HolyfuckJaysweetjesusfuck! ”
I come in hot spurts on my belly, my breath coming fast and heavy against Katy’s sex as she collapses over me.
Holy fuck , indeed. Katy rolls off me, falling against my side.
“Did you—”
“Yeah, Princess,” I say bashfully. “You don’t even have to touch me and I’m losing my fucking mind for you.”
Her eyes are closed, a blissful smile dancing across her lips—and after a moment, that pretty smile lifts into a wicked smirk as her eyes flutter open to meet mine.
“I hope you’re not done, because I still have plans for you tonight.” Katy runs her fingertips down my torso, gently roaming over each rib before swiping through the sticky mess on my stomach. She brings her fingers to her mouth and sucks them clean, and then she leans in to kiss me, moaning as her lips meet mine. My filthy princess loves to taste herself, kissing me after I’ve eaten her cunt.
I break the kiss when the need for oxygen becomes too great.
“If you have plans for me, I’m gonna need to eat something first. As delicious as you are, Princess…”
Katy smirks, rolling onto her back and flinging her arms out to her sides.
“Fine, I guess we’ll probably need the calories.” She lifts her head with a wicked grin before swinging her legs off the side of the bed and heading for the bathroom. I clean myself quickly with a handful of tissues from my bedside table while she does her business, before meeting her at the bathroom door.
“What do you want? I have some lasagne in the fridge, or we could order something. Pizza, again? Chinese? There’s that new burrito place?”
She pushes onto her toes and presses her lips against mine in a chaste kiss.
“Is it just burritos? Or do they do tacos, too?”
“Menu’s in the drawer next to the sink. I’ll be out in a minute.” I kiss her once more before ducking into the bathroom, where I pee and clean up properly.
I had my first nightmare in a long time last week, and the first one with Katy lying beside me. Before that, they only seemed to happen when I slept alone. It feels like tempting fate to bring the thought to the fore, but the dream, and the aftermath, weren’t nearly as intense. It felt easier to recover from it, and that, too, is something I’ve worked on extensively with Guy.
I take a minute to study myself in the mirror as I wash my hands. My skin has lost the sickly pallor it had a month or two ago; instead, the ever-present golden tan seems to glow as my eyes shine with something suspiciously like happiness. I know some of it is my own doing—running again, regaining my physical strength, the work I’m doing with Guy to repair my mental strength, too—but I’d be a fool to believe that Katy isn’t responsible for a large part of it, as well.
I smile at my reflection before turning and exiting the room, flicking off the light on my way.
I find Katy wearing one of my threadbare battalion T-shirts, sat up on the kitchen counter beside the sink with one bare leg crossed over the other. She has the takeout menu in one hand and her phone in the other, entirely lost to whatever thoughts are in her head as she studies the two intently. I stand in front of her for several seconds before she looks up, her face breaking into a heart-stopping grin when she sees me.
“They do tacos!” She holds out the menu and I take it, scanning it quickly. I make my choice easily, spotting the quesadilla section of the menu right at the bottom. I love how much Katy and her friends love Mexican food, but with the exception of a quesadilla and a good plate of nachos, it’s never my first choice. I knock Katy’s legs with my fingertips and she uncrosses them, swinging her feet as I step between her knees.
“Order some nachos, too,” I say, leaning in to kiss her mouth. She smiles against my lips, and that might be one of the greatest feelings. She kisses me one more time before pushing me away with a gentle hand on my chest.
“Nachos, and chips with guac and salsa,” she declares, showing me the extensive order on her phone screen and dramatically jabbing a finger against the place order button. “It’ll be here in thirty minutes.”
“Perfect.” I hold out a hand and help her jump down from the counter. When she sits up there, we’re almost eye-to-eye, and I forget about the thirteen-inch height difference that usually has her staring directly into my chest. But as her bare feet slap against the tile of my kitchen floor, I’m once again looking directly over the top of her head. She’s the perfect height for me to tuck her against my chest, to dip my head and press a gentle kiss into her blonde waves. The way Katy makes me want to be a better man is something I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about lately, but the way she makes me determined to be everything she deserves—that’s something that slams into my chest like a ton of bricks, and I tighten my hold on her, inhaling deeply and savouring the scent of her fruity shampoo as my lips continue to press kisses into her hair.
She leads me to the sofa and fiddles with the TV remote while I fumble around in the drawer beneath the coffee table. The blue glow of a Disney title page fills the room as I emerge from the drawer, triumphantly waving a small box.
“What is that?”
“Wanna play dominoes, Princess?”
“You didn’t. Tell me you didn’t.”
“I absolutely did.”
About a month ago, we found ourselves talking about our childhood favourites. Katy told me about her obsession with dominoes, and how often she would play it with anyone who would join her. I didn’t exactly go looking for them, but I was browsing a secondhand sales website for car parts when I clicked the wrong category and an elaborate, hand-painted set of domino tiles in a wooden box popped up. It felt like fate. I bought them immediately. Katy gasps as I hand over the box and she slides off the lid. The wooden tiles are that deep, bold pink that Katy loves, and they’ve been painted with tiny gold flowers and hearts rather than the usual simple dots.
“Jay, they’re gorgeous.”
“Not as gorgeous as you.” I pull her into my side as Ratatouille begins to play on the screen in front of us, entirely ignored as Katy lays out the tiles on the table, reverent gasps punctuating her work. I drop another kiss to the top of her head. “You deserve all the nice things, Princess. And I’m going to give you as many of them as I can, for as long as you’ll let me.”
She lifts her head to meet my eyes, a hopeful smile lifting the corners of her mouth.
“Forever?”
“Sounds good to me.”