Chapter Twenty-One
Jason-Present
Everywhere, Everyday-Noah Kahan
I kissed her. I’ve never kissed anyone before.
But I kissed Mara. And it felt so right.
I thought my first kiss would feel foreign and weird because I’ve never done it before but not with her.
I don’t know what came over me but I wanted to swallow the cry of ecstasy she made so I could possess it.
I don’t know what she saw in me earlier but the way I felt staring at her naked, perfect body was possessive.
She’s mine. I don’t want anyone to touch her, look at her, think about her.
I want to own every inch of her and that’s what I plan to do.
I started this rendezvous because I wanted to show her that she doesn’t always have to worry about me enjoying myself. I enjoy every fucking second I’m inside her, touching her, breathing her in. But now, I want to devour her whole so she can never leave me.
So I seared her with my kiss. And that kiss lit a fire in me I intend to let burn us both to ashes.
My movements become so manic that my body controls the quick pace without my brain telling it what to do.
I just need to make her come again. I need to see the way she comes again and again and again.
I need to feel her vibrate like that again.
So I thrust into her so violently it shakes the bed from side to side.
Fuck it, if Dylan hears. I don’t care if the entire mountain topples with the way we rock the house I just need to fuck her so hard our bodies become one.
So that’s what I do. I shove in and out of her with such force our bodies send a smack through the air that mingles with her whimpers of pure pleasure.
The friction her tight pussy creates around my cock sends heavy shockwaves through my entire body until all that pressure builds at the base of my spine, in my balls, and I know I’m about to come any second.
But not without one more orgasm for her.
So I pull out painfully sudden and shove three fingers into her cunt and finger her into oblivion.
Without my mouth above hers to swallow her cries, she cries out as clear liquid gushes over my fingers in a hot wave that makes my alpha male pride shake with satisfaction.
I don’t even need to touch myself to come but I do anyway, laying my balls on her hot sex and pumping my come onto her beautiful abdomen so she’s marked by me, branded with my seed so she knows who she belongs to.
I gaze down into her hazel eyes to relish the affection in them. Affection, something I never thought I’d see from anyone let alone Mara Meyers. She looks at me like I’m the whole world, like she needs me to breathe.
When the spell breaks just enough for me to realize we’re naked and soaked, I lift myself off the bed and grab a clean shirt to wipe the come from her stomach before poking my head out to make sure Dylan’s door is closed.
I run to the bathroom, turn the shower on, and come back for Mara to find her in the same position on the bed.
It’s like she’s so thoroughly exhausted she can’t move.
So I lift her once again and carry her to the bathroom.
She stands on her own two feet, albeit, a little unsteady, when I set her down.
Chest to chest, face to face, we stand under the burning stream of water letting it envelope us in a cloud of steam and tension. There’s a lot to unpack, a lot that isn’t being said.
A lot I won’t say because I can’t.
But I’ll keep trying to convey it without words as long as she’ll listen.
I take the shampoo off the shelf of the shower and squirt a dollop into my hand, lathering it between my palms before working the suds into her silk hair. I massage Mara’s scalp as her head tips back into my hold, exposing her slender neck.
It occurs to me how vulnerable that is. I could end her in a split second with one swift movement but she trusts me not to.
She trusts me. She trusts me.
And I don’t know what to do with that.
So I keep washing her. And much to my surprise, she finds enough energy to return the favor.
Running her fingers through my hair and over my arms, cleansing me of every horrible thought I’ve had.
Washing away all the resentment I’ve felt toward her for so long.
It’s like a security blanket I can’t let go of.
But her gentle touch replaces it with a feeling of worth.
Her eyes tell me I mean something to her as easily as mine speak to her.
After we’re good and clean and warm, I hand her a towel to dry off and go to the bedroom to change the comforter for a heavy Pendleton wool blanket I have for the especially cold nights. With a fire going in the hearth, it will be more than enough for tonight.
When I go back to the bathroom, I take her delicate hand in mine and lead her back to the bedroom.
I hope she doesn’t plan on wearing another one of my shirts to bed cause I want to feel every inch of her against me tonight. I want the constant reminder that it’s her beside me, wrapped around me, it’s her I’m holding.
So I pull back the covers and slide into bed, bringing her with me so she’s cradled against my chest. We’re propped against the pillows which isn’t conducive for sleeping but I don’t think either one of us is ready for bed yet.
Mara tugs the blankets over her chest, flattening them against her by laying her arms over the material.
“You want me to sleep here tonight?” She asks, her voice laced with hesitation.
I just tighten my hold on her in response, bracing the arm that’s already wrapped around her and laying my free hand on her thigh.
We can’t look one another in the face very well from this position.
“I’ve never done that before,” Mara admits to me, which only inflates my ego further.
“What does this mean?”
I don’t know. I don’t know how to convey what I’m feeling, and I’m not sure I know how to describe it, either.
“You don’t have to put a label on it,” she says soothingly. I won’t deny the way my chest eases at that. I don’t know what to call it or what she wants, for that matter. But I want her.
“I guess the better question I should be asking is what do you want?”
Her! But I don’t know how to tell her that without words. So I shift her in my hold so I can see her angelic face. The last time I kissed her, I didn’t even think about it before acting. This time, I overthink to compensate. Did I do it right?
Well, the way she squirted on me after makes me think I did.
So I lower my head so we share the same air and tenderly brush my lips against hers, deepening the kiss after I’m sure she wants it.
I thought she was addicting before, with her tight body and curves. But I underestimated the effect her kiss would have on me, soft, plump lips and all.
God, she’s so beautiful. I don’t know why she looks even prettier now but somehow she does. It’s like the hope shining in her eyes creates an ethereal glow around her. I can’t get over it.
When I pull away from her, I know by the way she rests her head on me, cheek to chest, that she understands what I want. There’s a palpable burden lifted from her shoulders and she eases into me.
She eventually falls asleep on me so I settle into the bed a bit more so it’s more comfortable for her. But I lie awake much longer, unable to stop my brain from turning over and over like an engine powering itself.
Everything just changed.
And I think I like it.
Which makes me feel uneasy.
Now that I’ve kissed Mara, I can’t stop.
And kissing her so frequently leads to more sex, as well. The lack of condoms since we used the last one I had in the house has become a problem, mainly because cleaning her up afterward is getting tedious. But thank God Mara likes to swallow.
I wanted to show her that sex doesn’t always have to be something she overthinks. And she likes to thank me for that on a regular basis. After I’ve given her three or four orgasms, she gets on her knees for me and makes me see stars.
With her sleeping in my bed every night, I don’t have as many nightmares as usual, but they haven’t stopped completely. On one side of the coin, it’s nice having her in my arms to ease my sleep, and when I do have a nightmare, she brings me instant relief.
But on the other side of the coin, she’s starting to notice that they happen semi-regularly. Though she doesn’t ask what I’m dreaming about since she knows I won’t answer. But I see a million questions dancing in her irises. She knows something is going on.
Or maybe she knows it’s something from the past. She’s too perceptive sometimes.
Dad took me to work with him because I got sent home for hitting Bryce Quinn.
No one believed me when I said he and his friends were breaking all my crayons and throwing them away so I couldn’t color.
So I’m the one that got in trouble. The school called Dad and he can’t take time off work so I have to go with him to the mill.
I know Dad works at the sawmill but I don’t know what he does. He works in an office now, not on the floor like he used to. He also wears nicer shirts to work these days. He used to wear tan work pants and a bright green vest.
The bland office is cold since it’s really just a steel box at the front of the mill with a bathroom and a desk. Dad points to the empty corner with a fat finger and tells me, “Sit there and don’t cause trouble.”
It feels like I sit there for hours! He didn’t give me anything to do and there’s no TV in here. There’s a computer but Dad has to use it to work. The bottom of the computer screen says 11:56 am which means I would have been having lunch at school, right now.
I’m hungry.
I know this could get me in trouble but my hunger is stronger than my fear.
“Dad,” I ask timidly.
“What, Jason?” He doesn’t even turn around to look at me, just keeps typing on the keyboard.
“I’m hungry. It’s lunch time at school.”
He lifts his graying head to look at the clock on the bottom of the screen and huffs.