Chapter Twenty-Nine
Mara-Present
Sleep Deprivation-Chance Pena
“It’s definitely melting but not quite safe to drive on,” Dylan announces upon walking through the back door, stripping his heavy coat and boots off.
The temperature has been rising steadily the past couple weeks.
There’s certainly less snow than there has been in months, but I guess not quite enough to drive into town.
Which means we are one day closer to facing the subject of whether I leave or stay.
I think Jason wants me to stay, I think we’ve made so much progress and become a real couple, but he hasn’t made any indication that he wants me to stay.
For all I know he could drag me out of bed tomorrow and drive me back down the mountain.
I just need to put my big girl pants on and talk to him about it.
This whole not-talking-about-our-feelings thing is the worst book trope out there.
Communication is key. And if he doesn’t want me to stay, at least I’ll have my answer and only a couple more days of living with someone who doesn’t want me.
If that’s the case, of course.
Best case scenario, he wants me to stay and we drive to town to get my things and move me in permanently.
I swore I wouldn’t live with a guy again before marriage after my ex and the fiasco of our break up. Then again, I didn’t really have a choice when it came to Jason. But we’ve proven we can handle it.
“Do you guys have a first day of freedom tradition, or anything?“ I ask as Jason prepares sandwiches for all of us with the bread I made this morning. While Dylan takes his seat at the kitchen table.
“We usually just go to town to restock groceries and liquor,” Dylan laughs.
“We bulk up on provisions like flour and milk, things like that, in case we get a freak snow storm that locks us up here again. Hasn’t happened to us yet, but I remember it happened once when I was a kid and we were already home in town, glad we weren’t stuck at the cabin. ”
“Worried about a false spring?”
“One can never be too careful.”
Jason and I are cocooned into bed after dinner when I dig deep in my core to muster the courage to ask what neither of us has acknowledged.
“Jason,” I ask from the bed while he adds another log to the fire across the room. “Do you want me to stay here? After the snow melts, I mean?”
His head whips around in a flash, his long hair fanning around him in the process. The sharpness to his eyes makes me second guess myself. Maybe that’s not what he wants at all. Maybe I’m overstepping his boundaries.
And that’s when the rambling starts. “I mean, I don’t have to.
I can go back to town. I just didn’t know if you wanted me to stay or not.
You know what? Forget I said anything. I’m fine going back to town.
Though I guess I don’t know if you still want to see me again or not after that.
I know the sex has been good but there’s more to life than sex.
You have to actually see a future with someone to live with them, or so I’m—“
Before I can dig my grave any deeper, Jason has flown across the room to the bed and captured my mouth in a searing kiss that brands me as his.
Question answered.
I break away to clarify, “Is that a yes? You want me to stay?”
I’ve never seen him smile so brightly, it’s beautiful. His smile has an infectious effect on my soul that makes me feel like I’m full of carbonation, bubbly and happy.
Jason nods vigorously shaking hair into his face that I brush out of the way with trembling hands he steadies with his own.
“I’m happy here.” I feel the need to assure Jason. I want to shout it from the rooftop, to be honest. “I’m happy with you.”
All of this makes me think of the three little words that every couple should be saying right about now but we haven’t admitted to each other. We just overcame one hurtle, I don’t want to add anymore weight to this moment and just enjoy the fact that he wants me.
He wants me to stay.
He wants me.
In one powerful, fluid motion, Jason flips us so he lies on his back and I’m straddling him. I lean down and kiss him like my life depends on it. But it’s broken when Jason lifts me forward and scoots down the bed so his head lays between my spread thighs.
Oh god. I’ve never done this before, or not like this, I should say.
It feels way more intimate and vulnerable for some reason.
I feel like he can see every inch of me even though technically his view is more impaired.
Still, when I’m impaled on his tongue, I melt into a ball of putty, pliable and willing to mold under his touch.
He spears me expertly as only he knows how to do.
He is the Mozart to my body, a skilled master of his craft.
And every time he touches me in just the right spot, I feel like I’m being wound tight as a knot.
My entire body is wrapped in sexual tension as his tongue delves into me over and over and over again.
It’s the worst and best kind of tease that makes my muscles clench but he’s dangling me over the precipice refusing to let me come.
I lean forward gripping the headboard like I’m holding on for dear life, trying not to squish his head between my thighs as they clench tighter with each thrust of his tongue.
Then one hand presses on my lower stomach to lift the clitoral hood and his other starts massaging it in vigorous circles.
“Jason,” I hiss. “Yes, yes, yes. Yes. Yes. Ahhh.”
It’s so intense and sensitive I combust in seconds.
But somehow he makes the orgasm linger, drawing it out so painstakingly long that my body can’t handle the pressure.
One, long, continuous climax wracks my body with unbearable euphoria.
I can’t help the cries that escape me and pray that Dylan isn’t nearby to hear them.
But that thought is just a blip in my mind that’s overcome with how all-consuming that orgasm was, and how overly sensitive my body feels after that.
As soon as the rush has worn off, Jason removes his tongue and takes my hips in a vice grip to lift me and lower me onto his hard cock. His beautiful, thick, veiny, monstrous cock that I can’t seem to get enough of.
He doesn’t expect me to start riding him like a bronco after that.
So he lifts me on his hips so I balance on my knees that are pressed into the mattress and starts fucking me from underneath.
Each lift that slams into my core is powered by lust, adoration, and strength.
I can see the might in every flexed muscle that works to drive me over another edge and forces me into a mindless, bodiless state of existence where all I can do is feel every thrust, every time his dick slams into my g-spot, every ecstatic inch of friction.
“Jason, fuck, I’m gonna—.”
It happens so fast I can barely catch my breath before air lodges in my throat and my body spasms with another orgasm that’s just as powerful—if not more powerful—than the first.
Jason pulls out of me just in time as his come flies into the air painting my breasts and stomach with his arousal. A low rumble vibrates in his chest, making me feel like the room is shaking around us.
I’m in a state of love and lust as I stare into the soulful eyes of this man that I just know I want to spend every moment of my life with.
After I’ve been thoroughly cleaned and cuddled, we lay in a heap beneath the bedding.
Skin to skin. Chest to chest. Dopamine is coursing between us.
I lazily trace a finger over various tattoo designs on his chest and shoulder.
It looked like a mosaic suit of armor built of different images that I’m sure hold some significance to Jason.
Before drifting to sleep, I inform the man I’m falling in love with, “One day, you’ll have to tell me what these mean.”
The following morning Jason and I are in the kitchen making breakfast together.
It feels so domestic, like a 1950s magazine ad of a husband and wife cooking together on Sunday morning before church.
Granted, we aren’t married and the pearl necklace I had on last night has been wiped away, but the atmosphere is still the same: wholesome and romantic.
I peer up at the clock that reads 8:36 am.
“Dylan isn’t up yet?” Jason’s eyes lift to the ceiling as if he could use X-ray vision to see through it into his brother’s room. “I’ll go check on him and make sure he’s ok.”
I climb the stairs to the landing and knock on his door once, calling, “Dylan?” At the lack of a response I turn the knob and enter the room only to be met with the sight of Dylan fully naked facing his headboard, presumably in the middle of something I don’t want to see any more of.
An unexpected squeal leaves me. “Agh. Sorry. I’ll—sorry.”
“What the f—.” His head whips over his shoulder.
“Mara.” Fear etched into his tone, he throws himself flat against the bed as though that will shield me from seeing him naked.
The idea is ridiculous though since his bare ass is sticking up in the air.
I throw a hand over my eyes and dart out of the room, pulling the door shut behind me, and race back downstairs.
Jason is already at the bottom of the staircase with a worried look on his face.
“I’m permanently scarred for the rest of my life,” I tell him.
“Oh come on, my ass isn’t that bad.” Dylan appears at the top of the stairs. “It’s not like you saw the family jewels.”
The heat of blush seeps across my nose and cheeks. “It’s more so knowing what I walked in on. You have a very nice ass, Dylan.”
Jason pulls me down the last step into his embrace at that remark, possessive and territorial as he is.
“Relax, bro, she’s not my type.” We all know this but Jason still keeps an arm banded around me as he steers us back into the kitchen to finish breakfast.