24. Jimmy
JIMMY
What have we done?
This party is getting reckless, wild… out of control.
The music is pounding between my ears, the drumbeat pulsing right through me. The lyrics and melody? Can’t even make them out. I don’t know what we’re listening to, but I don’t like it.
Add to that the chaotic laughter and voices rising on a continual crescendo, and for just a minute, I wonder if my parents’ stuffy event would have been a better option tonight.
I’m so out of my depth here, I’m metaphorically drowning.
I feel like I’m having to monitor everyone to make sure nothing gets broken and everyone stays safe.
Why’d I come this weekend?
Why am I—
My question stops dead in my head when I spot an obviously drunk girl tottering along the edge of the jetty. Her short dress rises in the wind, flashing me her hot pink thong. I blink and flush, jerking my eyes away, but…
No one seems to be watching her. They’re all too busy throwing back drinks and laughing, or making out or… okay, I don’t even know what those guys are doing.
I look away from them and start heading toward the girl in her skimpy dress and heels that are so not made for walking on planks of wood, and yep… I’m right.
The thin heel of her shoe gets caught between two of them, and with a little yelp, she’s tipping sideways, landing in the water with a splash.
I pick up my pace, weaving around people who are too trashed or preoccupied to notice her.
She’s drunk.
Can drunk people swim?
How would I know? I never spend any time around them! Not really. Sure, Mac gets wasted, but it’s usually in his apartment, and all I have to do is make sure he doesn’t face-plant on the floor.
This lake house is hazardous.
She hasn’t surfaced yet.
Why hasn’t she—
I start running just as her head pops above the water. She gasps and flails her arms, her head ducking below the surface again.
She can’t swim?
With a soft growl, I jump down the stairs and hit the jetty with quick, long strides. Kicking off my shoes, I dive into the lake as soon as it’s safe and cut through the water to reach her. It doesn’t take much. She’s managed to kick herself farther away from safety, but not by much.
“I’ve got you,” I tell her as soon as I wrap my arm around her waist.
She’s panicking, gulping down mouthfuls of water, then spitting them out. Coughing and spluttering all over me, she wraps her skinny arm around my neck and clings.
“Help me,” she wails, her shaking legs wrapping around my hips.
“I am.” My voice is so deep and calm compared to hers. “You’re okay.”
Swimming us back to the jetty, I make sure she’s holding on to the side before pulling myself out. My clothes are waterlogged, and for some reason, all I can hear is my mother’s voice in my head, telling me off for being reckless and ruining my new shorts.
Will I ever be free of that woman?
Trying to shove thoughts of her aside, I reach down and hook my hands under the girl’s armpits, lifting her out of the water.
She’s a lightweight, so it’s not that hard.
Fat streams of lake water cascade off her saturated dress.
It clings to her every curve, and it’s impossible not to notice how hot she is.
As soon as she’s on solid ground, one of her heels lost to the lake, she wraps her arms around me and starts crying.
“You’re okay.” I rub her back, not really sure what else to do. “Uh… let’s get you dry.”
She whimpers, nodding against my chest, and I curl my arm around her.
A few people have finally noticed what happened and are asking if we’re okay.
“Yeah, we’re fine,” I assure them, figuring this girl doesn’t want the attention. I definitely don’t.
I weave us through the crowd and up the stairs. We leave wet footprints and big drips in our wake, but no one seems to care. I’ll come back and clean it up later. The girl beside me is starting to shiver.
I need to get her dry and warm ASAP. She’s got no fat to insulate her. She really is the skinniest little thing.
When her legs buckle going up the stairs, I lift her off her feet and carry her up to my room.
“Thank you,” she murmurs against my neck, and a flood of heat rushes through me. Her breath on my exposed skin feels nice, and I’m not sure what to do about that.
I’m kind of annoyed with this girl for being so reckless—getting drunk and walking so close to the water when she can’t even swim.
But my body is reacting to her proximity, to the feel of her wet skin pressed against mine.
Her right breast is squishing into my chest. I’ve never felt a woman’s breasts before.
Goose bumps ripple over my body. I try to tell myself it’s because I’m feeling the cold too, but that would be a lie.
It’s her.
She’s making my stomach do weird things. Foreign things. Or maybe not so foreign, just sensations that I never really allow myself to have.
“Here we go.” I place her down in my room and check that she’s steady on her feet before running to grab two towels.
By the time I get back, she’s stripped off her wet dress, and I jolt to a stop in my doorway.
Oh wow, she’s… I can she her nipples through her wet bra… which she’s reaching back to unclip.
“Um… uh… just…” I flick the door shut behind me to protect her privacy and lose the ability to breathe when her bra drops to the floor.
I’ve never seen naked breasts before.
My body responds immediately.
I didn’t ask it to.
I’m not even sure I want it to, but hot liquid is firing through my veins, making me feel lightheaded. The blood is rushing to all the wrong places, and when I glance down, I’m mortified to see the tent in my wet shorts.
Covering myself with one of the towels, I throw the other one at her.
“Get warm.” It’s all I can manage. The words come out as two rasping syllables as I turn to dig a sweatshirt out of my bag.
I find my Nolan U Cougars hoodie and hold it out for her.
“Thanks.” Her voice is so soft.
Something ripples just beneath my skin.
Is this what desire feels like?
I have no experience with women. If a girl comes on to me, I’m usually running in the opposite direction as fast as I can.
I don’t even know why. It’s not that I don’t like them, I just…
I don’t like things that make me feel stupid.
And girls seem to turn me into an incoherent, bumbling idiot without even trying.
“You should take your wet clothes off too.”
“Huh?” I spin to bulge my eyes at her.
Her pale eyes start to sparkle as she takes me in, her lips twitching when she moves toward me. “You should get warm and dry too.”
She’s wearing my hoodie now. It swamps her, but all I can think about is the fact that’s she basically naked under it.
Her bare nipples will be brushing against the fabric.
Fabric that’s touched my body too.
She—
My eyes dip to the floor, and I spot her pink thong—a wet wad on the carpet next to her bra.
Yep. She’s naked.
She’s naked under my big hoodie… and my body knows it.
The tent in my shorts isn’t the only indicator. My heart is now racing, my skin prickling with… is this lust or something?
Yep, it has to be.
Hot and heady and uncontrollable.
“Let me help you,” she whispers.
“Maybe you should just go,” I choke out.
She pauses for a second, but then her lips rise into a beautiful smile. “Or maybe you should let me thank you properly. You saved my life.”
“Not really.” I shake my head. “I just did what anyone would have done.”
“No.” She moves into my space. “You didn’t. You’re a hero.”
“I’m not really…” My words die off when she starts tugging at my wet shirt, pulling it up my body.
I automatically help her because… I don’t even know why, but the wet fabric is soon hitting the floor, and my skin is bubbling with goose bumps again.
She brushes her fingertips over my bumpy flesh before yanking on the towel protecting my dignity.
My fingers automatically grip it, but she’s pretty damn determined, and after a sharp “Let go” from her, I’m releasing the fabric.
Snapping my eyes shut, I can’t watch her face as she no doubt checks out my humiliating erection.
The only person to ever touch that thing is me.
Yes, I’ve succumbed to temptation and touched myself before.
I know what an orgasm feels like, okay?
I’ve imagined scenarios like this. I’ve just never had the courage to actually experience them for real.
And now it’s happening, and I’m not sure I can stop it.
When I hear the zipper of my shorts slide down, I swear I nearly pass out.
It makes me feel like a teenage kid again. A clueless, pimply boy who doesn’t know what he’s doing.
That’s kind of accurate.
I really don’t know what I’m doing and—
She tugs my shorts and underwear down.
Oh no.
My heart is pounding. I’m exposed. Naked. I don’t stand naked in front of people, especially beautiful women with perfect breasts.
“C’mere.” She gently pulls me toward the bed, spinning me around to face her when I reach the edge and pushing me back. I land on the mattress with a soft thump.
I still haven’t found the courage to open my eyes, and it’s not until she parts my legs and kneels between them that my lids snap up. A strangled gasp catches in my throat when she curls her fingers around my penis. “Let me thank you properly.”
“You don’t have to do that,” I rasp.
“But I want to.” Her smile is playful as she leans down… then runs her tongue up my shaft.
Oh my—
Stars scatter my vision, and coherent thought is lost to me the second she wraps her mouth around the head of my penis.
She’s giving me a blow job.
I’m getting a blow job.
And it feels amazing.
My fingers curl into the duvet beneath me, fisting the fabric as my body seems to flood with an army of sensations that I have never experienced before.
I probably shouldn’t be doing this.
I don’t even know this woman, and she has her lips wrapped around my most private part.
You don’t do things like this with a stranger.
I don’t even do things like this with girls I know!
Why is she doing it to me?
I don’t need her to thank me like this. It’s not right. She doesn’t owe me anything.
But do you think I can tell her to stop?
Selfishly, I close my eyes, tipping my head back and letting her keep going.
Her tongue is doing something amazing, and I can already feel the orgasm building. It’s coming on fast and chaotic. I’m going to explode soon. Right into her mouth.
Ugh—does she want that?
“I’m co—” I try to warn her, but she doesn’t stop, wrapping her fingers around my base and sucking me hard.
My cry is a strangled, embarrassing groan, and then I’m firing off into her mouth.
Oh gross, is she… swallowing?
She keeps going, like she’s drinking from me, and I’m not sure what to do right now.
I can’t stop this train wreck. I’m a panting, heaving ball of twisted metal on this bed. I can hear the crunch of this crash inside me, and I’m helpless to do anything but jerk and spasm on the mattress.
My lungs can’t get enough air as I sit there helplessly, not even knowing where to look.
When she pulls back and wipes her mouth with a smirk, all I can do is gape at her.
She giggles, leaning forward and pressing her lips to mine. It’s a firm kiss, and I’m too scared to open my mouth in case some of my sperm is still on her tongue.
Pulling back, she holds my cheeks and gives me a meaningful look. “Thank you for saving my life.”
And then she stands up, collects her wet clothes off the floor, and walks to the door. Spinning just before she opens it, she bites her bottom lip and grins at me. “I’m keeping your hoodie.”
Then she walks out my door as if she hasn’t just touched my most intimate place.
Still reeling, I blink down at my penis, which is starting to soften, and shake my head. I grab the towel off the floor and cover myself before resting my elbows on my knees and cradling my head.
What just happened?
I don’t even know that woman’s name, and she gave me a blow job.
As amazing as it felt, I’m left feeling dirty. It’s not like I’ve been saving myself for marriage or anything, but maybe I’ve been saving myself for a girl who means something to me.
It’s not like you had sex, dude. Calm down.
But it feels like we just had sex.
We did have sex. Oral sex.
It feels like it should count.
Someone’s mouth was on my penis.
That definitely counts.
With a heavy sigh, I stare at the floor between my feet, fisting my hair and once again feeling so out of my depth that I’m drowning.
I shouldn’t be here.
I should have stayed and done what my parents wanted me to. At least I know how to handle that life. It’s safe.
But it’s not safe! It’s pressure and scrutiny and expectations.
You can be anything you want at this lake house.
You can be yourself.
“Myself?” I scoff. “Who is that?” I look up, staring at the door that girl just disappeared through and whispering, “I don’t even know who I am.”