Chapter Nineteen
Belle
My body is jelly in the best way possible the next day. The day after I had sex with Jesse Clarkson.
Oh my God, I had sex with Jesse Clarkson.
Multiple times.
Four times. Or was it five? I’ve never been sorer from sex than I feel right now.
But am I going to complain? Absolutely not.
A man hasn’t made me come in way too long.
And not because I’ve been celibate for the past few years.
The last guy who tried wasn’t cutting it.
In his mind, me going down on him was supposed to be enough to rev my engine without any other foreplay. Spoiler alert: it didn’t.
Going down on Jesse, though? Totally different story.
The second I wrapped my mouth around him the third round in, he’d exploded within seconds.
But it was hot. Way hotter than I thought it would be.
And, thankfully, his cock was springing up the second I straddled his hips and rubbed against him for more as we made out.
He didn’t care that I tasted like him, just like I didn’t when his face would find its way between my thighs before he’d kiss his way back up.
Not even two minutes after swallowing him, I’d sunk onto him with his hands eagerly guiding my hips into a rhythm and we started all over again.
I thought yesterday was a fever dream. A fantasy that I’d hold onto for dear life because there’s no way it was real. But I woke up in his bed, wrapped in his arms, smelling like his soap.
And then he made us pancakes.
Okay. He made me pancakes. He made himself scrambled eggs and steamed vegetables because heaven forbid he eats some carbs after a twelve-hour sex marathon.
We’d only come up for air to feed Dobby, order delivery for dinner, and clean the kitchen since there were kitty-sized paw prints in flour all over the house.
It took an hour before it was spotless, another thirty minutes for us to eat, and ten to find ourselves a peculiar position on the couch.
Which involved me bent over the arm of it and him behind me. Naked, of course.
Even now, sore and sated, I want more. Why did I think getting it out of my system would work?
I’ve been staring at my computer monitor for the last forty-five minutes attempting to work, but all I can think about is…
him. Jesse. I mean, that’s not all that different than any other day.
I just know for a fact that he’s sculpted like a Greek God naked. And I know how he feels. And tastes.
Stop. I slam my eyes closed and scrape my palms over my face.
It’s a good thing he had to meet the guys for their team workout, or I’d probably be doing a lot less than I already have.
Which is only having answered a whopping three emails, text my mother back about something nonsensical, schedule my first mammogram, and obsessively think about the cute little freckle Jesse has on his left butt cheek.
I startle when my phone rings, heart racing when I see an unknown number on the screen. Oh god. Is this one of the board members informing me they can’t approve my plans? Is it Rae saying she’s reconsidering the lease because of what Karen Hardy brought up?
Sitting straighter, I accept the call. “Hello?”
“Belle?” It’s a man on the other side. He sounds familiar. Sort of. Distantly, a part of my brain knows I’ve heard that voice before.
“Yes. Who is this?”
His laugh is light. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you didn’t save my number. It’s Isaac. Sorry to call you at random, but your stepbrother told me I could run something by you.”
My…
I blink. What?
“Oh.” I pause. When I got my new phone, I never bothered backing up my contact list. His was one of the many that didn’t make the cut, and I didn’t think twice about it. “Okay. What’s up?”
If Isaac senses my cautious confusion, he doesn’t let on. “Do you remember that marketing presentation we had to do? The one where we had to create a fictional business and come up with an entire portfolio on marketing strategies, sales stats, and promotional budgets?”
I make a face. I did. It was a final project worth twenty percent of our grade.
My anxiety had been through the roof when we were told to partner with at least one other person for it.
Most people were relieved to split the responsibility, but I knew that there was always one person who carried group projects and it was usually me.
To my surprise, Isaac actually pitched in a lot.
Even though most of his ideas were half-assed.
Not that I ever told him that. I definitely thought it, though.
“Yes?” I don’t know why it comes out a question or why he laughs at it.
“I was thinking about it since Jesse agreed to do the commercial,” he admits. “I still have the portfolio and was looking through some of our notes. You insisted that we needed to make a storyline that would get people to buy our product, not hire a face.”
I scoff. “That’s because Marcus wanted to use the entire budget on hiring Christina Hendricks as a spokesperson which was dumb. We created a fake dating website for our business, and she was married at the time. It wouldn’t have made sense to make her the spokesperson.”
“Pretty sure there were rumors that she was getting divorced back then,” he counters causally, “but that’s beside the point. Marcus was an idiot. He just liked her boobs. Anyway, you won out in the end. We went with spending it on a narrative that made people want to download the app.”
It was the first time I felt victorious.
Marcus had grumbled over being turned down for his idea, and we went with mine.
We were spending our fake money on shooting three different television advertisements featuring three different couples who weren’t some perfect Hollywood actresses or actors. They would be real people. Relatable.
We even had to film one of them to show the professor how it would be fleshed out.
Isaac and I, since we were briefly together at that point, acted as one of the couples.
According to Marcus, who was clearly mad that he didn’t get his way, I was the perfect woman to play the lead because I was…
plain. A little curvier than some girls.
Average. At least compared to Christina Hendricks.
And as much of a dick as he was pointing that out, he wasn’t wrong.
We’d gotten an A on that project, and I’m pretty sure Marcus went on to try creating his own dating app. It failed, last I checked. He probably only wanted Hollywood elite-type people on it. The failed Raya.
“I want to use that method for our commercial,” he explains, bringing me back to our current conversation. “And I’d love it if you were involved. We’ll bring the old gang back together. Well, minus Marcus.”
If he could see the face I’m making he’d probably laugh again. “What method exactly are you wanting to use for this? You’re selling a sports drink.”
His chuckle is lighthearted. “We are, and we technically have a face for it in your stepbrother.”
I really hate that he keeps referring to Jesse as my stepbrother given the different positions that I let him put me in last night. But I’m not about to correct Isaac and draw attention to the matter.
“Right…” I draw out, waiting for him to elaborate on how I come into play. “I’m not exactly seeing how I can be part of this, Isaac. My version of working out hasn’t changed that much from when you knew me. I go to the gym when I can, but I’m not built like a professional hockey player.”
Oh. Oh. Is that the point? We wanted to get real-life people to buy our product because real people were selling it. It wasn’t just for the rich or the fit or the tens of the world. It was for everybody.
“You’ve always been real about that,” he goes on. “I’ve appreciated it. A lot, actually. I’m not exactly in the best of shape these days either. Sitting behind a desk has added a few pounds.”
Oh please. The last photo on Instagram I saw of him he looked exactly like the last time I’d seen him.
He may not be as lean as he was in college, but he’s grown into his adult body perfectly fine.
“I appreciate you saying that, but you don’t need to.
I know you’re not calling me ugly or fat or anything like that. ”
He chokes. “No! Definitely not. Christ, I’ve always found you attractive.
” There’s a pause, and I wonder if he winces.
“That isn’t why I want you to do this. This product isn’t supposed to be just for the athletes of the world.
It’s for everybody. You’ve always been on the go since I’ve known you.
You’ve always had big aspirations and used to joke that you’d hook yourself up to a coffee drip if it meant streamlining caffeine right to your veins and having the energy to get it all done. ”
I can’t help but crack a smile. I did say that. I’d still do it if it were an option.
Isaac blows out a breath. “I’m not trying to say that…” He pauses again, cussing under his breath. It’s entertaining, making this man squirm.
“You’re not trying to make me feel like an undesirable pig like Marcus did in college,” I finish for him.
The man on the other side of the phone sighs heavily. “I wouldn’t put it that way, but yeah. I want somebody real. You’ve always been that. Your stepbrother is too, but he definitely brings in a wider audience.”
Playfully, I say, “Yeah, I’m no Christina Hendricks.”
Isaac snickers again. “Well, I’m no Jesse Clarkson. Never have been.”
No. No he is not.
“So…” Isaac clears his throat. “Would you be interested in doing it? We could pay you, of course. But I think it would be good to show people that this drink isn’t just for the pro athlete. It’s for the people.”
“Very American of you,” I joke lightheartedly.
He doesn’t answer.