Chapter 25
Lauren
Jackson’s hands slid under my shirt and they were shaking. Actually shaking. They moved up my sides. His palms were rough and warm.
He lifted me and I felt my body being held in mid air before he put me on the bar counter. The wood was hard and familiar under me. I’d cleaned this counter every night. Customers sat here. Kevin sat here once.
This is so fucked up.
I wrapped my legs around Jackson’s waist anyway and pulled him closer. When he stepped between my thighs I could feel how hard he was through his jeans. Pressing right where I needed him. Oh my god.
“Fuck,” he said against my mouth. His voice was rough. “We shouldn’t—”
“I know.” I rocked my hips against him and he groaned. His hands tightened on my waist.
We kept kissing anyway. Like if we didn’t stop to talk about it, it wasn’t real.
His hands slid all the way up under my shirt.
Fingers spread across my ribs, my stomach, moving higher.
He grabbed my bra and yanked it down. His palm closed over my breast and I arched into his hand, gasping as the soft pad of his thumb swiped over my nipple, already so sensitive, and circled it, teasing it until I squirmed.
“Jesus Christ.” My head fell back and his mouth moved to my throat. His lips were hot against my skin. Then his teeth scraped and bit down on the spot under my ear and I moaned out loud. I ground against him harder. I was already so wet I could feel it soaking through my underwear.
We’d barely even started and I’m gone.
A bright light suddenly swept across the windows and hit the back wall. Got brighter. I heard an engine. A car pulling into the lot.
We both froze. My heart started pounding.
The headlights kept getting brighter. Lit up the entire bar. Anyone looking could see us. Jackson between my legs. My shirt pushed up. His hands on me.
The car just sat there. Engine running. Headlights on.
This is the universe telling us to stop. Stop now. Go home.
Ten seconds. Fifteen.
The engine changed and the headlights moved as the car backed out.
We should’ve stopped.
Jackson’s mouth crashed into mine again and I kissed him back even harder. More desperate. We just got a warning and we ignored it and I’m the worst person alive.
My hands went to his belt. Fumbling with the buckle. Shaking.
He shoved my jeans down my hips and took my underwear with them. I kicked them off. Heard them hit the floor.
I reached for the bourbon bottle to move it. My hand hit it and it tipped. I heard the crash. Glass shattering. Bourbon splashed up onto my legs, cold and wet. The smell hit me. Sharp. Strong.
The whole bar smells like bourbon.
Perfect.
“Fuck it,” Jackson said and kissed me again.
I got his belt open and yanked his jeans down. Wrapped my hand around his cock and oh my god.
He’s huge. Actually huge. Thick and hard and my hand barely goes all the way around.
“Oh my god.”
“Lauren.” He said my name like he was dying.
His hand moved between my legs. Fingers slid through how wet I was. I was soaked. Dripping. He groaned. “Fuck, you’re soaking.”
“I know.” I’m aching and empty and I need him inside me.
One finger pushed inside me and I gasped. My hips bucked. I ground down on his hand because it’s good but it’s not enough.
“More.”
He added another finger. Pushed deeper. Curled them inside me. Hit that spot. My vision blurred. My toes curled. I rocked against his hand, shameless, chasing it.
“You want my cock?” His voice was rough and low. Right against my ear. So fucking hot.
“Yes. God yes. Please—”
“Say it.”
“I want your cock inside me. Right now. Please, Jackson—”
He pulled his fingers out and lined himself up. The head of his cock pressed against me. Hot and thick.
This is really happening.
“Wait,” he said. “Condom.”
“Pill. I’m clean. Are you—”
“Clean.”
“Then fuck me already.”
He pushed inside. Just the tip. I gasped because he’s big. Really fucking big. I’m wet but it’s still so much. He held there.
“You okay?” His hands gripped my hips. Fingers digging in. He’s shaking.
“Don’t stop.” I wrapped my legs tighter and pulled. He slid in another inch and we both groaned.
Holy fuck. Every inch. The stretch. The fullness. Opening for him.
He pulled back a little and pushed in more. Working deeper. Giving me time. I’m panting. Grabbing his shoulders. Biting my lip.
“Fuck, you’re tight.” His forehead pressed against mine. His breath on my face. Barely holding on.
“All of it.”
He thrust in the rest of the way in one hard push and I cried out because fuck, so deep, so much. Everywhere. Stretching me. Filling me. So good it almost hurts.
“Jesus.” His fingers dug into my hips. Hard enough to bruise. He just held there. Buried completely inside me. We’re both trying to breathe. “You feel so fucking good.”
I can’t talk. Can’t think. So full.
He pulled back slow. Almost all the way out. Every inch leaving me. Then thrust back in hard and oh my god. I grabbed his shoulders. My legs are shaking. He hit that spot.
I’m not going to last.
“Harder.”
He fucked me harder. One hand fisted in my hair. Yanked my head back. His mouth on my throat. Lips. Then teeth biting my shoulder. Marking me. His other hand slid between us. Thumb on my clit. Pressing.
I almost screamed.
“You like it rough?” His mouth against my ear. Breath hot.
“Yes. Fuck yes. Don’t stop—”
He didn’t stop. He pounded into me. The bar counter digging into my ass. Bourbon smell everywhere. His cock hitting that spot over and over. I’m so close.
“Touch yourself.”
I slid my hand down. Hit my clit. Rubbed circles. Hard and fast. My eyes rolled back. My whole body shaking. Right there.
“Come for me. I want to feel you come on my cock.”
I came so hard my vision went white and I bit down on his shoulder to keep from screaming. Tasted fabric and skin. My whole body shook. Clenching around him. He kept thrusting through it. Making it last until I couldn’t breathe and I’m gasping his name.
“Fuck, Lauren—” His rhythm broke. Got erratic. He slammed into me one last time and came. His cock pulsing inside me. His whole body going rigid.
We stayed like this for a second. Both breathing hard. His forehead against mine. His cock still inside me. Both shaking.
Then reality crashed in.
Oh fuck.
What did we just do.
We separated and it was awful. Him leaving me. Empty. Cold. He stepped back. I slid off the counter and my legs almost gave out. Had to grab the bar.
“Fuck,” Jackson said.
I looked for my jeans. They’re on the floor in a puddle of bourbon. I grabbed them and yanked them on. Wet denim stuck to my skin. Cold and sticky. Reeking. My underwear’s torn.
I looked down. Kevin’s grey shirt from Monday. The one he forgot. There’s a rip at the shoulder where Jackson grabbed it.
Kevin’s shirt.
I just fucked Jackson wearing Kevin’s shirt.
I’m going to be sick.
“I shouldn’t have—” I don’t know how to finish.
“Kevin’s my best friend.” Jackson’s voice was flat. Dead. He’s not looking at me.
“I know.”
The silence is crushing. I can smell bourbon everywhere. Can still feel him between my legs. The bar feels ruined.
“This didn’t happen,” I said.
Jackson didn’t say anything. We both know it’s bullshit.
I grabbed my jacket and ran.
***
I don’t remember the drive. One second I’m in my car and the next I’m in Kevin’s bathroom. His shirt from Monday is still hanging on the door.
I pulled off the grey shirt and shoved it to the bottom of the hamper.
I got in the shower. Turned it as hot as it goes. Scalding. I scrubbed bourbon off my skin, out of my hair, between my legs where I can still feel Jackson. I scrubbed until the water ran cold. Until my skin was raw.
It didn’t help. I can still smell it. Can still feel his hands. His mouth. His cock.
I got out. Dried off. Put on another one of Kevin’s shirts. Got in his bed. Stared at the ceiling.
My phone rang.
Kevin’s name on the screen.
I watched it ring. Watched his name glow. I can’t answer. Can’t hear his voice. Can’t lie when he asks about my day.
It stopped.
Voicemail.
I flipped it face-down on the pillow.
I knew it was wrong while it was happening and I did it anyway.
Kevin’s coming home in three days and I have to look him in the face and pretend I didn’t just fuck his best friend on a bar counter wearing his shirt.
I’m so fucked.
***
Thursday sucked. Jackson and I didn’t talk except for drink orders. That was it.
Friday sucked worse.
We were slammed. I kept moving, kept my head down. Jackson stayed on his end of the bar. I stayed on mine. We never got close enough to touch.
People kept asking about Kevin.
“When’s he back?”
“Sunday,” I said. Every time, Wednesday slammed back mean and bright.
One guy sent his fries back twice because I missed them. A woman at stool three waved for a refill she didn’t really need. Nobody needed shit that bad. They just wanted me standing there so they could look.
Mrs. Henderson walked in at seven thirty with a dish covered in foil.
She brought me pie at the bar in front of everybody. Pity with a crust.
“Lauren, sweetheart.” She set it right in front of me. “I made you some pie. You looked so tired this morning.”
I wasn’t even at the coffee shop this morning.
“Thanks.”
She patted my hand. “I’m worried about you, dear. I saw the lights on here Wednesday night. Very late. I know Kevin was out of town.”
My neck burned. “I was helping close.”
“Of course you were.” She smiled like she was doing me a favor. “Word gets around fast. I just wanted you to know. And I care. Didn’t want you hearing it from somebody meaner.”
Half the bar looked away too late.
She left.
I stood there holding pie while the whole room had heard her. They were staring. Heat crawled up my neck and stayed there.
Jackson appeared next to me. Too close. Close enough I caught soap and bourbon off him and had to keep my face straight. “What was that?”
“Everyone knows.”
He went still so fast my stomach flipped.
His face went white.
Twenty minutes later Bill walked in.
Jackson’s dad. I’d only seen him a couple times. He didn’t come to the bar much. Didn’t approve of Jackson owning it.