Chapter 1 #5
“Not help help. I’d stay over here. But I could, I don’t know, tell you a story. Since you don’t have anything saved, and you can’t sleep, and I showed up early and screwed up your cabin time. I know it’s a strange offer, but I swear you’re safe here with me and I wouldn’t—”
“Jack.”
I finally shut up. “Yeah?”
“I know I’m safe with you.”
A tightness unfurls in my chest, but I’m still warm. Hot. “Okay, yeah. Good.”
My swallow is so loud they can probably hear it a county over. Tessa shifts again in the bed. Outside, a branch creaks in the wind as I wonder if she’s going to kick me out on my ass. I’d probably survive the night in my truck with the heater on.
“So?” Tessa finally asks.
“Yeah, you’re right. I crossed a line.” I sit up and begin to throw off the covers. “I’m sorry. I’ll just—”
“Jack.” She says my name like she used to. Like a beginning. “You gonna tell me a story, or what?”
I wait for a laugh, something to indicate she’s kidding. When it doesn’t come, I ask, breathless, “Really?”
“Really.”
Holy Shit.
I settle back onto the couch, heart pumping hard, and stare into the darkness in a silent panic, no idea what to actually say. Scraping my brain for movies, porn, erotica, anything I can regurgitate back for Tessa, turns up nothing.
All I can think about is us.
Fuck it.
“Okay,” I finally say. She can always change her mind and tell me to stop.
I can always carry every blanket in the cabin to my car.
“How about a story about two people out dancing. They’re a little buzzed, feeling loose and happy.
The club is crowded, everyone’s bodies smashed together.
They’ve been dancing for what feels like hours, and its foreplay for them both. ”
I give her a second to object. There’s no way she doesn’t know where I’m going. This night was unforgettable. When there’s only a rustle across the room, I continue.
“His arms wrap around her from behind as they move, hands running up and down the sides of her body, teasing the undersides of her tits. He’s hard behind her, pushing himself into her ass as they dance. And her pretty red panties are soaked.”
I pause again for any objections. I’ve always been a dirty talker, and Tessa always liked it.
But she’s allowed to change, allowed to tell me to shut my dirty mouth.
Thank god she doesn’t, so I go on. “She’s squirming in his arms, arching her back, eager for his hands on her, even in front of all these people. ”
The memory is alive in me, recalling the silky feel of Tessa’s dress, the eyes of other men on her body as she rolled her hips into me. The Tessa in the room with me now sighs.
“Are you touching yourself?” I ask, because knowing where her hands are right now is as vital as breath itself.
“Just—” She sighs again. “Under my shirt.”
“Fuck.” I rub at my hardened cock over my pants, then continue.
“She’s so eager for it, he finally cups her tits in his hands, rubbing his thumbs over her hard nipples.
Just like what you’re probably doing to yourself right now.
” When Tessa moans, I slide my hand into my pants, brushing my fingers lightly over my cock.
“When she moans, he whispers in her ear, warning her that everyone’s watching. She laughs and says—”
“Let them watch.”
At the sound of Tessa’s voice, husky and shaky, I finally wrap my fingers around my erection, groaning with relief. That’s exactly what she said then, smiling as she twisted her head around to kiss me, a kiss so vulgar everyone in the club could see our tongues flashing as I plucked her nipples.
She’s here, in the memory with me, so I don’t bother pretending anymore. Instead I laugh darkly. “Everyone watching me feel you up is one thing, but do you want them to watch me fuck you, baby? Bend you over right here?”
Tessa whimpers, and in the shadows I can see that her knees are up, covers draped over.
“Well?” I ask. “Is that what you want?”
“No,” Tessa answers just like she did that night. “No, take me outside and fuck me in the alley.”
“Fuck, Tess.” My hand glides up and down my shaft, swiping precum from my tip to help myself along. Like yesterday, when I stood behind her in the kitchen, the distance between then and now shrinks to nothing. “Where are you touching yourself now?”
The hitch in her breath tells me everything. She’s rubbing her clit.
“I always want to give you what you want,” I say, pulling us back to the memory.
“So I take your hand and drag you outside. You’re giggling and so damn cute, and as soon as we turn a corner I press you up against the dirty alley wall and slide my hand up your thigh.
And, Christ.” I give myself a good squeeze, trying to fuck myself slower and make it last. “Christ, baby, you’re so fucking wet for me as my fingers slide right inside and start pumping. ”
And I can hear her. Hear Tessa’s fingers working herself over. It’s otherworldly.
“And I start to drop to my knees to taste you, but you don’t let me go. You’re desperate for it, begging for my cock, begging for me to fuck you. Aren’t you?”
“Yes,” she gasps. “Please.”
“So I unbutton my jeans and pull out my cock as I hoist you up against that alley wall.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck. Thinking about sliding into her has me at the edge. How is it all so real, so present, after just 24 hours with her? How do I feel like I could crawl under her covers and make it just like it used to be? Cozy and hot and so safe, like I’d finally found myself in her.
“Tessa,” I groan, noticing how her name on my lips makes her moan. “Baby, how you feeling over there?”
“Good, so good.”
“I need to hear you come. Just picture me fucking you against that wall, scraping your back against the bricks. Anybody could see us.” She moans. Good to know she still gets turned by exhibitionism. “Anyone could walk past and see you getting fucked so hard, baby.”
“Jack—”
My name on her lips is dangerous. She knows this is me, isn’t pushing away the connection, the possibility.
“Come on, Tess. Get yourself there. Come for me.”
“You—” She moans. “Are you—”
“Yes,” I assure her. “I’m so close, just thinking about what heaven it is to be inside you.”
About how close she is, how I could take four steps and be at her bed, fling back her covers, and—
“Fuck,” I groan, coming into my palm, making a mess of my stomach and T-shirt.
The orgasm washes over me in wave after wave, cresting each time Tessa's trembling voice says my name as she comes apart across the room. Her knees are trembling, her breathing short and shallow. It’s absolute music to my ears.
And it makes me want to cry. It’s been too long since I’ve made Tessa come. Too long since we’ve been in the same state, let alone the same room. I’ve tried not to see how much I’ve been missing, but it’s impossible now to pretend my life isn’t lacking something vital. Her.
For a moment it’s just our heavy breathing, then a long, languid sigh from the bed.
“Thanks, Jack.” Her voice is all warm honey, sweet and silky. “Goodnight.”
December 31
Tessa
“Come on,” Jack teases, his smile big. “Just pick. Truth or dare.”
He’s cross-legged on the rug a few feet ahead of me in a gray T-shirt and jeans.
We cranked up the wood stove earlier to give ourselves a little time without our sweatshirts on, and the pizza baking in the oven is adding more warmth to the small space.
We’ve played eight consecutive games of Battleship and gave up on an attempt at Scrabble when we both got too competitive, so now Jack has now moved on to high school party games.
“I already told you about the time I confused schedules and gave a whole lecture about the separation of powers to a group of students expecting Marine Bio. What other dirt can you get from me?”
“Oh, I know you’ve got troves more. Truth or dare?”
“Fine.” I can’t resist him. I never could. “Truth.”
He taps his chin a couple times. “Okay. When did you most want to strangle one of the guys you had to talk to on TV?”
“Oh god,” I laugh. “I have to pick just one?”
I’ve been doing this all day—smiling, laughing, basking in Jack’s unique brand of attention.
When we got up this morning, neither of us mentioned last night, when Jack brought our past to life with his words and listened to me come as he worked himself over, too.
It was an objectively insane thing to do, but a day in his proximity left me helplessly horny, and no one’s ever scratched my itches like he did.
The way he talked to me last night is proof I haven’t exaggerated his prowess in my memories.
And though we haven’t talked about the dirty talk and the orgasms, something has thawed between us today, like the ice melting in the bright winter sunshine outside.
We woke around the same time, but I made it to the kitchen first, where I made coffee for Jack as he freshened up in the bathroom.
I smiled when I handed it to him, and I hope he heard my thoughts: Thanks for last night. I’m glad you’re here.
The weather was calm enough for us to strap on the snowshoes in the closet and go for a walk.
We tread through the forest quietly, our steps and the drip of water from the branches the only sounds.
By the time we got back and dried out, Jack started asking questions about my classes, the books I’d published, what I do for fun.
We still veered away from anything important, anything about us, but we’ve been talking all day.
I’ve gotten a history of his work life since our divorce, hopping between community organizing and nonprofits until he found himself managing a STEM program that brought special demonstrations into underserved schools.
Something clicked for him, and within a year he was taking master’s courses online, pursuing the credentials to be a high school science teacher.