On top of her now, I have the purchase to fuck her in earnest. And I do. I drive into her harder, faster, rougher, until she’s screaming out in pleasure, and I’ve lost all sense of time or space. There’s just Jenna, just her and her pleasure and all the fucking orgasms I’m going to give her.
“Come for me baby,” I tell her, and she doesn’t need telling twice. I arch my hips back to drag my cock along her front inner wall, and at that, she practically explodes, letting out a loud cry as her pussy convulses around my shaft and her hands fist around my wrists. She hangs onto me as the orgasm thunders through her, and when it finishes, she keeps moving, bucking her hips up against me in her eagerness to see me finish next.
Not yet, though.
I reach down between her legs and start to finger her clit, all while I continue to thrust inside her. “Come again, dirty girl. I want to see that sexy O-face of yours.”
“Fuck, Gil, I’m close,” she pants, eyes glazed as they meet mine. I continue to finger and fuck her at the same time, keeping my thumb over her clit, circling it hard enough to put pressure on but not hard enough to hurt, since I know she’ll be sensitive after that first orgasm.
“Oh god,” she’s panting before long. “Fuck. Oh my god. Gil!” She cries my name this time as she comes a second time, and I can’t deny there’s something hot as hell about hearing that.
I let my hand fall, grip her hips in my fists, and pound into her. Again, again. “I’m going to come,” I manage, through gritted teeth. “I’m going to fill you up with my hot cum, Jenna.”
“Do it,” she begs. “Fill me up baby; I want to feel your hot cum inside me.” Finally, I feel her pussy tighten around me, and that, in combination with her dirty talk, sends me over the edge.
I finish with a loud groan, pumping my cock into her as stream after stream of cum coats the walls of her pussy. When I finally pull back, and draw my dick out of her, she gasps a little, at the stream of our mingled juices that runs down her ass and coats the blanket beneath us.
“Fuck,” she manages to whisper. “That was… fuck,” she says again, louder this time.
I laugh, and lie down alongside her before I pull her against me, her body snuggled close to mine, her ass cold, though warming up once it presses against my crotch. I spoon her, cradling her close to my chest, and kiss her neck, her cheek, the edge of her jaw. “You are fucking incredible, Jenna. Have I told you that yet?”
She grins and turns over her shoulder to smile at me. “You might have mentioned once or twice.”
“Well.” I kiss her lips then, full on. I suck on the lower lip for a moment before I release her. “It’s a good thing we’ve got more time together,” I murmur. “Because I’m going to need to tell you that about a few thousand more times before I’ll feel satisfied that you’ve heard it enough.”
She laughs under her breath. Shakes her head, and turns away from me again, only to sigh as we both gaze out at the view.
“What is it?” I ask, because I can feel her growing tense in my arms. I can feel the spell that our sex always casts over us both wearing off, and her worries creeping back in.
“It’s just…” She licks her lips. Takes a moment to collect her thoughts. “I wish I could be more like you,” she finally says.
Whatever I’d expected her to say next, it wasn’t this. I laugh. When she doesn’t join me, my eyes widen. “What do you mean, Jenna?”
“I mean, you’re just running with this news. You’re right away, gung-ho about a family, about this baby, about our lives completely changing… even about moving away from the village if you have to. It’s just… for me, I mean, I always knew I wanted a family, and children. But eventually. Not now.” She sighs under her breath. “On my current path in life, it’s just been work work work—and don’t get me wrong, I love my work, photography has always been my dream job, and the fact that I’m able to do it full-time and make a living off of it is incredible, it’s something I’ve dreamed of doing my entire life. But there was no space for a child in there. No space for anything else, really. There still isn’t. And now…” She gazes at the distant treetops, the lake below them. “I want a family, I really do. I want a partner and a baby and that whole life. But it’s still scary. Even good change can be terrifying. So realizing that my whole life is changing, right damn now… It’s freaking me out.”
I kiss the nape of her neck softly. “That sounds sensible to me.”
She laughs, her breath a low huff. “But you aren’t scared.”
“Jenna.” I cup her chin. Turn her face back to mine, and wait until she rolls over to face me. Then I lean in and press my forehead to hers. “Of course I’m scared. I’m scared of losing you; scared of something bad happening to you or the baby. I’m scared of losing this opportunity, now it’s finally arrived.” I trace her cheek with my thumb. Lean in to kiss her gently. “But I’m more scared of never finding out what life has in store for us. I’m more scared of not trying than I am of leaping into this headfirst.”
She smiles. Leans up to kiss me back, softer and slower now. “That… makes a weird amount of sense, Gil.”
“Good. It was meant to.” I wink, and she laughs and rolls her eyes, and I pull her against me again, into a tight hug, her chin tucked under mine, head resting on my chest. “I know it’s a scary world out there, full of change,” I murmur. “But you’ve got me now. I’m going to protect you from all of it. No matter what.”
I can feel her smile against my chest. I hold her there and run my fingers through her hair. I cradle her until her breathing slows. Until she relaxes against me into sleep. And even then, I continue to cradle her, gazing out over her head at the familiar landscape I know and love.
She’s right. Everything is about to change. But I’m ready for it. As long as I have her, there’s nothing to be afraid of. Not here, not anywhere.
17
Jenna
We return to the village after our picnic and I head straight to the police station. But once I get there, I’m informed Detective Hartman had to return to the city for a few days on “unavoidable” business. Something to do with the fires; I guess whoever set it did so near where Bradley Myers’s body was found, so now the rumor on the street is that the murderer has added arson to their repertoire. Great.
In the meantime, I’m stuck waiting for Stacey to return so she can take these files off me. There’s no way I’m going to just leave them sitting at the front desk with Mr. Creepfest. They’re too important. What if the files got lost, or stolen? What if the murderer got his hands on them somehow?
Or her hands, I suppose. Knowing how irritating Bradley was—from my brief interaction with him, anyway—I wouldn’t put it past him to have a crazy ex in his past who wanted him gone.
That’s the least insane theory I’ve heard lately about who could be behind all this. Rumors have ratcheted up now that the fire has been all but linked to the murder as well. People are claiming it’s a gang, others that it’s a lone wolf out to hunt down rich tourists who piss him off. Less people are pointing their fingers at Gil, at least—he was in town buying coffee at Erin’s near the station, apparently, when the fires were set, so a few people have vouched for him.
I’m glad of that. He never talked to me much about it, but I could see how it was tearing him up inside, to have the people he grew up among distrusting him, doubting him so completely.
I can’t blame him. That would piss me off too. And freak me out. If you can’t trust your own community, who can you trust?
As for me, now that a little of the pressure has eased off Gil, I’m starting to like it here. We go to dinner at a local restaurant, a tiny little hole in the wall that only serves two things on the menu—pizza or pasta. But both of them are delicious—I know because Gil wants the pizza, I want the pasta, and we both want just a few bites of each other’s.
Promising sign, when you find someone you can share your meals out with. That comes in handy a lot in a relationship.
&nbs
p; Relationship. Is that what this is becoming? I wonder it all through the next few days, while the detective delays back in the city, and I’m left waiting here.
Can’t say I hate the waiting. It gives Gil and me a chance to really start getting to know one another. We catch a movie one afternoon at the two-theater cinema in town. He lets me sit in his workshop and watch while he sets about building a table he’s got a commission for, one that’s due soon. He explains how all his tools work, even lets me try the power saw, albeit while he stands behind me, arms around me protectively, and guides my hands the whole way.
It’s fun, working with my hands like that. It’s even more fun watching him work with his. I won’t lie, I think I’m pretty distracting for him to have around the workplace. There are definitely a couple late afternoons where he has to shove all his tools off the bench he works on and bend me over it instead.
There’s also some other project he has going on, which he’ll go out and work on in the evenings sometimes. Those times, however, when I try to follow him, he tells me it’s a private project. The curiosity is eating me up, but I relent, giving him his space. After all, it’s good to maintain your own life. Some secrets. Especially when you’ve only just started to date someone. You want to keep hold of your own identity.
Which is why, by the end of the week, when Detective Hartman still hasn’t shown her face back at the station again, or even taken the time to return my calls, I’m starting to get a little frustrated.
I enjoy it here. I enjoy Gil even more. But I have a life too. A job waiting for me back in the city. Granted, a job I’ve been wanting a break from for a while, and a job that’s slowed down now that I have more income from the photos I just sold. A job I can afford to slack off from for a week or two or hell, probably even a month.
But it’s also a job I love. I don’t want to give it up, not entirely. And a whole week without taking any photos is reminding me why I got into the photography game in the first place. Because I do love it. Not shooting for a week is making me antsy, irritable.
So, one evening, as Gil prepares to go get some work done on his secret project, I kiss him on the mouth and tell him I’m staying at the hotel tonight. Really, I just want a chance to get back on my game.
“It’s not safe for you to walk home alone,” he says.
I shake my head. “I’ll be fine. I’ll stick to the main roads; I won’t cut through the woods.”
“Jenna, there’s a murderer out here somewhere—”
“It’s 8 o’clock, it’s barely past sunset,” I point out. “Besides, I told you, I’ll stick to main roads. Within screaming distance of houses, if anyone tries anything.”
“Let me walk you back, at least.”
But I plan on meandering a little, taking some pictures along the way. I won’t be able to do that with him dogging my every step. “I’ll text you the minute I set foot inside the lobby of my hotel, okay? I promise.”
“You better.” His eyes go dark with warning. Then he forces a smile, because I know he’s thinking the same thing I was about his little secret project out in the shed. That I need my space, my own life, and he needs to let me have that. “I’ll meet you at Erin’s in the morning?” he asks then, and kisses me back, harder.
“First thing,” I promise, and for a moment, we lose each other in our lips again. But I’m a girl on a mission, and my man has work to do anyway. So I disentangle myself from him, sling my camera bag over my shoulder, and slide out the door into the evening air.
I don’t take too long. Gil is right after all. There is a murderer on the loose. But this time of night, just after sunset, with the lights twinkling in the windows of the cozy little cottages up here, it’s the perfect time to capture the feel of the village at night. I use my night lens (and wish, at the back of my mind, that I’d had this strapped onto the camera when I snapped those pictures of the figures I saw in the woods, way back when), and catch more than a few stellar shots. Smoke curling up from a chimney over a house whose windows shine with cheery yellow light, against a night sky where stars are beginning to peek through.
I do a long exposure, to capture the full glow of those stars.
Finally, I make my way into the town center, which always looked sleepy in comparison to the city I’m used to, but which now looks downright dead. Windows are shuttered, there’s nobody at the couple of restaurants that dot the square. Even the lone bar in town, an ever-popular pub that I’m used to seeing drunk people spill out of in the evenings, has its door shut. Inside, through its broad window, I can only see two people inside, both with their heads bowed together, quietly discussing something with the bartender.
Probably the murders.
I snap a photo of them too—Portrait of a Town Afraid—and carry on to the hotel. I text Gil, as promised, the instant my foot crosses the threshold.
He texts back a clock ticking emoji, with the words, Took long enough.
I send him a winking kissy-face in return, then pocket my phone.
“You’re out late,” Merill calls from behind his desk. He has his feet kicked up on the wooden counter, hands behind his head, as he watches something that sounds like a baseball game on his iPhone propped up next to the reception computer.
I check the clock above his head. “It’s not even 9pm yet. Has this whole town turned into a retirement community overnight?”
“Pretty much.” Merill sighs. “I’m sure this has to be a big culture shock for you, Ms. City Girl.”
I lean on the counter while we chat. “Oh, not so terrible. The quiet is nice, for a time.”
“That time seems to be getting longer and longer the more you stay here,” he points out. His eyebrows dance up his forehead. “That got anything to do with our Gil, by any chance?”
My face flushes. “It’s… we’re just…”
“Fall for him and who knows, next thing you know you’ll be moving here.” Merill laughs. “Becoming one of the locals now, Ms. Walker.”
My stomach flips at the thought.
Because I can’t. I can’t stay here for good. As much as I’m enjoying the visit, I could never be like Gil, living here permanently, off the land and all that. I need the city, I need activity, hustle and bustle and things to do on weekends and jobs to attack during the week. I’m built for that, for action. What am I doing out here, playing woodswife?
I need to get out of here. “I’m leaving soon,” I tell Merill.
He gives me a side-eye that tells me exactly how little he’s buying it. “Just give me the word, any time you want to check out.”
I groan under my breath. If only Detective Hartman would return, I could hand these files over to her and get back to my real life. But who knows how much longer she’ll be away? It’s already been more time than I would’ve thought, given she’s supposed to be running a murder investigation here. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to leave the file at the station… I have backup copies on my computer after all; if Mr. Creepfest lost the drive, I could just make a new one for Stacey.
“How trustworthy are the police here, do you think?” I ask Merill.
His eyebrows dance back down into a frown. “What do you mean?”
“Just, the reason I’m still stuck here—I have some files I need to leave with Detective Hartman. But she’s been gone for days. And you’re right, I am turning into a damn local—no offense. It’s just, I need to get home. I thought maybe I could leave the stuff with the local cops, ask them to give it to the detective…”
Merill chews on his lower lip thoughtfully. Then he glances around the lobby and leans closer. I mirror him, bending across the reception desk. “Look, you didn’t hear it from me,” he says, and he looks genuinely concerned about telling me this. “But, as much as we appreciate our local force—you know, they’re the only ones we have to rely on out here, and they do their best. But they’re not, um…” He clears his throat. “Well they’re not the best, if you get what I’m saying.”
I grimace, thinki
ng about the creepy old cop. “I get it. Thanks, Merill.”
“Sure thing.” He leans back in his chair. “If there’s any way I can help at all…”
I sigh and shake my head. “I don’t think so. I’ll just have to hope Stacey—er, Detective Hartman isn’t gone long.” Then I offer a cheerful wave, to make up for the grim line of conversation. “Thanks anyway, Merill. I’m off to catch some shut-eye.”
“Sleep well.” He leans back over to turn up the volume on his game—definitely baseball. “And remember, you know where to find me if you need help with anything.”
I flash him a grateful smile, and then, feet dragging, suddenly exhausted by the thought of another week stuck here in waiting mode, without a plan or a direction, I haul myself up the stairs to bed.
18
Jenna
The next morning, I wake up early. Too early. Like, predawn light and listening to birds chirping to wake up their babies early. What is wrong with me? I think.
Then the nausea hits, and I have to stumble into my bathroom, barely grabbing the trash can in time. There’s no way I was making it all the way to the toilet.
Ah, right. That’s what’s wrong.
Not only is my whole life upside-down—not only am I trapped in this little town waiting for a detective to get her butt moving, while at the same time starting to fall for a guy I can’t possibly fall for, because he’s from said small town and I can’t picture him outside of it at all, but I’m also pregnant.
So, everything outside of my body is changing, and everything inside it is also changing.
Great.
By the time I’ve showered and brushed my teeth a thousand times over, I’m way too awake to crawl back into bed and wait until I’m supposed to meet Gil. He usually rolls up to Erin’s around 9am, but right now it’s… I check my phone. 6:30am. Wonderful.