“I’d like that,” I said, smiling to myself as Kevin McAllister clapped his hands to his cheeks, looked into the camera, and screamed.
We put the boys to bed and Jack kiss-walked me toward the bedroom as soon as we were sure they’d gone to sleep. Except we didn’t even make it to the bed before he spun me around and pinned my wrists over my head. He tugged my shirt and bra up ravenously, lowering his mouth to suck my nipple between his lips.
I arched my back, breathing out my pleasure and letting him pin me there. Letting him take me.
He freed himself and slid a condom on, then pulled the running shorts I’d been wearing down in a quick yank. Without even completely taking them off, he pushed my thighs up and pinned them between us, guiding himself inside me.
I gasped. This didn’t feel temporary.
It felt too good to ever go away.
Being taken like this. Being wanted so ferociously. Wanting him back just as much.
I was pinned by his hands and his rock-like grip. He pounded into me, breathing hard already with enjoyment.
I dug my fingernails into my palms, feeling weightless. Feeling alive. Feeling terrified of the future, because even now—even in this bliss—I could sense the looming fork ahead of me.
Tell him about Florida. Say it right now. You’ll be in Florida for this trip. Maybe you could even take him and show him the place to help him understand.
“Oh, God, Jack,” I gasped.
His face became more rabid with each thrust, threatening to blast away my thoughts with the rush of molten bliss spreading through me.
Tell him.
“Jack, there’s something—”
My own body betrayed me as a white-hot climax ripped through me from my core to my fingertips. My mouth clamped shut and I let out a low, mmmm, limbs shaking against his grip.
He slowed himself down, easing me through my orgasm and kissing me all over. “There’s what?” he asked a little while later when he’d relaxed his grip but still stood there with himself buried in me, lips brushing my jaw, neck, and ear with kisses. “Just before you came, you were about to say something.”
Would you still feel this way about me if I had to leave? Could we make this work if I was on the other end of the continent? Would you hate me if I left Ben to chase a dream you’d probably think was silly?
“I was just thinking,” I said. My heart started pounding out of my chest. My throat felt tight. My head was getting light. “Do you remember if we turned the stove off?”
Jack relaxed a little. “Oh. It turns off on its own. There’s a weight sensor on the stove. It turns off as long as you take the pots or pans off.”
“That’s good,” I said.
Tell the man about Florida, Nola. Stop being a coward.
But I wanted both things too badly. I wanted this glimpse of perfect Jack and Ben were offering us. Cozy nights on the couch while the boys played. Warm cuddling. And, well, mind blowing sex. An irrational part of me kept waiting because maybe—maybe—there was some compromise I just hadn’t considered yet. Some middle ground where I didn’t have to sacrifice one desire for the other.
Jack kissed me softly. “That was the appetizer. Are you ready for the second course?”
Wowza.
I licked my lips, nodding. At least it sounded like I was about to be taken to a mental place where I wouldn’t even be able to worry about what to do for a while.The following morning, I opened my laptop and saw the unit in Florida was still available. I’d had a vivid dream last night about ghostly visions of my parents floating into the bedroom on cotton-candy pink clouds. They’d waved their transparent hands, eyes bulging in outrage as I lay tangled in bed with Jack Kerrigan.
“You’re betraying us to get on that dick,” they’d said in wavering, disembodied voices.
“No! The dick got on me!” I’d cried out, trying to escape to the corner of the room.
“But you liked it!” they accused.
I had put my hands to my ears and hissed in admission, “I did! I did! And I’ll do it again!”
Then they’d descended toward me with outstretched, ghostly hands.
My last memory of the dream was clapping my hands to the side of my face and screaming like the guy from that Van Gogh painting.
As ridiculous as the dream was, it had re-ignited the fear that I was disappointing my parents. I was letting what might be my only chance to ever make their dream happen slip by one flirtatious step toward Jack Kerrigan at a time.
So I typed out an email to the property owner as quickly as I could. I told him I was very interested in his available unit. I promised I only needed two more month’s pay from my employer before I could afford the down payment in full and offered to make a partial payment to secure the rental.