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“Please, please, please,” I beg. “I want you inside me. Please, Jake.”
Something I can’t decipher flickers across his face. He stares at me with an intensity I can’t place.
He rolls the condom on, and I watch, reaching out, feeling the weight of him in my hand, as I guide him to me.
And then, with a single, agonizingly slow push, Jake eases inside of me, and, and, and…
This isn’t how I imagined having Jake inside of me would feel. Yes, this is a hate-fuck. But nothing about these motions feels hateful. There’s a care warring with the frenzy, especially in how he looks at me. How he responds to every buck of my hips, every moan, every gasp. How he adjusts what he’s doing to elicit more moans and gasps. Like it matters. I would feel exposed if I wasn’t so distracted by how good it all feels. If I wasn’t doing the same to him. Adjusting the pressure of my fingernails against his back based on the thrust of his hips and the grunts coming from his throat. Even as I move my hips in response to his, hooking an ankle around his ass to draw him closer, I know that there’s something different about the way we’ve come together. Something too right for two people who are so wrong for each other.
I shove the thought away as I start to come, pulling him tighter to me as he buries himself deep. I’m stretched so tightly around him as my orgasm explodes deep in my core, my hips bucking helplessly, pinned beneath his own. When he comes, shaking above me, I pull him even closer.
“Tell me it’s just this once,” I demand in a sated whisper. “Swear it.”
He falls against me, chest heaving, mouth near my ear. It’s a second or two before he can put words together, but when he does, my heart jumps in my chest.
“You said one night,” Jake reminds me. “I’m not finished with you yet.”
Chapter Six
When I wake up the next morning, it’s to the usual sound of goats bleating, saying their good mornings loud and proud. There’s a light flurry of snowflakes just outside my bedroom window, with sunlight peeking over the horizon. In other words, it’s a typical Reindeer Falls morning in December.
Except something is different.
Something is better.
It’s not just that I feel more satisfied than I have in… okay, ever. It’s something else, something warmer. My body’s tingly all over, and not just thanks to last night’s activities. It’s something I can’t quite explain.
Is it… do I feel safe?
Which is ridiculous. I’ve lived on my own for years, and I certainly don’t need anyone else to keep me company. I have my girls, my family, my goats, and my Airstream. And, of course, my business.
Is the door open, at some point, for a nice guy who understands my goals and visions? Sure. Is it somewhat difficult to find the time to meet such a person? Maybe. But the point is, I’m open to one day finding a man to share my Airstream mattress with.
But it won’t be Jake Sheppard.
Still, this safe, warm feeling lingers, and I smile to myself before I fully open my eyes. I reach over to feel the space where Jake was last night.
The sheets are still warm. Jake’s not there.
It’s another weird feeling, even more ridiculous than the last one. I feel a pang of… something? Ick, I shouldn’t be feeling anything this morning except sexually satisfied. So why do I feel… something… about him not being in bed? It’s irrelevant. Except… was last night not as good for him as it was for me? That seems impossible, especially since I saw him. All of him, and there are some things people just can’t fake. For a moment, I tense up, but then I force myself to breathe.
We agreed it was just for a night, which doesn’t include morning-after cuddles. He’s giving me distance to respect my boundaries. Last night we banged out all of our hate for each other, nothing more.
Still, surely we’re in a better place than we were in yesterday? Last night we had an understanding, in multiples. At the very least, we’ll be able to approach our disagreement in a new and healthier way.
I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again: sex is nature’s medicine.
I listen, trying to determine if Jake is still in the Airstream. I don’t hear him in the shower, and I don’t hear him in the kitchen, and that pretty much eliminates all of the possible options. So I decide to roll myself out of bed. I take a quick shower, the hot water soothing every wrung-out muscle from last night. And, yes, okay, I put a little more effort into getting ready than usual. Not a ton, I’ve got a day of chores ahead of me, but a clean pair of jeans and a sweatshirt that makes my eyes pop is hardly going overboard.
