| |
Rummaging through the cabinet, I find the bottle of scotch and pour three fingers. If I’m going to do something stupid. Then I’m going to numb myself as much as possible.
Sip. The scotch burns down my throat.
Jack is on the back deck, chatting with one of his sisters on the phone, and Silas has been asleep for a few hours. Now’s as good a time as any.
Popping my head out the patio door, I catch Jack’s attention.
“Sorry Nora, just a second,” he says, then tucks the phone against his chest. “Everything okay?”
“Yup, I’m just going to get in the bath.”
“Okay. I’ll be out here for a bit. Some family drama.”
Shutting the door, I give Jack privacy, even though he will tell me everything as soon as he gets off the phone. I wonder which sister it is about this time. With five older sisters, there is always something happening.
While the bathtub fills, I carefully empty the contents of the bag I had hidden in the drawer Jack cleared out for me. Placing the bottle of wax in a bowl of piping hot water, I lay the cotton strips out. All the while, I mentally prepare for the torture I am about to put myself through.
Sip.
Checking the temperature with my toe, I adjust the tap all the way to the left and get in. The water sloshes over my skin and I use my hands to pull the hot water over me until the entire tub is letting off steam. The hot water soothes my achy body and calms my nerves.
Jack doesn’t mind me being here, and he loves having Silas all the time, but I can’t help feeling like a burden.
Twenty minutes later, I pull the plug and watch as the water circles the drain. I dry off and place a fresh towel on the edge of the tub. Standing in front of the mirror, I part my hair in the middle and twist each side up in a messy bun. Then serum, moisturizer, and under eye cream for added measure. Mom’s eyes look back at me, slight wrinkles around the corners showing years of laughter at the hands of my father. Mine looks the same, and I can thank Jack for that.
Sip.
Well, it is now or never.
I sit on the edge of the tub and prop up a foot on the toilet seat. Twirling the wooden stick, I try to control the wax as it comes out of the container but manage to get wax on my fingertips. I place the wax against my skin and slide down the crease where my leg meets my bikini line. Placing a cotton strip over the wax, I rub it back and forth to make sure it is secure.
Sip.
Sip. And the scotch is gone.
Alright, Harper. You got this. Just rip it off. No big deal. You pushed out a kid, you can pull a strip of wax off your body. You can do this. There are professionals for a reason, but hey, why can’t you do it? You’re capable of anything you put your mind to.
You’ve been through a lot and look where you are; in your best friend/baby daddy’s bathroom, about to rip off some hair before you go out to the living room, pretending you didn’t just commit some type of violence upon yourself.
Rip.
“Motherfucker!”
God damn it, that hurt so fucking bad. My eyes well up with tears and my skin burns from the assault.
I look at my hand expecting to find the cotton strip and every strand of hair I just ripped out of my skin but instead my hand is empty, just threads from the strip remain. The cotton strip clings to my skin, refusing to let go, just like the rest of the wax.
“Harper! Are you oka—” Jack bursts through the door, stopping dead in his tracks. A look of horror crosses his face and I can only imagine the state I am in. A sweaty forehead either from the bath, the scotch, or the stress, messy hair, wax all over my hands, and a strip partially hanging from my crotch that is on full display for him. As are my breasts.
Shit!
I quickly put my hands up to cover my breasts as I move my foot from the toilet seat, stopping just before I close my legs. I will never be able to open them again. Then I will have a bigger wax issue than I already have.
“What are you doing?!” Jack’s eyes drag over my body, assessing the sight before him.
“What does it look like I’m doing?!”
“Looks like you’re drunk and waxing yourself. There are professionals for that, you know?!”
“Not helpful!”
He runs out and back into the bathroom before I could yell for him to stop. Returning, he holds up a bottle of olive oil.
“Now is not the time to cook.” What the fuck is he doing?
“It’s to help get the wax off your skin.”
Kneeling in front of me, Jack presses his hand on my inner thigh, pushing my leg to the side. His eyes roam over my body, heating my core. Embarrassment colors my skin in an awkward shade of red.
“What are you doing?” My voice is barely above a whisper.
“Assessing the damage,” he says before he looks up at me. “Do you want me to finish pulling the strip off?”
He can’t be serious!
“No! No. I’m done. I’m not doing this anymore. Make it go away!” I say, forcing my eyes closed. Heat rises to the surface of my skin and creeps from my chest to my face. I’m never going to live this down.
Pulling the wax container out of the warm bowl of water, he replaces it with the olive oil. Reaching past my leg, he opens the vanity cabinet to pull out cotton pads. He saturates the cotton pad with the soothing, warm oil, gently and effortlessly removing the wax and strip painlessly.
“How do you know how to do that?”
“Well, I have five sisters,” he says, not looking up from his task. “I helped when they chickened out waxing their legs... and an occasional lip,” he snickers. “But a bikini wax? This is all new to me.”
Kneeling between my legs, he pauses for a moment, leaving me feeling exposed. Using a circular motion, he rubs the olive oil onto my skin; massaging and soothing the offended skin that is sure to bruise over the next few hours. His thumb comes dangerously close to my clit with each pass.
Taking great care, he ensures all the wax is gone, leaving behind no residue. The second rush of warmth spreading across my skin and the fluttering sensation in my lower abdomen should cause concern. Leave it to the scotch to dull my senses. My eyes close slowly as I take in the calming scent of cedar and leather. A combination of Jack’s natural musk and his shampoo.
“Does that feel better?”
“Mhmm.” I attempt to reach out to him, wanting to run my fingers through his dark curly hair. “Ouch!”
Jack pauses his massage to lend a hand, carefully peeling my fingertips away from the tacky skin. Another warm pad of oil removes the residue from my fingertips, then he focuses on the remaining wax on my breasts.
A moan slips from my lips as he circles each nipple with the pad and I can’t stop it. He adjusts his pants before he catches my eye, one brow raised. Moving closer, his hot breath dances across my body. Pulling the pebbled flesh into his mouth, he circles my nipple with his tongue before sucking slightly. As if he remembered who he was touching, he draws his head back, releasing my it with a popping sound.
“Is this okay?”
I run my clean hands through his curls, stopping only to rub my thumbs along his temples. Staring up at me, his eyes lock on mine, waiting.
Fuck it.
Arching my back, my chest thrusts toward him, and he buries his face between my breasts. Slathering them with kisses and nips, he leans forward, pushing his now hardened cock against my pussy as I sit spread eagle on the edge of the tub.
Abandoning my breasts, he cradles my face. Threading his fingers in my hair, his thumbs brush my cheeks as he gently presses his lips against mine. The softness of his touch and the warmth of his wet lips feel like home. Like we should have been like this the entire time.
And it’s all my fault.
His body trembles against me. “I don’t think I can keep going so easy on you.” His words whisper across my lips.
“Then don’t.”
Taking the glass from the counter, he pours a few fingers of scotch from the bottle I took in earlier. Drinking half of it, he then passes the glass to me. Tossing back my head, I swallow the rest and revel in the sweet burn.
Jack takes me by the arm, leading me out of the warm bathroom. The cool air in the hallway prickles my skin with goosebumps as he guides me toward his bedroom.
Exposed? Yes.
Doubt? None to be found.
The door clicks shut.
With a swift motion, I am spun around and pressed firmly against the door. Jack’s hand rests on my chest, his fingertips teasing the skin of my neck. Only a breath could slip between us, but he feels so far away.
“Last chance to push me away, Harper. Or are you going to let me in?”
Wrapping my arms around his shoulders, I pull him toward me, not wanting to wait any longer. The answer to his question on my lips as they crash into his. His tongue slips between my lips with ease, finding a rhythm with mine before pulling back. With a simple nip of my bottom lip, he leaves me breathless and achy.
He firmly hooks his arm under my leg, securing it around his hip. The unmistakable feel of his cock presses against me, straining against the tight fabric of his jeans. My fingertips trail down his sides and hook onto the waistband of his jeans, inching toward the button.
“Tsk-tsk.” With a slight turn of his hips, he blocks my hand.
I let out a disappointed groan, its sound blending with the creaking of the old wooden door behind me.
“Hush, baby.”
Spinning me around, he takes my spot against the door, leaving me in the open. He leans back as his brown eyes causally rake over my body, a body he doesn’t know anymore. Harper from four years ago had a tight body formed from years of pilates and genetics. This body tells the tale of motherhood and all that comes with it. A heavy sense of shame drops in my gut, but when our gazes lock, his mischievous smile fades into something dark, a burning hunger.
Stepping away from the door, he stalks toward me with darkened eyes. Padding backward, the instinct to flee from a predator rises in my chest until I feel the plush mattress behind me.
“Lay down.” Closing the distance between us, his chest meets mine, and I stumble onto the bed. Excitement for where this is going overrides the fight-or-flight response from moments ago.
Gripping the back of his shirt with one fist, he pulls it over his head and tosses it onto the floor. “I want to taste your pussy.” His hands encircle my ankles before pulling me abruptly to the edge of the mattress. With bent knees, my legs fall to the side, placing my pussy on display for the second time tonight.
Hovering above me, he traces the silver stretch marks on my lower abdomen. My hand sweeps down to push him away, but he captures it and kisses my knuckles.
“You’re gorgeous, Harper. Every fucking delicious inch of you.” He situates himself on the floor before teasing the sensitive skin of my inner thighs.
“Do you taste the same? I’ve been thinking about this cunt for a long time.”
Words catch in my throat as his lips find my clit. Rendered speechless, all I can do is moan. His tongue darts out to circle the sensitive bud before sliding down and to taste the proof of my desire. Dragging the slickness up to my clit, he gently sucks as a finger rests at my entrance. Slowly pushing in, I squirm, feeling myself coming undone already.
His free hand slips under my ass and squeezes when he adds another finger, and then another. A deep, gruff moan rumbles against my tender skin; the vibrations sending little shocks through my body. Grabbing his pillow, I cover my face and take a deep breath. His scent is all I smell, and his mouth and hands are all I feel. The tension building quickly.
I’m going to come.
“That’s it, Sweets. Come for me.”
His fingers stroke back and forth in a come here motion as I inch near the edge. Clenching my inner muscles, I urge myself closer and closer until the orgasm crashes into me, sending wave after wave. Tossing the pillow, my hands slip over Jack’s head and grasp his hair. Holding him in place, I rock forward, rubbing my clit against his mouth as I ride it out. As the orgasm wanes, I am left panting, my skin damp with sweat.
“Jesus, Jack.”
Crawling up over me, he presses his lips against mine, my taste and scent lingering on his beard. Pulling him closer, I slide my hands down his taut back and slip under the waistband of his jeans to squeeze his ass.
“You liked that? You can ride my face anytime, baby. I would fucking die down there if you’d let me.”
“Yeah. I loved that. Now get off me.”
Jack’s smile drops and he stands up, unsure what will happen next. I turn around on the mattress, my hair cascading towards the floor as I let my head hang down over the edge.
“Take off your jeans, now.”
Jack’s smile returns and he slips off his jeans and boxer briefs, letting loose an old friend. His cock stands proud and thick and needy. I softly stroke the shaft before wrapping my hand around him, my fingers barely touching. I release a hot breath over his balls before a flick of my tongue elicits a groan of anticipation and pleasure.
“You like that?” I ask, knowing full well that he does.
“I fucking love it when you lick my balls, baby.”
The tip of his cock, dripping with pre-cum, glosses my lips before I open my mouth and take him in all the way back.
“Oh, fuck.”
Breathing through my nose when I can, I tug on his thighs to control his movements. Slowly pulling his cock out, and then back in, he hits the back of my throat. Despite my gag reflex, I relax my jaw and surrender to his thrusts. Leaning forward, he places kisses along my stomach and then slides his fingers back into me, revving me up for a second time.
“Your mouth feels so good. And you are so fucking wet. You love sucking my cock, don’t you? You fucking love it.” He slaps my pussy and I come again, groaning and moaning against his cock. His sack tightens, only moments away from spilling down my throat. I hollow my cheeks and prepare to take what he offers.
With a painful moan, he pulls back before flipping me over. With my face pressed against the mattress, his arm tucks under my stomach before hoisting my ass toward the ceiling.
“There’s no way I’m going to come in your mouth when I can fill this cunt.” He slaps my ass and presses the tip of his cock to my pussy and waits.
I’m not waiting.
Pushing back, I take all of him, every thick inch. Adjusting quickly to his size, I rock back and forth. His cock hitting the perfect spot each time. Behind me, Jack remains motionless, his hands gripping tight to my sides like he is fighting himself.
Finding my rhythm, I take what I need from him. As I grip the fabric tightly with my fists, I focus on the friction between my legs and the softness of the plush blanket beneath me.
Reaching around, he circles my clit as I continue to fuck him. A sensation rises, swirling around, waiting to take root where his cock slams inside me. My rhythm is lost under the weight of pleasure. Jack and I becoming one again after all this time. Sensing I am on the edge of burnout, he loosens my grip on the blanket and guides my hand to my clit.
“Touch yourself for me. Let me do the rest.”
His hands return to my hips, digging his fingertips into my flesh. He pushes into me, but the angle isn’t right. As I arch my back, pressing my chest against the mattress, his moans confirm that I’ve found the right spot.
“Fuck. Yes, Harper. Just like that. Come again for me.”
“I’m close.”
“Come for Daddy.”
I fucking explode. Tremors run through my legs, and there are flashes of light that dance behind my eyelids. Surely our breaths are heavy, but the ringing in my right ear makes it difficult to focus.
Jack’s rhythm changes, becoming rough and uneven before he shutters, calling out my name between clenched teeth.
*
A little body flops against my side, waking me up.
“Momma! Daddy! Get up! Pancakes!” Silas jumps over me and burrows in the space between me and his dad. Grabbing Silas, Jack pulls him to his side and begins tickling him.
“Good morning, squirt!” he says over toddler squeals. Silas’s eyes close tightly as he chuckles and wildly moves about. Kicking his feet, he gets tangled in the blanket, effectively stripping it off of me.
Holy shit.
I’m naked.
Snatching the blanket that Jack and I were apparently sharing, I wrap it around myself as best as I can. Jack notices the movement and gives me a curious look. Gesturing to my body, I mouth, I’m naked to him and his eyes go wide.
“Come on, little buddy, let’s make you those pancakes.”
“Momma too!”
“Momma’s going to rest a little longer. She didn’t sleep much last night.” He scoots Silas out of the room, pausing only to wink at me. My pillow narrowly misses his head just before he shuts the bedroom door.
Throwing my head back, it bounces on the mattress where my pillow used to be. Jack’s bed is warm and cozy. Although much better than the couch, this can’t happen again.
Rolling out of bed, I reach for my bathrobe hanging on the back of Jack’s bedroom door. My legs feel like jelly and there is a delicious ache between my thighs.
Slipping across the hall, I jump in the shower and wash off the evidence of our night together and soothe those achy muscles. The exposed skin from the partial wax job the night before is sensitive to the hot water and the pressure from the spray. Inspecting it, I find a black and purple bruise.
Fuck. Never doing that again.
As I wash my body, other bruises emerge, each one a precise match for Jack’s fingertips. What we did last night was... stupid, crazy, reckless, fun, hot... a mistake.
The giggles from the kitchen fill the hallway as I make my way towards the sweet smell of homemade pancakes. Every bin of flour, sugar, salt, olive oil... Jesus... you name it, is out on the counter. Jack stands at the stove, showing off his pancake flipping skills, while Silas sits at the table, a towering stack of pancakes in front of him.
“Momma! Look at my cakes!”
“Wow buddy! They look delicious!”
“Here, Momma,” Jack says. A tall mug of coffee warms my hands as he sets a plate of pancakes on the table across from Silas, who now has syrup dripping down his chin. Honey is under the table pretending to sleep, just wanting for the boy to drop something.
“Eat up. You need to replenish your energy.” I quickly glance at Jack and notice the smirk on his lips. He’s toying with me. “Did you want to say something?”
“Thank you.”
“For last night?”
I stare back, the corner of my mouth beginning to curl. “For the coffee.”