“Goodnight, baby.”

  In the comfort of Jake’s arms, it doesn’t take long before the fog of sleep creeps at the edges of my consciousness. And as I drift off, my thoughts become disconnected from the moment. Well, all except one.

  He will still be here in the morning, I tell myself repeatedly. Though, the words feel more like a prayer than a reminder.

  Opening my eyes, I blink furiously against the brilliant sunlight. My apartment is flooded with pale-yellow summer morning sunshine. But the second thing I notice is that my cheek is stuck to something. It doesn’t take long to realize the side of my face is plastered to Jake’s chest with perspiration.

  He stayed.

  My pleasure at this discovery is short-lived as I peel my sweaty cheek from his hot skin.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” he says, tightening his arm around me.

  I chuckle as I lift my head slightly to wipe the sweat from my face. “It’s hot.”

  “You’re hot.”

  I gasp as he flips me onto my back without warning.

  “I haven’t brushed my teeth!” I shriek as he moves in for a kiss.

  I push him away, and he laughs as I rush to the bathroom. Before I can even close the door, I hear my phone buzz on the nightstand. I hurry out and snatch it up, my heart skipping a beat as I glimpse the gorgeous man in my bed. Returning to the bathroom, I quickly shut the door and answer the call from my mom. I know what this call is about. I can’t ignore it.

  “Hey, Mom.”

  “Bon jour, mon ami,” she replies, sounding way too chipper for a Sunday morning.

  My mom told me a few weeks ago that she’s finally going to try learning French. Of course, the subtext I got from that conversation was that Elle’s illness prevented her from pursuing her interests. And now that Elle is gone, my mom can finally become the person she always wanted to be: a French woman living in Middle-of-Nowhere, Washington, married to a man who has decided the best way to deal with the loss of his favorite daughter is to become a workaholic.

  “Your French is impeccable,” I lie to her.

  “Thank you,” she says, still putting on that sunshine-y voice she’s adopted recently.

  I’m not being cynical, and I’m not reading too much into it. My mom is not happy. She’s always been a fake-it-till-you-make-it sort of person. But faking happiness after your child dies is bound to backfire.

  Of course, there’s no way I can say this to her. But she went from calling me about once a week to calling me at least once a day. This is a clear indicator that my mom’s needs are not being met. I suspect our daily phone calls are the only thing keeping her afloat.

  Through the door, I can hear Jake bidding my dog a good morning as Gary’s claws shuffle excitedly over the wood floors.

  “I’ll take him out!” Jake shouts at me through the door.

  I don’t think my mom heard him. I want to shout back a quick thank-you, but I don’t want her to know I have someone here.

  “I’m calling to find out what ice cream you prefer,” my mom says, as if this is a normal reason to call someone on a Sunday morning. “You’re still coming to dinner tonight for your dad’s birthday, aren’t you?”

  Shit! I totally forgot about that.

  “Yeah, of course.”

  “Oh, thank goodness. So, what do you prefer: vanille or chocolat?”

  “Vanilla,” I say as my brain scrambles for an excuse to get off the phone. “I was about to get in the shower. I have some errands to run before I head out there. I’ll see you later. Okay, Mom?”

  “Of course, sweetie. If you need to do laundry, you can bring it here.”

  My chest tightens as guilt seizes me. I feel her neediness in everything she says and does.

  “I did my laundry a couple days ago,” I lie again. “See you later, Mom.”

  “Okay. I love you, sweetheart.”

  “Love you, too.”

  I take a few deep breaths to come down from the emotional onslaught before I freshen myself up. By the time I emerge from the restroom, Jake has already returned with Gary and is hanging up the leash. Gary wanders over to his water bowl and takes a few sips before retreating to the comfort of his plush dog bed.

  I shake my head as I scan the length of Jake’s body. “I didn’t realize you’d have to put on so much clothes to take Gary outside.”

  “You wanted me to go outside in my boxers?” he asks as he makes his way toward me.

  I shake my head. “No, I wanted you to come inside naked.”

  He smiles as he folds me into his arms and his hand slides under the back of my oversized T-shirt. “I can still do that.”

  I nod as he leaves a soft kiss on the corner of my mouth. “I’d like that.”

  “I’ll be right back. Do you have an extra toothbrush?”

  “I have mouthwash.”

  “That’ll work.”

  He disappears into the restroom, and I can hear him taking his morning piss and rinsing his mouth out. But my heart nearly stops the moment he emerges from the bathroom completely naked, his formidable cock dangling against his thigh.

  “Oh, my goodness,” I whisper.

  He flashes me the sexiest grin I’ve ever fucking seen as he walks past me. As he takes a seat on the edge of my bed, he leans back on his hands, so his penis is undeniably the only thing I can focus on.

  “Your turn, baby.”

  Without hesitation, I climb on top of him and push him back, so he’s lying down. Then I place my hands on his solid abs as I straddle his hips. The deep laugh that comes out of his mouth fills me with uncontrollable lust.

  “I thought you were a wild sleeper, but it sure seems like we woke up in the same position we fell asleep in,” I say, bending forward so our faces are an inch apart. “I feel a little cheated. I was promised more positions than that.”

  He takes my face in his hand and kisses me long and hard, like the bulge growing beneath me. I take this as an invitation to grind my hips against him. His cock jerks at the sensation of my pussy through the thin cotton of my underwear.

  After a moment of dry-humping, he lifts my head up to look me in the eye. “Can I at least have breakfast first?”

  “Really?”

  His green eyes fix mine with a piercing glare as if he’s trying to communicate something to me. But after a moment of me not catching on, he lets out a soft chuckle.

  “Your pussy. I’d like to dine on your pussy, please.”

  My cheeks flame with embarrassment and excitement. “Um… Well, I don’t know how to cook, but I think I can make that.”

  His hands slide down to my ass as he kisses my neck. “I want you to sit on my face.”

  My eyelids fly wide open. “I’ve never done that.”

  He groans as he grabs my ass and pulls me up, so I’m straddling his stomach instead of his hips. This brings my breasts to the level of his mouth. He pushes my T-shirt up and his lips close around my nipple.

  “It’s okay if you’ve never done it,” he murmurs, as his hand reaches up to cup my breast. “All you have to do is straddle me, like you’re doing right now, and lower yourself real slow until I tell you to stop.”

  I gasp as his teeth softly clamp down on my nipple. “But I’m afraid I’ll suffocate you when I orgasm. I won’t be able to pay attention.”

  The noises it makes as he sucks on my flesh only intensify the sweet ache between my legs.

  “Just hold on to the headboard, and I’ll support you with my hands,” he says as he kisses my breastbone. “Do you trust me?”

  I look down into his eyes and smile. “I do.”

  He grins like a kid on Christmas. “Get up here.”

  I suck in a large breath and let it out slowly as I dismount him. Once I’ve removed the little clothing I had on, he slides into position with his head about a foot away from the headboard. This gives me room to place my knees on either side of his head.

  As I close my hands around the iron crossbar of the headrail, I look down at his face beneath me.

  His eyes are focused on my freshly shaved pussy as his hands reach up to cup my ass cheeks. “Once you get close, I’m going to hold you like this, okay?”

  I nod, unable to speak as my breath is ragged with anticipation.

  “But for now,” he says, removing his hands from my butt, “I’m going to be using my hands and my mouth.”

  I gasp as he softly brushes his fingers over my swollen flesh.

  “God, you’re beautiful,” he says as he spreads my lips with one hand and begins stroking my clit with the other.

  “Oh, God,” I whimper, leaning my forehead against the iron rail.

  His finger slides back and slips inside of me without resistance. He seems to take this as an invitation.

  “Okay, baby, I’m going to stick my tongue out and you’re going to lower your pussy onto it. Understand?”

  I remember how bossy he was the last time we had sex. The way he ordered me around turned me on and made me feel safe. But commanding me to ride his tongue? Holy fuck! This man makes me want to do things I’ve never done.

  “I understand,” I say as I slowly lower myself.

  My thighs tremble with nervousness and the effort of being so deliberate in my maneuver. I don’t want to make a wrong move in this position.

  A soft gasp issues from my throat when I feel his tongue come in contact with my opening. Lowering myself a bit more, I moan with pleasure as my ass lands in his capable hands, and he thrusts his tongue inside me. The tip of his nose presses against my clit as I slowly rock my hips back and forth, up and down, allowing his tongue to slide in and out and all over me.

  “Oh, fuck,” I hiss, tightening my grip around the iron rail as he moves his tongue in a circular motion around my opening.

  “Mmm,” he murmurs as he drags the tip of his tongue along my slit from my hole all the way to my clit.

  “Jake,” I murmur as he tenderly kisses my swollen bud as if it were my mouth. “Oh, my God, Jake.”

  He pulls away briefly to encourage me. “That’s right, baby. Scream my name when you come.”

  My thigh muscles jerk as he returns to my clit, kissing and sucking with just the right amount of pressure and speed. When he senses I’m getting close, he grabs my ass tighter to support my weight. As gravity pulls the wetness out of me, and spreads it over his face, not even the slurping noises this makes can distract me from the intense orgasm that explodes through me.

  “Oh, my God! Jake!”

  He lays the flat of his tongue against my spasming clit, rolling it gently over my flesh to coax out the final throes of ecstasy.

  “Jake! OH, JAKE!” I scream as he laps up my cum with pure enthusiasm.

  My muscles turn to jelly, and I almost collapse onto his face. He seems prepared to give me another orgasm, so I quickly dismount him and lie down at his side. I’m in no condition to remain upright.

  “Holy shit,” I breathe as I heave lungfuls of air that smells like sex.

  He plucks a tissue out of the box on my nightstand and uses it to wipe his face. Rolling onto his side, he places his large hand on my belly as he kisses my temple.

  “You’re so fucking delicious,” he says, brushing the backs of his fingers over my ribs.

  As the mind-numbing intensity of the orgasm wears off, my thoughts wander to the slurping noises I heard a moment ago.

  “I’m glad you feel that way,” I say, my heart still pounding wildly as his hand gently closes around my breast, “because those noises… when I came… mortifying.”

  He shakes his head as he presses his erection into my hip. “That just means you’re juicy, baby. I wouldn’t want you any other way.”

  I reach up to coil my arms around his neck and spread my legs as he climbs on top of me. “That wasn’t a turnoff?”

  He presses the length of his cock against my slit. “Baby, I don’t know if you can feel that, but I’ve never been more turned on in my life.”

  A slow smile forms on my mouth as he plants his forearms on either side of my head and places a soft kiss on my lips.

  “I’d have to be dead not to feel that.”

  His lips curve against mine. “Are you ready for me?”

  I wrap my legs around his hips as he kisses his way over my jaw to my neck. “I’ve never been more ready in all my life.”

  He groans as I lift my hips to grind my pussy against him. “Hold that thought.”

  He rises from the bed and disappears into the bathroom. My anticipation soars as he emerges with a condom in his hand, which he must have retrieved from the jeans he removed in there. My pulse quickens as he slides the condom over his erection. It probably takes less than a minute, but by the time he settles himself between my legs again, I’m panting with the need to feel him inside me.

  Back in the good ol’ missionary position, I coil my legs around him, and we kiss like this for a while. He rocks his hips back and forth, using the stiffness of his erection to massage my clit as his mouth teases me into a frenzy.

  “Please,” I beg. “I need you inside me now.”

  He laughs and places a kiss on my cheek as he reaches down to guide his cock to my opening.

  His eyes roll back with ecstasy as he slides in a couple inches.

  “Fuck,” he hisses, lifting my leg to open me up.

  I whimper as he slips farther inside.

  “Oh, my God,” I cry out as I find I’m still surprised by the size of his cock despite my previous experience with it.

  “Are you okay?” he asks, but his voice is strained by the effort it must take for him not to slam all the way into me.

  “Yes. Yes, I’m fine. Don’t stop.”

  He rolls his hips around, clockwise then counter-clockwise, stretching me until he feels satisfied I’m ready to receive him. And when he finally slides all the way inside, I gasp so loud, if my neighbors haven’t heard us yet, they definitely have now.

  Noticing the worried expression on his, I quickly grab his head and pull his lips to mine. We moan into each other’s mouths as he moves in and out of me. But it doesn’t take long before our moans become urgent cries. I pull his head back, so I can see his face when he finishes.

  Sweat drips down his furrowed brow as he gazes into my eyes.

  “Fuck,” he whispers, as he slows the pace of his thrusts.

  He looks confused by something.

  “What’s wrong?”

  He shakes his head, but he stays quiet as he stares into my eyes as if he’s seen a ghost. Before I can ask him again if something is wrong, his muscles go rigid with an intense orgasm.

  “What the fuck?” he whispers, almost to himself, as he leans in for a kiss.

  As his cock twitches inside me, I’m hyper-aware that there’s a different quality to his kiss. Something about it I don’t recognize. A moment passes before I realize this is the best kiss we’ve ever shared.

  I don’t know if he’s been holding back, or if we’re more in sync now, or if I’m just feeling more connected to him. But as he kisses me deeper than I’ve ever been kissed, I realize I’m in way over my head with this man.

  I only hope he’s there to catch me when I fall.

  7

  Sexual Privilege

  After my father’s awkward birthday dinner, I meet Dahlia and Anissa for drinks at our favorite local Mexican restaurant. My body is exhausted, but my mind is exhilarated from all the sex I had with Jake today.

  After our morning session, we went to brunch, but we couldn’t resist getting in a quickie—up against the inside of my front door—as we were saying goodbye. I have a feeling my neighbors are going to make a noise complaint soon.

  It takes a couple drinks for me to work up the courage to tell Dahlia and Anissa all the gritty details of my weekend with Jake. By the time I finish, and I’ve expressed my worry over his strange reaction to the first time he came, they’re both looking at me as if I’ve lost my mind.

  “You’re worried about him saying, ‘What the fuck?’ after he came? After he queened you like a fucking king?” Dahlia raises an eyebrow at me. “Your privilege is showing.”

  Anissa purses her lips as she nods in agreement. “Mm-hmm. It’s the sexual privilege for me.”

  Dahlia gapes at Anissa in complete shock. “Right? Like, what about the rest of us? We deserve slurpy sex, too, and she’s over here complaining about it?”

  “I’m not complaining,” I say, unable to hide my sheepish grin. “I just don’t know what he meant by that.”

  Anissa looks at me like I’m from another planet. “Girl, men say all kinds of stupid shit when they come. You should know that by now.”

  I think about this for a moment, recalling the time I had sex with a guy after a successful Tinder date. When he came, he blurted out the make and model of his dream car, a Tesla model. I definitely never responded to his texts after that.

  Is “what the fuck” really that inappropriate of a response when you’re in the throes of an orgasm?

  “You’re right. I’m being annoying. Tell me what’s going on with you and Marcus,” I ask Anissa.

  She takes a sip from her whiskey sour. “Nothing. I told him I’m not responding to his texts until I’m ready, so he needs to stop pressuring me.”

  “You’re still on a break?”

  “Please miss me with that Friends shit,” she says, rolling her eyes as Dahlia and I laugh. “Marcus and I are not on a break. We broke up. He needs to respect my boundaries.”

  My phone vibrates in the pocket of my shorts, and I smile as I pull it out and see Jake’s name.

  * * *

  Jake: How the fuck can I be missing you after seven hours?

  * * *

  Me: I don’t know. Sounds like you might have an addiction. Maybe you should try AA?

  * * *

  “Is that your boy?” Anissa asks.

  “Oh, that’s her boy,” Dahlia says. “You can tell by the stupid grin on her face.”

  I shake my head as I keep my gaze fixed on the screen.

  * * *