My Once and Future Love (16 page)

I was just a scared young girl.

Chapter Thirteen

It had been a very cozy morning until Beth
saw the hickey on her neck. Could he help it if he got lost in
their passion and forgot about appearances? Wasn’t that supposed to
be a good thing? Then, once the mood was broken, she wanted to run
home.

Yeah, she’d only been a legal adult for a
little over a month, but couldn’t she try for a little
independence? Everything was “what about my parents” even before
her mum got sick. He didn’t wish ill on her mother at all and
understood the worry, but…he didn’t want to be used for comfort,
and that’s what sneaking around felt like.

****

I went over to Jacob’s with my fresh prints
and knocked on his door.

“Hey,” he said. He stood with his arms
crossed over his chest.

“Hey. I have the pics from today.”

“Already?”

“They dry fast in the heat.”

“Oh.” He’d changed into a black tank and
there was a smudge of dust on his forehead.

“Been packing?”

“Yup.”

Wow, talkative
.
“Sorry to interrupt.”
I turned to leave.

“Wait.” He touched my arm. “You can come
inside.”

“Okay.”

Boxes were spread out in front of the
bookcase in the living room. One shelf was empty. More boxes were
by the standing curio cabinet. AC/DC
Back in Black
played on
the stereo.

“Do your parents know you’re here?” He turned
the music down.

“They were busy when I left.”

“I see.” He went to the bookshelf; grabbed a
few books to put in the box.

“Why are you mad at me today?”

He paused mid-crouch. “I’m not mad.”

“Sure have a funny way of showing it.”

He sighed, placed the books in the box, and
stood. “I’m not mad. I don’t want to be a secret, Beth.”

“What secret?”

“Have you told anyone we have a
relationship?”

Was it corporeal enough to label? We
certainly weren’t just friends anymore, but this was so new,
so…we’d really only had one date. I didn’t know where we’d be now
if I hadn’t asked him to take me to bed the night before I
left.

“Not exactly Miss Popularity.”

He shook his head, and grabbed another few
books. “That’s what I thought.”

“Should I put an announcement in the paper? I
don’t know what you want. I’ve been home less than a week and most
of that time has been centered on Mom.”

He sighed again, his back to me. “Forget it.”
He crossed into the kitchen and washed his hands in the sink. “You
brought prints?”

I looked down to the envelope in my hand.
“Yeah.”

“Spread ‘em out,” he said, nodding to the
table.

I complied, carefully setting them down into
four rows. They weren’t bad on the whole, but not my best. He dried
his hands with a dish towel and came to look.

“Nice.”

“Thank you.”

“You got a couple of me.”

“Yep.” He never took a bad photo. Unless
I
screwed up, an image of him was always going to be
beautiful. It was just the way he was made.

“Mum’s arriving tomorrow. The house starts
getting shown for real as soon as we clear out the personal
crap.”

“Oh. She’s serious, then.”

“Yeah.”

“You’ll have nowhere to stay when you
visit.”

He looked away from the photos to me. “Guess
so. If visits are wanted.”

“How can you say that?”

“I’ve seemed…inconvenient to you all day,
Beth. I know I came without warning, but I feel like I’m
intruding.”

I rubbed my forehead, feeling a headache
coming on. “Wow, you can read a lot into one day.”

“Can’t help how I feel.”

I gathered the prints and put them back in
the envelope. “You’ve been gone for two years, Jacob. Yeah, I have
a life. Of course there’s room for you, but it’s not going to fit
like before. God, give me a little time.”

He touched my cheek. “Why is the only thing
I’ve got figured out is how to touch you?”

I shook my head, just as lost. We were like
magnets—once close enough, we couldn’t resist each other.

“No more walking around in my underwear,” I
said, sliding my hands up his shoulders. It’d all be alright when
he kissed me.

“Nope. Pity.” The breath of his words brushed
my lips before we made contact.

****

The kiss ignited between them. Jacob lifted
her to sit on the dining table. Her legs wrapped around his waist.
He ground into her center, eliciting a moan from her throat. Her
nails pressed into the back of his neck where she held on.

His fingers went to the buttons of her shirt.
He needed to feel her perky little breasts in his hands, see her
arch her back when he flicked her nipples. She made the cutest
little sounds when he touched her.

The bra joined the shirt on the floor. He
leaned her back to trail his kisses down her cleavage and suck on a
pink bud. One of her hands tunneled into his hair to hold his head
to her breast.

“Don’t stop,” she moaned.

Never
.

The silk of her skin, the pleasure written on
her face, the feel of her clinging to him with equal
desperation—these were things that made a man drunk, made him
believe he could exist off of passion.

Love was grand.

She sat up. “
Need you
.”

“I’ve got you, baby.” He picked her up and
carried her to the bedroom.

She grabbed the hem of his singlet and lifted
it over his head, then nibbled on his chest.

“Love to bite, don’t you.”

“You’re yummy.”

He dropped to his knees and unfastened her
shorts, then pulled them down her long legs. “Pretty tasty,
yourself.”

Always took the knickers with the
pants
.
Bare to him, he licked her center, swirling his
tongue around the firm little nub in front. She clutched his hair.
It stung, but that wasn’t a bad thing.

“Oh god…”

He hummed in approval, proud she was calling
on deities when he’d barely touched her yet. Nudging her legs
farther apart, he slid one finger inside her, then another. She
cooed and thrust her hips toward his mouth.

“You’re beautiful like this,” he said.

She looked at him with wide eyes, panting
puffs of air while her hips moved to a rhythm she couldn’t contain.
He could feel she was close, and slowed down. Her head fell back as
he twisted his fingers to massage different places inside her
quim.

Her legs gave out; he eased her back onto the
bed.

“You want more, baby?”

“Please…”

He stopped touching her and stood. She looked
up, panicked, until her eyes dropped to his hands on his belt. She
stared at his groin as he dropped his pants and kicked off his
boots.

Hungry girl.

He rolled a condom on his prick and
approached the bed. She slid back so her legs weren’t dangling off
the edge, her eyes still fixed on him. He crawled on the bed and
folded and spread her legs.

“Stay like this, love.”

He pushed inside her and had to pause. She
was still tight after only two nights of sex and the tension around
his dick made him want to shoot his load like a virgin. In control,
he started moving, pressing as deep inside her as he could
touch.

“
Ohhh…
”

“Knew you’d like this, kitten. Still
close?”

She nodded with vigor. Good.

He wanted this to last. He deliberately
avoided rubbing her clit with his thrusts, the internal stimulation
keeping her at a peak, but not letting her crest over. She thrashed
beneath him, her moans getting louder as she got lost in their
passion.

“Please-please-please…”

“Don’t come, Beth.”

“
Why?
”

“Trust me.” He wanted this orgasm to make her
unable to move from his bed and he’d settle for nothing less.

Only when he couldn’t hold out any longer did
he slip a hand between them to finger her clit. Two brushes of the
slippery pearl and she exploded, wringing his prick and crying out
loud enough to be heard outside. He felt the tremors inside her for
at least a full minute.

I love you
, he thought, brushing
sweaty strands off her forehead.
Even though you’re not ready
for it, yet.

Her eyes were still unfocused, her breathing
like she’d run a marathon. “W…w…”

“Wow?”

She nodded once.

Hell, yeah
.
Absolutely worth picturing
the Queen Mother to hold out as long as he could, to see her like
this with a silly grin stuck on her face and a pretty pink flush to
her fair skin. Her nips were still saluting him. He kissed them
thank you
. She shivered.

He reluctantly rolled away to drop the condom
in the trash, then gathered his pliant girl in his arms for a
well-deserved nap.

****

Why couldn’t I move? Where was I?

I opened my eyes. Right. Jacob’s bedroom,
with him wrapped around me. Man was like an octopus in his sleep. I
needed to pee.

Crap, what time was it?

My left arm was under me and asleep. I
wiggled until I could see my watch.
Crap
, almost
midnight.

“Jacob, let me go.”

He muttered something unintelligible but
didn’t wake up. I wriggled and squirmed out of his grasp, yanking
my arm free.

Oh, hell
.

And fell off the bed. He mumbled again and
rolled over.

“You’d sleep to a bomb going off.”

I gathered up my clothes—remembering to get
my bra and shirt from the dining room—and went in the bathroom.
“Great…Hairstyle by Sex.” At least the mark on my neck had started
to fade.

Searching through the drawers, I found a comb
and hurried to put my locks in some kind of order, using the toilet
at the same time. Hey, I really did have to go, and it was
efficient use of time management. Dressed again, I headed for the
front door.

Crap, the prints
.
I’d dropped them by
the table. Scooping up the envelope, I picked out the shot of the
rocks framing the horizon, set it on the table, and left.

I entered my house through the front door and
went to the refrigerator for a drink. Feet padded up behind me.

“Just getting in?” Mom asked.

Gulp
.

“Pretty much. Lost track of time at the park.
Well, goodnight.” I took my glass toward my room.

“Try not to be so late again without saying
where you’re going, Elizabeth, even if you are eighteen and out of
school.”

I ducked my head. “Yes, Mom. Won’t happen
again.” God, I was an ass
.

She let me go and I thanked my stars the
lights were off so she couldn’t see me well. Safe inside my room, I
sunk against the door and sighed. As long as I lived at home, I
couldn’t let that happen again. Worry was not good for her
condition and I would
not
be the one to add to that.

Until Mom was well again, she came first.

****

Sunday morning meant brunch with waffles.
This
Sunday had whole wheat flour waffles and organic
strawberries. Mom also had this drink she mixed up that smelled
nasty.

“What
is
that?” I asked.

“Full of antioxidants, supposedly.” She
plugged her nose, slugged it down, and shuddered.

“No whipped cream?” Dad asked.

“I’m supposed to cut down on sugar, but you
can get it, dear,” Mom said.

He shook his head. “I don’t need it.”

The healthy-type waffles were different, but
not bad. I ended up full sooner, too, and volunteered to clear the
table before she could get up.

“Elizabeth, I’m perfectly capable of washing
dishes.”

“I know, Mom. I’m just doing my part before I
go to UCLA, is all.”

She gave me a look that said
I know you’re
fibbing
, but let it go. Dad kissed her cheek and left to play
golf. She grabbed her sun hat and gloves and went out front to tend
the roses.

When I got back to my room, it wasn’t empty.
I nearly screamed in surprise.

“Leave before someone sees you!” I
whispered.

Jacob lounged on my bed. “You left without
saying goodbye.”

“You were dead asleep and I was going to miss
curfew. My mother’s out front, so you can skip over the wall.
Go!”

He scratched his chin. “Eh, don’t think so.
Mum’s not due for over an hour and I’m bored.”

I put my face in my hands. “You can’t play
games like this, Jacob.”

He stood off my bed in one fluid motion. “You
have to admit the thrill of getting caught is pretty sexy, love.”
He stalked me--him hunter, me prey--and pinned me against the
door.

“Stop it.”

His hand slid under the hem of my tee. “Make
me.”

“Jacob, please…” I closed my eyes at the feel
of his fingers playing with the edge of my bra. Already, my nipples
were begging to be touched. It wasn’t fair.

“Please, what, kitten?” he murmured in my
ear. He bit the spot on my neck that was a guaranteed turn-on, then
kissed me.

The front door closed.

He stepped back, grinning. “You’re right.
Now’s not the best time.” He escaped out my window, leaving me
breathless and horny as hell.

Son-of-a-bitch. He expected me to be mad
enough to chase him. Yeah, well…screw that! I didn’t need kisses or
sex or orgasms. Let his hand serve as company for a while…

I marched out to Mom. “You wanna go
somewhere?”

She blinked at the sudden request. “Uh…sure,
honey.”

“Great. I’ll grab my purse.”

Take THAT, Mr. Lindsey. I was not going to be
here for him to torment.

“What do you have in mind, honey?” Mom asked,
going for her car.

“I don’t know. I just don’t want to stay in
the house today. Craft fair, art show, whatever…”

She smiled. I’d given her carte blanche to
shop.

We had the love of photography in common, but
I shared more traits with Dad. I was quiet, easily kept to myself,
and organized my life to the brink of being obsessive. If you
looked in my father’s office, his stacks of papers were perfectly
lined up with the edges of his desk, the desk pad perfectly
centered with his penholder at the top left, and his supplies
always in the exact same place every time in every drawer. You
could set a clock by everything he did. And when he said he loved
you, you knew it was a big deal because it didn’t happen very
often.