"Good fucking hell, this feels so good."
She pushes back, rakes her fingers through her hair, and then she stares down at me, her blue eyes sparkling like sapphires. "Take off your pants."
"You're really getting off on this bossy thing, aren't you?" I slip my hand underneath her ass to unzip my jeans.
She holds up her thumb and finger an inch apart. "Just a little."
"Fine by me." I wiggle my jeans and boxers down as far as I can get them with her sitting on me. Then my cock springs free, and she gasps from the contact.
I reach around her to unhook her bra, but she grasps my fingers before I can unfasten the clasp.
"I have to keep some boundaries," she says, struggling for air. "And I've already crossed a line with the dress."
I groan in frustration, but remember I agreed to this.
"Fine." I tuck my hands under my head and rest back. "Have your way with me then."
She angles her head to the side and her expression fills with uncertainty. "Do you... have something?"
"You know I do." My gaze remains fixed on her. "It's in my pocket."
"In the front pocket or the back?"
"The back." A lazy smile sprawls across my face.
She shakes her head. "You're so enjoying this, aren't you?"
"Enjoying what?" I ask innocently.
She playfully scowls at me. "The thought that I'm going to have to reach back there and feel your ass to get it."
"Now, why would I enjoy that?"
"I don't know. Maybe you like your ass getting fondled."
I glare at her and she grins wickedly. Then her hand dives underneath me, and she feels around until she finds the condom in my back pocket that I solely tucked in there because I knew this was going to happen tonight--it's becoming a Friday night routine.
She pinches my ass as she withdraws her fingers, making me flinch. "Don't pretend you didn't enjoy that." She smirks then tears open the wrapper with her teeth.
I don't deny it. I enjoy everything when it comes to being with Clara. I don't tell her that, though; otherwise she'll be out the door before I could even get my pants up.
She rolls the condom on my cock then moves her panties to the side and starts to lower herself onto me. Meeting her halfway, I raise my hips and thrust deep inside her. She gasps with her head tipped back and her chest arched out.
It's the goddamn sexiest thing I've ever seen.
Our hips grind together as we move rhythmically. Our skin dampens, and our breathing turns ragged. My body pleads for more.
"Jax," she cries out, her fingernails piercing my chest. "Harder."
She's usually a little more reserved during sex. Having been with only one other guy before I met her, she told me she was clueless in bed. It must be the role playing bringing it out of her.
Giving her what she wants, I grab her waist, grip her tightly, and pound her hard until she comes apart in my arms. My eyes close as my body gives one last jerk, and I push deep inside her.
I momentarily drift away from reality, wishing I could stay there forever.
When I open my eyes again, she's lying on top of me with her head tucked underneath my chin. My heart is pounding in my chest and I know she can feel it.
Knowing she'll only remain this way for a few seconds longer, I seize the opportunity to kiss the top of her forehead. "That was good," I whisper, drawing patterns on her back as I stare at the ceiling.
Moments later, Clara shifts off me to stand up. She bends over to scoop up her dress and slips back into it while I discard the condom and pull my jeans back up.
"So, now what do we do?" She bites on her thumbnail as she watches me pull my shirt over my head.
"We could do it again," I suggest as I stretch out my arms and legs.
She laughs like I'm joking, but I'm not. "No seriously." She checks the time on her watch. "I still have an hour before I have to go home. We could go get some ice cream or something. That is, as long as you're sober enough to drive."
At twenty-one years old, I find it odd that Clara has a curfew. Sometimes she tells me she has to go home early because of work, while other times she doesn't give a reason. Up until a month ago, I had to leave early too, because my sister Avery had been working night shifts and needed me to watch Mason. It makes me really curious what awaits Clara when she returns home.
While she rarely speaks of her home life, I know that she lives with her mother, and that her father passed away a couple of years ago. I've also heard funny stories about her quirky neighbors but that's about it.
"I had half a beer." I hop off the desk and ruffle my hair into place. "Sex and ice cream, huh? Sounds like a pretty good night."
"See, that's why I like you." She grins as she combs her fingers through her hair. "Anyone else wouldn't have wanted to leave the party to go get ice cream, but you totally get it."
"Get what exactly?"
"My ice cream fetish."
"Of course I do." I desperately want to hold her hand as we head for the door. The urge is so intense I have to ball up my hands to stop myself from touching her. "Just like I now get your bossy fetish."
"Yeah, thanks for helping me discover that one." She flashes me another heart-stopping grin as she reaches for the doorknob.
"I can't wait to explore more of your fetishes," I say a little too loudly while she's opening the door.
She shushes me, pointing a finger at me. "That's secret information right there, so be careful who you tell."
I drag my fingers across my lips. "You know my lips are sealed."
"Yeah, I know." Her posture relaxes. "Sorry if I've seemed a little bitchy lately. Things at home have just been intense."
"Want to talk about it?" I ask as we enter the packed hallway.
She swiftly shakes her head with her attention on the stairway. "No. I deal with it enough while I'm there, so why would I ever want to talk about it?"
"To let some steam off?" It's more of a question since I have no clue what the problem is. I wish I did, though. Wish she'd just open up to me.
Again, she shakes her head.
She remains quiet until we make it out of the house. Then we both let out a breath of relief as the silence and warm, humid night encompasses us.
"As hot as it is out here," she fans her hand in front of her face as she trots down the porch stairs, "it's like ten degrees cooler than the inside of that house."
"That's all part of the partying experience." I follow her off the porch, and then we hike up the driveway toward where my Jeep is parked.
"I've never been one for partying."
"Me neither."
"Because of your mom?" she wonders, staring at the road in front of the house.
I nod, my jaw tightening at the mention of my mother.
The gravel crunches under our shoes as we fall into an awkward silence. She makes a quick stop at a car so she can retrieve her phone and wallet.
When she closes the door, she sputters an apology, "I'm sorry. I know you hate talking about your mom out loud."
"It's okay." We reach the Jeep and I open the passenger door for her. "I never would have told you about her if I couldn't handle you bringing her up."
She looks remorseful as she swings around me. She must feel really terrible too, because she ends up giving me a quick kiss on the cheek.
"Thanks for tonight," she whispers then ducks in and closes the door.
A hint of a smile touches my lips as I round the back of the car. I hop in, rev up the engine, and then maneuver past the cars toward the road.
Clara retrieves her phone from her pocket. "I just need to text my ride and tell them I'm going home with someone else," she explains as her fingers hammer against the buttons.
"Dana?" I wonder as I drive toward the one ice cream parlor in town that's open this late.
She shakes her head. "No... Lyle gave me a ride here from work."
"Oh." I frown, feeling more jealous than I probably should. She's not mi
ne. She can ride with whomever she wants.
"Don't be like that. Lyle and I are just friends." She reads me like an open book. "He had the same shift as me tonight and offered me a ride so I didn't have to take the bus."
"We're just friends." As soon as I say it, I wince, wanting to retract the words. "Sorry, can we just pretend I didn't say that?"
"As long as you'll stop being a weirdo about me getting a ride with Lyle. I don't think of him like that. I don't even find him attractive."
"But you find me attractive." I waggle my brows at her. "In fact, you find me so attractive that you're going to buy me cookie dough ice cream."
She sets her phone down on the dash. "How on earth does that prove I'm attracted to you?"
I shrug as I turn into the parking lot of the dimly lit ice cream store. "It doesn't, but I want you to buy me ice cream so I won't feel so cheap and used after the dirty stuff you did to me tonight." I flash her a lopsided grin as I park the car.
"After all the dirty stuff I did to you tonight?" She opens the door to get out. "Yeah, because you played no part in it."
I elevate my hands in front of me. "I was just lying there on the desk when you reached around and grabbed my ass."
"Jax," she hisses as a group of guys stroll by, "not so loud."
"Why? You shouldn't be embarrassed. Any guy would love for you to grab--"
She leans over the console and covers my mouth with her hand. The guys outside have stopped to listen, their attention causing Clara to boil with irritation. "You don't need to tell the whole world."
"Why? No one cares." My lips brush against her palm as I speak. "You don't know those guys over there, so what does it matter?" I don't want to fight with her. I only want her to say it, whatever it is that's stopping her from admitting she likes me.
"Because it does." An exhale eases from her lips then she lowers her hand from my mouth. "Now, can we please, pretty please, go get some ice cream? My treat. I'll even have them put extra cookie dough on yours."
I briefly consider refusing to get out of the car until she confesses her secret, but then a silent plea floods her eyes. It's the same look that got me into this situation to begin with--where I'm her friend/fuck buddy when really I want to be her friend turned lover.
"Fine," I surrender, opening the door. "But I'm only getting out for the extra cookie dough."
She smiles, then jumps out of the Jeep, and shuts the door. We cross the parking lot and stroll into the store. My phone starts vibrating as I'm scanning the menu, so I fish it out of my pocket. Tapping a few buttons, I open my texts while breathing in the sugary smelling air. Man, there's something about ice cream after sex that makes my mouth salivate.
Clara moves up to the counter to order while I check my texts. I quickly realize I have a new voicemail not a text. Strange, since I didn't even hear my phone ring.
The call was from an unknown number, but I don't think too much about it until I play the message and hear her voice.
"Hey, Jax, baby," my mother says in the high-pitched tone she uses whenever she's stoned. Even after not speaking to her for over two years, I still tense at the sound of her voice. "I was just calling to see how you were... see how stuff was going in North Carolina..." I hear rustling in the background then the bang of a door shutting.
"Okay, look." Her voice rings with panic. "I need you to come home. I've gotten myself into a bit of trouble with the wrong people and if I don't give them money, things are going to end badly. Jax, please pick up the phone. I know I've been a really shitty mother, but I'm still your mother and I--" Shouting cuts her off. "Jax help me. Marcus is going to k--." It's the last thing she says before the line goes dead.
I move the phone away from my ear and gape at the screen. Even with all the messes my mother has gotten herself into over the years, I've never heard her that worried. I don't want to care about what's going on, but I find my mind racing with different scenarios. All centered around one main thought, based on the last thing she said. She didn't fully get out what she was going to say, but my mind fills in the blanks.
Marcus is going to kill me.
Chapter Two
Jax
For the next several seconds, time passes by in slow motion. I have no clue who Marcus is, but my bet is he's a drug dealer my mom pissed off, maybe enough to kill her.
As Clara's paying for the ice cream, I manage to snap out of my trance and dial back the number my mother made the call from. My pulse quickens when the operator announces the line has been disconnected.
"What the hell?" I mutter, checking the time and date of the missed call.
Yesterday morning. God dammit! I really need to stop ignoring my phone so much.
"Is everything okay?" Clara asks as she hands me a heaping cup of cookie dough ice cream. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
I distractedly take the ice cream from her, still clutching my phone. "Heard from one is more like it."
Her gaze falls to my phone. "Who was it?"
I look from my phone to the ice cream then at her. Her expression carries compassion, her lips are slightly swollen from our kissing, and her hair is tangled from me running my fingers through the strands. I want to focus on her and forget about the call. Want to live in the present, not the past. But my mother's fearful voice is making it difficult to think about anything else.
Jax, help me.
"It was my mom," the words slip from my lips.
Clara's eyes pop wide. "Your mom was just on the phone? The mom you haven't spoken to since you moved here?"
"Well, it was only a voicemail, but yeah." Not knowing what else to do, I shovel a spoonful of ice cream into my mouth.
Clara absentmindedly stirs her ice cream as she studies me. "What did she want?"
The cashier is eavesdropping on the conversation as he refills the sprinkles, so I take Clara by the elbow and steer her toward the door. Once we're outside, I let go of her and jerk my fingers through my hair.
"She said she needed help. That she's in trouble with some guy named Marcus. That he's going to kill her. Then the line went dead." I blow out a stressed breath. "I know I shouldn't be worried--she doesn't deserve my worry--but I am."
"Jax, she's your mom, and you're a good person, so of course you're going to worry." She pauses. "Do you care if I listen to the message? Or is that too personal?"
I easily hand over the phone. I trust her, despite the fact that she doesn't trust me yet. She puts the phone up to her ear, and her skin pales as she listens to the message.
"I think you should call the cops," she says as she hands me back the phone.
"And tell them what?" I start across the parking lot toward my car. "I'm not even sure what happened exactly. I tried to call my mom back but the line's been disconnected. That's normal, though. When I was growing up, I hardly ever had phone service because she'd spend the bill money on drugs."
"Couldn't you call someone back home to go check on her?"
"I don't talk to anyone back at home anymore."
"You could always file a missing person's report. Then the police at least have to go look at the house, especially if someone is after her." She stuffs a spoonful of gooey ice cream into her mouth.
"I doubt they'll check on her, even with the voicemail." I pat my pockets for my keys then open the door for Clara. "Not just because she's an adult and there's a certain amount of time she has to be missing, but because the police are way too aware that she pulls this kind of shit all the time."
My mother has made it habit of vanishing over the years. Avery and I used to file reports when she was missing for more than a few days, but when I reached the age of about sixteen, I realized it was pointless. The police had stopped putting effort into finding a woman who had countless misdemeanors, including drug possession, prostitution, and assault. Besides, she always came back eventually.
She'll come back again.
She always does.
But she sounded so scared. My mother rare
ly sounds terrified since she can't usually feel fear through the heavy amount of drugs in her system.
"I have an aunt that lives in the same town," I tell Clara as she slides into the torn leather seat of the Jeep. "I haven't talked to her in forever and she absolutely hates my mother, but maybe I could call her and convince her to go check on things."
"I still think you should call the police first and see if they'll do it." She straps the seatbelt over her shoulder. "After that message, it'd be better for the police to check up on her."
I sigh heavily. I've already falsely reported her missing over a dozen times. Worried or not, the idea of calling the police is embarrassing. Still, after hearing her message, I'd be a shitty son if I didn't. "Fine, I'll give it a try."
"Do it as soon as you can." Clara smoothes her thumb between my brows, erasing the worry lines. "So you don't have to worry." Her eyes widen at the awareness of her intimate gesture and she hastily withdraws her hand. "I should get home. It's getting late."