I stepped out onto the back porch and she looked up at the sound of my footsteps. “Hey, baby.”
She nearly jumped out of her skin, then she clutched her chest as she squinted at me. Her shoulders relaxed as she swiped the back of her wrist across her sweaty brow. “You scared the hell out of me. But you’re just the person I was hoping to see. Can you help me with some of those bags of soil in the shed?”
I followed her to the shed and set down the bottle of bourbon on the workbench so I could grab a bag of dirt. She asked me to take four of the six bags to the backyard, where I dumped them around the roots of the tree. As I entered the shed to retrieve the fourth and final bag, I caught her reaching her hand down the front of her jean shorts.
“Don’t laugh. I’m so sweaty and itchy right now,” she said, her eyes rolling back as she scratched her crotch.
I laughed. “I can scratch that itch for you.”
She slid her hand out and looked up at me with enough smolder to start a forest fire. “Be my guest.”
Looking her in the eye, I reached down and undid the button and zipper on her shorts. I shoved them down her legs until she stepped out of them, kicking off her flats in the process. Grabbing her by the waist, I lifted her onto the potting bench and spread her legs.
She had shaved off the landing strip of hair that was there last night. Did she know I was coming back?
“Where does it itch, baby?”
She pointed at her clit and I cocked an eyebrow as she tried not to smile. Reaching for the bottle of bourbon, I handed it to her and she took a long swig. I laughed when she began to cough.
“Give me that,” I said, taking the bottle. “That’s good stuff. You have to treat it nicely. Like this.”
I tilted the bottle, letting a generous pour of $300-bourbon stream over her sleek pussy in smooth amber rivers. She moaned as I licked her clean then thrust my tongue inside her. The sweet, sharp bite of bourbon and the earthiness of her arousal combined to form a flavor better than any vintage liquor in existence. It was a decadent cocktail of pure adrenaline and lust. And I couldn't fucking get enough.
I drank her up, literally. I splashed her clit with bourbon and licked it up slowly, until she was begging me to let her come. When her legs began to twitch, I eased off a bit, massaging her entrance and teasing her gently until the twitching stopped. Then speeding up again to bring her to the brink.
Rinse. Repeat. Until she fucking exploded. Her walls clenching and unclenching before me was a fucking magnificent sight to see.
But I didn’t watch for too long. I needed to be inside her. Every inch of my cock seethed for the warm embrace of that plush pussy.
I slipped a condom out of the back pocket of my slacks and quickly undid the front of my pants. With one-handed stealth, I sheathed my erection, wrapping my other arm around her waist to pull her forward. I slid into her slowly enough to know that the tears on her face weren’t from any physical pain.
I sighed internally. It was the condom.
Old habits died hard.
Sliding out of her, I hissed at the sensation of the rubber stretching my taut skin as I pulled off the condom with way too much haste. As I pushed back into her, I noticed her eyes were closed now. I leaned forward and kissed her, but she didn’t return the kiss.
“What the fuck is it now?” I said, unable to control my frustration.
She pushed me away and hopped off the bench, violently snatching her clothes off the floor. “You lied.”
I looked down at my rock solid erection and shook my head.
Chapter 21
Laurel
I was in the shower, washing the dirt and bourbon off of my body, when Jack entered the upstairs bathroom. I turned away from him to face the showerhead, letting the hot water batter my chest.
“I didn’t lie,” he said, not loudly, but his deep voice echoed in the tiny bathroom. “The condom was a reflex.”
I shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t think we’re ready for it anyway,” I said, reaching for the conditioner. “We should probably wait until we’ve been living together for a while.”
Even as I spoke the words aloud, I didn’t believe them. I wished I believed them. I knew that we probably should wait until we were living together again before we started trying to have another baby. But I believed with every cell in my body that Jack and I would get our shit together pretty quickly if we found out I was pregnant. In fact, I was almost one hundred percent certain of it.
But I was tired of being rejected or being made to feel like I was irrational for wanting to be a parent again. I was tired of feeling as if my life — my womanhood — wasn’t mine. And I was just so sick and tired of fighting.
He leaned against the pedestal sink and watched me, his gaze sliding up and down the length of my body. “Yeah, we probably should wait… Or... I can come in there and impregnate you right now.”
I shook my head in dismay. I wanted to tell him to go home. I didn’t want to get in another argument with him tonight, not when we were finally getting along reasonably well. But I couldn’t.
No matter how much we hurt each other, I didn’t want to be without him. I wanted to coil myself around him so he could take me everywhere he went.
Turning around to face him, I smiled as he made no attempt to stop staring at my tits. “Jack?”
“Yeah?”
I pressed my breasts against the glass shower door and laughed as his eyes widened. “Can you—”
“Yes,” he replied.
I laughed again. “You didn’t even let me ask the—”
“The answer is yes,” he said, his gaze still locked on my tits. “I can do whatever you want.” He finally looked up at me and smiled. “What do you want, baby?”
“Can you spend the weekend here with me before I go back home?”
His expression hardened. “Why don’t you just come home with me tonight? No one expects you to leave a two-week notice for a retail job. And what do you have to pack? Just some clothes and toiletries. You can leave those here for the next time you visit. Just come home with me tonight, baby.”
He was right. There was nothing at my mom’s house I needed to bring back. But there were still a few things I needed to do. First and foremost, if I was moving back to Hood River with Jack, I needed to talk to Dylan. I had to let him know that if he decided to come out to his mom, he would always have a place to stay at my mom’s house.
I also had to say goodbye to Isaac. I couldn’t leave without thanking him for everything he’d done for me. Even if he insisted he got way more out of the deal than I did, due to the free gardening labor he got out of me during our lessons.
And I was pretty sure I was cock-blocking Isaac by hanging around so much. I had a feeling — based on the way his phone was constantly vibrating with phone calls and texts — that he was neglecting quite a few former flings.
“I can’t. I still need a day or two to at least quit my job in person and talk to Dylan,” I began, as Jack continued to stare at my breasts. “How about this? You can head back to Hood River tomorrow morning. I can tie up all my loose ends and head home tomorrow, late afternoon or evening.”
His hand traced circles over the steamy glass where my nipples were pressed against the other side of the sliding door. “Sounds perfect. I have tomorrow off. I can get everything ready for you at home.”
I wiggled my eyebrows. “Are you going to light some candles and put on some Kenny G?”
He laughed as he shook his head. “Nope, but I’ll probably move some of the beer in the fridge to the cooler in my office. And tell my secret girlfriend she can go home.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “You’re asking for it.”
“And I’m sure you’ll give it to me.”
I flashed Jack my best seductive smile as I slid open the shower door and stepped out, water pooling around my feet on the gray tile. Grabbing a towel off the robe hook on the wall, I dropped it onto the floor between us and got down on my
knees.
He reached forward, tilting his head to the side as he slid his thumb into my mouth. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
I bit his thumb playfully and he smiled as he pulled it out of my mouth. I quickly undid the button and zipper on his slacks, then looked up at him as I slowly slid down his boxer briefs. His large hand skated over my wet hair and clasped the crown of my head as I lowered my head to face his cock.
Such a perfect specimen. Just the sight of it flooded me with adrenaline and made my pussy throb with longing.
Covering my teeth with my lips, I slowly took him into my mouth. My jaw widened as his cock slid over my tongue until the tip kissed my throat. My eyes watered as my gag reflex kicked in, then I slowly slid him out.
“Oh, fuck,” he whispered, as I swirled the tip of my tongue around the head, teasing the sensitive ridge.
Curling my fingers around the base of his cock, I stretched the skin taut as I worked up a good amount of spit. The saliva dripped onto his cock and I tightened my grip on the base as I took him into my mouth again. I alternated between bobbing my head quickly then slowly.
With my free hand, I gently cupped and massaged his balls as his grip on my head tensed. He pushed himself deeper inside my mouth, tugging my hair back and then pushing my head forward as tears streamed from my eyes. I pump my fist up and down the base of his shaft as the tip prodded my throat relentlessly. Finally, he groaned as he pulled his cock out of my mouth. Leaning my head back, I closed my eyes and opened my mouth wide as he came on my face and in my mouth.
I followed Jack to his truck when he left the next day. The morning breeze reminded me of the times we visited the coast before Junior was born. Maybe we could take a trip to the beach before the summer ended in six days.
I laid my hands on his chest as I leaned against the driver’s side door. “We should buy a beach house. We both love visiting the coast in the summer. A beach house might be something for us to look forward to.”
Jack grabbed my waist as he looked down at me. “I think we should try living together in our own house again before we start thinking about summer houses.”
I rolled my eyes. “It was just a suggestion.”
He kissed me long and slow, then he pulled away and asked, “Are you sure you don’t need me to stay with you and we can head home together?”
“I’m fine,” I replied, leaning in to plant a kiss on his sandpaper scruff. “I just have to quit my job and put up some wire mesh in the backyard. I’ll be done in a few hours, then I’ll be on my way.”
Jack grabbed the handle on the door. “I love you, pixie.”
I blew him a kiss and waved as he pulled out of the driveway.
When I arrived at Sunny’s to quit my job, Dylan was ringing up a customer. I pretended to peruse the display of hanging houseplants, checking around corners for signs of Vera. When the customer finally left, I approached the counter.
Dylan flashed me a warm smile. “What are you doing here on your day off?”
I glanced around to see if Vera was nearby, but I didn’t see her anywhere. “I’m moving back in with Jack tonight. I just came back to quit and to remind you that you can stay at my mom’s if you ever need a place to stay.”
He shook his head. “Thanks for the offer, but, honestly, it’s just not going to happen. I’ll probably work here for the rest of my life.”
My heart broke for him. “Come on. Look at that sunshine,” I said, nodding toward the storefront windows. “It’s a beautiful day for telling your mom how much you love sucking cock.”
He gasped. “I’m a virgin!” he whisper-shouted at me.
I winked at him. “Sure.”
He rolled his eyes. “Hand jobs don’t count.”
“Oh, my God. Are you serious? You really are a virgin?”
He flashed me an awkward smile. “I know. It’s completely pathetic.”
“It is not!” I insisted, feeling awful for teasing him. “It’s beautiful. It means you can save yourself for someone you love.”
He chortled. “I can’t tell her yet. I’m just not ready.”
“That’s okay. My mom’s house will still be there when you are ready.”
“Thanks.”
Vera took my resignation with grace, and even offered to give me my part-time position back should I ever move to Portland for good. Then, she printed out my final paper paycheck. I deposited the money into my secret checking account before I headed back to my mom’s house to finish putting up the galvanized mesh in the garden.
When I pulled into the driveway at my mom’s house, I saw Isaac mowing his front lawn. I suddenly became very anxious as I anticipated telling Isaac that I was moving back home. It was all happening so fast.
I supposed this was sort of the way Dylan must feel about the prospect of quitting his job at the garden store. I felt guilty that I was leaving Isaac without anyone to help him with his garden, even though he’d done fine by himself before I arrived.
As I made my way up the front path toward the porch, Isaac spotted me and his face split into a beaming, eye-crinkling smile. Something weird was happening inside me. It felt like high school graduation, and I was going to a different school than all my friends. I wanted to cry even though I was also grateful for everything I’d learned and excited to move on.
Going to a different college didn’t work out well for my friendship with my high school best friend, Taylor. She lived on the coast now and we hadn’t spoken in years. Realistically, this was probably the last time I would ever see Isaac without Jack around.
The loud rumble of the lawn mower cut off and Isaac walked right up to the cedar fence separating my driveway from his. “Are you okay?”
I sniffed loudly, thankful that I was able to stop actual tears from falling. “I’m fine. Just a little sad. I just quit my job at Sunny’s. I’m moving back home tonight. I just have to get that galvanized mesh set up, then I’m heading back.”
Chapter 22
Isaac
“Going back so soon?” I asked, trying not to let the tone of my voice give away what I was thinking.
I wanted Laurel to be happy, and if working things out with her husband was what would make that happen, I was prepared to let her go. Not that she was mine to keep. But something about the way her body tensed whenever she talked about him made me worry.
She nodded. “Yeah, everything’s fine.”
I tried not to let my disappointment show, but I’d always had a bad habit of wearing my heart on my sleeve. And right now, my heart was crushed. And the regretful look in her brown eyes told me this had not gone unnoticed.
My thoughts drifted back to two days ago, when Laurel helped me harvest the last cucumbers and eggplants of the season.
* * *
Laurel grabbed the hair tie around her wrist and used it to pull her long, blonde hair into a messy bun, then she looked at my hair and laughed. “Your hair is always falling out of those damn hair ties,” she said, sounding out of breath. “You should cut it. At this point, you’re just failing at the man-bun.”
I reached up and touched the bun on the crown of my head and it fell apart as the hair tie slipped out. “My hair is just too soft and silky to be contained,” I said, bending over to grab the hair tie. “Besides, I don’t like the sound of hair clippers, and I sure as fuck don’t feel like explaining that to a barber.”
The buzzing sound the clippers made as they skimmed over my scalp, reminded me of my first haircut in boot camp. But the thwacking noise the clippers made when they were turned on and off, reminded me of the crack of a bullet that just missed your ear by inches.
Due to the misinformation in TV and movies, most people didn’t know that bullets fired from fairly close range will make a crack or snapping sound — from the sonic boom — when they fly past you. And I didn’t feel like explaining that or my aversion to the sound to a random barber.
The uncomfortable look on Laurel’s face when I explained this to her made me wonder if I??
?d opened up too much. I’d been doing that a lot lately since Laurel and I began working in the garden together. Like the time we were feeding the chickens in the coop behind my garage and I shared the story of the chicken coop in Ghormach.
My unit had been providing ground support for airstrikes in the Ghormach District, one of the areas in Afghanistan most active with poppy cultivation. We were sweeping the area surrounding the strike zone. Trying to minimize casualties by making as many arrests and clearing as many civilians as possible prior to the strike. I, being a Marine scout sniper, was hanging back on a rooftop with my trigger-finger flexed and ready to go on my M40A5 rifle, when I caught some movement in a chicken coop.
The coop was no more than forty feet from where the corpsman attached to our unit was enjoying a drink from his canteen. I radioed to Helms, the commander on the ground, that I was fairly certain we had a stowaway in the chicken coop behind the house they’d just cleared. I requested permission to hit the sneaky little fucker.
The XO on the ground joined in the convo, confirming to Helms that the chicken coop had not been cleared. The XO radioed the spotter, and Helms told me to stand down until I received confirmation that the movement I saw was or was not a civilian.
Almost as soon as Helms finished telling me to cool my heels so the spotter could confirm the target, I saw the tip of a rifle slowly emerging through the chicken wire, pointed at the corpsman. Without hesitation, or permission, I fired, downing him on the first shot.
When I watched them drag the man’s lifeless body out of the coop, rifle still slung across his chest and part of his head blown off, I felt nothing but pride at my marksmanship. A few minutes later, the corpsman disappeared inside the coop then came out holding up a dead chicken by its bloody, broken wing. I felt sick to my stomach.