Jayson: A New Adult / Coming of Age Romance (13 page)

“
W
e suck
at keeping a professional distance, so you know what?” I say into the cellphone. I put my feet up on my desk and lean back in the leather office chair, looking up at the ceiling and picturing her smile as I leave the voicemail message. “Instead of trying to adhere to the ‘You’re my client, and I’m your contractor’ roles, I propose we go out tomorrow and just be two friends. You agreeable to that? See you tomorrow around one.” The date in question is the trip to the estate sale. When the time comes to pick her up on Saturday afternoon, I pull up to her house just as the clouds roll in. It feels like autumn, chilly and damp, a good day to curl up in bed and have pillow talk. Kitrina walks out of her house and crosses the newly refurbished front porch the guys finished yesterday, jogging down the tall flight of stairs and smiling through the passenger window at me when she gets close enough.

“What’s this about dropping the roles?”

“I want to have a good time with you today. I don’t want you to feel you have to act any certain way.” I get out of the car and walk around to her side. She’s wearing skinny jeans and a hoodie, a pair of fur boots keeping her feet warm. The sight of her elicits a low whistle out of me. “You look ready to take on the world. Good afternoon, Ms. Schneider.” I open the passenger door for her.”

“I thought we were doing away with formalities like that this evening, Mr. Zephyr,” she says with a grin. She climbs into my truck, and I close the door for her.

“Not just this evening,” I amend as I get back in the driver’s seat. I grip the steering wheel and ponder how to broach the subject, figuring I should just come right out and say it. “I can’t see us losing touch with each other, and that’s exactly what’s gonna happen if we keep on the track we’re going now. I want to be friends with you because the alternative is that in another week and a half we shake hands and part ways since I won’t be working for you anymore.”

“You make it sound like we’ll never see each other again.”

“Exactly. We won’t have a reason to see each other after that.” Raindrops patter one by one, quickly becoming a deluge. “Here comes the storm.”

“I like rainy days,” Kit replies. “Days like this I could lay in bed for hours listening to the rain.”

“You must’ve read my mind,” I chuckle. I want to reach across and hold her hand, but I can’t do that…yet. “Kitrina, I don’t need much in life, mainly because I’m too busy tending to other people’s needs. But, I think I need you around.”

I watch the afternoon sunlight slant through the wet windshield where raindrops continue to fall, and the light illuminates her graphite-gray eyes. The corners of her lips turn down, curve upwards, turn back down. “I don’t know what to say to that,” she answers.

I shrug. I know she heard what I asked for—friendship—and I know she knows what went unsaid. I reply lightly, “Just tell me I won’t have to say goodbye to you anytime soon. I suck at goodbyes.”

“Fair enough. You won’t.”

With a grin that lasts me all the way to the estate sale, the two of us embark on our journey.

I’ve never been around a woman who knows as much as Kitrina does about decorating. As we wait for the sale to start, the owners of the property allow the thirty or so buyers to walk through the home and take a look at what’s up for grabs. Kit prattles on about harmony, balance, colors, textures and lines, and I listen in pleasant amusement at how she lights up when talking about something that interests her. I’m not a rich man, but seeing her enthusiasm makes me want to buy her everything she desires.

“I’m glad you brought me here,” she whispers as the sale kicks off. She confided her budget to me, and I’m well aware she can’t afford many of the pieces, but I’m good friends with one of the owners. He’s willing to give Kit and me a twenty-five percent discount on the total cost. When Kit gushes over a multicolored sectional and matching ottomans with various patterns, I instantly bid on it. “Are you serious? I can’t let you do that,” she hisses at me in surprise.

“Relax, I’ve got this,” I quiet her. I raise my paddle again as the price goes up a little higher. I lean toward Kit and reply, “That’s what friends are for.” Rather than protesting, she erupts with quiet giggles.

“Is that why you gave me that speech?” she whispers back.

I hold up my paddle one last time, and the auctioneer yells, “Sold! To the gentleman in the red shirt in the back.”

I whisper teasingly into Kit’s ear, “I pour out my heart and soul to you about wanting to keep you in my life as my
bestie
ever, and here you are thinking it was some kind of ploy to buy you a sectional.” She laughs even harder. “You’re gonna get us kicked out of here,” I warn, chuckling. It goes on like that for the rest of the auction. I end up purchasing the sectional and some old chairs, and Kitrina gets some artwork and a dresser. All the pieces are vintage but high quality, well cared for. We get in my truck to leave after making arrangements to have the furniture delivered, and I can tell Kit is ecstatic.

“I’d say that went nicely. Is it starting to feel more like your home now? It’s my company tagline. We make it home,” I state after walking her inside her place. Kit turns to me with unshed tears clinging to her lashes. I smile as I cup her face and stare down at her. “Now, don’t get all emotional on me.”

“You have no idea how much this means to me.” She gestures around the room. “I don’t mean to turn on the waterworks. It’s more than the renovations or even the furniture. I just—Jayson, I can’t imagine saying goodbye to you, either. You know how hard I’ve tried to do exactly that? All my life I’ve played by the rules and been successful. It’s scary to think of setting aside the playbook and going against the grain.”

I drop my hands, nodding understanding. Once again she’s putting boundaries up between us. I represent going against the grain, breaking the rules, possible failure to achieve her goals. I don’t see how, but it’s what she believes. I sigh. “I’m not going to force you. Have a good night, Kit.” I turn to walk out the door, but she grabs my arm.

“Wait a minute.”

I turn around slowly, resolving this is the last time I’ll play ping-pong with her. This shit has got to stop. She’s already made it clear she’s not open to more. I should’ve stuck with friendship and kept it strictly platonic.

Kitrina grabs me by the collar of my shirt and gently tugs me closer. “What’s this?”

She kisses my lips. I’m confused. She murmurs, “When I first met you and we were talking about all the work that needs to be done around this place, I tossed in a few things that were wrong with my love life too. Now I wonder if you can renovate my heart the same way you’ve renovated my house.”

I have no idea what I’m doing. It just feels right. My fingers slip to his hand and I slowly pull him behind me up to the bedroom that’s almost complete. On the floor is the pallet I laid out in anticipation of arriving home late and wanting to go straight to bed. I didn’t plan on bringing him back up with me. But there’s a romantic quality to the spread. Pillows are piled at the top of the thick pile of blankets.

I don’t bother to turn on the bedroom light. Moonlight filtered by purple clouds shines through the French doors that lead out to the balcony. When I look back at Jayson, there’s a startled expression on his face that would be funny if I wasn’t feeling the same way. Scared, but ready.

He follows me to the foot of the covers and stands in front of me with his fingertips brushing lightly down the sides of my arms. I shiver involuntarily. Jayson glides his tongue past my lips and kisses me tenderly. My head lolls back, silky hair tumbling over my shoulder as he kisses down the other side of my neck with hot, moist pecks that summon heat below my belt. Tingles shoot through me like electricity. Outside, it thunders and I jump, knowing exactly what the sky is feeling: In need of release. “Make love to me,” I murmur heatedly.

He lowers me to the floor and kneels above me, his gaze like liquid gold spilling down my body while his nimble fingers grab the hem of my sweatshirt and draw it over my head. My chest is rising and falling rapidly, and the lush mounds in my lacy pink bra draw his attention. I almost want to cover myself back up, but I want him to see. His mouth slides over the hill to the middle of my cleavage, and his breath tickles my skin, making my nipples pebble against the lace that binds them. I can’t believe I’m doing this.

“Are you sure?” he whispers. It’s just like in my fantasies. Not knowing what normally comes next, inexperienced as I am, the dream usually stops here. This is the part where I could say no to Jayson, and I’m sure he would stop, let me play it safe.

But, as dangerous as this feels, the walls up between us have to be torn down. I’m ready for the demolition because I know what comes after the pain will be beautiful. Jayson stills, waiting for my answer, his harsh, excited breaths feathering my chest. “If I wasn’t sure, I wouldn’t be offering,” I confess. There’s a pause in which he allows me time to renege. Our eyes collide, graphite and amber. I don’t back down.

I reach behind my back and unfasten my bra, allowing my breasts to spill free, and it’s all the answer he needs. Suddenly everything changes. The controlled languid responses of a moment ago evaporate in a hiss of steam when his mouth captures a hardened nipple. A shocking pulse of pleasure arcs through me from my swollen, tender breasts to my molten core, and I gasp his name in amazement, clinging to his bulky shoulders. I expected something sensual, something predictable, not this wild abandonment that ricochets between us like vivid madness.

His tongue licks and laves the pink bud. He nibbles and suckles, all the while looking up at me. The onslaught is too much, the combination of silken tongue, rainy mouth, stormy eyes—a tornado of lust spins through me—the Zephyr effect. I drop my head back to the floor and arch my back, thrusting my chest forward into his open mouth. Then, he moves his lips to the unattended breast and my excitement doubles.

My hands clasp around the back of his head and neck. My legs make a noose around his rolling hips, while his pelvis nudges against mine in a fricative bump and grind that emulates sex. The only thing between us is our clothes. Jayson lowers me completely to the floor as his lips inch lower and lower down my writhing torso, and the sounds of ecstasy that explode past my lips are candid enough to make me blush.

His feather-light touch follows his lips down my quivering stomach to unfasten my pants. I squeeze my eyes shut and listen to the eager breaths panted into the darkness and the whisper of rain and crackle of thunder overlapping that. With my heart throbbing in my chest hard enough to break through my rib cage, I shimmy to help Jayson remove my pants. I’m left in nothing but my panties and bra. In the darkness his shadowy form sits back on his haunches and stares at me awash in moonlight.

“Goddamn, you’re beautiful,” he murmurs feverishly, easing back on top of me.

“I want to see you, too,” I whisper shyly. I don’t know why I’m whispering. This moment enclosed in shadows and sighs is our secret. We’re here in my home, the place he made new for me. The first place of my own I’ve ever had. The magnitude of that gift hits me—my gift to myself, his gift to me. Leading here, to this moment, where in the haze of desire, I can feel a new, much bolder Kitrina emerge. My exploring hands dip beneath his shirt to experience the satin of his skin while his lips return to passionately kiss mine, eliciting shivers and soft moans. I feel faint with pleasure, revived by the electricity of his touch, the heightened arousal almost too much to bear, nothing like anything I’ve ever felt before. He moves back from the V of my spread legs.

“You can see as much of me as you desire,” he promises heatedly. My face colors as he rises on his knees and tugs his shirt off, exposing the rippling muscles of his chest. And it’s not like I haven’t seen him before…just not like this...

He rises and towers over me, removing his pants. I see for the first time his corded thighs encased in boxer briefs. Jayson stares me in the eyes as he moves his work-roughened hand to grip the girth of his shaft, and he shifts his erection. A shyness I try to keep from surfacing snatches my breath, and anticipation wells up within, makes me reach for him before I lose my nerve. When he returns to my embrace, there’s no stopping the headlong rush into discovery.

We undress completely in a frenzied rush. Jayson responsibly manifests a condom from his discarded jeans, and I experience a small surge of appreciation for his foresight. There was no way he could’ve predicted this would happen, but he’s prepared. He turns his back to me and, after a second, repositions himself atop my eager body.

Now
, my inner voice compels. I tightly clench my eyes and brace myself. A slow inhale is required as he gently probes at the entrance to my inner self. We both feel his shaft abut the barrier. Jayson halts himself tensely, and when I open my eyes he’s staring down at me incredulously. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he murmurs.

“Shh, keep going,” I urge. “I don’t want you to stop.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he growls.

“Sometimes it hurts to get past what’s holding us back, but it’s the only way to move forward.”

Jayson surges forward, swift and sure, and I feel a snapping/popping sensation, a blossom of warm red pain, and then a tremor of pleasure. As fast as the hurt, the ecstasy reemerges. At first it’s a tingle of awareness, feeling the slick interior push and pull of his penetration and retreat, over and over. Gradually the hurt is assuaged by the thrill. I breathe heavily, moving instinctively. I thrust my pelvis forward to envelope him whole. There are no words. There simply is no way to describe what is happening.

Jayson Zephyr is making me, Kitrina Schneider… a woman.

S
ometimes it’s
hard to tell if I’m seeing things for what they are. I get lost in my dreams a lot. I’m not talking about the images that fill my head at night while sleeping. I’m talking about the wild, farfetched plans for the future, the borderline impossible, the make believe I want to make real. A lot of people say I’m a dreamer. I’m a twenty-year-old interior design student with a vivid imagination…at a point in my life where I think my dreams are about to start coming true. It all depends on if I can get others to see what I see.

I wake up to the sound of soft, raspy snores. A sound that shouldn’t be present, if it’s not coming from me. It takes a full minute for me to register what I’m hearing as I lie there on the pile of blankets in the incomplete bedroom. I wake up by degrees, noticing first the break in the silence, then the cozy snugness of my covers…and the very masculine arm thrown across my body. “What the…”

My eyes snap open and see the man sleeping next to me, and the memories flood back—hot kisses and feverish touches I encouraged, even returned—memories too uncharacteristic of me to be true. Only the sensual sex session of last night couldn’t have been dreamed because until last night the virginal Kitrina Schneider—me!—didn’t have enough experience to make up the details. Oh my gosh, I lost my virginity to Jayson Zephyr! “Holy shi--!” I mouth mutely, covering my lips to muffle the hissed expletive.

I can’t believe it. I can’t believe I dropped my inhibitions enough to
go all the way
, but the evidence blinks his amber eyes and stares me plain in the face.

“Good morning, sunshine,” he groggily murmurs. He stretches. His brawny arms bulge with muscles, and the sight of his chiseled abs irresistibly draws my attention. The sexy contractor emits a relaxed groan, artlessly erotic, that stirs the butterflies in my stomach. The sheet incompletely covering his bare torso slips a little lower to expose his bare upper pelvis, and my face goes crimson. A tiny, reasonable mental voice asks,
Why the hell are you blushing?
It occurs to me that I saw all of him last night, and he saw all of me. But things are different when the lights are out.

Jayson modestly eases the sheet up to cover himself and chuckles softly at my prudish reaction, which only makes me blush redder. “Good morning,” I respond nervously, averting my gaze. I’m fidgety and self-conscious, last night’s confidence disappearing in the pitiless dawn light. This is the dreaded “morning after.” I’ve heard the horror stories from countless girls—read the books, seen the movies— the moment when the romance necessary to get the goods fizzles out once the goods are got. It varies from situation to situation, but it’s a classic post-sex denouement and I sit there miserably wondering what exactly my situation with Jayson is.

I didn’t want to have to wonder after my first experience. I was always sure that by the time this happened, I’d know the guy well enough to predict his response. I didn’t factor in desire.

I sneak a glance. He’s looking at me; I force myself to keep looking at him. I don’t know what to say next. The silence swells uncomfortably, and I wonder if I misjudged his intentions the night before. To top it all off, I can hear my mother’s voice like she’s present in the room, telling me I made another bad decision. She doesn’t even sound critical, just sad. I squeeze my eyes shut and wish I could poof into thin air.

“I have to admit,” he rumbles in an amused deep voice, “after everything that happened between us—you know last night and all?—I didn’t think I’d wake up to you glowering at me like I screwed up somehow. Kinda stings the ego…‘Course, if I didn’t handle my business, just tell me. I’m completely fine with a do-over.” I can tell he’s teasing by the way he nudges me with his knee under the cover and grins at me playfully. He tugs on a strand of my hair. “Is it safe to ask what’s on your mind?”

I shrug, relaxing my furrowed brow and sheepishly sliding a hand up my arm to hug myself. With effort, I manage a smile. “Just wondering if you want breakfast. I don’t usually do this. I didn’t know if you planned on sticking around for a while or…”

Jayson makes a noncommittal sound and reaches for his jeans to get dressed, I guess in answer to my question. I take that as a “no” as I get dressed too, as if unbothered by the letdown. Last night he was gung-ho to stick around. Now, he’s rushing to leave. It’s just like I feared. In my head, Mom’s voice reiterates, “What’d I tell you? Bad decision.”
Now
she sounds critical. It’s impossible to conceal my hurt feelings, no matter how hard I try to keep my expression placid. My shoulders slump and my eyes sting with unshed tears. I snort, shaking my head at myself for being so naive.
Pull it together, Kit
. I’ll be damned if I let him see me cry or let him think he got the best of me. If he can be urbane and unfeeling, then so can I.

“I’m sure you’re more familiar with the protocol for a one-night stand than I am. Forgive me if the offer to linger wasn’t in the script,” I grumble bitterly.

“Hey, what are you talking about? Where are you going?” Jayson grabs my arm when I try to push past him.

“Showing you to the door!”

“I know my way out, thank you.”

I tremble with fury at the reminder. Putting my hands on my hips, I stare him down.

“Is that what you call what happened last night? A one-night stand? Well, since you yourself admit you don’t know the protocol for that, let me help you out. If I considered you a casual lay, I wouldn’t have spent the night,” he said, suddenly seeming very serious and concerned.

“Then, why did you?” I fire back, angry and confused.

Jayson laughs without humor and says, “Unbelievable. I’m not good with words and I don’t want to botch this. I’ll give it a shot anyway ‘cause the last thing I want is you pushing me away just because you misread the situation. Point blank, Kitrina Schneider, I like you a whole lot.” He looks uncertain as he glances away from me. “I told you before that I wouldn’t seduce you if I didn’t think there was a chance for us to actually be together. Now, I understand your qualms about us getting involved with me on account of your mom and your busy lifestyle, but…I want to be here as long as you want me here. What happened between us? That wasn’t a one-night stand for me. It’s up to you what it was for you. But don’t kick me out on my account.”

I stand there huffing, trying to catch my breath past the lump in my throat. A teardrop falls. I swipe it away, overwhelmed with feelings. He’s telling me I got it all wrong. Damn, it feels good to be wrong this time.

Jayson takes a step closer and caresses my cheek with the pad of his thumb. “Don’t cry, darling. I want to wake up next to you a bunch of more mornings. Does that make any sense to you? I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around it, myself. I’m not used to this.” He smiles lightly. I nod in agreement. No, it doesn’t make sense to me either, but I understand perfectly. I giggle in relief as I gaze into his mesmerizing honey-brown eyes. Damn, he looks good in the morning!

The sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach disappears. Jayson slowly drags me into his arms. My hands thoughtlessly slip around to the back of his neck, and our lips come together in a languid exploration as if we’ve got all day. I breathe him in and exhale my doubts. In his embrace, there’s no question about it. This feels right. “I didn’t want it to be a one-night stand,” I say in a small voice. “I didn’t want to read too much into it either.”

He kisses the tip of my nose. “Let’s get to know each other.”

“How do you propose we do that?”

He kisses me more fervently. “One day at a time. I don’t want you assuming the worst of me. I want to show you there’s more to me than this rough package you’re seeing, just like you’re more than the sheltered rich girl that first meets the eye. I don’t come with a lot of money or an Ivy League education, Kit. I’m not the kind of man your mother would pick out for you; we both know that. But, please don’t assume the worst of me. Gimme the chance to show you who I am.”

I sway in his arms to music nobody but me hears. Again I nod my understanding. There’s nothing I want to do more than to take the time getting to know the fascinating contractor that my mother disapproves of so intensely. Jayson Zephyr is turning out to be nothing like what Candace warned me about. There’s so much more to him. “I want you,” I tell him honestly.

“I’m yours for as long as you’ll have me.”

Jayson tugs me by the hand and leads me from the bedroom to the bathroom, both of us laughing for no good reason other than the joy of each other’s company. With the ugly misunderstanding out of the way, the wonder returns. The voice of doubt in my head is drowned out by lyrics to a love song, and I know for sure I’m a hopeless romantic. I sing a few lines. Jayson snickers at my terrible singing, and I punch him in the shoulder. He picks me up and kisses me, singing a few lines back to me, and he sounds just as bad. I burst out laughing.

“Is this how it’s gonna be between us? Everybody makes relationships sound like such hard work,” I say in awe. It’s fun. It’s fun to have someone to laugh and joke with.

The dawn sends buttercream sunlight flooding through the window to create the perfect setting for my mood. Jayson reaches into the shower he helped restore to turn on the water with a hiss of steam and the sweet rush of droplets falling. Within moments, we’re wrapped in a misty wonderland, caught up in the magic of desire, miles away from reality.

“I hear they’re hard, but rewarding,” he assures me about relationships. I don’t argue. What do I know? I don’t want to name what we are to each other.

He takes his time undressing me and has no trouble at all coaxing me to follow his godlike naked body into the shower. I lift my eyes to boldly look Jayson over, feeling not an ounce of shame over his nudity or mine. When he presses me against the lapis lazuli tile wall, he whispers past my lips, “This time I want to show you what it can really be like…no barriers.” I greedily flick my tongue into his open mouth, eager to learn.

“Show me.”

Tangling his hands in my slick, wet hair, he cups my face. His lips descend to mine and swamp my mouth with a torrent of kisses. He relentlessly delves into the deepest recesses to taste every inch of my mouth. I’m left feeling faint and aroused, slightly weak in the knees. It’s a wonder I’m still standing. I brace myself against the wall and keep upright by gripping the handrails of the shower. It seems to be exactly what he wants me to do because Jayson Zephyr just keeps getting wickeder. Naughtily squeezing my breasts together, he turns his attention to licking and suckling each rosy peak. His kisses are hot and wet, especially combined with the drenching spray from overhead.

There’s none of the hurry of last night to just get it done. He takes his time. His teasing tongue expertly elicits wanton moans that escalate to full-fledged screams, and I distantly wonder how any woman survives this. Waves and waves of pleasure strike. There’s so much to take in. I cling to his shoulders as he lifts me in his arms. My body is a flower spread wide so the honey is exposed. I watch him kiss lower and lower. “What are you doing?” I moan. The water beats down his back, drenches me too. My head lolls to the side, nearly drowned in enjoyment.

When he dips to his knees and places his mouth daringly to my womanhood to lap away at the sweetness, I let go of my inhibitions and cry out loudly. Jayson’s head dances between my legs as he tastes every inch, darting from my labia to my clitoris and back again. I squeeze the handrails, panting breathlessly. My hips move of their own accord. My whole body turns liquid. I thrust instinctively, chasing his velvety tongue. The sounds of my ecstasy echo through the bathroom, along with the hungry sounds of his pleasure.

Jayson lifts my legs so my thighs can rest on his shoulders, elevating me above the floor. I look down at the water swirling around the kneeling figure. There’s something so captivating about the sight that I can’t look away—not until he circles the nub of sensitive flesh nestled between the folds, not until he makes me squeeze my eyes shut with the buildup of pleasure, makes my jaw drop with amazement. Lust spirals through my torso until I explode with a climax that rips from my core and shivers through every inch of me. Holding his head against my body, I squirm and writhe with release, pouring out all of it…all of it.

“Give it to me,” he urges. Licking, nibbling, suckling. I groan in the final throes of ecstasy before slipping weakly from his shoulders. Jayson doesn’t stop. He stands to kiss my lips. I taste myself on his tongue. It seems wicked for us to do, but it’s insanely arousing.

My nipples harden as they skate over his hairy chest, and he repositions himself against me. “Wrap your legs around me,” he instructs. A peek down shows me his massive erection spearing insistently against my stomach. No man should be so big. In wonder, I delicately clasp my fingers around the turgid hardness. Jayson moans deeply, closing his eyes.

“Did I hurt you?” I ask in alarm, pulling back.

He grunts, shaking his head. He puts his hands under my butt, and he pushes his fingers over the hill to the place between my legs he just made erupt with climax. Jayson strokes me with careful, feather-light touches, causing the temperature to rise once again. The ticklish sensation sends shards of pleasure splintering through me and my head spins. I can’t tell where the shower ends and my wetness begins. All I know is that I’m drenched for him. With another grunt, Jayson easily hefts me up off the floor, and I twine my legs around him like he requested. “Guide me inside,” he tells me.

I hesitantly fondle his manhood once more, grasping around the hilt, enjoying its velvety weight in my palm, and slowly bringing my hand up and down. Jayson swears softly. His arms tremble with the strain of holding back. I suddenly realize I have the same power over him that he has over me. I can make him feel good. I can make him explode.

“You don’t want to wait?” I tease softly. I close my hand over the tip of his hardness and roll my palm around and around in tantalizing circles. Jayson’s forehead drops to my shoulder, and I hear him exhale shakily. He nuzzles my neck, kissing my throbbing pulse. A droplet of moisture bursts from the tip of his hard-on and wets my palm. I didn’t expect that but I like it. It’s a signal. I massage up and down, circling with my wrist to heighten the sensation. He nips at the side of my neck, biting down harder with each circuit.