A Love Letter to Whiskey
Page 47
He chuckled. “You’re right. I’d pay at least a thousand.”
“Glad we’re on the same page.”
I chewed my lip for a moment, second-guessing my next move. Hesitantly, I pulled my long hair forward over my breasts and turned the phone slowly until we were both facing the mirror. Jamie’s eyes widened as they scanned me — makeup still in place from work, hair kinked from the bun I’d had it in all day, the mirror cutting off right at the bottom of my belly button and my hair staying in place over my modest cleavage.
“Jesus,” he breathed. “You really did save the best for last.”
I watched as he swallowed, the movement highlighted by the way the shadows of his bedroom framed his jaw and throat. The fingers of my free hand played at the ends of my hair and I kept my eyes on the phone screen. I’d made the first move, and now I was waiting. I needed him to take control, and he must have sensed it.
“Pull your hair back.”
The mirror was starting to steam lightly, and I let the heat soak into my skin as I used one hand to gather my hair and pull it back, letting it fall to rest against my lower shoulders. The ends of it hit the middle of my back and chills followed as Jamie groaned.
“Now I really wish I was there.”
For a moment he just scanned me, slowly, as if he didn’t get a good enough look the weekend before. Then he scrubbed a hand hard down his face before it disappeared out of camera view and he moved a bit. It only took a second for me to realize he was taking off his swim trunks.
“What are you doing?” I asked, my voice low.
“I’m going to make you feel good,” he answered confidently. “Get in the tub.”
I couldn’t take my eyes off him, but I did as he said, switching the view on the camera to be on my face as I slowly sank into the half-full tub. The water filled the space around my body all the way up to the top of my chest and I used my toes to shut the water off as I heard Jamie fling his shorts to the side.
“Do you want to see what you do to me?”
It felt so dirty, answering his question with his face locked on mine. I nodded, and Jamie dragged his teeth along his bottom lip with force before flipping his camera. The screen filled with a close up of his abs that led down to his hard shaft, the scar on his hip that I loved so much serving almost as an arrow pointing my attention where Jamie wanted it. He ran his hand across the ridges of his abdomen and down the deep V of muscles that led to his hips before wrapping it around himself. Just seeing him hard and ready, gripped in his large hand and throbbing for a release was enough to make me moan.
“Fuck, Jamie,” I whispered, sinking farther into the water. I angled the phone to hold a better view while my free hand found my breast. I massaged it, rubbing my thumb over the nipple and arching my back into my own touch as if it was his. He stroked himself and I gasped at how big he was, how much he wanted me.
“Pretend that hand is mine,” he said, low and smooth. “Touch yourself the way I would if I were there.”
My hand immediately slipped into the water, and I rolled into the touch, mind racing with memories of how Jamie’s hands felt. I remembered the roughness of his palms, the confidence in his grip, his unquestionable knowledge of what I wanted. I let the camera follow it down between my legs, not even sure if he could see it clearly through the water as my fingers found my clit and I circled softly. We both moaned together and I knew that whatever he could see was enough.
It was one of the most intimate moments of my life.
I was sweating, working myself under the water while Jamie stroked himself closer to release. He said exactly the right things to turn me on, to work me up, and when the moment was right, he spoke the words that gave me permission to fall apart under water. We were both panting by the end, caught up in each other, in our independence and the lust that always sparked to life between us.
What ifs are cruel motherfuckers.
That night is one I always look back on, wondering if I’d played the next moments differently, if everything would have fallen perfectly into place. I guess we’re all guilty of that, of stringing a list of what ifs together, hoping that if we find the right combination it will somehow have the power to actually take us back. But the reality is I can’t go back to that night to tell myself not to be stupid, to tell myself how perfect that moment was, to smack myself into some kind of common sense.
“Be with me,” Jamie said sweetly as we both crawled between our sheets on opposite sides of the country later that night. My hair was still damp from the bath and I’d have bet money on the fact that his skin still tasted like salt from the ocean.
“I am with you.”
“No, I mean really be with me. Be my girlfriend.”
My stomach dipped and I tried not to show it, taking my time situating myself under the covers before responding. “Why do we have to put a title on it? Can’t we just… I don’t know. We’re friends, Jamie. Best friends. I love talking to you, I miss you, I like making you feel good.” I blushed a little at that last part.
“Exactly, so why does it freak you out so much to be official?”
“It’s not that it freaks me out,” I argued. “It’s just that this is the first time in my life that I’ve ever been completely on my own, Jamie. I need to just be myself for a while. You know how the last few years have been for me,” I added, and Jamie’s mouth thinned into a line, probably because he didn’t know — not really — and that was because I hadn’t let him in. “Let’s just exist, and let it go where it will go. No sense in putting pressure on either of us right now.”
“Are you hooking up with other guys?”
“What?” I shook my head. “No, of course not. I don’t even know any other guys out here.”
“That’s not the point.”
“I know, but I’m just saying.”
He huffed. “Would you be okay if I hooked up with other girls?”
My stomach dipped again, this time forcing me to sit up with it. I blew out a breath, physically ill at the thought of him with someone else but knowing that if I couldn’t be his exclusively, I couldn’t ask him to be mine, either. “Yeah. I mean, I guess. I get it. You have needs.”
“Again, that’s not the point.” He ran a hand roughly through his short, neatly styled hair. I missed it long. “I know it sounds stupid, but when I lost you three years ago, I told myself I’d never let that happen again. It’s important to me to be with you, B. But I can’t be if you don’t let me.”
“Glad we’re on the same page.”
I chewed my lip for a moment, second-guessing my next move. Hesitantly, I pulled my long hair forward over my breasts and turned the phone slowly until we were both facing the mirror. Jamie’s eyes widened as they scanned me — makeup still in place from work, hair kinked from the bun I’d had it in all day, the mirror cutting off right at the bottom of my belly button and my hair staying in place over my modest cleavage.
“Jesus,” he breathed. “You really did save the best for last.”
I watched as he swallowed, the movement highlighted by the way the shadows of his bedroom framed his jaw and throat. The fingers of my free hand played at the ends of my hair and I kept my eyes on the phone screen. I’d made the first move, and now I was waiting. I needed him to take control, and he must have sensed it.
“Pull your hair back.”
The mirror was starting to steam lightly, and I let the heat soak into my skin as I used one hand to gather my hair and pull it back, letting it fall to rest against my lower shoulders. The ends of it hit the middle of my back and chills followed as Jamie groaned.
“Now I really wish I was there.”
For a moment he just scanned me, slowly, as if he didn’t get a good enough look the weekend before. Then he scrubbed a hand hard down his face before it disappeared out of camera view and he moved a bit. It only took a second for me to realize he was taking off his swim trunks.
“What are you doing?” I asked, my voice low.
“I’m going to make you feel good,” he answered confidently. “Get in the tub.”
I couldn’t take my eyes off him, but I did as he said, switching the view on the camera to be on my face as I slowly sank into the half-full tub. The water filled the space around my body all the way up to the top of my chest and I used my toes to shut the water off as I heard Jamie fling his shorts to the side.
“Do you want to see what you do to me?”
It felt so dirty, answering his question with his face locked on mine. I nodded, and Jamie dragged his teeth along his bottom lip with force before flipping his camera. The screen filled with a close up of his abs that led down to his hard shaft, the scar on his hip that I loved so much serving almost as an arrow pointing my attention where Jamie wanted it. He ran his hand across the ridges of his abdomen and down the deep V of muscles that led to his hips before wrapping it around himself. Just seeing him hard and ready, gripped in his large hand and throbbing for a release was enough to make me moan.
“Fuck, Jamie,” I whispered, sinking farther into the water. I angled the phone to hold a better view while my free hand found my breast. I massaged it, rubbing my thumb over the nipple and arching my back into my own touch as if it was his. He stroked himself and I gasped at how big he was, how much he wanted me.
“Pretend that hand is mine,” he said, low and smooth. “Touch yourself the way I would if I were there.”
My hand immediately slipped into the water, and I rolled into the touch, mind racing with memories of how Jamie’s hands felt. I remembered the roughness of his palms, the confidence in his grip, his unquestionable knowledge of what I wanted. I let the camera follow it down between my legs, not even sure if he could see it clearly through the water as my fingers found my clit and I circled softly. We both moaned together and I knew that whatever he could see was enough.
It was one of the most intimate moments of my life.
I was sweating, working myself under the water while Jamie stroked himself closer to release. He said exactly the right things to turn me on, to work me up, and when the moment was right, he spoke the words that gave me permission to fall apart under water. We were both panting by the end, caught up in each other, in our independence and the lust that always sparked to life between us.
What ifs are cruel motherfuckers.
That night is one I always look back on, wondering if I’d played the next moments differently, if everything would have fallen perfectly into place. I guess we’re all guilty of that, of stringing a list of what ifs together, hoping that if we find the right combination it will somehow have the power to actually take us back. But the reality is I can’t go back to that night to tell myself not to be stupid, to tell myself how perfect that moment was, to smack myself into some kind of common sense.
“Be with me,” Jamie said sweetly as we both crawled between our sheets on opposite sides of the country later that night. My hair was still damp from the bath and I’d have bet money on the fact that his skin still tasted like salt from the ocean.
“I am with you.”
“No, I mean really be with me. Be my girlfriend.”
My stomach dipped and I tried not to show it, taking my time situating myself under the covers before responding. “Why do we have to put a title on it? Can’t we just… I don’t know. We’re friends, Jamie. Best friends. I love talking to you, I miss you, I like making you feel good.” I blushed a little at that last part.
“Exactly, so why does it freak you out so much to be official?”
“It’s not that it freaks me out,” I argued. “It’s just that this is the first time in my life that I’ve ever been completely on my own, Jamie. I need to just be myself for a while. You know how the last few years have been for me,” I added, and Jamie’s mouth thinned into a line, probably because he didn’t know — not really — and that was because I hadn’t let him in. “Let’s just exist, and let it go where it will go. No sense in putting pressure on either of us right now.”
“Are you hooking up with other guys?”
“What?” I shook my head. “No, of course not. I don’t even know any other guys out here.”
“That’s not the point.”
“I know, but I’m just saying.”
He huffed. “Would you be okay if I hooked up with other girls?”
My stomach dipped again, this time forcing me to sit up with it. I blew out a breath, physically ill at the thought of him with someone else but knowing that if I couldn’t be his exclusively, I couldn’t ask him to be mine, either. “Yeah. I mean, I guess. I get it. You have needs.”
“Again, that’s not the point.” He ran a hand roughly through his short, neatly styled hair. I missed it long. “I know it sounds stupid, but when I lost you three years ago, I told myself I’d never let that happen again. It’s important to me to be with you, B. But I can’t be if you don’t let me.”
