Chapter 3

3

FIONA

W hen Jamie stumbles in the living room, I dart forward to steady her, yelping when I'm knocked down onto the couch. Jamie lands on top of me with an oomph, followed by a stream of breathless giggles—giggles that light my chest on fire.

Her long, blonde hair is cast across us both, covering most of her face from view as she splays out across me, legs dangling over the armrest, head rolling near my shoulder. I brush some strands away from her face, my own aching from the stretch of my smile as I tuck the strands behind her ear, fingertips skimming across the sensitive skin behind it.

Her hazel eyes find mine, and we gaze at each other in the light coming from one of the lamps I never turn off. Her giggles slow until they stop altogether, and all that permeates the air is her breath and mine. Merging as one in the few inches that separate us.

Her hand clamps onto my bare thigh, and my eyes roll back as I fight for control. For reason. Jamie takes that as a welcome move, slowly leaning in until our noses brush. She drops her forehead to mine, clutching my thigh tighter to keep her balance.

My fingers delve into her hair as I cradle the back of her neck, keeping her up, even as her body sways. And it physically hurts to pull away from her as the scent of alcohol makes itself known. "Jamie," I breathe softly. Her body tenses.

"Please," she whispers. " Please, Fiona. "

She whines.

My eyes flutter closed as I swallow. Honestly, I'm not fucking meant to have this much restraint. Especially not when Jamie is finally in my fucking lap, wanting and whining and saying fucking please.

My other hand finds her waist, and I squeeze, even as I pull her away from my mouth. She lets out a soft whimper, and I grit my teeth on a wince.

"Jamie." I try to soothe my refusal with facts. With common sense. Because even I need a shot of that right about now. "You're drunk."

"Know what I'm doing," she argues.

"That may be, but it's not right." I force my eyes open, meeting her bloodshot, hazel ones to find her pupils have opened in the shadows, and fuck me if I don't wanna sink into them.

"Why?" Her hands move up to my bare arms, squeezing my biceps. My head rolls between my shoulders. She's not making this fucking easy. But I can't make her stop—call me selfish. Fucked up. Lonely and in desperate need of something normal.

"Why?" I want to laugh. I really do. "You're drunk, Jamie." I enunciate each word carefully. "That is why." With a sad smile, I trace her bottom lip with my thumb, over the split in the middle. My breath catches when she darts her tongue out to taste my finger. I hiss, but I don't pull away.

"You wouldn't even be here if you weren't," I remind her—and myself.

With her tongue wrapped around my thumb, she mumbles, "But I can now."

"What?" I ask, confused.

"Can touch you drunk," she clarifies and, well, that fucking hurts. I pull away with a frown. She senses the mood switch because her eyes widen and she shakes her head, a pathetic attempt to clear the haze of drunkenness.

Good luck with that, little one, I snark inside my mind.

She swallows thickly. "When I'm drunk, M'not scared," she says like that explains everything, eyes heavy on me—focused, as much as she can be.

"Not scared of what?"

"Of you."

I frown. "You're scared of me?" I don't like that… I don't like that at all. My chest constricts. But Jamie's shaking her head again, looking frustrated.

"I'm shy, " she admits quietly. I arch a brow, tugging on a lock of her hair as I wait for her to continue. "Never been able to be who I am, n'do what I want." She sucks in a breath. "Wanna touch you, n'kiss you. But—I can't when I can think. It's too much. This way… I don't think. M' not thinking. Just wanting—you."

Warmth blooms in my chest, probably for all the wrong reasons. But I sigh, smiling softly anyway when she raises her head to meet my gaze. "Can I have you?"

"Shit, Jamie." I groan, sucking my bottom lip into my mouth. "It's not right. I want you to want me sober. " I try to plead with her—with myself. But fuck, hearing her finally admit her feelings after long-lost months of beating around the bush—no pun intended—is a bit disorienting.

But are her drunken words sober thoughts?

"Always want you," she says, eyes wide once more as she leans closer, muddling my train of thought. "Just so scared," she whispers, a hair's breadth away. My fingers clamp down on her nape, stilling her descent and eliciting a gasp. Her eyes flutter closed, blonde lashes skimming the soft, bruised hollows beneath. Her lips are parted in invitation.

And I fucking stare at her. At Jamie. Here, on my lap. Begging. Waiting… for me.

The woman who started as an innocent little flirt at work years ago. A fun time. One I began looking forward to with every shift, disappointed when it was one she didn't show for. Short bursts of innocuous conversations that eventually bled into revelations and admissions before she'd scurry off, forever the perfect example of blatant awkwardness—but never with anyone else. Only me.

And then, she was just… gone. I was alone. And then, he happened, and my whole fucking world flipped on its axis.

As some twist of providence would have it, we both moved to the same place once again. A circumstance of alignment—and I can't deny the overwhelming evidence that maybe Jamie and I were meant to cross paths again, with these slightly older but more experienced— more anguished —versions of ourselves.

Though, it seems Jamie still hasn't been able to truly find herself the way one should be able to.

My fingers fist, drawing her head back to expose more of her throat. I skim my nose along the curve of her jaw, relishing in the rapid thump of her pulse beneath her skin.

Is it wrong of me to be delighted to be her first? To show her just how good I can make her fucking feel?

"Fiona." She utters my name on a raspy moan, and I'm fucking done for.

"Tell me you know what you're doing." I spit the words through gritted teeth against her cheek. Her scalp probably stings from the force of my grip, but I don't care. I need to know I'm not taking advantage—not entirely, anyway. That she's cognizant.

"I do, I do. Fiona, please." She whispers the plea.

I swallow, squeezing my eyes shut as I rip my face away from hers before opening them to search her hazel irises. They look clearer, if only slightly, now tinged with the haze of want and lust.

Or maybe I'm just seeing what I want.

And I'm going to fucking burn for it.

"Goddamnit," I growl as I yank Jamie closer by her hair and slam my mouth to hers. She gasps as our teeth clack, my lips hard as I mold them over hers. They have their own pulse-point from the force of contact—and it's that radiation that spurs me on.

With her hair in my fist, I pull her head back as I drag my mouth over her chin and down her throat, scraping my teeth across her skin until her pale flesh blooms red. Her chest is heaving, pushing her breasts against me with every inhale. I reach up, cupping one and running my thumb over her nipple, relishing in her gasp, in the way it begins to harden under my prolonged touch.

I raise my index finger to pinch the bud hard enough to elicit heat before sliding my palm up over her sternum and the column of her throat. "Look at me, Jamie," I say as I press my thumb beneath her chin.

Her eyelids flutter open, and when our gazes meet, the blush on her cheeks darken. I smirk as I drag my fingers back and forth over her jaw, down her neck, and back up again, just to feel her heartbeat, her breath.

So vibrantly alive.

"You're beautiful."

She winces and glances away, her throat bobbing with a swallow. I frown, dropping my hand from her hair to rub my palm up and down her spine—a touch she immediately melts into.

"What's wrong?" She shakes her head, lips pinched. My eyes narrow slightly—and then, it hits me. "Don't like compliments, do you, little one?"

"Little one?" she parrots, eyes opening wide, that blush a lasting mark.

I quirk a brow, watching the display of emotions dance across her face, so exposed and vulnerable. Flashing between what appears to be confusion and disagreement, elation, and something like hope.

I wrinkle my nose as I lean in to nudge it against hers. "It suits you." Then, I brush my lips against hers, slower this time. They're soft, even with the small split in the middle—which I trace with the tip of my tongue. The faintest tang of copper lingers on my tastebuds as I grab her chin to force her mouth open.

My tongue delves inside, a soft, slow stroke against the inside of her mouth, over her own tongue, which dances eagerly to get a taste of mine. My stomach flips as the kiss deepens, and I swear, I can't get deep enough inside her.

Jamie's hands claw at my shoulders, blunt nails digging in as she drags me closer. Saliva smears between us, hot and sticky and perfect.

With one arm wrapped around her waist, I twist, pushing her back on the couch. She gasps, which then spills into a giggle as my fingers tighten. I pull back slightly, eyes dancing as I do it again. She squirms below me, hips wriggling as I tickle her.

"S-stop! Oh!" She squeals when I dig in harder, and the sound of her laughter melts my insides. My face hurts from smiling so hard, my chest alight with something akin to elation.

"Ticklish?" I ask, smirking. Jamie reaches up to smack my arm before letting it flop back on the couch, above her head. Her grin makes her eyes scrunch closed even more, and that, along with her flush and the spit glistening on her lips… I've never seen a better sight.

I reach down to drag my finger over the exposed sliver of skin from where her shirt has ridden up. Her stomach rolls beneath my touch, but I don't stop. I skate them higher, pressing my palm against her, under her shirt. When I reach her bra, she nods her head. I lean down to kiss her as I drag it over her head, only breaking our connection to pull it off.

Before I get the chance to do it myself, Jamie's unclasping her bra and dragging it off her arms, letting it drop to the floor. Her chest is exposed, pale skin flushed all the way up her throat. A few freckles mark her, and I have to taste each one.

When my mouth makes contact, her back bows, and unsteady hands clutch at my shoulders. After kissing one, I look up, finding her eyes closed, and her lips parted as small, uneven breaths puff between them. I drag one of her hands up to my hair, and she bites her bottom lip.

"Touch me, Jamie," I tell her, knowing she needs direction. To be told she can.

She nods shakily, fingers delving into my curly hair hesitantly. I hum softly, loving the feel of her touch as I kiss each freckle I come across as I make my way across her chest.

When my teeth graze her nipple, she bucks, thrusting her breast into my mouth. I chuckle as I pull away, teasing her with a feather-light touch. She squirms, face contorted and muscles rigid.

I dart my tongue out, eyes never leaving her face, needing to capture every moment of this. Every moment of her release. She shudders, fingers tightening and tugging at my scalp. I pull away, and she huffs, eyes flashing open, hazy and glistening. " Please. "

My muscles contract, and my core throbs. "Fuck, Jamie." I've never heard someone just fucking beg for it like she does. I suck her nipple into my mouth, laving it with my tongue before pinching it between my teeth just to feel her quake. I suck marks into her skin as I make my way to her other breast until her chest is slick with trails of spit and red marks I hope stay through the night, so when she wakes, she's reminded of what happened between us.

So she can't pretend. Can't forget… me.

I dip my tongue in the shallow well of her navel, grunting when she yanks harshly on my hair, drawing my head up. When our gazes collide, all the breath in my lungs—which isn't much—escapes in a shaky exhale.

Jamie is a fucking vision below me. One I never thought I'd have outside a few, rapacious dreams.

But here she is. Wanting and touching and?—

" Fuck. " Her legs wrap around my hips, tugging me closer. Nails scrape across my shoulders and down my arms as she tries to pull me up, and it stings so fucking good. I crawl back up her body, needing to feel her lips again.

Jamie's desperate, clawing at my shirt, trying to yank it up. I laugh into her mouth as I shift onto my knees between hers.

And I thought I was prepared for how she'd look beneath me—I really did—but I don't think any amount of imagining or dreaming ever could've been enough.

Jamie's flushed and glistening with small beads of sweat. Her chest is heaving, her soft stomach concaved, causing her ribs to jut out sharply. I drag my index finger over one of her bones, catching a bead of sweat and sucking it into my mouth.

Her bottom lip quivers before she slides it between her teeth. I reach forward and tug it out, rubbing back and forth over that split in the middle, cracking it open.

My heart is beating in a staccato rhythm, harsh and jarring. Time stills as we just look, our bodies illuminated by a light that casts more shadows from its angle across the room. And for the first time in nearly a year, I'm not scared of them. I'm not fighting to see through the umbra. To be lit at all angles because the absence of light means there's something dark lurking.

Right now, there's only Jamie and her hands in mine. Her sweat on my tongue. Her body slick below me and her breaths burning my skin.

I release a breath that feels a lot less fucking heavy than all the previous ones, my lids fluttering with… with ecstasy.

Smirking, I reach down and undo the button on her jeans, and when my knuckles skim her abdomen, the muscles contract, causing her stomach to roll.

I drag my hand across, fingertips brushing the edge of her underwear before pulling the zipper down. The sound of its teeth unlatching is loud in the small space between us, and I relish in the intensity, in the final moments of before.

Because what comes next will forever be a part of after.

Jamie's pants easily slide off her hips, and the moment they hit the floor, she's on me. I yelp in surprise as she clambers onto my lap, arms wrapped around my neck as she dips down to kiss me.

My hands find her waist as she slowly devours my mouth, her own hands reaching down for my shirt. I yank it off and toss it aside, head rolling back when Jamie's mouth drags down my neck, her tongue tracing my serpent tattoo.

She teeters the further down she gets, forcing me to tighten my grip. Her breath hitches as my hands slide down the small of her back and over the lace of her panties. I squeeze, forcing her head up as her spine bows.

Her blonde hair tumbles over her shoulders, the ends skimming my hands. I tug on the strands before dragging the backs of my fingers around her waist and down her stomach. I rest them just over her covered clit, applying the lightest pressure.

Jamie's body is rigid, thighs clamped tightly around my own with her fingers fisted in my hair. I press a kiss to her chin, her cheek, around to her ear. "You want me to touch you, Jamie?" Her breath fans hot and fast across my face as she nods shakily. I drag my tongue across the fronts of my teeth as I increase the pressure against her core. "I want to hear you say it."

Her swallow is obvious, as is her shudder. I can practically hear her warring with herself, with the part that's always been so reluctant to let go, the part that usually dominates her mind. This most recent development is fully guided by alcohol-fueled lowered inhibitions.

A fact I really shouldn't overlook like I am.

"Yes," she whispers.

My teeth skim her pulse point as my thumb presses against her clit. "Yes… what, little one? Tell me."

" S-shit. " Her head drops against mine. "Please— please… touch me." I pull her back so I can have her mouth again. She gasps at the twine of our tongues, tasting of salt and longing, as I slip my hand beneath the edge of her panties.

Jamie's center is hot as I touch her, fingers trailing through the soft hair over her mound. Her gyrating hips falter when I rub her clit slowly, getting a feel for what she likes. My mouth is hot on her chest as I lick across her flesh, pressing kisses and sucking marks, connecting each freckle with a trail of saliva.

When I apply more pressure but keep my movement slow, she jerks, and her nails sink into my neck. And when I speed up, she starts to pull away.

I smile against her boob, licking her nipple before pulling it into my mouth with soft suction as my fingers curl and sink into her. " Oh, mmm, " she moans loudly—and I'm on fucking fire. My pussy throbs as Jamie writhes on top of me, lost in ecstasy.

My right hand finds rest on her hip, squeezing tightly as I slowly push her back. She gasps when she falls, hair splayed wildly across her face. I pull my fingers from her as I brush it away. Then, I drag her panties down, leaving them dangling from one ankle as I bend down and bury my face against her core.

My eyes roll back when her taste invades all of my senses, tongue flexing as I drag it over her clit, groaning when it twitches.

"Oh, shit. " Her legs spread even wider, her left bumping against the back of the couch. I blindly reach for her ankle, sliding it over my shoulder while her right foot falls helplessly to the floor.

Feeling the muscles in her thigh flutter and contract against the side of my face only makes me hotter. I moan as I suck on her clit, pressing my middle finger inside her. Her walls squeeze around me, soft and warm as I thrust slowly, reveling in every twitch, every moan, every shuddering exhale she can't control.

Her fingers eventually find their way into my hair again, and when I lightly nip her in encouragement, she makes two fists and yanks. I pull away with a gasp, meeting Jamie's gaze between her legs. "That's it, little one," I praise her as I sink another finger in, twisting my hand to drag them against her walls. Jamie's head falls back, mouth open wide as she squeezes around me. And as much as I could stare at her while she looks like this—forever—I'm drawn back down by her hands, a smirk of amusement in place as Jamie pulls me between her legs.

I lick her hard but slow, which seems to be just what she likes, and it doesn't take long for her legs to shake, her walls clamping around my fingers.

"Oh— Oh, my god, " she gasps, like she's surprised by the way her body is responding. "I'm gonna come." Her thighs clamp around my face, all of her muscles tightening as her back starts to arch, and I nearly lose my fucking mind when she comes, loudly and wildly and perfectly unrestrained.

Her clit twitches against my tongue as I slow, working her through the convulsive aftershocks, through every small twitch and little grunt. I'm much slower to remove my fingers, slightly resentful I didn't drag this out longer, didn't try to draw a second orgasm from her. But then, Jamie sighs softly, and I just feel so fucking good. My own throbbing core is nothing but a circumambient sensation as I watch Jamie come back to herself, albeit very slowly. She blinks a few times, and when our eyes meet, she flushes before looking down.

"Do—should I…"

I shake my head and huff a soft laugh as I crawl up her body and press a chaste kiss to her lips. "I'm good."

She pulls back, brows knitted. "Are you sure?"

" Mmhmm, " I murmur against her mouth. She parts her lips, allowing me to slip my tongue between them, pulling a surprised hum from me as we share her taste, kissing slowly, lazily, as exhaustion bleeds into Jamie's body.

After a few minutes, I pull away, tongue pressed against my cheek. My legs shake as I stand, a feeling I brush off as I reach up and grab the throw blanket off the back of the couch to lay it across Jamie's naked body. She blinks sleepily up at me with a smile, eyelids nearly closed, and it's that look on her face—that smallest fucking reminder of her overindulgence—that twists my stomach into a tight knot.

But it's not regret—could never be that; it's worry. That this, us, won't happen again. That she'll run because she's scared, and I'll still be here, caught somewhere in the middle, constantly living on the precipice.

I caress her cheek. "Get some sleep, little one." She leans into my touch as her eyes close, and not thirty seconds later, her breathing evens out into a soft snore.

After placing a trash can beside the couch—just in case—and a bottle of water on the coffee table, I grab her discarded clothes and my shirt to start a load of laundry before jumping in the shower.

The water is cool against my back as I wash my hair before I slide my fingers down to my pussy, still throbbing from earlier. My head rolls as I play with my clit, pinching and rubbing harshly, needing it to hurt just a little.

And it's the taste of Jamie still on my tongue and the vivid picture of her body convulsing under me that takes me over the edge. The tidal wave of searing warmth burns through my veins, and my eyes roll back as I shudder. It's strong but short as it rushes through me, eliciting a rough groan as my head drops against my shoulder.

After I gain my bearings, I rush through the rest of my shower to get back to Jamie.

Dressed in shorts and a tank with my thick hair wrapped in a towel, I walk back into the living room—and when my eyes catch on the door, I realize I never fucking locked it.

That thought leeches all warmth from my body, chilling me to the bone. I tiptoe through the small living room and into the kitchen, eyes wide as they dart around. Nothing's out of place. It's quiet—apart from Jamie's snoring, which inadvertently brings a smile to my face, despite the way my heart is galloping, twisted in fear.

I peek around the pantry cupboard, eyes fluttering in relief when I come up empty. My trip back through the living room is much quicker as I round on the door and lean forward to peer through the peephole before flipping the deadbolt, followed by the doorknob lock, and then, I slide the chain into place above.

When the rattling chain settles against the wood, I drop my head against it and allow the shallowest sense of security to wash over me, to ease some of the unsteady anxiety.

To be pulled from something so good into the reminder I'm living a life one wouldn't wish on their worst enemy is a fucking shock to the system—because it's never fucking happened to me before.

This… this fear. Of being watched, of being found again, is all I've known for the last ten months.

He stripped me of peace of mind. Of happiness and joy and pleasure.

Of my life.

Jamie's the first person I've fucked since I left, the first person I've touched. I haven't dared bring someone into the mess I've become. But as the weeks pass, bleeding into months without a word… I can't help but think maybe it is possible to find myself here.

Once my breathing is back under control and my heart rate is back to a somewhat normal level, I walk back into the living room, finding Jamie on her side with her knees curled close to her chest—which is exposed to the cool air.

The sight of her so unknowing and vulnerable kickstarts my erratic heartbeat all over again.

I lean down to pull the blanket back up over her pimpled skin, knuckles grazing her reddened skin before I take the cushion on the other end of the sofa and kick my feet up on the table. I flip mindlessly through the TV channels, settling on some old detective show as I drop my head back, eyes trained on the girl beside me as I watch her sleep, hoping that when she wakes, she not only remembers, but she doesn't regret.