12. Mia
CHAPTER 12
Mia
P eaches. Jones gave me the nickname after the first time he went down on me. We had spent the day picking peaches in Palisade. After Jones drove us the three hours back to Maple Ridge, we lay in the bed of his truck looking up at the clear sky full of bright stars, eating peaches.
Jones started by teasing me with a slice of a peach to my lips. One thing led to another and before I knew it, Jones had me naked and was gliding the peach down my stomach and across my center. It was so arousing I didn't even care about the stickiness. He licked and sucked my pussy like it was the peach he'd just been devouring.
He's no different tonight.
Jones starts by taking his time, his tongue skimming across my clit and causing me to shiver. But he's greedy and hungry. Before long, he's feasting on me. I don't hate his indulgence. In fact, I love it.
"Don't stop, Jones," I mumble nearly incoherently.
"Have you lost your mind, woman? Your pussy tastes so sweet I could eat you out every day."
His words are spoken like a promise. One I wouldn't mind making him keep. Because having him go down on me is a luxury I could get used to.
He picks up speed and his tongue slides up and down my center with a rushed tempo. But the faster he moves, the louder I scream his name and the harder I thrust against his tongue. The sensation causes bursts of satisfaction to build.
Holy fucking shit.
The restraint to hold off any longer disintegrates when he pushes his finger into my pussy while he sucks my clit. My insides vibrate and send a buzzing throughout my entire body. I pulse against his fingers, against his tongue, and I shatter into a million splinters of blissful pleasure.
"Yes!" the word tears out of my chest like I'm a caged animal finally breaking free.
That's what Jones does to me. He causes me to let loose and come unhinged. He's the only guy to ever make me feel this way.
Sweat beads on my chest while I pant and my breathing is irrational.
Jones climbs up my body and gazes down at me reverently, pushing my hair away from my forehead. "I love watching you fall apart, Peaches."
"I love you making me fall apart," I say without thinking through the words first.
The smile he flashes me is a mixture of sweet and devilish.
I slide my palms up his back, pushing them underneath the fabric of his tank top. His hot skin feels glorious on my hands. I'm eager to get him fully naked, to see those gorgeous muscular pecs of his, and have him press his bare chest against mine. Clutching the hem of his tank top, I drag it up his torso, but he rolls off me out of my reach.
My gut tightens. "What is it? What's the matter?"
"There's something I need to tell you," he says with an exhaled breath.
Apprehension tears through me at his declaration. Oh fuck. He's having second thoughts. He has a girlfriend.
"What is it?" I mumble, so scared that his confession could ruin not only this but us forever.
He sits up in the bed and my heart is beating so fast. I realize I'm scared. So fearful of what he's about to tell me.
While my anxiety threatens to send me spiraling, Jones pulls his shirt off with one hand and tosses it off the side of the bed. I frown. Are we still getting naked here? Did he just want to undress himself? I'm so confused.
But as he turns to me, I catch the sullen look in his blue-grey eyes and it's nearly haunting. He stays quiet while my gaze drifts from his face to his bare chest and down to his abs. He's as beautiful as I imagined he would be. Solid chest, defined abs, smooth tanned skin.
I'm about to yell at him for being an ass, once again. For worrying me for nothing. But something catches my eye and my gaze zones in on it. A small flower tattoo on his left pec. It's not colored, instead it's only outlined in black ink. But even without the usual purple shade, it's easy to decipher which flower it is. An aster.
My heart leaps in my chest. Aster . My gaze flies up to meet his and my eyes sting as they begin to water. My throat thickens and I don't know what to say.
"I was so lost after you left," his words choke out. "In the matter of a few weeks, I lost you and our baby. And because we'd kept the pregnancy a secret, I couldn't even tell anyone."
"Oh, Jones," I say softly.
"I waited a year before I got the tattoo. The sadness was consuming me. I felt like I was going crazy and just needed to do something to remember her. Or maybe I needed something to connect you and me."
"Can I…touch it?" I bite my lower lip.
"Please," the word rustles from his throat.
I reach out and touch my fingers to the tattoo on his chest and my heart spasms. As I trace my fingertips over the black ink, Jones exhales an audible shaky breath. His eyes begin to water and he blinks away unwanted tears.
"Did it work?" I whisper.
"What?"
"After you got the tattoo, did you feel closer to her?"
He nods.
As silly as it sounds, jealousy snakes through me. Jealousy that he had something that connected him to her.
"Did you feel closer to me?"
He nods again. But it turns into a shake of his head, and he shrugs. "Mostly."
A tear slips out of my eye and rolls down my cheek. I still have my palm pressed to Jones's chest. I can't seem to let go. It's wildly beautiful but dreadfully sad at the same time.
"Some days I felt closer to you, like the baby or even the tattoo was keeping us connected. On the days when the grief threatened to consume me, this tattoo was the only reminder keeping me sane."
"That's beautiful, Jones," my words rumble through tears. " This is beautiful." My gaze sweeps down to where the tattoo is again. "I only wish I had thought of it. Or had something like it."
Jones covers my hand with his, pressing my palm firmly to his chest. His heartbeat thumps against my fingers. "I was worried you wouldn't like it."
A small smile tugs at the corner of my lips. "If anything, I'm jealous of it."
Another tear falls from my eye and this time, Jones catches it. He wipes it away with the pad of his thumb. "The tattoo is great. But this…this is what I wanted all along. To miss her with you, to miss her together. To grieve…together."
"I know, you're right. That wasn't fair," I say, sniffing. "I'm sorry, I'm so?—"
"Stop," Jones interrupts. "You're here now. If losing my mom has taught me anything, it's that we can't waste time focused on the past."
"Yeah, I'm here now. But, Jones, I'm only here until the end of summer."
It feels cruel to say in this moment. But regardless, it needed to be said. I can't make any promises about the future.
"Then we better make the most of our time together." He gives me a sly grin as he clambers off the bed. Scooping me up, I let out a shriek. "Let's go get in the shower and get cleaned off. As much as I like you dirty, I'm an impatient asshole and I've smeared grease all over you."
I don't mind the grease on my skin or the smell of engine oil. It's a familiar and comforting scent that reminds me of Jones and his garage.
But the thought of taking a shower with him gets me riled up again even though my pussy is still aching from the first orgasm.
Taking my hand, Jones leads me into the bathroom. His dark, hooded blue-grey eyes barely tear their focus off me. My skin buzzes as I take in the sight of the small, glass shower.
I try not to think about the last time I was in here. The night after I had too much to drink. Except Jones had been so sweet to me. He brought me water, braided my hair, and changed me out of my clothes after I puked on them.
Reaching an arm inside the shower, Jones turns on the water. He wastes no time in nudging me inside.
"Get in the shower and lather up, Peaches. I want to see those wet tits squished against the glass," he says, authority in his tone.
And I not only don't mind it, I crave it.
Stepping in the shower, I let the water rain over me until I'm good and soaked. I squeeze his body wash into my hand and lather up my whole body. Gathering my hair, I wring it out and toss it over a shoulder. The shower is small so two steps and I'm flush with the glass wall.
When I glance up at him, I find him watching me with dark, lustful eyes, and holy shit it's full-on feral. My knees practically wobble. The effect this man has on me should be illegal. It's like no time has passed at all but at the same time, it's obvious we're both older, more mature, and definitely more experienced.
Jones hooks a finger and says, "Closer."
I press my front against the cool, firm glass, and when I do, the Adam's apple in his throat bobs. His bluish-grey eyes darken and he moves closer to me with only the glass separating us. He rests his palms on the glass, and I bring mine up to meet his. As crazy as it sounds, it's wildly hot and if my body wasn't already soaked, the pooling between my legs would be visible.
"Look how sexy you are covered in bubbles and lathered up for me. Now wash that pussy before I fill it with my cock."
My face must blanche because he follows by saying, "Don't play shy on me now, beauty. I need you good and turned on before I fuck you."
Jokes on him because I'm well past turned on. I could almost come at his words.
"I don't think you have to worry about that," I mutter, not even sure he hears me through the glass and the pelting water.
"C'mon, beauty, circle that pretty, pink clit with your fingers. I'm not stepping in there until I hear those adorable whimpers on this side of the glass."
He's challenging me. But I'm not about to back down. Desperation to be pleasured and satisfied aches from my core all the way to my toes. So I do exactly what he says.
Skimming my palm across my chest and over a breast, I watch Jones and catch him tugging his lip between his teeth. As my hand glides south, down my sleek stomach, and at last reaches my clit, his cock stands at attention. Seeing him this aroused by watching me, makes me even more agitated.
My fingers slide over my bud, and it sends a tingle rushing through my entire body, awakening it with a burst of pleasure. I close my eyes and tiny black dots speckle my eyelids as pieces of myself shatter in the best way. My head drops back as I continue to play with myself, circling and slipping over my clit.
My mouth falls open and soft murmurs escape. I try to regain some control and slow my movements so they're not so sporadic, and so my whispers don't turn into cries, but I'm so close to plummeting. Control flies out the window and my fingers have a mind of their own, one goal to throw me over the edge and send me nosediving into a pool of bliss.
I slide one finger in and out. I don't care he's watching. Or maybe, it makes it hotter that he is.
"Look at you, so fucking needy sliding your fingers in your pussy. I didn't even have to tell you to do it."
His voice is quiet with the pelting of the water against the tile. But it's loud enough for me to hear. It edges me forward, pushing me so close to finishing.
"That's enough," he bites out, suddenly standing in the shower with me.
But I'm greedy and my fingers keep working in and out.
"Mia," he barks, and tugs at my hand. "I want to be the only one touching you."
"Then you better hurry up because I'm so close," I whine.
"Good. That's exactly where I want you. So completely desperate for me."
"I am, Jones, please," I plead in a whisper as I drag my palms down his chest.
He squeezes my ass in his hands and hauls me against him so I can feel every solid inch of him pressed to my stomach, to my center, everywhere. His length is impressive. So thick and hard. It makes my head dizzy.
"I need to feel this ass when I sink into you. And I need access to that swollen clit, too. Turn around," he orders while he spins me.
Gripping my hips, he hauls me against him, his stiff cock now pressed firmly to my ass. He groans in my ear loud enough that I know he wants me to hear him. He thrusts slowly against me a few times before he nudges his foot into mine.
"Spread those legs for me, Peaches. Just until I'm buried deep in your pussy. Then you can bring them closer together again and squeeze your ass cheeks so you strangle my cock."
I do what he says and shuffle my legs apart. I take a deep breath and let him enter me. The sensation is different and intense in this position. It's also one we've never done before.
He pulls out slightly and resituates himself, bracing a hand to my waist before plunging into me harder. The force nearly causes me to stumble forward so I reach out and press my hands on the glass. My head swirls with how hot this is. How I could get used to this.
I need more. More of him. More intimacy with him.
"Touch me, Jones," I ask on a rushed breath.
"What's wrong? Your clit getting jealous? Is it desperate to get worked over too?"
"Yes," I hiss, reaching one hand around to the back of his neck and tethering my fingers in his hair.
With that, he lowers his mouth to my shoulder and kisses me there as he slides a palm to my front. His hand starts at my breast where he tantalizes my nipple, causing my toes to curl. He glides down my slick stomach before reaching my center with a skilled finger and a whimper escapes my lips.
He thrusts against me while he flicks my clit, and the sensation builds. His kisses to my neck and shoulder intensify and turn into nibbles and sucks. Oh shit . I try not to worry about waking up with a hickey tomorrow. That one won't be an easy thing to explain to the parents.
"Did you miss my hands on this perfect body? Did you miss my cock in this tight pussy? Did you think of me while you fucked your fingers on all those lonely nights?"
I murmur a " yes" to every question.
It's the truth. I missed Jones in every sense of the word. I missed his expert hands. I missed the way he could make me fall apart in seconds. He knew exactly what worked and what had me screaming his name. I've never orgasmed like I did with Jones.
He just knew me. Inside and out. That's the raw reality.
"I need to hear you say it, Mia," he grunts while he dives into me.
"Anything for you, Jones. Anything," I whisper through the delicious throbbing.
Jones releases my waist and covers my hand with his, pressing them both against the glass. It's visceral and magnifies the sensation of everything. The walls of my pussy vibrate and squeeze his cock.
"Say you thought about me. Say you missed me," he says through loud pants that can be felt in my ear.
"I missed you, Jones. I missed you every day," I admit.
And then I'm tumbling. Like freefalling without a worry of being caught or not. I'm lifeless and carefree.
Exhaling fits of breath, he bucks against my ass rough and intentionally until at last, he settles against my back, kissing my hair. "Me too, Peaches. Every damn day," he mumbles.