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Falling In

Category: Mature
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“Holy shit.” I said it out loud, and stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, mid-step, staring at the picture on my phone. “He’s…hot.”

I scrolled the picture on the screen, increasing the size to get a closer look, noting it was a scan from the back of a book. “Oh, that’s right,” I thought, “He’s a writer.”

He was definitely hot, for a guy the age of my parents. He had a thin nose and high forehead, dark eyes with fine lines at the corners, and dark hair that fell around his face in waves.

He didn’t look anything like his sister, my Aunt Eileen—she was pale and blonde, sort of plain—he looked dramatic. “I hope he’s not a snob.”

I pushed through the crowd and into the terminal looking around for the escalators my mom had told me would be a good place to watch for him. I scanned the people standing nearby, but none of them looked like the face on the screen of my phone. I checked it again, and then read the bio beside it.

“Jamie Doyle was born in Wexford, Ireland. He has published eight novels including Streets of Arklow, Over the Wire, and Marrakesh which won the Genneson Literary Award in 2002. Mr. Doyle has lived in Boston, Belize, and Cairo. He currently makes his home in Dublin.”

“Sounds like a big deal,” I thought. “God, I hope he’s not full of himself.”

My Aunt Eileen wasn’t really my aunt, but I’d called her that my whole life. She was my mother’s best friend from college. They’d lived together for a few years before my mom got married, and stayed in close touch even after Eileen moved halfway across the country. I loved Aunt Eileen; she was a lot of fun, full of energy. She often visited in the summer when she was off from teaching, and when she did, the house filled with infectious laughter.

I’d never met her brother, but I’d heard her talk about him. She’d said they were very different, he was more serious and reserved, but the two of them had always been close. I had no idea what to expect, which made me apprehensive. He would be in my car for the entire two hour drive to my mom’s. What if we found nothing to talk about? I wasn’t normally self-conscious or doubtful, but I definitely felt the beginnings of nervous butterflies in my stomach. Maybe his handsome face had something to do with that.

“Excuse me. Are you Charlotte?”

I jumped and turned to the voice at my elbow. It was him, and my first thought was that the photo hadn’t done him justice; he was gorgeous. It took me a few seconds to recover from my surprise.

“I— Yes. Hi. You’re Mr. Doyle? I’m sorry, I didn’t know the flight had come in already. Were you were waiting a while?” I put my phone into my bag hoping he hadn’t seen what I’d been looking at when he’d walked up.

“Not at all, we just now arrived.” He smiled and I felt like my insides were liquifying. His accent was fantastic. He radiated cool. “I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”

“No, I just—wait—,” I said, perplexed, “How did you know who I was?”

He smiled again. “My sister told me to look for a girl with long brown hair, around a meter and a half tall, with a slim build and pretty face. An excellent description, now that I’ve seen you.” He peered at me a little closer. “Though she failed to mention your lovely green eyes.”

For a second I stared at him, slightly undone. It seemed impossible he was flirting with me, but his compliment made me blush. I watched the way his face creased when he smiled, noticed his soft brown eyes, and the silver threaded through his dark hair, and decided he was even better looking than he’d been ten seconds ago, if that was even possible.

“I appreciate you coming out for me. I hope it wasn’t too much of a bother.” He put out his hand. “Please call me Jamie.”

I shook his hand, regaining my composure—though the heat that transferred from his hand to mine zipped straight through me, ending deep in my belly where a little thrill of arousal stirred. “It was easy, and I’m glad to do Aunt Eileen a favor.”

The drive was smooth for the first hour. We talked the entire way, about family, the places we lived, and then about what we did—his writing and my three years of college. I was surprised to find him very easy going and comfortable to be around. He was remarkably down-to-earth. I felt a little embarrassed to have worried he’d be a snob. When he talked about his work, there was obvious affection for the craft of writing, but he was modest about his own publications. If he was such a big deal in the literary world, it hadn’t gone to his head.

We hit traffic on the highway and eventually came to a complete stop. There must have been an accident ahead of us, because no one was moving. We sat for twenty minutes at a dead stop, but I was enjoying his company so much I was almost sorry when at last the knot of cars began to loosen and traffic started to creep forward again.

We were about twenty minutes from my mom’s house when the topic of conversation got more personal. I found out he’d never been married and wasn’t currently (and hadn’t been in a while) in a relationship.

“To be honest, I haven’t got the time for anything…substantial,” he said. “I wouldn’t be much use as a partner these days. I’m away more than I’m home, and when I’m home I’m locked in my office with my head in a story, scribbling away. But what about you, you must have a queue of fellows hoping to catch your eye.”

“Hardly!” I laughed. “I’ve dated a little, and I did have a boyfriend for a few months.”

“But…?” Jamie prompted.

“But, I broke up with him. He was a great guy and all,” I said. “I mean, he was smart and funny and good looking, but…I just felt like he wanted me to be someone else a lot of the time. He was always telling me not to say stuff, or not to talk politics or whatever. It bothered him if I knew something he didn’t, or if I had a strong opinion that was different from his.”

“Hmm, well, if you’re smarter than he is,” Jamie said. “He probably felt threatened.”

“Yes!” I said, excitedly. I’d thought the same thing. “That’s exactly what it was; I was threatening. How stupid is that? He actually accused me of trying to make him look dumb in front of his friends.” I couldn’t keep the indignant tone out of my voice. “It’s not like I was competing or showing off or anything.”

“I’m sure you weren’t.” He laughed softly, almost to himself, and I felt a stab of fear that he was laughing at me. When I looked over he turned his face toward me, smiling.

“I’m not laughing at you, love,” he said, putting his hand on my arm to reassure me. “I’m laughing because I went through the same thing at your age, except I was the boy with the fragile ego.” He removed his hand, but a pleasant warmth lingered where he’d touched me.

“I went with a girl for a while. I was crazy about her, but I was woefully unprepared. She was much stronger a force than I could handle. A marvelous, enchanting, seductive force but I couldn’t have hoped to understand it or even appreciate it fully, though I thought I did.” He laughed again, remembering, and was quiet for a few seconds. “I was in over my head. I’d wager your man was as well.”

“My friends thought I was stupid to argue with him,” I said. “They were all ‘if you really love him, you’ll want to make him happy’. They’d turn themselves inside out to suit their boyfriends. Maybe I’m just selfish, but that sounds like total bullshit to me.” I felt my face go red, partly from the accidental swear and partly because I was getting pissed off all over again.

“Indeed,” Jamie said after a brief silence. “I’m sure you’re better off without him, Charlotte. You deserve a man who can meet you on your level—all levels—without needing to be above you in some way. And, trust me, there are men who will find your self-confidence and intelligence very attractive. I know I do.”

I looked at him, unable to hide my surprise. Had he meant what he’d said? Had he meant it in that way? Maybe he had been flirting with me earlier. Maybe he still was. He met my gaze with a small smile, but I wasn’t sure how to interpret it. I was too chicken to say anything, and I didn’t find my nerve before we arrived at my mom’s house a few minutes later.

When I heard Jamie and I were leaving the same day, I immediately offered to drive him to the airport, since I was going back to school in that direction anyway. I had to bite my lip to keep from grinning when he accepted my offer. The thought of another couple of hours alone with him was enough to keep me in a dull but constant state of arousal.

Throughout the weekend we had brief conversations, but there was nothing flirtatious or suggestive. I told myself I’d misinterpreted what he’d said at the airport and in the car and tried to leave it at that, except my eyes were drawn to him any time he was in the room, and more than once he saw me looking at him, but before I could look away he’d smile a small, sly smile that made my whole body go hot.

He and I took a walk on Sunday, down to the lake following a well-worn trail through the trees and down to the edge of the water. It was overcast, a little chilly, and to the west the sky was dark and threatening. I said if we were quick we’d be able to make it all the way around before it started to rain.

We walked slowly, and talked about the places we’d grown up and what we loved about them. We talked about cities we’d spent time in, and what our ideal spot to live would look like. It was all very casual, but my heart was beating fast just for being alone with him Jamie. I could feel how aroused I was, an anticipatory ache building inside me.

“I’ve been thinking about what you told me the other day,” he said as we rounded the northern most end of the lake. “About the advice your girlfriends gave you.” He glanced at me and I nodded, curious to see what he had on his mind. “About changing yourself for someone else, for their idea of who you’re supposed to be.

“I think it would be a crime if you felt you had to change for someone else, Charlotte. I’ve watched you these past two days, and you’re such an attractive girl; smart, self-confident, fearless.” I felt myself go pleasantly warm.

“I know a lot of women believe they can’t be whole without a man. Personally, I think that’s—as you say—bullshit.” He smiled when I looked at him. “I would guess you do too.”

He stopped walking and looked up at the sky, squinting at the clouds. A fine mist had been falling, but it was starting to turn to real rain. “I think we’d better step it up a pace,” he said, and started walking a little more quickly.

We’d only gotten twenty paces along before the sky opened completely. Cold rain poured down on us. I squealed with surprise. “We’ve still got a half a mile to go,” I said as we both broke into a jog. “We’re going to be soaked.” I struggled with the hood of my jacket, trying to pull it over my head.

“Is there somewhere to shelter?” Jamie asked, looking around. There were no buildings on this side of the lake, only a dense swatch of pine and spruce trees bordering the northern side of the lake. “Over there?” He pointed and without another word, we both put our heads down and ran for the cover of the trees.

We were soaked by the time we made it under the dark branches of the trees. My hair and face were streaming and my clothes clung to me, wet and cold and heavy. I ran my hand over my face to clear the rain from my eyes and looked over at Jamie.

He stood with his arms held awkwardly from his side, his jacket dark with rain, water dripping from his fingertips. He looked at me and we both burst into laughter. We were panting from having run so fast. For a few seconds we just stood laughing, breathing hard, and dripping onto the soft ground beneath us.

I wrung out the bottom edge of my skirt, and plucked at the fabric of my top, trying to draw the cold cotton away from my skin. I could feel that the water had soaked through my thin jacket and shirt. I would’ve been surprised to find a dry square inch of fabric. I looked up at Jamie. His smile was huge.

“I haven’t run that hard in ages,” he said, shaking his head. Still laughing, he ran his hands through his wet hair, sending a stream of water down the back of his jacket. He looked over at me, still a little breathless, and I felt my head swim a little at the sight of his face, wet with rain, grinning so much that the creases at the corner of his eyes joined with the little curves around his mouth.

I backed in, closer to the trunk of a tree, hoping for a little more shelter. The thick branches of the pines spread out above us, creating a space that was strangely intimate. Water collected on the overhead branches where it dripped, cold and heavy, onto the tops of our heads. The air smelled of pine resin and wet earth, and the rain was one solid noise around our shelter. Once we’d gotten over our initial surprise and recovered from the mad dash out of the rain, we were silent for a few long minutes, both of us busy wringing water from our sleeves.

“I’m soaked through,” Jamie said. He’d unzipped his jacket and was examining his wet shirt. “I couldn’t be wetter if I fell into the ocean.”

“I feel like I did fall in,” I replied. I wrung water from my long hair and ran my fingers over it to try to smooth it down. I was aware of Jamie looking at me as I did. When I looked up, he smiled.

He took a step toward me and reached out, pushing a lock of wet hair away from my eyes. “Ah, but Charlotte,” he said. His fingertips grazed my temple as he tucked the stray hair behind my ear, and I froze, as a wave of heat spread through me. “Even soaking wet you’re beautiful.”

I stayed frozen for a second, my heart suddenly beating faster. He was so close, and so attractive. He tucked another strand of hair behind my ear and slid his hand down my cheek and under my chin, holding my face gently as his eyes searched mine. I had no doubts about his feelings; there were plain on his face.

“When I said I found you attractive, I meant it,” he said after a while. “To me, there’s nothing more attractive than an intelligent and beautiful woman with opinions she’s not afraid to voice. I like a woman who knows what she wants.” He looked at me, his face serious, and I felt a delightful shiver pass through me.

I wanted him, but for the moment all I could do was stare at him in disbelief as he bent and pressed his lips to mine. He kissed me once very softly and as he drew back, a sudden, sharp ache flared inside me. I felt momentarily light, like I’d been lifted from the ground. I reached out and moved toward him in one motion, grasped the front of his jacket, and kissed him.

For just a moment I didn’t hear the rain, didn’t feel the cold weight of my drenched clothes, just the softness and the heat of his lips against mine. He responded, kissing me back, our lips meeting passively at first, then more intentionally. We kissed slowly and carefully, and my whole body buzzed with arousal. I felt it in my breasts and belly, and lower down as wet heat built inside my pussy.

His mouth was so warm and soft against mine, so gentle it made me feel like I’d never been kissed before. This was nothing like other kisses I’d had, it was like they had been practice, a warm-up for the real thing: for this. And I wanted more already. I thought I’d never wanted anything else so much before. I ached for it. My heart was beating fast again, as fast as it had beaten while I’d been running from the rain.

I moved closer to him and angled my head, inviting him to kiss me more deeply. His mouth opened against mine and I felt his tongue testing and searching. I let it slip between my lips and when it touched mine, I clutched at his jacket lapel. He drew back, maybe thinking I was trying to push him away, and looked at me, concerned.

“No, don’t stop,” I said. I took his hand and laid it over my breast. His fingers flexed immediately and he studied my face for a moment, clearly surprised.

“Oh love,” he said. “Your heart’s beating so fast.” A lock of hair fell over his temple, a bead of rainwater gathering at its point. I watched it swell and finally drip, vanishing as it soaked into the wet fabric of my shirt. “Like a little bird’s wings,” he said as he brought his mouth back to mine.

We kissed again, my hand over his, resting on my breast. He stepped me back a pace and pressed himself against my body, dropping his mouth to my neck. I felt the sudden solidity of the tree trunk behind my back and then the searing heat of his tongue on my cold skin.

“You taste like the rain,” he murmured as he kissed my throat. “Soft and clean.”

I felt the pressure of his lips against my skin, the throb of my pulse beneath it and I couldn’t help but moan. His fingers stroked my breast, sending ripples of pleasure through my whole body. His other hand slid down my hip, gathering the fabric of my skirt upward until he could move his hand beneath the hem. There was the shock of the cold fabric dripping onto my bare thigh and then the slight heat of his palm as it spread out over my skin.

As his hand made its way up and between my thighs I had a moment of panic. Did I want this? Should I want it? Did it bother me that he was twice my age? Did it bother me I’d only known him three days? Did it bother me that his sister was someone I’d come to think of as a member of my family?

All questions faded from my mind as his fingers moved between my thighs and curved around my sex. The crotch of my panties was the one place the rain hadn’t soaked, but as his fingers slid over the fabric, pressing up against my pussy, I could tell I was wet from excitement. He stroked for a few seconds while his mouth continued to explore my neck and throat, trailing kisses. I jumped when he bent his fingers, applying pressure, and then my knees went and I slid down, pressing myself even harder against his hand in the process. I squealed, partly from surprise, but more from the sudden streak of pleasure that zipped through me.

“I’ve got you,” Jamie said as both hands moved to catch me. He straightened, holding me by the waist, and looked at me. He lifted my arms and positioned them to wrap around his neck. “Hold onto me, love.”

I knitted my fingers at the back of his neck as his hand drew my skirt up again. Once more I felt the heat and pressure of his hand and realized with a thrill he was slipping it inside my panties. A moment later his finger slid over my vulva and I gasped as the sensation made my head swim. He stroked slowly without slipping between the outer lips, watching my face. Then his finger dipped inside and continued stroking lightly, teasingly enough that I found myself moving my hips in response, unconsciously trying to direct his touch.

“My God, you’re wet,” He said. “Maybe you did fall into the ocean after all.”

He smiled a knowing and unbelievably sexy smile and shifted his weight slightly. I felt his fingers fan out, pressing the outer lips of my vulva apart, and then the barest touch as he dragged a finger along the length of my sex. I bit my lip and waited as he moved with agonizing slowness, circling over and around, searching and exploring, but steering clear of my clit. I squirmed each time his finger moved close, stimulating the flesh around it, and he would focus there for a while, moving even more slowly than before until he had me moaning with a mix of pleasure and frustration.

I had one clear thought as he touched me: this man was skilled. The boys I’d had sex with previously hadn’t known what they were doing, at least, it hadn’t felt anything like this.

I could feel my body tightening inside as he navigated my most private landscape, urging me a little closer to the peak. How many times he did this, bringing me closer and closer, I don’t know. Time was no longer a concept I needed or cared to attend to. I felt the cold rain, the wind that stung my exposed legs, the rough wood behind my back, but they were dim sensations, nothing like the feeling spinning inside me, tethered to the motions Jamie’s fingers made over my pussy.

When he finally applied direct pressure to my clit, I groaned and clutched at him. I cried out something unintelligible and buried my face in his neck. It was wet and warm and smelled like heaven. I writhed against him as he teased me further, lifting his finger from the one place that would send me over, his finger roaming for a while, letting me calm down, and then it returned, coaxing another groan from me.

“Should I make you come?” he asked after a while, pressing his mouth to my ear. “Do you want to?”

He slid his finger lower and entered me, pushing firmly, reaching as deeply as he could.

“Oh God,” I said, but I couldn’t say anything else. The pleasure shifted, focused entirely at the entrance to my vagina, and it was exquisite.

He pressed another finger inside me and fucked me in a slow but steady rhythm. He bumped my clit at random moments and the pleasure was like a live thing inside me. It rolled and surged, demanding attention, pushing the breath from my lungs and making me groan like I’d never heard myself groan before.

“I’d like to make you come, Charlotte,” he said softly. “Just like this, with my fingers inside you so I can feel it when you finally reach the crest…and stumble over.”

Inside me, his fingers twisted and spread, while his thumb grazed my clit with maddeningly ineffectual pressure. His breath was coming fast, but mine was faster. I panted and whined and dug my fingers into his hair.

“Do you want to come, love?” he whispered. “Charlotte?”

I groaned, sounding like an animal. “Yes, yes, Jamie. Yes, make me come.”

His thumb hovered over my clit, but didn’t move. Meanwhile his fingers fucked in and out of me with a steady rhythm, each forward thrust of his wrist urging me a little closer to my orgasm.

I panted, calling on God and Jesus and Jamie alternately, finally resorting to a pleading cry. “Please, please. I want to come. Please!”

Finally his thumb moved with purpose, and pleasure spread through me like it was filling my veins, reaching every part of my body. Immediately I could feel my insides tense, ready for release, sensations of agony and pleasure fighting for prominence. I clutched him tighter still, practically clawing at his scalp, moaning curses and praises.

He whispered my name, encouraging me. “Oh Charlotte,” he said. “That’s it.” His voice was at my ear, soft and urgent. “That’s it, darling. I can feel it, you’re almost there.”

I groaned and keened as his thumb stroked and his fingers moved inside me, but my orgasm stayed just out of reach.

“Jamie, please,” I begged. I squirmed against his hand, panting. “I’m so close, so close.”

“You’re there,” he whispered. “Come, love.”

I gasped as the first strong pulse pulled from deep inside me. I felt squeezed from within, my lungs unable to draw in breath, all sound and vision dulling for a moment as my orgasm forced my other senses to retreat. For that moment there was nothing but the agonizing promise, and then, finally, the relief as a series of frantic spasms moved through me.

I shook and moaned Jamie’s name, long and tremulous. I felt the presence of his fingers inside me as my muscles contracted rhythmically around them again and again. I whimpered, still coming, but less intensely, and he made an appreciative noise against my ear.

“Oh Charlotte,” he sighed, “that’s lovely.”

I let my head forward and buried my face in his neck again, still shaking inside. I was so overwhelmed I thought I might cry. When he finally slid his hand from between my legs he pulled me close and squeezed me tight. He held me for a minute and I clung to him while my heart rate slowed. My body felt weak, but wonderful. As I leaned against him I became aware of the cold rain and wind again, my dripping hair and clothes, and then the motion of his hand as he moved it to the front of his trousers.

He shifted his body slightly, but kept one arm tight around my shoulders. His erection was plainly visible, the wet fabric of his pants draped over it so its length was clearly defined. I watched as he undid the button and pushed the zipper down. His cock strained as the fabric slackened and in a few seconds he had freed it and held it, his fingers around the shaft, and began to stroke it slowly.

“Open your shirt for me,” he said. He let his arm drop from my shoulders and stepped back a little, his eyes flicking from my face to my chest. My fingers were cold and waterlogged, wrinkled on the pads, making it difficult to get the tiny plastic buttons through their holes. I was shivering too, maybe from the cold, maybe not. Jamie was patient, his hand moving leisurely over his erection as he waited.

I parted the front of my blouse. I was indeed soaked to the skin; the thin white cotton bra I wore was translucent, framing my hard nipples. The fastener was in the back, so I drew the stretchy material down and under my breasts, exposing them to the rain and Jamie’s focused stare. His face was very serious, but a small smile turned the corners of his mouth, and he sighed. “Gorgeous,” he said in a whisper.

I ran a hand slowly over my breast and down between us. I closed my hand over his and followed the motion of his loose fist, my head swimming slightly. Together we stroked him and then he slid his hand from beneath mine and sighed as my fingers replaced his, resuming the rhythm we’d started. He brought his other hand up to cover my breast and leaned forward, his open mouth meeting mine.

I let him kiss me, slightly passive, as he stroked my breast, and I focused on varying my strokes, experimenting to see what he wanted. I stroked fast and then slow, squeezed him tight and then trailed my fingers lightly, searching for the magic combination of pressure and speed. When I found it, his mouth left mine and he looked at me, his handsome face showing obvious arousal. I thrilled inwardly and broke into a smile. I leaned to kiss him again and saw his eyes flutter closed.

A moment later I had dropped to my knees, adjusting the angle of my stroking hand, now returning to a more measured and delicate touch. I shifted around so I was as comfortable as I could be kneeling on the wet ground and brought my mouth to his cock. He drew in a sharp breath and I realized he was holding it, watching my lips moving nearer, waiting. I closed my eyes and brought the tip to my lips, dragging it across them. I flicked my tongue out and tasted him, salty and earthy, and continued to paint my lips with the fluid seeping out.

He let go of his held breath when I finally parted my lips and drew the head of his cock in, only a little bit, but it was enough to make him sway. I looked up at him, delighted to see an expression of lustful anticipation. I held his gaze as I rolled my tongue around and around, drawing him in a little as I did, inching forward until I had the entire blunt head inside my mouth. I drew back and let it emerge from my lips with a silent pop and then repeated, taking him in slowly, my tongue doing the work.

“Good God, that’s sexy,” he said.

I drew back to look up at him. “You want me to continue?” I asked, wanting to hear his voice and accent again.

“Oh yes,” he said. His voice was lower, more emotional, but he still managed to sound in control. “God, yes. Please, please continue, my dear.” I couldn’t help but grin.

As I took him into my mouth again I stroked the length of him with my hand. He sighed appreciatively and I felt him grasp the branch of the tree just beside him for support. I gently drew the fabric of his trousers away from his scrotum and slid my fingers underneath. I worried my fingers were cold, but as I trailed them over his skin, and cupped his balls in my hand, I heard another sigh from above me and Jamie’s hips surged forward slightly, inadvertently pushing his cock a little further into my mouth. I made a noise of surprise. He moaned.

The small part of my brain that could still process full, lucid thoughts was stuck on what had happened: Jamie had made me come. I’d asked him to, begged him even. His whispered encouragement still played in my head, thrilling me all over again. I channeled my excitement into the motion of my tongue, drawing him out long enough to drag the tip of my tongue along the slick underside of his shaft. Once—and he moaned my name. Twice—and he leaned forward and put his hand on the trunk of the tree for support. I looked up at him, and dragged my tongue upward once more before taking him back inside the warmth of my mouth.

He swore, letting his head drop. “Jesus, Charlotte, that’s fucking fantastic.” He was bent over me, braced against the tree, rain dripping from his hair and onto my face as I looked up at him. He was disheveled, but I couldn’t help thinking, “Even soaking wet he’s sexy.”

“I’d like a bit more of that, love.” He reached down and put his hand gently on the back of my head. “Take me deeper.”

I let him press me closer to him, taking his cock into my mouth a little at a time. I was nervous he’d want me to go all the way down—I’d tried that once and it was a disaster—but when I hesitated as I reached my limit I felt his hand relax. I’d only taken him half way, but if he was disappointed by that he hid it well. I heard him let out a long, low sigh as I drew my lips back and worked my way down again. I wrapped my fingers around the base of his penis as I sucked, gradually increasing the speed of my motions. His hand was still at the back of my head, still urging me forward, and I was able to take him a little deeper after a while.

“Oh, that’s marvelous,” he said slowly, his voice full of admiration. “What a sweet mouth you have.”

He straightened his back and slipped both hands into my hair. He pushed it away from my face and I knew he was watching me closely. It gave me shivers, his touch, his attention. I kept a steady rhythm with my hand and my mouth, gradually moving more quickly. Jamie’s breathing was fast and I could hear low noises coming from deep inside him. I looked up without removing my mouth, without interrupting my rhythm. I met his eyes and he groaned, a big smile on his face.

His hands were on either side of my head, holding me gently as I bobbed forward and back. His grip tightened and then loosened as his arousal surged. I could tell he was getting closer to coming as his breathing grew harsher and he began thrusting forward, pushing himself into my mouth. I let go of his cock and hung onto the fabric of his trousers, letting him have control.

“I’m going to come, Charlotte,” he said. His hips rocked more quickly, as he repeated it, almost chanting, sometimes with desperation, sometimes with admiration. His eyes were wild and his face showed strain. I closed my eyes for a minute to let his excited voice and ragged breathing fill my head. I vaguely felt the cold, the spongy ground under my knees, and the goosebumps all over my skin, but mostly I felt Jamie’s thick cock fucking my mouth.

“I’m coming,” he said suddenly. He released my head from his grip and stepped back, taking his erection in a tight fist. He turned away slightly and started pumping fast, intending to shoot onto the ground, away from me. I had to scramble forward quickly. I reached for his hips and positioned myself, my mouth open and waiting. I looked up and met his eyes. “Holy Jesus,” he whispered, looking awestruck but delighted.

I stuck out my tongue and moved closer so that the forward motions of his pumping hand touched it. I watched and waited, my body tense with anticipation. When the first spurt hit my mouth and chin, I wasted no time. I pushed his hand away and took his cock into my mouth again, pulling him deep. I swallowed quickly and let his cock slide a little further, deeper than I’d ever had a cock in my mouth.

“Oh God,” he moaned, “Oh God…Charlotte.”

I could feel him quivering against me. I felt his cock jump as he climaxed, his body tensing before each spurt. He swore, panting, and grasped my face in his hands, his cock still between my lips but no longer deep. I looked up at him, at the exhausted expression on his handsome face, and swallowed.

“Christ, girl,” he said, still panting, “you…are a…marvel.”

I drew back, smiling, and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. He reached for my arm and brought me to my knees, kissing me as soon as his mouth could reach mine. He crushed me to him, the cold of his wet clothes shocking on my skin, and I felt his heart beating hard in his chest. We kissed for a minute and then he let me go, stepping back. Immediately I felt how cold my exposed breasts were, how cold I was all over. I slipped my bra back over my breasts and started buttoning my shirt. We were silent while we both rearranged our clothes.

“I hope that mud will come out,” Jamie said, his eyes on my skirt. “I’d feel awful if it was ruined.”

I looked down at the muddy patches on my skirt, and though ordinarily I would’ve been upset—it was one of my favorite skirts—it didn’t seem like such a big deal if it was ruined. It had certainly been worth it.

The rain was still coming down, looking like it would never stop. “Should we just walk back?” I said. “I mean, we’re already soaked.”

Jamie agreed and we left the cover of the trees and headed for the path back to the house. We were soon dripping wet again, but the rain felt warmer now, or maybe I just felt satisfied. As we headed up the hill I could see my mom’s face at the window and felt a little pang of guilt.

“You won’t say anything, will you?” I asked. It was a stupid question, but I was suddenly nervous.

Jamie smiled. “What would I say, Charlotte? ‘Mrs. Palmer, did you know your daughter can really suck a cock?’ ”

I giggled, thrilled by the whole thing. I was worn out and cold, but I was still aware of how much that phrase and his lilting accent turned me on.

Both my mom and Eileen were out of the house before we made it to the porch. They both spoke at once, with concern and surprise and, eventually, amusement. They bustled us inside and fussed over us, bringing towels and making hot tea. If they suspected anything had happened, other than a walk and the rain, they didn’t show it.

Dinner that night was uncomfortable. Every time I looked at Jamie I felt the heat rise inside me. The one time he caught my eye I thought I was going to faint. I was distracted enough my mom commented on it, asking if I thought I was getting sick from being out in the rain, but Jamie was his usual, cool self. I couldn’t help wondering if this kind of thing happened to him all the time. Somehow it didn’t seem such a stretch to imagine, but most surprising was realizing I didn’t mind if it was the case.

We said our goodbyes to my mom and Eileen in the morning, and for the most part we kept our conversation mundane, but it felt heavy with all the things we weren’t saying. We were definitely skirting certain topics, avoiding mentioning yesterday at all. I wondered what was going through Jamie’s mind. Was he happy about it? Did he regret it? Or was it no big deal?

I knew how I felt. I’d just had the most intense sexual experience of my life. Just thinking about any moment of that afternoon made me feel hot.

We were almost at the airport when Jamie cleared his throat and spoke.

“Charlotte, I just need to say I feel uncommonly lucky to have been with you yesterday. It was wonderful.” I looked over at him, my heart thumping. “You are a treasure, my dear. And you’re perfect as the girl you are. Some day you’ll meet a man who sees that, who doesn’t try to mold you into some ideal of his. And he’ll be one lucky man.”

Neither of us spoke again until I was pulling into the parking garage at the airport. I walked in with him, though it was totally unnecessary, not sure how to say goodbye or thanks…if “thank you” was even appropriate in this situation. I found myself wishing I’d thought to kiss him in the car, before we got out. Now we were in the crowded terminal and our goodbye would be less than intimate. But maybe it was better that way. It’s not like we were a couple, and I didn’t want to be clingy.

I stood off to the side while Jamie got his ticket at the desk. My heart sank a little, knowing he would head to his gate now, and I’d probably never see him again. I tried to just feel glad it had happened, and I was glad, but I wasn’t quite over the intensity of it. I couldn’t help wanting more.

I watched him as he walked toward me, shuffling the tickets in his hands. “Can I borrow your mobile?” he asked me once he’d reached my side.

“My…phone?” I said slowly. I knew he had a cell phone of his own, so I was a little confused, but I fished it from the side pocket of my bag and handed it over.


I watched him pressing buttons, curious, and a little frustrated I couldn’t see exactly what he was doing.

“In October,” he said, “I will be…in New York…for a week.” There were long pauses in his sentence as he concentrated on pressing the tiny buttons on my phone. “I could very easily…extend the trip…if you were interested in…seeing me.”

I looked at him, excitement rising up inside me.

“No expectations,” he said quickly, looking up. “But now,” he said as he pressed a final key on my phone, switched it off and handed it back to me. “You have my number.”

I stared, and slowly my brain caught up: he’d programmed his number into my phone.

“I would love to see you again, but I’ll understand if you’d rather not.” He took a small step closer to me, looking me square in the eye. “And even if you do now, a lot can happen before October. I won’t be at all offended if by then you find you have other plans.”

My heart was beating hard in my chest. I opened my mouth, but couldn’t find any words to say, I just stared. Jamie pulled me close and hugged me tight. Just before he drew back he whispered, “Don’t change, love.” He kissed my cheek, turned, and walked off.

I felt like I was cemented to the floor, like I weighed too much to move. I watched him walk away, my heart beating hard, my whole body humming with confused excitement. I looked down at my phone, as if seeing it for the first time. It had been my introduction to Jamie, and now it would be my link to him.

I had to switch it on and see it for myself. It was there. It was real.

“October,” I said out loud. “Holy shit.”

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