Second Chance Hero (9 page)

“No touching yet.” Is all she says and her mouth is
on me again, on my neck and then the skin exposed by the open buttons of my
shirt. My chest is heaving with want as she runs her tongue through my chest
hair and I close my eyes, laying my head back on the sofa.

“You like it gentle?” She asks against my skin, I
have to fight a shiver as the vibrations from her raspy voice surge through my
body.

“Yeah.” I nod, my mouth dry.

She sits up, pressing her weight down onto my
throbbing cock, and rips open my shirt. I lift my head and open my eyes in time
to see the buttons fly across the room, and a devilish grin spread across her
face. She bends down, her hair falling around her face and bites my shoulder,
working her way back up to my neck with gentle licks and insanity-inducing
nips. I shiver as she breathes in my ear, pulling it gently between her teeth,
and moan as she captures my bottom lip, biting down before dipping her tongue
in my mouth. God, she can kiss. She’s like a drug, sending me on a high I can't
comprehend, and my body is screaming at me to do something. I move my hands to
her hips again, but she grabs them and raises them, putting them behind my
head.

“You’ll get your turn. You like it rough?” She asks
as she scrapes her nails down my chest. My body convulses and I groan.

“God, Jenna.”

“Binary answer, Mr. Businessman.”

“You’re driving me crazy.” How am I supposed to
remember what a binary answer is?

“Yes or no?” She looks up at me through long lashes;
she knows exactly what she’s doing.

“Yes.”

“Do you like it when I take control?”

Do I? This feels better than anything I can
remember, but I’d do anything to touch her, to make her watch me as I do.

“Yes, no. Yeah,” I gasp, as she grinds herself on
me, and I try desperately to stay in control of my body. She continues to move
her hips, so painfully seductive, releasing a moan as she works on undoing my
belt.

“Jenna.”

“Yes?” She looks up at me, her eyes full of lust,
and the sound of my zipper is all that accompanies our heavy breathing.

“My turn.” I growl, grip her waist and before she
has a chance to stop me or say a word, I push her onto the rug and settle
between her legs.

“That’s the first one for the checklist.” She
breathes, as I work on her neck. She’s trying to sound indifferent. I just
don’t know why.

“Fuck the checklist, Jenna,” This isn’t about the
checklist, it’s about Jenna and me, me and Jenna. Us. Finally.

“You like to be in control.”

I
shut her up by crashing my lips hungrily to her mouth, and stroking my tongue
over hers.

She moans and I savour her, tasting of wine, and
lemons, and Jenna. How I remember her tasting that night on the beach when I
could have said something to make sure we had nights like this every night
since then. I run my hands down her body, still swathed in my jumper, reach
down for her ankles and bring them to the bottom of my back, wrapping her legs
around my waist and drawing her body closer to mine. I lift us both easily, and
Jenna grips my shoulders as I ascend the stairs.

I stop at the wall, pressing her back against it,
and run my hands from her ankles up her legs again. I love the feel of her
smooth skin beneath my touch. I pull back and look down to where our hips are
joined; my hands continue their journey and reach material at the top of her
legs.

She’s wearing a pair of my boxers, hanging loosely
from her hips. I groan at the sight and press my forehead to hers.

“There was some folded washing. I took advantage,”
She shrugs.

“That’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

She pulls me back to her lips and I continue to my
bedroom, devouring her mouth as I lose control. Wrapping one arm around her I
pull the sheets to the end of the bed and throw Jenna on it. I take a few
seconds committing this sight to memory; Jenna with her dark waves splashed
across the pillow and my jumper hitched up, revealing a taut golden stomach
that I’m dying to taste.

Kneeling between her legs, I take the bottom of the
jumper in both hands and lean down to kiss her stomach, trailing kisses up her waist
and along her ribs, feeling her tense and quiver beneath me. Jenna’s words
might tell me this is nothing more than a test, but her sighs and moans and the
ragged breathing escaping her parted lips speak volumes. I kneel back and pull
her towards me; she complies silently, her eyes burning a chocolate fire of
need. I roughly pull the jumper over her head, not paying attention to where it
lands because I’m stunned; Jenna in nothing but my boxer briefs.

I hold on to the back of her neck before she can lie
back down. We’re inches apart and I can feel her warm breath against my skin,
heavy and waiting, anticipating and hungry.

“What now?” She asks, her voice low and husky and
sexy as fuck.

I put my index finger to her mouth and run it along
her parted lips. She captures it in her teeth and my breath hitches

Ignoring her question I take one of her breasts in
my hand, stroking my thumb over her hardened nipple and feeling it tighten
further. Jenna bites her bottom lip, gasping and throwing her head back when I
squeeze gently and lower my head to taste her.

I let go of her neck and push her shoulders to lay
her back; she is a vision lying beneath me, unabashedly lowering her eyes to
the cotton straining against my arousal. She licks her lips and I’m almost done
for.

Taking a deep breath, I use the back of my fingers
to brush the smooth skin under her waistband, leaving one glistening nipple to
move to the other. Jenna slides her hands between us and into my boxers as I
slip my hand into hers and cup her. I manage to manoeuvre out of the underwear
before she takes me in her hand.

“Ah!” We cry out in unison, as she grabs hold of me
and I ease one finger through her slick heat.

She strokes her hand up and down my length and all I
can concentrate on it the fact that I feel light headed, out of control and
ready to explode. I have to make this perfect. Jenna squeezes my pulsating head
as my thumb strokes her clit and she spreads the burst of pre-cum up and down
my shaft. I suck air in through my teeth and our eyes connect, sharing the
blazing heat, caressing each other after years of need. I grab her wrists in my
free hand and bring them up to the metal bed frame.

“Hold on. Don't let go.”

I’m waiting for her to say something about the
damned checklist, but she just nods, lost in the moment and keeps her eyes on
mine.

I have her exactly where I want her; I’m not going
to waste a minute. I slide the boxer shorts down her legs, throwing them
somewhere with my jumper and jeans, before I move myself down and press my mouth
to the inside of her ankle. She jumps in surprise, not expecting me to start so
far away from where I see her wet and glistening, but I want my mouth on every
inch of her. Slowly, I work my way up the inside of her legs, feeling Jenna
squirm beneath me. When I reach the top of her legs, I part her with one hand,
while I slide my middle finger from the other into her, and press my tongue
flat to her clit. Her body bucks and she grabs two fistfuls of the sheet. I
flick and circle my tongue while I drive my finger in and out of her.

“You’re so tight.” I whisper, blowing on her flushed
skin. She shivers and moans through gritted teeth and I know she’s close when
she runs her hands through my hair and pulls hard. I growl and suck with gentle
pressure as I turn my gaze to her and grab her hands.

“You’re going to wanna hold on.”

Her eyes light up with anticipation and she reaches
behind her for the bed frame once more. I turn back to her sensitive flesh,
adding a second finger to the first and feeling her stretch and tighten around
me. I moan, aching to feel her tighten around my cock as she milks me. She
begins to tremble, pulling on the bed frame and crying out, writhing as she
climbs to her release.

“Oh!” She pants, “Oh God.”

I have her on the brink, ready to fall and she comes
with a scream and arching her back as I taster her climax, her body shaking
with the pleasure I’ve wanted to give her for years.

“Don't let go.” I say as I watch her come down from
the high. She opens her eyes and looks at me, still panting.

“But-“

“Baby. I’m not done with you yet.”

I lift her hips up and ease myself into her.

“Ah.” She cries, her breath catching in her throat

“You okay?”

She nods and I push further into her, as slowly as
my impatient body allows.

“Fuck.” She breathes with each inch and I stop when
I’ve filled her. Her face is strained, eyes squeezed shut, jaw tight.

“Did I hurt you?”

“God, no. Move. Please,” She begs.

I ease in and out of her agonisingly slowly until I
feel her relax.

“Faster.” She pleads, her voice sandy and dry.

I pick up the pace, watching her. Long moans escape
as I sink in deeper, pounding into her; her eyes roll and she closes them,
crying my name as her body builds again.

“Tell me if it hurts.”

“Just give it to me!”  She cries, a challenge.

I dig my fingers into her hips and pull her to meet
my thrusts until she’s taking all of me and screaming my name; her muscles
coil, her body gleams with a thin sheet of sweat that makes her sparkle beneath
me. She comes with a cry, letting go of the bed frame and pulls me down,
kissing me like her life depends on it. I slow down so she doesn’t bang her
head on the bed frame, but she shakes her head.

“Don’t slow down.”

            “Look at me.”

            She opens her eyes and I grab her
shoulder with one hand, the other squeezing her hip and continue driving into
her. She grips both my forearms and her nails dig in as she meets my thrusts,
never taking her eyes from mine.

            I watch her breasts bounce, and when I
can’t hold on any longer, I come painfully, giving Jenna everything I have. I
collapse on top of her, nuzzling into her neck.

.

I turn my head and press a final kiss to her nose,
and lie down, pulling her into me. She rests her head on my chest, drawing
patterns with her finger. I watch Jenna fall asleep in my arms. Where she belongs.

Jenna

I wake up as the sun begins to rise, slithers of
light bursting through the blinds on the wall of windows leading to a terrace
and brightening the bedroom decorated in cream and taupe with blue accents.

The room is unfamiliar but my headache, swollen lips
and stiff body remind me what happened. The memories come flooding back; I run
my thumb along my lips, remembering Deacon’s mouth on mine, how it set me on
fire. As I look down at my naked body, I remember his hands on me, skimming my
skin, kneading and gripping, worshipping me with a hunger I have never
experienced before. I squirm and turn to look at the man sleeping next to me.
He lies on his stomach, hugging his pillow with one arm, the other draped
loosely over my stomach.  

I watch him for what feels like hours, wondering how
last night happened. What am I supposed to do?

I’m the worst person. I’ve cheated on my boyfriend,
with the man I’ve been in love with since before I knew how to write my own
name, and I’ve become one of those girls I swore I would never be. One of the
girls who lets lust cloud their judgement and makes decisions based on what
their body is telling them, not their mind. I can't believe I’ve become that
girl, and this can only end badly.

I do the only thing I know how to do.

Deacon is still sleeping when I decide to get out of
bed. The room smells of sex, mixed with his delicious scent, and my recent
favourite perfume. I don’t want to leave; I want to lock us in this room until
we figure out whatever this is between us. But I can't face the embarrassment
if he wakes up and regrets what happened. Or if he wakes up expecting me to be
gone, like good one-night-standers are supposed to do. My head is swimming in
confusion, and throbbing to punish me for last night.

I manage to slide out of the covers undetected and
creep downstairs to find my clothes. They’re on the dryer in the kitchen and
have dried off. Thank God. I put the dress on, put my bra and knickers in my
bag and pull my phone out while on the way to the front door. I press ‘call’
and hold the phone to my ear, guilt consuming me as I wait for the line to
connect.

“Jenna?” Jade answers and I can hear Phillipa in the
background. I’m grateful that her day is in full swing and I haven’t woken her
up.

“Hey, I need a favour.”

~

            “What kind of mess have you got yourself
into, Jen?” Jade asks after I’ve told her the whole story.

She picked me up on my route home from Deacon’s; she
left Phillipa with Steve after taking me back to hers to borrow some clothes.
And now we’re in a little coffee shop in the middle of nowhere, so I can beg
for some undeserved advice from my big sister.

“I don’t know.” I shake my head, and tip sugar into
my cappuccino, “I don’t know.”

“There isn’t much I can say. I’m here for you and
I’ll take it to the grave. But you’ve made your bed.”

“I know.”

“Maybe you should have stayed to talk to Deacon.”

“I couldn't face it. What if it was a spur of the
moment thing for him? I can't take rejection from him. Not again.”

The memories of last night are so vivid I can still
feel Deacon on me, inside me, around me and I’m paying for my
uncharacteristically brazen behaviour. I’m sore, my body aches, and my heart
feels like it’s made of lead.

“I don’t even know why I did it.” I continue, “He
was going on about the traits in his trio of women and I challenged myself to
be the one who had it all. But I’m not, and I shouldn’t have let myself think I
could be.”

“Don't sweat it, Jen. You’re young. You’re supposed
to be out there having fun, living life.”

“But this isn’t fun. This is torture. Every time I
see him I’m reminded of what could’ve been had I not run away. Had he not run
away.”

“I understand. Well, I don’t. But I think you need
to let loose, have fun. See the world, meet people, and sleep around a bit. See
what happens.”

“I have Kip.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re serious about that
guy?”

I nod, confused, “You were pregnant with Pip at my
age, and married to Steve.”

“Steve is the love of my life. Kip is
not
the
love of yours. Besides, you’re different. You’re passionate and creative and
there’s fire in your belly. I was born for the life I have now, were your born
for yours?”

I sigh and stir my coffee; I’m not going to attempt
to argue with Jade over this, and I can't use ‘love’ and ‘Kip’ in the same
sentence. Nor can I tell her my life is entirely satisfying and what I was put
on this planet to do.

“Look,” Jade reaches out and grabs my hand to stop
me stirring a hurricane into my coffee cup, “the girls and I are going out next
Saturday, only to a club in town. Come with us, have some girl time.”

“Yeah, girl time sounds good. I’ll have to cancel
with Kip.”

“Yeah, period.” She finishes her latte, “Come on,
I’ll take you to get your car. I’ve got some shopping to do, and I want some
cupcakes for dinner tomorrow night.”

I pay for our coffees, and Jade drives me to Foster
to get my car and I drive home to shower. I clean up in record time, avoiding
questions from Mum and Dad about why I went out for dinner with Kip last night,
and came home alone this morning. I pull on some jeans and a vest, find a pair
of sunglasses, thankful the sun has returned after last night, and stand at the
top of the stairs. All is quiet, so I assume everyone is in the garden, and run
down the stairs and to the door.

“Jenna,” Jonas says quietly, standing behind me and
leaning against the wall. I’m grateful he knows I want to leave undetected, but
I need to leave quickly.

I beckon him to come with me and he follows, walking
next to me in silence until we step out onto the path.

“So where were you really?” He asks, “Grace says you
look like you’ve got a thing for Brad.”

“I haven’t got a
thing
for anyone. And you're
my brother. Don’t ask about my love life, especially when you think it involves
your best friend.”

“Where were you then?”

“I had a few drinks and stayed out.”

I pick up the pace towards the shop, but his long
legs and height advantage mean he catches up with me easily.

“Where?”

“Deacon’s.”

Jonas stops in his tracks, as if he’s walked in to a
brick wall. When his brain has obviously jump-started, he continues walking
next to me.

“But he’s a dick.”

I stop walking and face him.

“Why is he a dick?”

“Jen, he got messed up when his dad died. He sleeps
around, he rarely leaves work, and he never comes out with us anymore. It’s
like his life just stopped that Christmas. He’s trouble; you need to stay
away.”

There’s an awkward silence and I want Jonas to
leave, but he stands and waits for my response, with his arms folded.

“His dad died. Give him a break.”

We continue walking to the shop, and I can see
Deacon standing outside, leaning against the door with his hands in his
pockets. He’s wearing dark jeans and a grey t-shirt, his blonde hair still damp
from a shower, his crystal blue eyes sparkling.

“I’ve got to go, see you tonight. You’re coming home
right?”

“Yes, I‘ll be home.”

He makes a quick exit, veering off to avoid the
shop, and I hurt for the man standing outside my shop, watching his friend walk
away. Not only did I leave him and fail to support him when he lost his father,
but his friends deserted him when he needed them the most too.

“What are you doing?” I ask, meeting him at the door
of the shop.

“It’s Saturday.” His eyes return to me and I’m lost
in their depths.

“Builders work on Saturdays.” I squeeze past him to
open the door, stepping inside and turning the lights on. I’m not surprised
when Deacon follows me in, shutting the door behind him and switching the lock.

“They do. But I’m not a builder. I can have whatever
day I want off.” He wiggles his eyebrows, a smug grin spreading across his
face. I want to say something to wipe it off, but what Jonas just told me has
my stomach all tied up in knots so I point at one of the tables, and Deacon
sits down while I put make tea.

“You left,” he says finally, as I hand him his tea
and sit opposite him. I can hear the hurt in his voice, and regret running away
this morning. But I remind myself he does this all the time; the only reason I
even went to his house last night was so he could explain his bevy of women to
me. The thought unsettles me and I frown.

“What did you expect me to do?”

“I don’t know, be there when I woke up.”

“I had things to do.”

“Bullshit. You mean you wanted to get out and
pretend last night didn’t happen.”

“Whatever. I have work to do, what do you want?”

“To say sorry. You were drinking last night and I
took advantage. I’m sorry.”

“In other words, you’re sorry you woke up regretting
it. Don’t worry, I won't tell anyone.”

“Who said I woke up regretting anything?”

“The whole ‘you were drunk, it was a mistake’ thing.
I’ve been there before Deacon.”

The night my heart was torn to shreds and ruined for
any other man.

“Oh, have you?” He asks, folding his arms and
leaning on the table.

Shit.

“What does it matter? Last night happened, I hope it
gave you some points on the checklist.”

“Will you give it up with the fucking checklist? Did
it look like I was making notes?” He pulls his hands through the surfer curls
on his head, “Tell me it meant nothing to you.”

My phone begins to ring in front of me on the table.
Kip.

“Don't answer it.” Deacon whispers, his eyes begging
me to give him the time I desperately want to give. I want to let my walls
down, I want to let him in, but I can't. I can't.

“Last night meant nothing to me, Deacon.” I try to
be as strong as possible, although there's a lump in my throat the size of a
small planet and I want to tell him we can do this. I want to tell him we can
get over the past and start again, “I need to take this call.”

Deacon’s eyes glass over, before he clenches his
fists and stands up. With one final look of pain on his face, he leaves. I drop
my head onto the table and cry like I haven’t cried in years.

 I’ve hurt him, and I wish to God that I didn’t have
to. But I’m losing myself and everything I’ve done to create the woman I am now
- the woman who has a heart of steel, doesn’t fall in love, doesn’t grow
attached and certainly doesn’t put herself in a position like the one I’m in
now. Shit.

Kip’s call rings off; I can't talk to him now. I
wipe my eyes with the heels of my hands and head into the back to get started
on the rum and raisin cupcakes Jade has requested for Sunday dinner tomorrow. I
make some strawberry fairy cakes for Phillipa and make her a decorating goody
bag so she can ice and decorate them herself.

I plug my iPod into the dock and turn Ed Sheeran up
high, his beautiful, voice the perfect accompaniment for my mood today. I’m
confused, conflicted and terrified of the direction things are heading in.

I can hear my phone ringing from the front of the
shop but I ignore it, locking myself in this kitchen and shutting out the world
and its complications. It’s just me and my baking, the way it always is when I
can't take any more of the outside world and what it throws at me.

I’m mixing up some icing, with a subtle hint of rum,
when there’s a knock on the front of the shop door. I wipe my hands down my
apron and answer the door to the delivery man standing outside.

“Can I help you?” I ask, peeking my head out of the
door, thinking he must be lost.

“Miss Rivera?”

“That’s me.”

“I have a delivery for you.” He smiles knowingly at
me, and nods his head to someone out of sight. Three people walk in with bright
pink bunches of roses and I take a step back as they place the flowers on a
table, one behind the other.

“Thank you.”

I turn to the roses and take the card off the first
bunch.

‘
I’m sorry’

I put the card on the table and reach for the
second.

‘People Change’

And the third.

‘It has everything to do with
you. X.’

I grip my throat as the emotion threatens to surge
out. Why does he do such sweet things, when I’ve done nothing but push him away
since I got back?

I fall on the floor, hug my knees and put my head on
my arms. What has everything to do with me? I don’t understand what’s going on.
I should hate Deacon for what he did to me; he should hate me for what I did to
him. Why couldn't I have got past my own selfishness and been there for him
when evidently nobody else was? Regret consumes me and the tears begin to fall,
not for me, but for the friend I left behind.