was nothing but silence between us, the only real sound the ebb and flow of the water as the streams struck the bottom and then faced interruption from our bodies as we moved.
Jack had broken down in front of me after coming to my rescue, and I just didn't know how to feel about it. God, I felt like we were moving quickly, no doubt. He had admitted his desire to be honest with me, admitted that he hadn't ever told another date that haunting story from his past.
A full emotional portrait of Jack was painted before me—and I was more smitten than ever before despite my intent to remain guarded.
Why is it that we resist our feelings when they become so clear to us? Giving in made me feel warm and loved, while fighting back only dropped me violently back into reality. It was like falling from a plane to the ground without a parachute, yet it was the so-called "logical" and "rational" thing to do.
I just didn't make any sense to myself.
I hadn't thought about my job in what seemed like years, even though I had been there the previous day. Why didn't I want to give into Jack, to accept all he had to offer? What was I hiding from? I was protecting myself, but from what? Assumptions?
Part of me felt like at least I was moving too fast, especially given the absurd situation with Timothy today. It hadn't been that long since we broke up, so conventional wisdom said take it slow. If that was the case, why did I feel like I was being dragged along at light speed, unable to slow down how I was feeling? What if I didn't want to take it slow?
That dreaded L-word kept popping up in my head, but I washed it away like the lavender-scented body wash on my body. It was too soon for that, yet I was already feeling something like it far too often. Maybe he was too...
What else was there to say when everything fell into place in the most perfect way possible?
We threw on our robes and headed into his bedroom, quietly enjoying the endless stream of movies that only Netflix could provide on his wall-mounted fifty-two inch television. It was bigger than any TV I had ever owned, and it was in his bedroom. The one in the living room was even bigger.
I fell asleep in his arms, the quiet hum of the television accompanying our dreams.
***
I woke in the middle of the night, the room dark except for the city lights peeking through the shades. My eyes had shot wide open, but aside from that, I hadn't moved.
I laid there in silence for a while, trying hard to fall asleep. Visions of Jack crept into my head, his hands on my body, the face he made when he came. It was super dirty stuff, as if I had stayed up late to watch porn or something.
A scorching wetness formed between my thighs, my clit aching for attention amidst my triple-X mind. Oh God, I quickly realized I wasn't going to get back to sleep until I dealt with this. All of the good feelings surrounding Jack were transforming into vicious, burning lust that only served to make me desperate for him.
I had never felt so sexually overwhelmed and helpless in my life.
"Effie? Are you awake?"
Thank God. "Yes," I murmured quietly.
"I could hear you breathing. Are you all right?"
"I need you." It's all I had. And when I felt his erection pressing against my ass, I knew it had been enough.
Jack tore open a condom and rolled it on in the dark, the sound like music to my ears. He helped me wriggle out of my robe and then slid into spoon position behind me. His hand crept along my thigh until he was gently tickling my very needy clit.
"Oh God, Jack." I was whispering despite the fact that no one else was there. His fingers kept fluttering against me so perfectly, my body giving into his touch. I was pressed so hard against his erection, so intrigued by the tiny pumping motion from his hips.
"I need to be inside you, Effie," he said, his breath tickling against my earlobe. With a slight hint of aggression, he spread my legs apart and upward and pushed himself into me at once, using his fingers as a guide. He parted me, his cock immediately soaking up the moisture inside of me. "You're so perfectly