into him, desperate for the rumble in my body to release.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he says, glancing from my bra-covered breasts, heaving through my opened shirt, to his hand disappearing underneath my skirt. As my hips move faster, Jake begins to work his belt, releasing his pants' clasp and lowering his zipper. He one-handedly shoves his pants just below his hips.
Not once does he break stride in touching me.
“Need to be inside you again,” he mutters, catching himself in his fist while his fingers work at me.
“Oh God, Jake. I’m so close,” I warn, watching him touch himself and touch me. Sensory overload caused me to tip my head back to the pole, clutching it harder with my sweaty hands. My legs quake.
“There you go,” he whispers as if he already knows my body, and I crash. The wave is lava over a volcano, pouring down the sides with heat and fire and red-hot lust. I lean forward for his mouth, taking it with mine as I ride his fingers and hold the fire pole. It’s the craziest position I’ve ever been in, and I love it. I love everything about Jake because it’s different. He’s different.
Pulling back from his mouth when I come down from the high, Jake removes his fingers and lowers his jeans even farther. He reaches into his back pocket, pulling forth his wallet once more and dropping it to the floor once he has what he needs.
“I’m as clean as clean can be, but I’m using this to respect you.”
I nod. I haven’t been with anyone in so long I’m just as clean and certain I’m too old to get pregnant. Then I think of Scarlett, who became a momma at forty-two, and I agree with Jake’s decision.
“Thank you.”
With the condom on, he guides himself to my center. My skirt at my hips, but Jake forces my legs to spread wider. With one thrust, he’s within me, and I squeak. He grunts in satisfaction, reaching around me for the pole, clutching it with one hand while the other comes to a breast. He moves like he dances, rhythmic and seductive. Sliding in and out of me like a man on a mission, he tugs one breast free again and lowers to suck the swell. I release a hand to touch his hair, but he pops off my breast.
“Hang on,” he warns, moving faster, rocking harder. Pressed into the pole, Jake’s hand remains behind me on it. His other hand comes to my hip, holding me in place as he bumps and grinds. His pelvis thrusts, and I squeeze around every surge of him inside me.
“God, Rita,” he curses like he can’t believe how incredible this feels. This energy between us. This connection we have. With the sensation of him driving into me, I’m ready to combust again, and I warn him with a slight cry.
He looks up at me, giving me that knowing smirk of his. His eyes twinkle with devilish delight. “That’s it, sweet. Alive. On me.” He smiles with pride, knowing what he’s doing to me, knowing my body cannot deny what’s happening. He shifts the slightest bit and taps me in a spot I didn’t know needed tapping.
“Jake,” I cry out. His name echoes in the empty space around us as my body caves a second time. My back arches while my head taps the pole behind me. My sweaty hands struggle for grip against the metal, but I hang on for dear life.
Jake uses the pole for leverage and surges forward, flattening himself to my body and pressing my back to the thick tube. A hitch to his breath is the only warning before he stills. Every pulse and pump prolongs my own lingering release. His forehead lowers for mine, and his hips tip forward once more with a final jolt. We remain like this until my arms collapse and circle around his shoulders. His forehead slides along mine until his face falls to the crook between my neck and shoulder.
“Don’t disappear on me again,” he whispers to me, and I hold him tighter.
How do I let him know I’m worried he’ll do the same to me?
13
Jake
After our firehouse tryst, I ask Rita on a hike. I know the perfect place to take her. On Saturday morning, I meet her at her home. It’s a classic two-story, L-shaped house with a long front porch. It looks newly painted in a mustard yellow color, and flowers in pots grace the wood decking of