Where You Can Find Me by Fiona Cole
17
The next threeweeks flew by. It seemed long, not only because so much had happened but because it had happened so fast. I had sparse communication with Jameson since we were both so busy preparing for the holidays. I saw Evie a couple of times for lunch, and we never mentioned me walking in on her and my brother. We tried to see each other more before she took off to spend a week in California with her mom and the rest of her family for the holidays. She didn’t want to go, but since she hadn’t the year before, she needed to this time. Evie had a great family but a tense relationship with her mom, and didn’t necessarily enjoy spending time with her.
“She’s my mom. So even though I don’t like her, I still love her.” She repeated this saying more times than I could count. I wasn’t sure if she said it to convince herself or if it was actually true. Either way, she came home a little defeated. I always let her know she could spend the holidays with Jameson and me, but she held strong. Before she left, I gave her a new set of drawing pencils. The way she’d squealed, you would have thought I’d given her a Ferrari. She did love her art supplies. That was my favorite part of Christmas—finding that perfect gift for a person and seeing them open it. Seeing their face as realization settled in that I’d paid attention to them and knew the perfect gift they wanted. It filled my chest to bursting. It felt better than receiving any gift.
When it came to buying a gift for Jack, I struggled to come up with something special. He seemed like the kind of guy who went out and bought whatever he wanted. Not much was left for him to want. So I went the thoughtful route. I got him a date night package filled with movies and snacks, along with a bottle of Johnny Walker Blue Label Bourbon. Jameson had to special order the bourbon for me, and it came at a hefty price. But I knew it was a top-shelf drink, and I wanted Jack to know he was the best. I also got a gift card to Rock Bottom Brewery for us to go to again since it was our first official date. And finally, a couples massage. He mentioned that he loved massages but hated going since he felt girly. I didn’t care how ridiculous I looked going to get a massage. As long as I felt like heavenly goop when I left, then I would crawl in and beg. I figured getting a couple’s massage would be a good enough excuse to get one and look selfless in the process.
Besides, he had been so stressed over the last few weeks, and I hated watching him wear himself out. He stayed with me most nights. Some nights I stayed at his place, but other nights he wanted to spend alone because he worried that he would take his mood out on me. I understood because when we talked, he often sounded gruff and grumpy. We would end conversations because his irritability would make him snap. When I did see him, he looked tired. He always made sure to give me his attention, but I could see the case taking a toll on him. He didn’t have to tell me when they found a new victim; I could see it on his face. I could feel it in the way he made love to me. He became more intense, as though trying to imprint himself on me. He became rougher as he exorcised his demons from the job. And I let him. I enjoyed being that outlet for him. Because no matter what version I got, I always felt cherished. I always felt the connection between us.
I needed him to imprint himself on me. It gave me reason to imprint myself on him too. When he became rough and forceful, I returned it. Our sex was always passionate. Even the nights when he would be too tired, and we would go to sleep early, only for me to wake to him slipping himself inside of me from behind while we lay on our sides and leisurely made love, I felt the passion.
Each day I fell more and more in love with him. I thought about telling him, but he had so much going on. It still seemed too soon. Logically, I knew time didn’t really matter, and maybe I felt scared to open myself completely. But sometimes, logic didn’t play into my decision-making. So I decided to wait for a better time when I felt more comfortable with the words, with these feelings. Until then, I decided to let it be and feel content with how wonderful things were going.
Part of me had hoped that he would have been able to stay for Christmas despite me telling Jameson it was too soon. I would have loved to open Jameson’s and my tradition to him, but he had plans to return to Texas to see his family. It would be a long week without him, but he deserved a week-long break from the case. He told me Grayson would be staying behind to carry the load until he returned. I didn’t know how much of a “break” he planned on taking, but hopefully enough to get him rested.
Both Jack and Evie’s flights took off on the same day and close to the same time, allowing me to take them both to the airport. They’d finally met a week before when Evie told me to make her dinner while she grilled my boy toy. I panicked a bit that Evie would call him my boy toy to his face and that he would be alarmed and not accept Evie. In the end, she did call him my boy toy and grilled the hell out of him. Even asked him for his penis size since I was being a stubborn bitch and wouldn’t share the details. And I fell a little bit more in love with Jack when he just laughed at her crude comments and questions and returned her banter. He even brought tears to Evie’s eyes when she laughed so hard at his self-deprecating explanation of his dick size. “Like a button on a fur coat.” Evie laughed and gave him her stamp of approval, saying that any man that can make a joke about his manhood was a winner in her book.
Evie’s flight left first, and after desperate pleading and a few lies about my boyfriend leaving for a deployment, I managed to score a pass to the terminals so I could wait with him. We had a quick dinner, and he even snuck me off to a bathroom. Without any explanation, he pushed me into a stall and shoved my back against the door. Eyes remaining on mine, he roughly hiked up my skirt and palmed my ass, grabbing my panties and pulling them down my legs to take them off. As soon as he dropped to his knees, he pulled my leg over his shoulder and proceeded to tongue my pussy until I came, forcing a moan from my throat as a heat crept into my body. Once I came, he lifted me up and pushed into me, whispering sexy nothings into my ear.
“This is so you don’t forget who this pussy belongs to. Who does it belong to, Luella?”
I gasped my response, “You. It’s all yours, Jack.”
“You like me fucking you in places you can get caught? Do you like the idea of people seeing you take your pleasure? Do you imagine being walked in on again like we were at the club? Did you like the way he watched your tits bounce? How he wanted you, too?”
I just kept nodding my head. Pulling out, he dropped me on wobbly legs and turned me, pushing my chest against the stall, the chill feeling good against my flushed cheeks. Grabbing my hips hard enough to bruise, he shoved himself back in, pounding relentlessly.
Crack.
The sound permeated the air before I recognized the stinging on my ass from his slap. The sting spread to a pleasurable heat, and my initial yell slipped into a moan. The closer he came to orgasm, the harder he fucked me; the harder and faster he landed blows to my ass. I rode out my pleasure as it hit me with a force of a truck. Jack leaned against my back, holding me tight, as we both moaned out our releases. Only our labored breathing rang throughout the empty bathroom as I processed that I let him fuck me in a place we could have been caught. The truth was I didn’t care; Jack made me push my sexual limits and feel safe enough to try new things. Sometimes, when my mind would wander, I would remember how he told me about his threesomes with Grayson, and I couldn’t help but imagine.
Once we finished up, it was time for him to leave. He dipped me low for a dramatic kiss and promised to call when he landed. He also promised to jack off into the panties he’d confiscated from me, which caused me to flush with a mixture of excitement and embarrassment.
I left the airport and headed home to prepare for Christmas in two days. It would be another holiday with just Jameson and me, but this year I felt more appreciative of it after the argument we had earlier. I had a better understanding of him that I hadn’t had before; I cherished him more or at least made an effort to show it. He was right when he told me I was selfish. I did only think of my loss when I lost Asher, but I still had Jameson, and he would always be my family. It was about time I made sure to appreciate every moment even more.
On the way home from the airport, the radio station began discussing murders becoming more frequent around the downtown area. I reached to turn up the volume to hear about any new discoveries. Jack remained tight-lipped about the case, and I relied on the news for information rather than ask him. The two hosts argued about whether the murders were connected, considering the victim from a few weeks ago was a middle-aged businesswoman, stabbed to death, and the most recent victim was a male in his early twenties that worked at a coffee shop, and had died from strangulation. My shoulders tensed along with my hands gripping the steering wheel as they argued that apparently both bodies had been brutalized before their death and continued on discussing the statistics behind serial killers and their modus operandi. I didn’t know what to think about it. Honestly, I tried not to think about it.
I knew it was something Jack dealt with every day, so when we were together, I did my best to take him away from the worries of the case. I wanted to pretend the worries weren’t knocking on our door. Tipping my head side to side, trying to relieve some of the tension, I thought with all the murders happening and seeing families tragically losing their loved ones that I was lucky to still have Jameson in my life. It made me realize how fortunate I was to be alive, and I needed to appreciate that every day.