More (10 page)

~~~

We are on our last dish, the chicken and artichoke pasta. Watching Jules eat has me so turned on, I honestly have no control left in me.

Nada.

“Well, I better shower up,” she says after taking her last bite.

And that’s when I get the idea.

“Shit, I knew I forgot something today,” I say.

“What is it?” she asks.

“Those plastic bags for your cast. Tabby only brought a few, I was supposed to pick up more.”

“Oh.” Jules almost blushes.

Yes, she knows where I’m going with this.

“Okay.” She clears her throat and there’s a gleam in her eye.

Is she happy about it?

“Well, would you mind helping me again?”

“Not at all.” I smirk. “But I’m not going in the tub in my jeans again.”

“Foster,” she whines.

“Jules,” I mimic her tone. “What? You can’t handle me in the tub with you?”

“Oh, please.” She laughs. “Don’t flatter yourself.” She bites on the inside of her cheek. “Fine. You can come in—but you have to keep your underwear on.”

“Okay,” I concede.

At least for the moment.

Within minutes we’re back in the tub together. This time, there’s only a thin layer of cotton between us and Jules is testing my resolve. She’s purposely rubbing her body against me, purposely arching her back as I start to wash her hair. Purposely making noises that are making me so nuts I can hardly function.

“Okay, miss. We’ve got to set some ground rules. You’re killing me here.”

“Okay,
mister
,” Jules throws back. “What if the rules are: there are no rules?”

“What are you saying?”

“I just said it, dumbass,” Jules sasses. “I know you’re used to dealing with brainless skanks, so let me spell it out. The rest of the time we have together, there are no rules. We do what we want with each other. No commitments. No expectations. No hard feelings. When it’s done, it’s done. You can keep your skanks on speed dial. I can still look for my summer fling, but in the meantime, inside these walls, we enjoy what’s going on here. It can be our little secret.”

Holy shit!

Jules reaches back for my hand, moves it up to her lips, licking her way up each finger. Then she bites my pinkie and pulls my hand to her chest.

I am so dead. Not that this isn’t exactly what I wanted.

“What do you think?” she asks, looking back at me while batting her doe eyes.

“I think I’d be an idiot to say no,” I say. It’s so easy to do. It’s always been easy with Jules. “You know what you do to me, baby.” I push into her now so she knows exactly what I mean.

“Take it easy.” Her laugh is a little shaky. “This is just a little something-something until we both find what we’re really looking for. Don’t go weaving your way into my heart with all of your ‘baby’ talk.”

Oh, Jules. If you only knew. You’ve had mine since we were fifteen years old.

Jules

Oh, Mama, what have I done?

A summer fuck fest with Foster? The painkillers must still be in my system. What kinda crack did the doc put me on?

I guess I could look at the bright side. Would said fuck fest be amazing?

Yes.

Will I enjoy every second?

Of course.

Will my heart survive when he gets on his bike and drives off into the sunset next week?

I shake the Eight Ball in my mind: Very doubtful!

Foster wastes no time as he leans up and takes off his boxers. We are now skin-to-skin and I almost burn on contact. He takes a washcloth, squeezes my body wash on it, and begins bathing me. Starting at my knee, he uses the cloth to make gentle little circles over my legs.

Ugh, who listens to an Eight Ball anyway?

Once Foster reaches my thigh, he slows his pace, running the cloth on the outside and working his way in. His breathing grows deeper. It’s warm and raspy at my ear, making me shudder.

Yeah, Eight Balls are stupid.

Foster kisses my neck as his hand reaches my hip. I sink deeper into him while his fingers continue exploring. He drags the washcloth across my stomach and moves to the next hip. This time his fingers dig into the tender flesh.

I bite my lip to hold in a moan.

“Fuck this,” he whispers in my ear as he throws the cloth to the other end of the tub. He grabs the body wash and squeezes it in his palms this time, rubbing them together to make a lather. And when his hands slide back down to my stomach, that silent moan escapes and my eyes roll back in my head. It feels…right. Perfect. Amazing.

Foster’s skilled fingers run up along the underside of my breasts, up along the sides, to the top of my chest. My nipples tighten, begging to be touched.

He teases me, stroking my neck and tracing my collarbone, and I show no restraint as my back arches into his roaming hands. He moves them down again at an excruciatingly slow pace, until they quickly graze over my puckered flesh.

This time, I not only moan. I call out his name.

He rewards me.

Foster’s hands roughly cup my breast, kneading, squeezing, pulling. I lean into him, into every sensation.

Then, without warning, he pinches the swollen peaks as his teeth sink into my earlobe. It’s almost too much to take. Heat pools between my legs and I begin to beg.

“Please,” I say. It’s the only word I can get out.

“What is it, baby?” he asks. “What do you need?”

“Touch me,” I say, not at all ashamed. If I’m going to do this, I’m doing it all the way. Still, I’m terrified. His touch feels different than the times before. Better—if that can even be possible.

“Where do you want me to touch you, Jules?” His voice is rough, strained. “Here?” he asks, squeezing my nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

“Mmmm,” I moan.

“Or here?” Foster runs his other hand down between my legs.

I sigh and let my thighs fall open. I am completely losing control of this situation.

“Ah,” his deep voice sings in my ear and he runs a single finger along my opening. “Right here? This must be the spot. But what about here?”

Fosters legs tighten around me again, securing me in place, while his other hand runs down my backside, stopping there, circling the tender flesh.

I call out again, not expecting that. At. All. It’s forbidden, but he doesn’t seem to care. He seems more focused on bringing me pleasure and I don’t want to stop him. His finger stops circling and instead he applies the slightest amount of pressure.

My breathing is a ragged pant now, but I don’t care how I sound or how I look. My body is completely intent on milking every sensation, every bit of pleasure that Foster offers.

His other hand slowly, gently opens me. And soon, his fingers begin moving inside, no longer careful or gentle.

I feel his excitement along my backside and I desperately wish I had the use of both my hands.

Moving to sit up, I reach down to where he’s touching me. My intent is to pull his hand away and get this hot piece of man into my bed. Pronto. Foster has other plans. He pulls his fingers out. I can’t help but whimper when he does, even though it’s what I want at the moment. Just for a moment.

“Bed,” I say to him.

“No, Jules,” he says. “I’m not done yet. Not by a long shot. And neither are you.”

He grasps my fingers and leads them deep inside my own body.

“Christ, Jules,” Foster growls. “You are so incredible.” His hand helps to move mine faster and my head goes light. This is without question the most erotic thing anyone has ever had me do.

His other finger is still putting pressure behind me, when he lifts me with his legs, ever so slightly. I’m trapped, and exposed, and completely under his command. My broken hand rests on the side of the tub, the other is moving inside with Foster’s guidance. My head rests on his chest and my body is now a few inches from the bottom of the tub, held by Foster’s muscular legs. My thighs are open and proudly displaying my most secret parts.

Foster quickly pulls my fingers out to take a taste and I feel like I’m falling. My body is on fire wanting more…of everything.

“My turn,” he says taking over the position my fingers just held. “Do you trust me?” he asks, all traces of playfulness gone. He’s serious about his next plans. “I want to try something.”

“Yes,” I say without even thinking. “Of course I trust you.”

“Good,” he says and I can hear the smile in his voice. “Hold on, baby.”

Foster uses his legs to part mine even farther and his fingers run the length of my folds until they meet his other hand, holding still on my back side. It is slick and wet and Foster uses that to his advantage as he begins massaging the puckered skin from behind. He does this until he can push the tip of his finger inside. Once he does, he uses his other hand to circle my clit until I’m bucking into his hand. His fingers find their way back inside and he’s thrusting me, almost violently. I can do nothing but take it. Take it all.

“Oh my God, Foster,” I say between breaths. I want to be with him. Stay in the moment, but I’m slipping away.

“Don’t think. Just feel it and take everything I’m giving you. Feel my fingers move inside your pussy, pulling out to tease your clit. Feel my other hand on your ass, slowly moving inside. I’m taking you over, Jules. Every part of you is mine tonight—for the next eight nights. This is what you wanted. And I’m going to give it to you. No rules.”

I let his words soothe me, releasing the hold I have on my body and giving it over to him. His hands consume my most secret places. The sensations are coming from all over my body; I can’t tell which part feels the best. It’s not long before the pull deep in my core begins to build. My eyes have permanently rolled back inside my head, Foster’s hands don’t stop moving, and I am in a state of bliss.

“Come for me, Jules,” he says now. “Show me how much you love what I’m doing to you.” And with that, he moves his fingers deeper, filling me. And I—

I explode.

I’m swimming in pleasure. But it’s not just that, it’s Foster. How could I ever believe I could keep this physical? My heart is already so wrapped up in him. The only chance that this will ever be okay is if he’s feeling it too. I hope and pray the odds are in my favor.

But I don’t dare ask the Eight Ball.

Foster

“Shit, Foster.” Jules’ breathing begins to slow into even breaths. “What the hell was that? You’ve been holding out on me.”

She has no idea.

“Maybe just a little.”

I lower her back down to the tub. I have the desperate urge to get way. Get some breathing room, my M.O. That was intense. I need to take this down a notch or neither one of us will recover from the week without rules.

“Well, I’m not sure if I’m dirty or clean after that little sexcapade, but I think it’s time to get out of the bath.” Jules giggles.

It warms me in a way that almost hurts.

I wrap a towel around my waist and lean over the tub and scoop Jules out on the floor before wrapping another towel around her body. She reaches up to kiss me and winces. My heart squeezes when I see her in pain.

“That’s what I thought,” I say under my breath. “We rushed this. You need your pills and your bed.”

Strangely, she doesn’t fight me. “Yeah, I think you’re right. Get in with me and I will pay you back in full.”

“No rush. We have eight nights, right?”

“Mmmm.” She closes her eyes and I pick her up and carry her back to bed, stopping to get the medicine along the way.

She’s out in seconds. I wish I was that lucky.

What have I done?

~~~

I can’t sleep at all that night.

In theory, Jules’ idea sounds perfect. Eight glorious nights together. Nothing changes; nobody knows. No risk of Noah finding out and telling her about my lies. And after, no one gets hurt and we stay friends.

Trouble is, after my taste of her last night, I know I can’t go through with it. It won’t be enough. I’ll want her to be mine, and not just behind closed doors. And when people find out we’re together, Jules will find out about me and Jenna. Then I’ll lose everything.

The guilt still kills me. How could I have done it? With Jenna? I don’t even like the chick. Never have. But she came on so strong and I thought, finally, someone who chose me over the Golden Boy. Finally, someone who saw me. What I didn’t realize at the time, was Jules saw me. She always had. Yet I betrayed her in the worst way.

“Foster, don’t let him get to you,” Jenna said.

Noah was at the paper getting started on his new column. We were competing for the open spot on the newspaper, but he won out—like he always did.

I had this cool idea for a column about restaurants: best food, cheapest food, great hangover cafés, what have you. Noah’s investigative idea won hands down.