Chapter Twenty-Four
Jem
We bunker down in my house for a few days. I tell myself it’s because I can’t be fucked facing the media, but it’s not. Even though Ruby pretends she’s okay, the attack has shaken her badly. She doesn’t want to leave the house, tells me it’s because of her face but the larger part is she’s traumatised. Ruby hates being weak, needing protection, and I don’t want to be the one who craves to keep her safe. But I do, and I’m going to, whether or not she likes.
Opening up and sharing shit I’ve never told anyone scares me, but the pressure from keeping everything in built too much. I never knew saying the words to somebody else could help relieve some of that. Ruby is the person who pushed me to do this without realising, and all because she shared her own. She took the risk I never could.
She’s under my skin, burrowing into my heart and soul, and I want her. The frustration is killing me. I catch Ruby watching me when she thinks I’m unaware; the confusion and desire reflected in her eyes. I hate people in my personal space; can’t stand anyone touching anything that belongs to me. Hell, some days I don’t want to share oxygen with people.
Ruby belongs here.
I have no explanation or experience of this, but I crave her. Not just the naked Ruby who’s spent the last couple of months living in my fantasies, the one I’ll get into my bed as soon as she’s ready, but the comfort of her presence and understanding.
No longer hiding in bedrooms as we did last time she stayed, we spend hours together talking about music, life, everything but the past. We’re in the world we were trapped in alone, but now we’re there together. Secretly, I’ll touch Ruby’s hand, run my fingers along her arm, and we’ve even gone as far as cuddling up on the sofa watching TV like an old married couple.
Natural. Safe.
And f-ucking frustrating.
After the other night when I held her fragile figure to me, I’ve tried to touch her in the same way again but she stiffens. Ruby explains she won’t do anything unless I kiss her, but she doesn’t say why. I examine her lips twenty times a day, watching the split heal. When Ruby tells me she has a way to speed up the healing, pulling creams from her bag to apply, the anger seethes again. This has happened before, more than once, and Ruby deals with it as if she has a reoccurring medical condition.
Following a third restless night fighting against asking Ruby to get into my bed, I wander downstairs and find her sitting on a stool in the kitchen, long, naked legs crossed. She’s dressed in a short black summer dress covered in a pink skull pattern. With no make-up to hide behind, the bruises visible on her face yellow. I watch as she slowly eats cereal, focused on her phone.
My heart is gripped by the inexplicable joy of seeing her in my space, relaxed as if it were her space too, although her brows are tugged together in consternation.
“Hey,” I say.
She looks up. “Jax wants to know when we’re back into studio time.”
“Jeez, that guy. I’ve told him next week, about ten times.”
“I think he’s worried you’re going to change your mind because of the… complications.”
Unable to resist, I cross and kiss her soft hair. “You’re not a complication.”
“What am I then?” Her question is loaded and I step back, watching her warily. “What are we?”
“Whoa. Ruby. This is a bit left-field.”
“Sorry.”
She takes another mouthful of cereal.
“Friends?” I suggest.
She huffs. “Liar. You don’t want to f-uck your friends.”
Actually, I have done. Often. “I don’t want to f-uck you.”
“Liar,” she repeats with a small laugh.
“Your mouth.”
“Because I used the word f-uck?”
“No.” I move mine close to hers. “It’s not sore anymore, is it?”
Ruby’s breath rushes out, then she attempts to disguise the reaction. “Yeah, feeling better, thanks.”
“You’re funny. Don’t you remember my promise to you?”
Ruby’s nonchalant attempt to keep eating fires the situation further because she runs her tongue along her lip and licks the milk off, a gesture that edges me closer to her.
“Was that a promise? I thought we’d gone back to friends.”
“Did you?” She’s not wriggling out of this, and she’s lying. The undertones have followed us; the looks, the touches, the teenage style glances. Either Ruby does this or I give up. I brush my lips against her cheek.
“Does anywhere hurt still?”
Her blue eyes meet mine. Of course, she hurts. I can see that but I can also clearly see her want matches mine. “No.”
“About f-ucking time.”
I want to kiss her gently. I really do, but I can’t. The need for her that’s built in the last two months explodes and I take Ruby’s face in both hands and close my lips over hers, roughly pushing my tongue into her mouth. For a millisecond, I kick myself for my stupidity, waiting for her to shove me away, and yell at me Ruby-style.
Instead, she welcomes my tongue and holds my face in return. Devouring kisses follow, pulling us further into each other. The kiss less than a week ago was amazing; this is f-ucking stratospheric. I place my arms either side of Ruby, caging her. In response, she stands and shoves my arms down, so I pull her against my hips.
My desire for Ruby blinds common sense, and I slide a hand up her leg to run my hands across her skin, beneath her dress until I reach her ass.
Shit, shit, shit. Groaning, I attempt to back her toward the counter again and she stands her ground, placing a hand on my chest but not removing her lips from mine. I get it. I can’t corner her. She needs to lead but it’s f-ucking difficult. Ruby breaks the kiss, resting her forehead against mine as our mingling breaths come in short pants.
“Okay, I can’t breathe; you’re right,” she says.
“Suffocated?”
“No, the effect you have on me.”
“What’s that?”
Ruby slides her hand along the front of my jeans and runs a finger along my obvious erection. “The same as I have on you.”
We’ve reached the line. The one I swore I wouldn’t cross with this woman; the one that I’m scared will resurrect the asshole who fucks around with women’s feelings. Or worse, this might be the final fall into something I can’t handle. Dylan’s bullshit about love has circled my mind. I don’t love, not in the consuming, selfless way he does. I was never loved, so how do I understand when it happens, if it ever does?
For f-uck’s sake, Jem. Stop thinking and be yourself.
“Did I kiss you like I mean it?” I whisper, running my tongue along her neck.
Ruby shivers at the sensation. “Yeah.” She pushes her hands beneath my t-shirt, dragging her nails across my lower back. “Kiss me some more.”
“So now I get to kiss you other places?”
“You’re funny.”
“How?”
“Jem Jones making requests.” Her warm breath tickles my ear as she speaks.
I loosen my grip and slide my arms to her waist. “Because I’m not going to take from you what you don’t want to give.”
Ruby’s eyes soften and her response is a soft, slow kiss. She tastes sweet, of Ruby and muesli; I’m going to f-ucking love the taste of muesli for the rest of my life.
Pink-cheeked and mouth parted, Ruby touches my lips. “Can I make a request?”
“Anything,” I say, hoping to Hell that it’s not ‘stop’.
Curling her fingers through the belt loop on my jeans, Ruby tugs me closer and whispers in my ear. “I want to go into your bedroom with you and not come out until this URST thing is dealt with.”
“URST,” I chuckle. “Fine, but don’t think you’re getting the kids and the house in the country.”
****
Ruby
I’m in Jem Jones’s bedroom. Jem’s bedroom.
Jem disappears into his bathroom, leaving me a trembling mess of excitement and anxiety. What if I’m not good enough for him? I pull my dress over my head, dump it on the floor, and slide beneath his thick bedding. I tug the soft material to my nose, inhaling the spiced scent of the man who more than kissed me like he meant it, and keep myself in my Jem frame of mind.
Jem reappears with a box of condoms in his hand and halts, frowning. “What are you doing?”
I grip the duvet. “Um. Waiting for you?”
“Waiting for me?”
Why does he sound annoyed? “Yes. Why? Did you change your mind?”
“What the hell?” Jem crosses to kneel on the bed and cups my chin with his hand. He runs his tongue across my bottom lip, triggering the heat that had waned with my nerves. I part my mouth for his kiss and he pulls away. “I’m not doing this to you, Ruby. I’m doing it with you.”
“Okay.” I push his t-shirt up and he rests a hand on mine to stop me.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he says hoarsely. “I’m not f-ucking this up. If I do f-uck up and you never want sex with me again, it’d kill me.”
He wraps an arm around my waist, I eagerly accept the way his mouth claims mine. Jem’s kisses are unusual because I don’t do this type of kissing. Dan couldn’t care less whether we did or not, as long as I opened my legs for him. With Jem, I’ve learned there’s an intimacy from a kiss that goes deeper, an inexplicable extra connection. With Jem’s come an unspoken care and affection, his desire to be with me on my own terms reflected by the way Jem gauges my reaction to each stroke of his tongue or movement of his lips. And I can’t get enough.
I push at Jem’s t-shirt again and this time he drags it over his head. In return, Jem pulls away the duvet covering my chest. His eyes darken as his gaze soaks in the sight, and my skin tingles as he runs a finger along the quote beneath my breast.
“Worth the wait,” he whispers and his mouth finds mine again.
I wrap my arms around Jem’s neck, pressing against his naked chest. My nipples brush his taught skin, sending a frisson of sensation to my core as Jem holds me, one hand on the nape of my neck and the other in the small of my back.
I could spend all day kissing Jem, exploring the new sensations from the touch of tongues, the taste and heat of our mouths. An eternity pressed against his warm body beneath gentle hands wouldn’t be enough.
But that won’t be what he wants, and isn’t what I’ve waited this long for.
I move to unbutton his jeans and Jem shifts, helping, then shuffles out of them and kicks them to the floor. I shift back and pull him close, lying against the pillows, then begin to wriggle out of my panties.
Jem puts his hand on mine to stop me. “Is this what you do?”
“What?”
“Do you just lie back and have this done to you?” He props himself up on his elbows. “I’m not going to let you lie down while I f-uck you missionary style, Ruby. That’s not enough.”
Crap. I’m in a situation with Jem Jones who has more than likely tried every sexual position I can imagine and some I haven’t. I won’t be enough for him. I close my eyes in embarrassment and leave my panties on. “Sorry, what did you want me to do?”
Jem sits back. “Jeez, Ruby. Have you ever had sex with a man who cares about how it feels for you?”
I tug the duvet under my chin again. I can’t answer. There’s only been Dan, and a couple of five-minute sessions with guys from school, and I certainly wasn’t the focus. I’m uncomfortable. Sex is something I do, I don’t talk about it as well.
“I guess that’s no, then,” he says quietly and pushes my hair from my face. “I don’t understand guys like that. Having a woman really enjoying herself is the biggest f-ucking turn on.”
I chew a nail, increasingly out of my depth, and when he moves to kiss me again, I tense.
“Ruby… Come here.” Jem drags me onto his lap and looks up at me with darkened eyes. “I have fantasied about this for months so this isn’t going to be over quickly or without enthusiastic participation by you.” When I turn away, he takes my cheek and moves my head so I have to look straight at him. “Otherwise, I’m not doing this, okay?”
“Okay, but I don’t think I’m very good at… things,” I whisper, desperate for him to stop talking and do what he’s promising.
Jem traces the shape of the heart tattoo on my chest. “No problem, I’ll make everything about you this time, and then I can show you how to be good at things.” His eyes shine with the promise of his words as he looks up at me, a tug of a smile on his lips. “Okay?”
“Okay.”
Holding my head, Jem kisses gently, tongue teasing my lips. His attempt to cool the situation won’t work; my awareness of Jem’s muscled body against mine, of his arousal pressing against my thigh takes me further from my anxiety. He slides his hands along my back, heating my skin with his gentle stroke. I shift closer, wanting harder kisses, to lose myself in us away from the awkward I created. The whole time, Jem holds me as if scared I’ll fall apart if he lets go, or he’ll break me if he embraces too tightly.
The kisses intensify, his hands harder against my skin, exploring every inch with his fingers, until I’m shaking with the need for him. Jem shifts me from his lap and we tip onto the bed; I lie on my side, wrapping my legs around his, not wanting to lose contact for a moment.
“You’re f-ucking beautiful, Ruby Tuesday.” The hoarseness in his voice and truth in his eyes almost makes me believe him. He spots my doubt. “And I won’t stop showing you until you believe me.”
“I’m okay with that.” I trace a finger along his firm abs, lower, and Jem inhales sharply as my hand moves to the band of his briefs.
He curls his fingers around mine. “Don’t. I am so f-ucking turned on right now; that’s not a good idea.”
My heated cheeks hide my reaction – not embarrassment but a pleasure in the fact I have this effect on him. I shift to face him. “Don’t stop.”
Jem grins. “Don’t worry about that.” He dips his head, leisurely moving his tongue across my collarbone to my b-reasts. I suppress a moan as he circles my nipple with his tongue before taking it in his mouth and sucking. Involuntarily, my body arches toward him and I grip his hair. His gentle touch changes, in response to my body’s desire for him to take over, the gasp that escapes showing I’m more than ready to be enthusiastic.
As he continues his attention to my b-reasts, Jem slides a hand down my side and pulls my leg over his hips, pressing himself against me. The evidence how turned on he is pushes against my thin cotton panties and adds to the gathering heat between my legs, the longing for his touch taking control of my thoughts.
I push my fingers into the knotted sinew of his shoulders, as Jem’s focus remains on my b-reasts and intensifies this ache. Every place on my skin Jem touches jolts arousal and I move against him. Weeks of wanting this, of fantasising about Jem wanting me, and I’m here.
Jem’s mouth finds mine again, as his large palm closes around my ass. Fiercely, I kiss him and pull Jem onto me, desperate to be as melded with Jem as our mouths are. He needs to know, though I may have been shy, this isn’t doubt. Jem matches the ferocity of my kiss, as our tongues slide in desperate want; a greed for each other no longer held back. His hand moves down my belly, toward the edge of my panties and I moan into his mouth, and close my eyes.
He pauses and when I open my eyes, Jem looks back with eyes darkened by desire. He stopped though, is this not what he wants? Gaze remaining on me, Jem slides a finger between the fabric of my panties and my belly, across my skin, teasingly close, and I wriggle against his hand, needing him to move lower, find how much I want him.
Jem hesitates again watching for a reaction, chest rising and falling as rapidly as mine.
“Jem, please…” My heart thumps, skin alight and the blinding need to be touched consumes like never before.
My words are enough. Jem’s kisses me again, a dizziness spreading through at the intensity, as he edges his fingers downward. Jem reaches my wet heat and skims a finger between my legs. I gasp, and buck against his hand as he strokes, but this isn’t enough, why didn’t he let me take off my panties before? I hold his shoulders and am suddenly aware he’s trembling the same way I am, holding himself back.
“f-uck, you’re wet for me. I guess I don’t need to ask if you’re enthusiastic.”
“Jem, I want this.”
Breathing hard, Jem kisses my face, my cheeks, my mouth, moving along my body kissing and licking. He moves downward, dipping his tongue into my bellybutton before he swirls his tongue to my hip.
He shifts, kneels on the floor and draws me to the edge of the bed, where he slowly kisses from my ankle and along my calf. Jem’s lips reach my inner thigh, venturing higher and part of me is screaming for him to keep going, over the building anxiety. I’ve no experience of this; it wasn’t on Dan’s list of things to do.
“Your legs f-ucking kill me, Ruby. The first day I saw you I wanted them wrapped around me.” The words are spoken against my skin and he hooks both thumbs into my panties and tugs.
I tense and look away, body tingling with anticipation of what he’s going to do as he pulls them off until I’m completely naked in front of him. Jem runs both hands up my thighs, circling his thumbs at the edge of my flesh, eyes focused on his action. I feel exposed but before I have a chance to catch up with the thoughts, he runs his tongue along the seam of my sex. My mind splinters as he finds my c-lit, ripping any rational thought from my mind.
“f-uck!” I breathe out the word and arch against him. Jem laughs against me, the vibration intensifying the pleasure, setting my nerves alight.
Pulling my legs onto his shoulders, Jem holds my hips so I can’t move, exploring me with his hot tongue. When he eases a finger inside too, I’m lost. Lost to Jem, to here, to never going back from this new world. Jem focuses on me, swirling his tongue, sliding his fingers, shifting his pattern as he pays attention to my reactions. I try to disguise the sounds, but these are the touches and kisses of a man tuned into me and inhibition won’t work. As I edge further to a place that’s blinding me with stars threatening to explode in sensation Jem stops. I groan at the loss of his mouth but his fingers remain where they are.
Kissing his way back up my body, Jem’s lips meet mine again, and the taste of myself on his tongue shocks and arouses me.
“That was unfair,” I push myself against his palm, not wanting the new sensation to end. Jem shifts and smiles at me; a lazy smile of a guy who knows what he’s doing and knows that he’s good at it.
“Didn’t I sound interested enough?” I ask, genuinely concerned I’m not doing this right.
“You’re enjoying yourself.” His whisper is a statement, not a question and is matched with the slow slide of his fingers, teasing a place inside I never knew existed, a place hardwired to the rest of my body and flooding shocks to my nerves.
“I want you inside me before…,” I say. “I mean, if you don’t stop you’re going to make me…” I can’t say the words, wish my brain would let go that little bit further.
Jem moves his face to my ear, hair and breath tickling my skin. “Come?”
I squeeze my eyes closed. “Yes.”
“Good.” Jem plunges his fingers with a harder rhythm, rubbing my c-lit at the same time, whispering what he wants to do; what he’s going to do as I spin away from the shyness I shouldn’t have around this man who is already part of me. Every time I find myself reaching for the edge, he stills his hand and focuses somewhere else –taking my nipple in his mouth or leaving a trail of heat along my b-reasts and stomach with his tongue. My short breaths have become pants; the moans at each time he stops are met with a smug smile and heated desire in his eyes.
“Jem, please…” I say when he stops again.
“Now?”
“Inside,” I pant out.
Jem shuffles back and I close my eyes. I hear the noise of the foil wrapper and jerk in surprise when he runs his tongue across my c-lit again as he rolls the condom on.
“f-ucking amazing,” he whispers, stroking me with his tongue. He pauses and I’m ready to scream at him. “I want to make you come first though.”
“No, Jem!” I protest and he laughs, sitting back.
I prop myself up and stare at him kneeling on the floor in front of me, the sight of his muscled body, his hard length, tightens my stomach with anticipation.
Should I be doing more?
Jem moves up the bed, tautly muscled body covering mine as he presses me into the bed and settles himself between my legs.
“For now, we can do it this way.” His eyes glint. “Later, other ways.”
I’m shaking with the need for this, to have him finish what he’s started. I inhale sharply as the tip of him touches my sensitive flesh, as Jem rubs with the same rhythm as his tongue once did and for the first time ever I’m giving, not accepting. I shuffle my hips closer as he slides down my wetness, holding himself at the edge of where I want him. I wrap a leg around his waist, attempting to pull him closer.
“I have waited too long for this and what makes it better is you’re f-ucking loving it,” growls Jem.
I dig my nails into his side and he rocks against me, slowly, teasingly pushing himself inside then edging back out. I lose the last control I’m holding onto. “Jem, just f-ucking do it!”
“Ah, your mouth… Jesus…” Jem lets go, plunging into me and I gasp as he fills me completely.
I grip him tightly, wrapping my legs around Jem’s waist and dig my nails into his back. Jem has me consumed; body, heart, and soul whether I want him to, or not. We hold each other’s gaze, an intimacy I’ve never had. The final connection, looking into each other’s vulnerabilities, of seeing everything we’re feeling in each other’s expressions ramps up the physical sensations crashing through with each thrust.
Jem slides in and out of me, harder each time, and I match his rhythm with my hips, wanting all of him too. He moves a hand beneath my ass, pulling me upwards as he pushes deeper, bumping my sensitive c-lit with each thrust, sending me spiralling further to a new place. I hold Jem tightly; and he groans pushing his tongue into my mouth, joining the movement we create. I grasp his neck locked into my overloaded senses.
Unable to hold out any longer, the pressure built inside explodes. The tingle spreads, reaching from my scalp to my toes, deep inside. I’m aware of crying out; of gripping him tightly inside as the pleasure comes in waves and I open my eyes, vision blackened by the intensity.
Jem watches as I fall apart in his arms but keeps thrusting. “Holy f-uck, Ruby…” He swears repeatedly and his face changes to pleasure that matches mine, lost in his own intense moment as he closes his eyes and slams into me one last time. He drops onto me, heart thudding against mine, gripping my hair, and covering my face with kisses.
I cling to Jem and he holds me close as we stay in a silent understanding, panting becoming sighs, kisses back to tender and our skin burning against each other. I bury my face into Jem’s shoulder and he strokes my hair. We don’t have words, although I burst to tell him what he did to me, how he showed me that I matter. The intense pleasure still coursing through my body is because this was for us, and not his own satisfaction and I’m fighting the tears that realisation is pushing into my eyes.
“Be right back,” he whispers.
When Jem returns from the bathroom and climbs onto the bed, I rest my cheek on his damp chest and play my fingers along the defined muscles of the body that just connected with mine the way nobody’s ever has. Sex takes on a new understanding, more than a one-sided act for gratification, not something that’s done to me. But with that rushes the fear I shared more than my body at the point he looked into my eyes and saw my soul unhidden. Did Jem give me a glimpse of his too?
“I don’t do all the post-sex loved-up bullshit, by the way,” he says, winding a finger through my hair.
I smile; this is the Jem I expected. “I don’t want you to lie to me. That’s fine.”
“Yeah, mind-melting orgasms I can do, sweet nothings, not so much.”
“It’s okay; you don’t need to apologise.”
“I’m not apologising. I’m stating a fact.” He rubs his nose against mine. “Give me a few minutes and you can have something better than sweet nothings.”
“A few minutes?” I say doubtfully.
“Oh, you bet. There is so much more I want to do with you.”
Jem drags the duvet up so the soft cotton covers our bodies and our hearts slow together, to a shared rhythm. Sometimes words chosen contradict the reality. In this space, with this man, something is different. Whatever sparked between us, and was denied for weeks, has been kindled into something that burns stronger than I think either of us will be able to control.