Chapter 33
For a moment I don't know what I should feel more – pissed off or hurt –
but I find myself mostly confused. It's nothing new for Bella to get in my face like that; I know she deals with her frustration by letting her emotions run rampant, and I prefer that to her brooding and moping around for ages, but this obviously goes beyond any other fight we've had lately. And being left standing in my living room with Jazz, who is seething with anger, while I have absolutely no idea what is going on, is not helping things.
"What the f*ck?"
Probably not the most eloquent way to phrase the question, but I don't think anything else will get through to him right now.
Jazz keeps staring at me for several seconds, then grunts, and turns away from me, still tense as hell.
"Nothing. Forget it."
"What do you mean, nothing?" I shout, my own ire rising at the way he's trying to shut me down. "Obviously I'm an oblivious a*shole that doesn't
"get" anything. You could at least do me the courtesy of telling me what I was too dense to "get" this time!"
He stops, then looks back at me, flexing his hands as if he is yearning to punch me. Hell, maybe he is. I don't give a shit.
"Well?" I ask again when he still doesn't say anything.
"You really don't see it?" he asks, more incredulous than angry for a moment, but the rage is back within moments. "How can you not see it?
She saw it weeks ago! Weeks!" Jazz throws his hands up and starts to pace, then stops again, glaring at me. "How can you be so blind?"
"Maybe because I'm just a stupid f*cker?" I supply unhelpfully, but his anger is so contagious that I can't calm myself down. I'm so fed up with all the secrecy, and I know it's only going to get worse if I don't stop this now.
"But how about for a change you just tell me what the f*ck is going on?
Instead of whining behind my back that I'm too much of an idiot to get it?"
He takes an almost menacing step towards me, then opens his mouth, but at the last second closes it again. My patience snaps and I cross the distance between us, grabbing the front of his t-shirt to yank him towards me so I can sneer into his face from up close.
"F*cking tell me!"
"I love you, that's what's going on!"
He spits out the words, then shoves me away, hard enough to make me stumble and for him to shake me off. Once the meaning behind what he has just said registers, I'm stunned, and unable to react. I feel like a fish out of water, and my mind kicks into overdrive.
He loves me. He loves me? What the -
I swallow thickly, then force myself to think; all the while Jazz is staring at me, his shoulders heaving slightly with each shaky breath.
Part of me is waiting for me to freak out – what will happen now? How will Bella take it? Can our relationship survive me f*cking up again, in exactly the same way as before? But the only thing I actually feel is relief. Because suddenly it all makes sense.
From the end of their spat it's obvious that Bella knows, in fact has known for a while – and that also explains her erratic behavior of the last few weeks. She's not one to keep secrets, and it must have been eating her up not to breathe a word to me. The fact that she didn't tell me leads me to only one possible conclusion – not only did she bow to what must have been extensive begging on Jasper's side, but she must be sympathizing deeply with him without being upset herself, or else she would have gotten in my face the second she got a whiff of it.
And Jazz's own erratic behavior is clearly related to what just culminated to what must have been one of the hardest things he has ever admitted to anyone in his life. From the way he's still looking at me, with panic and defiance warring in his eyes, it's not hard to guess that he's expecting me to either laugh in his face, tell him to f*ck off, or kick him out at any moment now.
I should probably tell him that I don't intend to do any of those things.
Though brief to me, my silence must have been endless to him, and he looks ready to draw his own conclusions from it.
"Aren't you at least going to say something to that?" he gripes, his voice strained, his anger not completely gone.
I spend a fleeting second trying to come up with something, but nothing comes to mind. I just know how his words make me feel.
He hasn't shoved me far enough away that I can't cross the distance between us in two quick steps, but he tries to fight me when I grab his shoulders and pull him close. He seems so fragile as he stares at me, then opens his mouth to keep shouting, but I cut off the escaping sound by mashing my lips against his and pushing my tongue into his mouth.
Jazz shudders, then tries to push me away in earnest, but I only let go of his left shoulder so I can grab the back of his neck to keep him from dislodging my lips from his. The muffled grunt he utters in protest already speaks of his defeat, and a moment later I feel his hands on my body.
The need for any further communication dwindles fast when we start tearing off each other's clothes, in our haste knocking over a chair. I feel the back of my legs get slammed against the side of the couch. Holding onto Jazz, I kick his legs out from under him while I turn us to the side, ending with us falling into the cushions of the sofa with me mostly on top of him. The impact has jarred us both enough to break our kiss, and for a moment we simply stare at each other, panting loudly in the otherwise silent room. Whatever he sees on my face makes him grin for a moment, then he pulls me down and we resume where we left off.
When I finally manage to get my hand into his jeans, I find him already hard, and more than willing to kick off the offending garment. I chuckle as he tears off my pants next, divesting me of them and my boxer briefs with a few jerky motions. We're both needy for contact, kissing and touching each other with rising tension. Before long I rear up and search around for the bottle of lube that must be somewhere underneath the coffee table. After all, the couch has seen more action than our bed lately, no sense in not keeping the necessities at hand.
Jazz grins at me briefly when he sees my hunt has been successful, but when he tries to turn over I just lean into him, pinning him with my weight so that he has to stay on his back. Confusion remains on his face as he watches me squirt lube onto my palm, but he doesn't resist when I grab his cock and stroke it a few times, then nudge his right leg up towards the backrest of the couch so that I can reach his anus and push a wet finger into him. Leaning further into him, I grab his dick with my free hand and claim his mouth again, feeling my own hard cock rub over his lower stomach.
Even though the need to f*ck him is screaming inside of me, I take my time working my fingers in and out of him, feeling him relax gradually, then raise his hips to make them push deeper into him. I speed up a bit, then lean back as I watch him succumb to his lust gradually between both of my hands.
Of course, I have jerked him off plenty of times, but this time is different somehow. I love watching him writhe, love listening to the low moans and near growled grunts that he utters before he finally can't hold back anymore and comes with a few spurts over my hand and his stomach.
Following an impulse, I lean over him and lick up his spunk, letting my teeth scrape over his abs on my way back up to his mouth. He chuckles when he tastes himself on my tongue, still a bit breathless from the exertion. I don't intend to let him catch his breath just yet, though.
Moving back until I'm sitting on my haunches, I make a grab for the lube bottle again, but Jazz is surprisingly faster than me, his prepped hand already wrapping around my cock before I can protest. Not that I would, but I'm still a little stunned, and all too happy to thrust a few times into his hand to get myself ready. Then I just can't take it any more and push him back down, and with a decisive thrust I slide my cock into him. The forcefulness of the motion makes him grunt, and my attempt not to smear any lube or jizz remaining on my hands onto the couch ends up with me nearly falling on top of him, the resulting friction delicious.
We end up face to face that way, and I grin down hungrily at him when I start to move, slow, deep thrusts that draw all kinds of sighs and moans from us both. He looks up at me with his eyes wide, his face flushed, then grabs my head and pulls me down far enough so that he can devour my mouth. Throwing all caution concerning altercations due to further ruining the couch deliberately to the wind, I put my hands flat onto the cushions to shift my balance, then pick up the pace, shoving my cock deep into him.
While our movements get more frantic by the minute, the sense of this being more than just any f*ck is all encompassing, lending a special quality to the moment – making it intimate somehow. When I finally come it's with a loud shout before I sag down, my forehead against his shoulder, his breathy laugh filling my ears.
We remain lying like that for a while, and once I can move again I turn my head to look at his face, finding him smiling at me in turn. As the sweat slowly dries on my back the realization of the capital mess we've made passes through my mind, but I don't care.
"Are you done staring into space yet? Because I'm starting to get a weird feeling in the hip you're lying on, so if you don't mind, get off me," Jazz huffs, then laughs when instead of moving I just look at him. "What?"
"Nothing," I snort, then pull back a little as I smirk at him, and start to laugh.
"You're such an a*shole," he grunts, then punches me in the shoulder, both as payback and to get me to move, but his success is greatly impaired by the fact that he's laughing himself. Shaking my head, I extend my hand to him and draw him to his feet.
We end up standing way closer to each other than we're used to. The moment feels strange and a bit awkward, but Jazz diffuses it by reaching up and drawing my head closer still, brushing his lips almost tentatively against mine. I happily moan into his mouth as I let his tongue snake in, then squeeze his ass almost possessively as he kisses me. He continues to laugh, rubbing his half-hard cock not very subtly against my thigh, and the meaningfulness of the moment dissipates into stupid foolery, leaving us both grinning at each other.
"Come on, let's grab a shower, I think we both need it," I propose. Jazz nods, then looks at the couch and the decorative spots left drying on the fabric.
"She's so going to have our asses for this mess!"
"Oh yes, she will," I agree, then smirk. "Unless we keep her too busy to notice."
He strikes a pensive pose, arms crossed and the fingers of one hand scratching his chin while he looks at the ceiling.
"Could work. If we try hard enough, that is. But let's shower first. I'm starting to feel vaguely gross standing here like this."
We drag our sorry selves upstairs, both too tired to race each other.
Showering is a somewhat industrial undertaking, more cleaning, less groping. After drying off we end up on the bed. I snort when he leaves the usual Bella-sized distance between us, then scoot over until I'm close enough to touch him comfortably if I want to. But for now, we just look into each other's eyes, getting a little lost in the moment.
"I'm sorry if you felt I was deliberately ignoring you," I finally start the talk we need to have eventually. "I really wasn't. I just don't work that way. I don't play games."
He holds my gaze calmly, then sighs.
"I know. I wasn't intentionally acting like a twelve year-old girl."
The surprisingly accurate analogy makes me smirk for a moment, but I try to remain serious.
"For all our sakes, don't do it again. We can talk about anything in or out of the playroom, but I won't play guessing games. When something comes up, you tell me, and we'll deal with it. Okay?"
"Sure," he agrees, then grunts. "Don't know why I was acting so stupid.
Guess I was simply afraid you'd just -"
"Kick you out?" I presume.
"Reject me," he clarifies, his gaze not quite avoiding mine, but also not holding it for more than a few seconds. "I wasn't sure if I was ready to handle that so soon again. That's why I simply wanted to wait. It wasn't like I needed to run to you and tell you the moment I realized it. And it didn't exactly happen from one day to the next, anyway. One day I just knew. And then, out of the blue Bella gets in my face, telling me that I have to talk to you about it, or else. You know how she gets when she sets her mind on an idea."
"Like a hyperactive chihuahua?" I tease.
"To you maybe! To me, more like a Rottweiler, growling and teeth snapping included."
"Not much difference then," I surmise, making him share a sympathetic grin.
"Yeah. It was actually quite funny. There I was sitting, musing over my morning yogurt, and all of a sudden she's all, you need to tell him, you know? Or else you'll drive all of us insane, and then we'll have to burn the couch again."
"Which we might have to, anyway."
"Whatever, you know what she meant. I tried to act as if I didn't understand what she was talking about, but she didn't buy it. And ever since then she's been bugging me to talk to you. Guess I should have listened."
I nod, smiling.
"Rule number one for living with Bella – listen to what she says. She's usually right."
He answers with a noncommittal grunt.
"I just don't understand how she can see stuff like that so clearly, when even I wasn't all that sure what was going on myself."
"Because she's good at reading people. And, to be frank, contrary to both of us, she has the emotional distance needed to keep from acting like a moron."
"Guess so," he agrees, then regards me a little pensively. "Am I ever going to get an answer? Or should I just let your actions speak louder than words?"
"Do you need an answer?"
I feel a little weird turning the discussion to this topic, but judging from the way he's grinning at me, I can tell that he's mostly yanking my chain.
"Not really. I mean, it's just semantics, right?"
"You might want to sound a little more convincing," I tease back, then pull him close for a quick kiss when he looks almost offended. He grunts some kind of unintelligible protest into my mouth, before he slings an arm over my side and shimmies towards me until almost the whole length of our bodies is touching. We continue to touch each other, and explore and kiss already familiar territory with unfamiliar intimacy.
I moan softly when his hand eventually finds my cock and starts stroking me, slowly and languidly. It's not enough to make me hard fast, but enough to tease my arousal from its usual base level. I try to reciprocate but he pushes my hand away with a laugh, forcing me to look for something else to occupy myself with. Only before I find anything, he suddenly stops, looking a little guilty.
"You should call Bella. I think she was genuinely pissed, not just frustrated with us both for not doing what she thought we should."
I pointedly look down at where his hand is still wrapped around my semi erect cock, but of course he's right. I presume she took off to visit one of our friends, or my mother if she was really mad, but things could go downhill fast if I leave her locked in that state of mind for too long. And while I think that I haven't done anything wrong, she will still blame me for having let things slide for too long.
"I will. But you might want to consider finishing what you've started first?"
"Not sure I should," he grinned. "That would just lead to more and more, and then it'll be past midnight and she'll castrate us both for leaving her worrying for nothing for so long – not sure getting you off now is worth that."
Sighing theatrically I accept defeat, then get up and walk downstairs to retrieve my cell phone from my discarded pants. I have one missed text, from Bella, telling me in very few words – three to be precise – that she is at Rose's. The stupid guy part of me considers just replying in kind, but after the 'did you cook' remark, 'come home now' might not be the best idea. Plus, from the lack of dishes on or around the stove I can tell that she hasn't, anyway. I'm not that stupid.
Walking over to the window front to peer outside, I hit speed dial. Bella picks up on the fourth ring, and I wonder if she's had her cell out waiting to hear from me.
"Hey," I greet her, a bit cautiously. I hate having to talk to her on the phone when things are a little strained between us; I prefer to be able to read her body language.
"Hey," she echoes my words, sounding neutral, which in her case means she's very likely still pissed.
"Do you know when you'll be home? I miss you."
She pauses, then I hear her exhale slowly.
"Did you talk?"
"Yeah."
"Did he tell you?"
"Yeah." My reply comes out sounding a little dejected, something I don't really feel. Her answering silence is strained, and I let my forehead touch the cool glass, trying to come up with something witty to say. "We might have to get a new couch soon."
"Huh?" she asks, obviously surprised at what she must guess is a weird change of topic.
"Because there's lube and jizz all over it."
Now a completely different kind of silence follows, and I can tell she must be smiling although she tries to sound gruff.
"Seriously? Can't you ever make it up into the bedroom? The sheets are so much easier to change!"
"Guilty as charged. I jumped him. You can spank me for having been such a bad boy. I think it's mostly my jizz anyway."
Bella gives a brief bark of laughter.
"Oh, no, I won't, you actually have to be on your best behavior for me to indulge your need to be spanked!"
"Too bad, you do it so well."
"Smart-ass."
"Always," I grin, then look out into the night. "Come home now, please?"
"Sure. Shall I bring pizza? I can grab it on the way over."
"I'll get it, you just get home, 'kay?"
"How can you be so needy after what I presume amounted to you f*cking the living shit out of Jazz, pun intended?"
"Because I'm a glutton! And it's been weeks since we just watched a movie together, the three of us, without anyone having their panties in a twist over something."
"What do you know about the state of my panties?" she huffs, but before I can answer, she goes on. "Scratch that. Rose is tired anyway. I should let her sleep. Extra pineapple for me, please."
"Sure thing. Love ya."
"You, too," she replies, then hangs up.
The sound of one of the floorboards creaking tells me that I'm no longer alone, but I wait for Jazz to come closer before I turn around and look at him. He's trying so hard to appear neutral but his expression screams that if not upset, he's at least slightly miffed, but that just makes me grin.
Holding his gaze I walk over to him, then pull him close, hating that he has already donned a t-shirt and sweat pants as I would have preferred to feel his skin on mine.
Looking deeply into his eyes I lean in until our foreheads almost touch, then utter the few words he so valiantly insisted he doesn't need to hear, but obviously wants to.
"Love you, too."
To take some of the sappiness out of the sentiment, I reach for his ass and squeeze it briefly, making him snort before he steals a quick kiss.
"So, what was this about pizza? I'm starving!"
Snorting, I scroll through the directory on my phone, then call the Italian restaurant around the corner and place the order. Ten minutes later I make my way into the cold night, returning to our building just as Bella comes walking down the street from the other direction. I wait at the door for her, trying for an easy grin, but from her knowing smile I gather that I probably still look somewhat guilty. I don't like fighting with her, and prefer that her screaming at me always ends with hot, equally angry make-up sex, not hours spent apart.
I'm a little surprised when she doesn't leave it at a quick peck on my mouth but deepens her kiss to a real one, tongue and all. She even has a coy smile for me when she pulls back to unlock the door.
"What? Never heard of conditioning? Gotta reward you on the rare occasion that you get your head out of your ass."
I huff, then follow her inside, the stack of pizza cartons in my arms sadly keeping me from slapping her ass as I really want to right now.
"How's Rose?" I ask instead as we wait for the elevator.
"She's good. She was bitching for fifteen minutes that she needs a haircut.
You know how Rose is, when she has nothing else to complain about other than her looks, it means everything is perfect. The baby's starting to get really active, and I don't think Rose will get any respite just because she's sleeping for longer intervals now."
"Probably not."
"I'm so glad we don't have one. Yet, I mean."
"Yet?" I can't keep a grin off my face. As usual, Bella scowls, but then shrugs.
"Who knows what I'll think about that in a few years? If I can see two thickheaded mules like you and Jazz see reason with a single temper tantrum, I'm sure I can get you to change diapers at 3:00 am, too. I should remember that tactic, it might prove useful in the years to come."
"Bella?"
"Yup?" She pops the 'p' succinctly, her smile already darkening with anticipation.
"Now you're the one who deserves that spanking."
"Tease! Like that will keep me from anything."
"I could leave it at just a spanking, you know."
She huffs, then holds the door open for me upstairs so I can bring the pizzas inside.
"Theoretically, I guess you could. Practically? Never. And that's one of the reasons I gladly suffer all your stubbornness and stupidity."
Taking the cartons from me after having ditched her outer layer of clothes, she makes her way over to the couch, briefly scowling at the spots before she shakes her head in exasperation. Jazz joins her, armed with three bottles of beer and a stack of napkins, and I quickly follow.
Together, we curl up on the couch, Bella wedged between Jazz and me, eating pizza right out of the box and drinking beer straight from the bottle, as it should be. Sometimes, the simplest things in life are still the best.