Truth or Beard(84)

I suggested fried pie instead.

It took some convincing, but Jess finally agreed. Yet her agreement came only after I pointed out that Daisy’s Nut House would be closing in an hour. If we were going to secure pie, the time was now.

While she righted herself, I grabbed my clothes, took a walk upstairs, and shoved my head and neck under the cold water faucet, thinking of England and the Queen. This was a trick Cletus taught me some years ago. When faced with a stubborn boner, thinking of all those wrinkled, disapproving monarchs in their fancy clothes usually worked.

It didn’t exactly work this time, but it worked enough. I couldn’t keep wearing my tented coveralls, so I switched back into my pants.

I’m not sure why I turned her down. Feeling her lose her mind against my mouth and fingers, this time lying on the hood of the Mustang I was determined to give her, was going in my long-term memory storage for frequent replay.

I should have taken her up on the offer to reciprocate, but I couldn’t. Fuck I wanted to…but I couldn’t. Not until everything was just right. Not until we had more than a few hours.

So instead I tried to recall the names of Henry the Eighth’s six wives, and how each had met her demise.

Both easing and increasing the torture, on the ride over Jess snuggled close to me, opting to use the center seatbelt and laying her head on my shoulder as I drove. She sighed a lot. And she smiled a lot.

At one point she picked up my hand from where it rested on her thigh and studied my fingers, holding them close to her face and tracing my knuckles.

“I like your hands.”

“My hands like you.”

She smiled again. Then sighed against my neck.

“This feels good.”

“What’s that?” I slowed to make the turn into Daisy’s, scanning the cars in the lot. It was fairly packed.

“I don’t know what to call it…post-orgasmic bliss, I guess.”

I released a short laugh and shook my head. “Don’t tell me I’ve given you your first?”

She shrugged. Even though we’d parked and I’d turned off the engine, she made no move to relinquish her spot curled against my side.

“No. I’m quite talented at the art of self-pleasuring.”

At this statement, two thoughts warred for my attention: first, I was vehemently determined to get her to myself again as soon as possible, because I’d very much enjoy watching her talent in the art of self-pleasuring.

And second, unless I’d misunderstood, her admission meant I was the first guy who’d brought her to orgasm.

My possessive impulses were back with a sudden fierceness. I leaned slightly away so I could see her eyes.

“Jess, have you ever—I mean, are you…?”

A small V formed between her eyebrows as I struggled to ask my question, but then her forehead cleared when she understood.

“Oh, no. No. I’m no virgin. First of all, my hymen broke when I was a teenager while horseback riding at my aunt’s farm in Texas—thank God, because I hear breaking through that thing the old-fashioned way is like getting stabbed in the hoo-hah. And secondly, I had sex with a guy in college. He was really nice, but it was…underwhelming in the extreme.”

I frowned at this news, irritated someone else had touched her. But also strangely both pissed and relieved the experience had been underwhelming.

“Just one guy?”

She nodded, looking unperturbed, then asked, “What about you? How many girls have you been with?”

I studied her, bracing myself for her reaction to the truth. “Just one.”

Jessica blinked several times, like I’d startled her, and she choked out, “Just…just one?”

I nodded, searching for any clues as to what she was thinking.

“Just one…” she repeated, mostly to herself and pulled away from me. After several seconds her gaze darted to mine, then away again. She laughed without humor, staring at her lap, and said, “I guess you were really in love.”

“What do you mean?” I rested my arm on the bench behind Jess’s shoulders, surprised by her words, wondering if it were possible she already knew how I thought of her.

“With Tina. I guess you really loved her.”

I reeled back, and said much louder than I intended, “Tina? In love with Tina? Oh, hell no.”

Jessica examined me with a questioning frown. “Then why did you…why were you only with Tina? For five years?”

I half rolled my eyes, and tilted my head toward the door to Daisy’s. “Let’s go inside.”

“Are you avoiding the question?”

“No. For the record, I was never in love with Tina. I’d just like some pie if we’re going to talk about this,” I drawled, figuring it was time to return her unfailing honesty with my own.