Somewhere Along The Line

25. Piper

We stumble into James’s foyer, and it’s a miracle we’re alive given how little attention we paid to our surroundings on the way home. I kick off my shoes, hang up my coat, and head to the kitchen before he can pull me in for another kiss.

It’s not that I don’t want one, I'm just desperate to peek in his fridge first.

In fact, I want to ransack this whole place to uncover all of James’s secret quirks and habits. I rip open the appliance door and find exactly what I expect: a leftover pizza, some whiskey, and two jars of hot sauce. It’s a shame no one lives in this nice of a home; James basically squats here.

I spin around to face the island, a balloon bouquet perched on the counter. It’s an arrangement from Shindigs—I spot Mr. Ellis’s handwriting on the front of the card.

“Wooooooow. Seems like someone was confident I’d end up in his house today! Is this for me?” I’m giving James a hard time and he knows it.

He walks into the kitchen and puts his hands on my hips, turning me so I’m backed into the counter. He’s blocking me in with both arms, trapping me under him with my spine against the cold granite edge.

“I hoped,” he says with a smile. “And if not, I figured I could take this thing and stomp on each balloon one by one. That was my backup plan.” His foot nudges mine to widen my stance so he can slide his leg between my thighs, leaning into me further.

It creates the kind of pressure my body always craves but is especially delicious right now. A shiver shimmies my shoulders.

“You knew I’d love it,” I whisper. “You were right.”

“I want to do everything you love, P. Like I said before, you’re not hard to figure out. Just takes paying attention.”

“I love your attention.”

James presses his weight into me, his pelvis flush against me. The stiff length of him is heavy against my leg. His nose nudges my lips before he sinks into an urgent kiss, the tenderness of our kiss at the park replaced by desire he needs to pursue now .

I meet him there, my hands wrapping around his waist to squeeze his ass, to glide up his back, to rake my nails down in lines that will linger tomorrow.

He lifts me onto the counter, spreading my knees so that he can step between, keeping his weight pressed against me as we meet chest to chest. My longing grows needy. I want his fingers everywhere, his mouth everywhere. I also want him to take his time.

I want everything.

A ringtone cuts through the moment like a hot knife and James drops his head to my chest with a groan, his hands still tight on my thighs. He’s never wanted anything more than to ignore this phone call.

“It’s my dad,” he mutters, his breath warm through the fabric of my shirt. I need his mouth about two inches lower to the left or right, but we’re frozen while the phone rings.

With a groan, James peels himself away from me and grabs the phone from the opposite counter, accepting the FaceTime call a split-second before it times out.

“Yep?” James answers, his voice higher than usual and his breathing fast.

“Jamie! How did it go this morning? Please fill me in. Don’t make me wait any longer.”

Mr. Newhouse looks good from what I can tell, after I’ve slid off the counter and onto a more respectable barstool (unless you count the last time I was here).

“Wait, is that Piper back there? Hi Piper!”

“Yes, Piper is here. We’re catching up, can I call you back later?” James rakes a hand through his hair, trying to expel some of the tension that built and then stopped, a roller coaster swaying at the apex, filled with potential energy.

He pivots to face me, mouthing “Sorry” with a grimace as he lowers the phone to obscure his dad’s view.

“C’mon, let me say hi! I’ll only be a minute.”

James nods, heaving a sigh as he props the phone on the counter and steps behind me, tucking his head in the space between my neck and shoulder. Now we can both see his dad and he can see both of us. The stubble on his chin tickles my shoulder every time I breathe.

“Mr. Newhouse! How are you doing? I heard you moved?” I ask. James might want to rush this conversation along, but I don’t. I want to make a better second impression with his dad than I did the first.

“Piper, dear, I’m doing just fine. I’ve had a lot of fun exploring my new neighborhood! Hey, would you want to join us for dinner on Sunday? We’ll probably get together at my place now that the new table has arrived—”

“ Dad! ” James interrupts, trying desperately to redirect the conversation. “We’re taking things slow. You promised to honor that, remember? If things went well this morning? Having family dinner forty-eight hours after confessing our feelings doesn’t seem like the best idea.”

“Yes, I’d love to!” I squeal, ignoring James’s protests and speaking directly to his dad. “Tell me the time and what I can bring. I’ll skip the sausage balls this time. I can’t wait to see how the apartment is coming along!”

“See, J? It doesn’t have to be a big deal.”

Hearing that familiar refrain in Mr. Newhouse’s voice fills me with warmth as I understand for the first time where James got it.

“I’ll see you two on Sunday then. Enjoy catching up .” Mr. Newhouse gives us an obnoxious wink before ending the call, clearly aware of our plans for the afternoon after reconciling this morning.

James collapses onto me with a whine, his body enveloping me on all sides. “I’m sorry,” he repeats, a blanket apology muffled by his face in my shirt.

“Don’t be sorry your dad loves me,” I joke, before replacing the line with the obvious answer. “Don’t be sorry your dad loves you.”

He nods, releasing an exhale before straightening and pulling me off the bar stool with a spin so we’re chest to chest.

“Can we start over?” he asks, cautiously optimistic that this brief interruption hasn’t killed the mood.

“That’s the whole point of today, James,” I reply. “Yes, we can start over.”

The words are barely out of my mouth before I’m staring at his ass, my body flung over his shoulder as he carries me toward what must be his bedroom. He flops me down on his bed, carefully but not delicately. He’s not trying to be gentle at this point.

His covers are ideal for burrowing, and while I am almost positive James is a “no street clothes in the bed” kind of guy, I don’t care. Given how he’s looking at me curled up in his sheets, I don’t think he cares either. Not today.

“Are you going to join me or what?” He seemed very eager to move into action a minute ago.

“I will.” He smiles. “After I soak in the sight of you in my bed. Do you know how many times I’ve thought about you here? How our night together in the living room replayed in my mind as I lay in this bed, wishing you were next to me, and under me, and on top of me? I built a lifetime’s worth of fantasies involving you in this room. It’s going to take me a minute to choose where I want to start.”

James strips off the top of his white Elvis jumpsuit, his chest firm, and I’d love to start with my hands on his pecs if he’ll let me. I follow his lead and remove my shirt, keeping on a lace bralette that is uncharacteristically sexy for a workday. Good thing I never went to work today.

“Take off the bottom half, too,” I demand, removing my skirt and throwing it over the side of the bed. My underwear doesn’t match the bra but it’s not the worst pair I own, all things considered.

James pushes the pants down to his ankles, stepping his feet out one at a time until he’s standing in a pair of boxer briefs. The sight of him sends a rush through my core. I’m wet just looking at him; the anticipation of his body on mine makes me swell.

“You’re not in charge here, Pipes.” James slides into bed and rolls on his side to face me, his palm finding the softness of my stomach and resting there. “Let me take care of you.”

He nuzzles his face to mine and kisses me slowly, so slow that the building ache between my legs becomes unbearable.

“James,” I beg, arching up, trying to meet his hand or somehow inch it lower.

“I’m going to give you what you need, Sweet P. Trust me.” I nod, knowing he’ll come through but eager for relief now .

James positions himself over me until he’s eye-level with my breasts, taking one in his hand and sweeping his thumb over the nipple while his mouth sucks at the other, pulling at the peak through the sheer fabric of my bra. The stimulation makes me shudder—the friction of his touch and the lace rubbing against my sensitive skin feels heavenly.

“James, yes, that feels so good. You are so good.” I’ve never felt this much pleasure without any sort of stimulation below the belt. I wonder if I could come just like this, with James sucking and pulling at my nipples, whispering how sweet I taste and how much he loves this.

We’re not even naked yet.

He pauses for a moment to sit on his heels, nudging the bralette up my body and pulling it carefully over my head before flinging it to the floor. I am desperate for his bare chest to meet mine, frustrated by his resistance as I try to pull him down.

Instead, he hovers, trailing a line of kisses from my mouth to my collarbone, to the underside of my breasts, to my belly button, and then lower.

When he reaches the edge of my panties, he stops, grazing his lips lightly before pulling the top of the fabric between his teeth with a tug. I want them gone NOW . Five minutes ago would have been better. I try to shimmy my legs to help the effort, but James is no longer tugging.

He glances up at me with searching eyes—they match the wildness burning in mine.

“Can I kiss you here?” He drops his mouth to the fabric between my legs, right where I want him most, and I jolt. I’m already so sensitive. There will be a substantial disconnect between what I want and what I can take.

“Do you want to kiss me there? You don’t have to,” I whisper, threading my fingers through his hair as he hovers over me, waiting for permission. Oral sex is a no-go for some folks, and I don’t want him to feel compelled for my sake.

“I want to kiss you everywhere , P. I want to know you inside and out. I want to touch you and taste you and hear you moan and watch your thighs shake and go limp when you come. I want to spend the rest of the day learning every possible way I can make you break apart and spend all of tonight putting you back together. So, yes, please, let me kiss you here.”

This must be what it feels like to be worshipped.

“Yes. James, yes.” My body is buzzing with anticipation and desperate for his touch.

He grabs the top of my panties and drags them down to my ankles, slipping them over each foot before they join the pile next to the bed. James stops to take in the sight of me, his gaze traveling up and down my body, lingering at my face, my breasts, my stomach, and lower.

He’s cataloging every part of me, taking mental pictures for a growing gallery of all the pieces he desires. I feel certain he captures every single one. My heart wants to burst.

He moves himself to the foot of the bed and pulls me down to the edge, kneeling to place both of my legs over his shoulders.

He starts gently, sliding his tongue through me as I sink into his face, wrapping my legs around his back and crossing them at the ankle to pull him closer. The heat of his mouth draws every ounce of my attention to where he’s working, the entirety of the universe existing between his lips and mine. His tongue slips inside me briefly before dragging up, slowly at first and then with increasing pressure.

“ James .” His name escapes my throat, breathy and needy as he begins to suck, pulling me into his mouth and nipping lightly with his teeth. The sound he makes in response, one of deep satisfaction at making me feel so. fucking. good ratchets me into another echelon.

He brings his hands to my breasts, his fingers twisting my nipples in rhythm as he sucks harder. The sight of him like this—bathed in early afternoon light, unapologetic in his fierce desire to pleasure me—is almost too much.

I’m nearly there as I arch into his face, begging him to keep going, just like that, to make me come. He glances up to me, keeping his mouth exactly where I need him. The eye contact throws me over the edge.

I gasp for air as he continues soft strokes with his tongue, teasing out every wave of pleasure within me until my mind and body are nothing but Jello. I can’t make a coherent thought, much less offer him the praise I’d like to, because I no longer have a brain. The only thing in my head is a jumble of pure oxytocin.

James fills the space that I cannot.

“Holy shit, Piper. That was… you are… absolutely incredible.” He slides himself onto the bed and lays next to me, curling himself around me as I bask.

The idea that this experience was incredible for him is incomprehensible. What kind of mystical man thinks giving a mind-blowing orgasm is better than receiving one? I don’t hate it. That’s the understatement of the century. I love it.

“ You were incredible,” I manage to say. “I’ve never… that’s not a thing that usually works for me.”

“I’m always happy to work for you.” James kisses my shoulder with a tenderness that almost hurts. “Working you up is my very favorite kind of work.”

I roll over him until I’m straddling his legs and he’s lying on his back, noting the flush on his cheeks from either heat, friction, or being here with me. It’s his very best look.

Finally, I drag my hands along his chest, admiring every individual muscle that lines his abdomen. He shivers as I inch my fingers closer to the waistband of his briefs.

“Do I get to be in charge now? I’d like to put in some work of my own.”

James smiles, his lips pulling high in each direction as he nods. He releases a groan as I grind against him, his head flopping back against the pillow.

I lift myself off him so I can strip him down, removing the last layer of clothing between us, nothing left but skin and sweat and need. Grabbing a condom from his nightstand, I roll it onto him before lowering myself to his lap. I place him between my lips but not yet at my entrance, and I rock back and forth, my wetness covering the length of him in a steady rhythm as I glide up and down. He bucks into me, moaning, whenever I near his tip.

“Piper, if you keep doing this…” he spits out the words in gasps and starts, “I’m not going to even… make it inside of you.”

I stop for a moment while he catches his breath.

“Then let’s get you inside me,” I say, leaning forward to suck on his neck, my hand grabbing him from between my thighs and positioning him where he belongs. I lower myself onto him inch by inch, allowing time to stretch so I can take him fully.

When he’s there, filling me entirely, I sit myself up and begin to rock. It takes a minute to find a tempo and angle that works, one that allows him to hit where I desperately need him and has him digging hard into my hips as I slide up and down.

“Look at me,” I ask, though it’s not a request so much as a demand. Our eyes connect before his fall to my breasts, one in each of my hands as I push and pull, pinching my nipples between my fingers until it makes me arch into my own touch.

“Fucking hell, Piper,” he gasps, his hands reaching around to palm my ass.

“You like that,” I muse, recalling the night in the parking lot when he said the same to me.

“I really, really do.” The words break as I take one hand and slide it down, dragging wetness from where our bodies meet and bringing it to where I’m most sensitive. My thumb lingers there, sweeping circles that bring me closer to release. I increase my speed, riding him as he works to keep his eyes on me, on my tits bouncing with each thrust.

It feels so damn good. The position yes, but also the ability to make James feel this too. I’m inching closer as I continue the rhythm, spurred on by a wave of James’s praise.

“ Look at you taking me so well ” pushes me to orgasm, my body squeezing him in waves that bring him to his own finish. We ride out the pleasure until I collapse onto him into a heap of sticky skin on skin, our hearts beating as fast as our breath.

I want to stay here for the rest of my life.

After a minute, maybe five, I slide myself to his side. We’re still intertwined, my leg flung over his hip, his knee resting between my thighs, my arm draped across his back, and his under my pillow, right beneath my neck.

“Hey, P?” His voice is just above a whisper. He brings a hand to my face, lightly pinching my chin between his thumb and pointer finger, gliding his palm under my jaw.

“Yeah?” Once again, my deliriously satisfied brain can hardly form a sentence.

“There’s one more thing I’ve never said to you, not directly, and I need to. It’s three words.”

My heart rate picks up and my palms start to sweat as I wait for what he’ll say next. If he plans to say, “I love you,” I’m ready to hear it.

James takes a deep breath in. “I forgive you.”

My head rears back in confusion, my eyes narrowing. “You forgive me for what?”

“For scuffing my shoe.”

I grab the pillow from behind my head and smack him with it, half planning to smother him before he yanks it toward the floor, pulling me along with it until I’m on top of him again. I can’t help but kiss him, even if he is infuriating.

“Sorry, let me try that again.” James says with a smile, and I’m back on the train all over again, sitting next to him, just learning his name. But this time his words come out differently.

“I love you, Piper Paulson.” His eyes, usually a cool blue, are filled with warmth. “I love your old T-shirts and the way you flail when you’re nervous. I love your sausage balls and I love this…” he reaches up to rub his thumb under my ear, “this spot on your neck. I love how you serve the people in your life, and how you throw your whole heart into the people you love—”

I can’t help but interrupt. “And I love, James Newhouse, that you’re one of them.”