Jem   

I’D BEEN GUILTY ABOUT missing Christmas with Dad and the girls and spending it with Ma instead, so I figured it wouldn’t hurt to go over for a weekend after New Year’s.

I hadn’t planned on Indie being part of the equation. I didn’t think I’d have her so soon. And then I wasn’t planning on her letting me stay over last night. Or finding out what it feels like to be inside her. But it happened.

And fuck if it wasn’t the best thing to happen to me in forever.

If she wasn’t the best thing to happen to me in forever.

But I had to leave for the airport.

She told me to leave, and I did. So it should’ve been fine. But as soon as I got into the truck and down the street, it felt wrong. I didn’t want to just leave after fucking her. I didn’t want her to feel used. I wanted to spend every minute of the day with her, even if we were doing nothing.

I wanted her to know that it was special. That it meant something to me. That I wanted life with her, over and over, until the very end. That she was it for me.

But it seemed like too much. And I figured I have enough time for me to show her.

But that didn’t mean I could leave her behind.

And before I knew it, I was turning back.

And now she’s here. Right here, right now. With me. It feels like a dream. And I don’t want it to end. 

It’s going fast, I know it is. But it feels good. Natural. Like it’s meant to be.

I want her here. And I know she wants to be here. It’s as simple as that. I just want her to get to know my sisters better, and for them to know her too. I want her in my life. That’s it.

But I can’t help but feel like there’s someone else I shouldn’t have left behind.

I got a call from the hospital. They’re requesting a check-up for Ma, but I know she’ll never agree to it. And I feel uneasy, leaving her in the city all alone. It’s only for the weekend, and she has Ace and Logan on speed dial, but…

I don’t know.

I know Indie can tell that something’s off. She’s standing between my thighs as I sit on the edge of the bed, my palms on the backs of her knees. She looks down at me with concern she’ll never be able to hide with those big brown eyes of hers.

I could tell her, but I’ve already catapulted her into unfamiliar territory, and I don’t want her to be uncomfortable, or dragged down by anything. She should be happy now, and I don’t want to upset that.

To punctuate the thought, I pull her up against me. I can feel the softness of her body against mine, her sweet scent— coconut and warm sandalwood— invading my senses. And then I lean up so that my lips meet hers and kiss her slow.

I can’t get enough of this girl.

She’s so much of what I want, given shape.

Indie lets out tiny gasps as I kiss her, all while pulling her tighter into me and shifting further back into the bed so that she can get on top of me. Blood rushes to my dick, and I’m instantly hard.

To make matters worse, Indie crawls over me and runs her hands up and down my chest. Her movements grow rushed, and she draws to a harsh stop at my navel. Cautiously, she undoes the buckle of my belt. But she’s fumbling. Nervous. Her breathing comes out in uneven, stuttered steps. Gently, I take over, tugging down my pants.

I guess we have a little time.

There’s faint humor in her eyes, shy and mischievous at the same time. She sits back for a moment, pulling a hair tie off her wrist before depositing it between her teeth, and then both her hands are grasping her hair as she lifts the strands into a ponytail.

Wordlessly, she lowers herself to my bottom half, and I frown. “What are you—”

But I don’t get to finish my sentence because she slips a hand down the waistband of my boxers, pulling it down with the other.

My dick is harder than fucking steel, and I’m panting like a fucking animal when she hasn’t even touched me yet.

And then she does. She wraps her hand around me and I almost come from the contact. Soft—her hand is so soft. And small. Her fingers just barely touch around me.

“Indie—”

“I want to,” she says, shutting me up.

And then the real torture starts. She moves her hand up along my length, then back down. Slow. Languorous. Like we have all the time in the world. I tell myself it’s too early to come from just her hand, but then she leans down and opens her lips, and all I feel is the hot breath of her mouth before she tongues down the slit of my dick.

“Fuck,” I moan, gripping the sheets. There was a bead of come on the tip. She licked it clean off — and something about it drives me feral. She does it for a while—licking at me like I’m her favorite fucking ice cream cone.

Then she closes her lips around me and takes me deeper in her mouth. “JEM!” Dad yells from downstairs. Indie’s eyes go wide, and she pauses. “DINNER’S READY!”

“COMING,” I bark, annoyed.

She laughs with her mouth still around me, the action sending vibrations skittering down the length of my dick. Fuck. I can’t tell whether I’m in heaven or hell. A growl bubbles up my throat, harsh and insistent. Her pupils are dilated as she looks up at me for a brief moment, her gaze drained of humor.

My cock quivers in her soft, wet mouth as her tongue goes back to working around me. Still slow, still gentle. I cant my hips gently forward, meeting her rhythm as I slowly fuck her mouth. It’s amazing. It’s fucking transcendent. And I’m going to come.

I grit out, trying to pull out of her mouth.

But she stays put, keeping her lips around me.

What? Is she going to—

I don’t have time to deliberate. The thought of her swallowing sends me barrelling over the edge, pleasure exploding through my core as I spill into her mouth. She takes it all, and she makes eye contact with me as she sucks me dry and —fuck—she swallows.

When it’s over, she blinks, wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand. My mind is in a fucked-up haze as I pull up my pants, but I still notice there’s a little shame in her eyes. Not at me — at herself. An angry, strangled sound escapes the back of my throat as I pull her up to me and kiss her, ploughing my tongue inside her sweet mouth. She tastes so good. She tastes like she belongs to me.

“You’re mine,” I blurt. And there’s no damn space for shame over here. I don’t know what her past experiences with sex are, but I’ve had my fair share of it, myself, and there’s no fucking way I’m going to judge her.  

She shivers a little in my arms.

“Say it,” I say, squeezing her cheeks together with one hand. “Say I’m yours.”

Indie frowns, her lips all puckered up because of my hand still on her face.

I grin, grabbing her face with both hands as I plant kisses all over it, and she squeals as I smack every freckle on her cheeks, her brows, her forehead with wet kisses. She laughs harder. “Jem.”

“Say it.”

“Fine!” She sobers slowly. “Fine. I’m... I’m yours.”

My grin widens. I can’t help it.

She gives me a flat look, but there’s amusement in her eyes. “Where’s the bathroom?”

I stare at her in a daze, at her flushed cheeks and glossy eyes. Plush mouth, and moisture glistening on her lips. Lazily, I lean back on the bed, murmuring, “Down the hall, to the left.”

She nods, and when she reaches the door, she gasps. “Jem!”

I rear up. “What?”

“The door wasn’t locked!”

“So?” I murmur dryly.

“So, anyone could’ve walked in!”

“They know better.”

She lets out a frustrated groan and walks out, mumbling something about “impossible” under her breath.

I close my eyes and wait for the pleasure points in my body to die out as the high fades. I don’t know what the fuck she’s done to me, but I actually feel spent. Languid and lethargic, like all the muscle in my body’s turned to mush, and all I want to do is sleep.

When she comes back, her hair is down again, her face less flushed.

Actually…

“Let me fuck you,” I mutter, dead serious.

And then she’s blushing like crazy, her eyes wide. “W-what?”

Blushing and stuttering like she didn’t just give me the best head I’ve had in my life. I chew back my grin.

But Indie must notice the look on my face, because she scowls.

“Your dad’s waiting,” she mumbles, turning to walk out my room. “Let’s go.”

I grumble. But I drag myself out of my bed, following behind her. As we walk downstairs, I sneak my hand into hers, craving the contact. The scent of fried food fills the air, and my mouth is practically watering. I notice Jo at the stove, wearing a light top, her light hair pulled back into a bun held by a claw clip.

“Hey, Jo,” I murmur, slipping into one of the barstools.

“Jem!” She offers me a bright smile. “It’s so nice to see you.”

Indie settles into a barstool next to me, and Jo’s clearwater gaze travels to her. “And you must be Indigo.”

“Um, yes,” Indie says, “Hi.”

“I’m Joanna,” she says, “Lance’s fiancé.”

And then she lifts her hand to show us the plain silver band on her ring finger. Jo’s lips are pursed like she’s trying to hold back how happy she is. I manage a smile. At least they kept it simple. And at least they’re happy.

She lifts a wary brow. “He did tell you, didn’t he?”

I wave a noncommittal hand. “Yeah, yeah. I don’t know how you deal with that old geezer.”

“Heard that!” Dad pipes from the pantry, where he’s digging around for God knows what.

Jo sighs and goes back to toasting buns. “The wedding’s in May.” She lifts her gaze to me, cautious. “You’ll come, won’t you?”

I resist the urge to scoff. Very strategic of my father to get Jo to speak to me about the wedding instead of telling me instead. He knows I’ve grown a soft spot for her, and I’m less likely to say no to her. Oh, well.

“Yeah,” I say, “I’ll be there.”

“You too, Indigo,” Jo says, nonchalantly. “Of course.”

Indie looks up at me, her brows higher. “Oh…uh.”

I figure this is Jo’s way of making sure I make good on my promise and actually pitch up to the wedding. I’ve never brought a girl home, so she must know that Indie means a lot to me. And if she gets Indie to come to the wedding, then that means I’ll be there too.

I’d laugh if it wasn’t coming from a place of valid concern. I was an actual asshole to Jo back in high school. Back then, when I was so sure that she was stealing my father away from my mother, it was my personal goal to inconvenience her in every possible way.

In reality, my parent’s marriage was a done deal. There was no saving it. Jo was the best thing that could have happened. To my father, and the girls.

Indie’s still waiting for me, and I just give her a look as if to say, Your choice.

She gives it a second’s thought before turning to Jo with a small shrug. “Sure.”

My breathing stops for a second. The wedding’s not for months. And Indigo just agreed to be there, with little deliberation. Which means she anticipates being with me for months. I mean, if she thought of leaving me I’d reel her ass right back, but … the thought that she wants this just as much as I do is … comforting.

Just then, Poppy comes running into the kitchen and she tugs on Jo’s shirt and opens her little mouth, and Jo leans down and pops in a tiny block of cheese. Poppy’s gaze turns to Indigo as she chews, and her warm brown eyes go round, like she’s in love. Literal fucking heart eyes. I almost laugh. Cause damn—me, too, Pops.

And then she’s at the foot of Indie’s barstool, lifting her hands like the spoiled little worm she is. But Indie just smiles, reaching down to pick Poppy up and settling her in her lap. My chest warms at the sight.

Lured by the smell of food, no doubt, Kendall walks into the kitchen, followed by a running Gianna.

“Gianna, no running!” Jo sighs, like it’s the hundredth time. Gianna caught a pretty nasty fall from running around the house and got a few stiches, too. But did she learn from it? Nope.

Kendall takes the seat next to Indie, and Gianna finds her way to my lap before Jo passes her a plate. I watch as Kendall starts talking to Indie about her latest art exhibition and Indie listens like she’s genuinely interested, while playing with Poppy’s hair.

“You’re at NYU, right?” Kendall asks, between bites. “What are you studying?”

“Yeah.” Indie nods. “I’m in pre-med.”

Kendall grins. “Oooh, STEM girl, huh?”

Indie offers her a bashful smile. “Barely.”

And then they’re talking about thrift shopping, and how it must be so much better in New York, and Indigo’s face lights up when Kendall mentions Vivienne Eastwood, or something.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I ignore it.

But then it keeps buzzing.

Huffing an annoyed breath, I ease Gigi off my lap and onto the barstool before standing. She frowns back at me.

“Someone’s calling, Gi,” I mumble, “I’ll be back just now.”

Only temporarily satisfied, Gianna turns back to her burger.

I walk to the foyer before pulling out my phone from my back pocket. It’s Ace. Sighing, I answer the call. But I swear to God— if he’s just calling to talk about some dumb shit, I’m going to light a fire under his ass when I get back.

“Hello?” I mutter.

But Ace’s voice comes back frantic and garbled. “Fuck! Jem, I don’t—you have to come back, I—”

My chest dips. “What?”

“I don’t know what happened—”

“Ace,” I snap, “Speak clearly. What’s wrong?”

He takes a deep breath on the other end, and when he speaks, his voice is only a little clearer. “It’s your mom.”