Feeling It Page 13

  “That’s true,” I said. “And I do want him to be happy. I guess that, before now, I didn’t know what it was that he wanted. But I’m finally beginning to understand him.”

  “People aren’t always what you think they are,” Logan said, and there was meaning in his eyes that wasn’t lost on me.

  “Yeah, you’re right,” I said, pausing for a moment to look up at him. “You know, it’s been so weird to be back home and actually talk to my dad. To listen to what he’s feeling and for him to listen to me.”

  “Why’s that so weird?” he asked.

  “Because when I was younger, I was always so angry with him,” I said. “He just shut down after my mom died. It was like living with a heartless man who just spoke to me when there was something to criticize, telling me how I did almost everything wrong or made yet another bad choice. Nothing I ever said or did seemed good enough. All those times I was over at your place was mostly because I hated being at home so much.”

  “And here’s me thinking that you just came over to see me,” Logan teased.

  I stared at him. “Oh, please. You never even noticed me back then.” I said.

  “Well, I’m noticing you now,” he said and he leaned in and kissed me. He tasted like strawberries and kiwi. I carefully picked up the piping bag while he was kissing me, then pulled away and squirted cream into his mouth. He coughed and spluttered, then laughed.

  “There’s a better place to put that cream, you know,” he said.

  “What do you mean? Where?”

  He looked down at his jeans, then back up at me. I blushed. During our first time together a couple of nights ago, I hadn’t put my mouth anywhere near where his eyes just drifted. I had felt curious about it, though, especially when he’d pleasured me so expertly with his mouth.

  So, I accepted the invitation. I kissed him softly, teasing him by trailing my tongue along his lips and, as I did so, I brought my hand down and stroked the bulge at the front of his jeans until I could feel him stiffening under my touch. It felt so good knowing that I had that effect on him and it made me feel a little more confident, a little more daring.

  I kissed his neck, and then slowly moved my hands down his chest, clear about where I was heading. He licked his lips as he watched me, intently, his eyes darkening with desire. I went down on my knees and slowly unbuckled his jeans. His hands gripped the counter behind him. I opened the front of his pants and could see the outline of his cock, pressing against his grey underwear.

  I grabbed hold of the waistband and pulled it down to expose his cock, still stiff with desire. I curled my fingers around his shaft and, at first, held it gently before wrapping my fingers around it a little tighter. I ran my hand up and down a few times, looking up at him as he bit his bottom lip, still watching me.

  Then I reached up and grabbed the piping bag, and I squeezed a long line of cream down the shaft of his cock. I placed the bag back on the counter and then I opened my mouth and took him inside, my lips wrapped around him, my mouth open wide. I ran my lips down, taking the cream in my mouth as I did. He let out a glorious groan and tilted his head back.

  I flattened my tongue against his shaft, moving up and down as I pressed against him, and this time I worked my hand, too. I wasn’t sure whether I was doing it right, but I didn’t care. I just did what felt good, closing my eyes and moaning at the pleasure of having him in my mouth.

  I could taste him, his want, and felt it drip on my tongue, which made me ache. He wanted me and I couldn’t just feel and see it, I could now taste it, too, and it was nothing to do with the cream I’d squirted onto him.

  I moved a little faster, my mouth sliding back and forth, and he was groaning now, his hands in my hair. He moved his hips a little and his breathing became heavier. I cupped his balls in the palm of my hand, stroking them and he groaned.

  “If you keep this up, I’m going to cum in your mouth. You need to stop now,” he said.

  But I had a better idea. “Let’s go upstairs,” I said, as I licked at the cream that was still on my lips. He didn’t need a second invitation. He picked me up, holding me tight against his body and I clung to him as he carried me upstairs. He kicked the door shut behind him as he put me down, nearly ripping off my clothes in his haste to rid me of them.

  This time, though, I wanted to take charge, so I was the one who pushed him onto the bed, had him lie on his back while I got rid of his clothes and then, I straddled him. I wouldn’t let him touch me. I wanted him to watch.

  With my hands up in my hair, I tipped my head back, my breasts sticking out, and I began to move seductively on top him, grinding myself onto his cock, closing my eyes and whimpering. He loved it; he reached up and, this time, I let him grab my breasts in his large hands and he massaged them while I rode him. He sat up and took my nipples into his mouth, first one and then the other, and then I pushed him back down again.

  I moved up and down on his shaft while he gripped my hips and then grabbed my ass. With a gasp, I realized that I was about to orgasm and I told him so. He moved faster and harder, giving me exactly what I needed while we ignored the noise the bed made as it squeaked, because all I could think of was the incredible, glorious pleasure that coursed through my body like a cascading wave, making me groan and grunt and cry out helplessly.

  As I peaked, he let himself go, too, and he came inside me with force, both of us desperate to be even closer than we already were, desperate to be just one person, joined together forever so that nobody would ever be able to pry us apart.

  †

  It was a couple of hours later that I went downstairs to cut him a slice of flan. After all, I could always bake another. Or not.

  I didn’t care.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  LOGAN

  †

  CAITLYN FELT BAD ABOUT keeping anything from Cheyenne, but it made sense for both of us to keep whatever was going on between us, strictly between us. I was fine with that. We didn’t need to put a label on anything. For now, we were just having fun.

  May is usually a busy time. It’s spring and there’s new life everywhere. So, while some farmers are having to replace lambing pens, other require sturdier vineyard trellising for their growing crops and vines. It means a lot of work for carpenters like me and the money was great.

  But, for the little window of time, while Caitlyn was still in Vergennes, I didn’t care about work that much.

  That wasn’t like me at all. I’ve never been one to put anything ahead of work, especially a women, but with Caitlyn, it was different. I never even wanted to get out of bed. Not that we needed a bed every time, though.

  We soon discovered that, just like with real-estate, spontaneous spur-of-the-moment sex was all about ‘location, location, location’. It was the best kind and we loved the thrill. All it would take was a look, a knowing glance and we’d slip away, be it to the back of a restaurant, an unlocked room or the back of my truck, it didn’t matter. We were desperate for each other, careless in our burning desire to satiate our hunger once more, if only until the next time.

  What I liked most, though, was to be alone with her back at the shed where she’d get onto her knees and pleasure me, taking me into her mouth and worshipping me with her tongue before I’d pull her onto my lap, entering her with furious haste, pushing up her bra for just the briefest taste of her sweet nipples while I’d run my hands through her long hair and up her slender back.

  We had a couple of days of blazing sun and no rain, so the creek level dipped a little but most importantly, warmed up enough for Caitlyn to agree to go into the water with me. I’d dive in before turning to watch her slowly peel her clothes off. She was fully aware that I loved seeing her undress. Then she’d walk into the water and come find me. When out on the bank again, laying naked together as our bodies dried in the sun, I’d simply hold her, tracing my fingers all over her body, trying to fix her form into my mind.

  It was early one morning, back at the apartment, that I foun
d Caitlyn sitting up and staring at the screen of her phone. She was unaware that I’d woken up, and I watched her scroll through a text sent by her boss. She’d been away from work for a little over three weeks and time was running out. They wanted to confirm her return date.

  Glancing up at her face, I could see that she was troubled.

  I wondered if she was contemplating staying in Vergennes, whether there might be good enough reasons for her to consider staying. Her father was doing well even though she barely saw him because of spending so much time with me, but he didn’t seem too perturbed being happily occupied himself with his own liaisons with Miss Shriver.

  My motorcycle did more miles in that few short days together than I think it had done in the past five months. I loved the feeling of her sitting behind me as we set off, driving for miles to nowhere specific, sometimes even going as far out as Shelburne Bay where we went to watch the sun set over Lake Champlain. We climbed to the top of a little rocky area and Caitlyn rested between my legs as we sat together, neither of us saying a word as the sun disappeared for another day and everything went dark.

  I experienced a sense of peace with her that I had longed for, as if my soul had somehow found its home.

  One night, I pulled out an old tent from the back of the shed and we set up camp near the woods where we talked for hours sitting in front of a crackling fire while roasting marshmallows and drinking wine.

  The following morning, I left her sleeping in the tent and took an early dip in the creek before being drawn to the shed. Once inside, I lifted the tarpaulin at the back of the workshop and continued working on the one piece that had taken more time than any of the other had.

  It was nearly finished and, as much as I knew I’d be sorry once it was, I also knew that I’d be excited to see my finished work. I labored on it for what must have been a couple of hours, deep in thought and unaware of the passing time. It was only when I heard Caitlyn moving around outside that I hastily pulled the tarpaulin back down and went to join her.

  “There you are!” she said. “What have you been doing?”

  “Just finishing up a couple of things,” I said. “How about coffee?”

  “Definitely,” she said. “I slept like a baby but I’ve still taken forever to wake up this morning.”

  “It’s the outdoors and the fresh air,” I said. “It makes you sleep that much deeper. I was like that at first but I got used to it after a while.”

  “Can we go by your place on the way back so I can take a shower?” she asked.

  “Of course,” I grinned. “I’d never pass up an opportunity like that.”

  First, we decided to go to the diner. Cheyenne was working but she was so busy that she barely noticed when we entered together. We sat down in a booth next to the window and Caitlyn waved to her. As soon as she had a second to spare, she hurried over.

  “These shifts are killing me,” she said and looked at Caitlyn. “I feel so guilty not having more time to spend with you. It’s just been so crazy and now everyone’s coming in from out of town for the festival on Saturday as well. I wasn’t even supposed to be working today. But, I guess I shouldn’t complain. The tips have been pretty decent,” she grinned.

  Caitlyn rested her chin in the palm of her hand and cocked her head to one side, looking up at Cheyenne. “So, how’s Parker doing?” she asked, and Cheyenne’s blushes told the both of us everything we needed to know. I couldn’t resist smiling at the way her eyes lit up. Even though I had to admit that I wasn’t too crazy to think about my sister being with any man, at least it meant that, between her shifts and her new-found romance, she didn’t have any time to wonder what Caitlyn or I might have been up to these pasts few weeks.

  And, even if Parker was as dull as an arch-deacon, it was good to see my sister happy.

  After breakfast, Caitlyn had to go home as she was anxious to start baking for the festival, and I, too, had plenty of work to catch up on. So we made sure that it would be a morning that we’d both remember.

  As I held her up against the tiles, water cascading down on our naked bodies while I slowly made love to her, words that I’ve never said to any woman were hovering on my lips, begging to be uttered.

  But, I stopped myself. Surely, it couldn’t possibly be true only after spending a few short weeks together. I convinced myself that I was just caught up in the moment, that’s all.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CAITLYN

  †

  TWO DAYS BEFORE THE festival, I woke up early morning to a text from Martine. She wanted to confirm my return and asked whether I could call. The last thing I wanted was to speak to her, but I would never just ignore her. She had been more than generous in agreeing to my request for extended leave and the least I could do was to give her the call she asked for.

  Funnily, the longer I stayed here, the less I wanted to leave. Thinking about having to go back to an empty apartment, to a job of making mostly booby-cakes and pies, simply didn’t seem that appealing anymore. I also wanted something more than having to return to a place where everything I created was sold as if it was crafted and made by someone else.

  And I wanted other things in my life, too. Things that didn’t seem to matter that much before. Things that had nothing to do with work or building a career or making a name for myself. In fact, it wasn’t things I wanted anymore so much as people, like my dad, my best friend and, most of all, Logan.

  I smiled as I thought of how quickly my life seemed to have changed in such a short period of time, but I knew, more than anything or anyone else, that Logan was the main reason for the change of heart. I just couldn’t imagine a future without him.

  And, even though we’ve never really discussed it, I dared to hope that he felt the same.

  God, there were moments when we were as close as any two people could ever be. He was not just inside my body, but inside my heart, too, permeating my whole being. The words I was so desperate to whisper to him were, at times, on the very tip of my tongue, but I wasn’t brave enough to allow myself to tell him just how much I adored him.

  How much I loved him.

  †

  I began to worry that I’d taken on too much by asking Molly to give me a section of her stand. I hurried around like a crazy person and Logan must have understood just how busy I was, as I didn’t hear anything from him for a couple of days. I thought that he might drop by at some point, or would reply to the few short texts I sent, but that didn’t happen.

  I chalked it up to the fact that he also must have been busy, not being at work for some time, but, even so, he’d come to understand how important it was for me to hear from him, and yet, he was strangely quiet.

  The morning of the festival, I carefully loaded a couple of pies and flans, together with two full trays of mille-feuille and some assorted cakes, into the back of my car before slowly making my way toward Apperly Field. It was a vast area of land, owned by the mayor of Vergennes and served the town well during many of their outdoor events whether it be festivals, rock concerts or outdoor weddings.

  The sun was shining and a soft overnight drizzle made the grass look fresh and greener than usual. There were stalls everywhere and people were scurrying around like headless chickens. The aroma of barbecued burgers and fried onions curled up from the grills and mixed with the sweet smell of taffy and cotton candy. It was at times like these that I realized just how much I missed my small little town.

  Molly was already busy at the East Griddlin’ stand and pointed me towards a separate table as soon as I arrived, complete with a stack of paper plates, napkins, several knives and even a serving platter. I could have kissed her.

  I felt invigorated as I placed two of my boxes on the table before hurrying back to my car to fetch the rest. As I made my way towards the parking lot, I saw a familiar sight and my heart warmed. Logan’s truck was pulled to the one side, a few cars away from mine, and he was leaning out of the downturned window.

  I was about to raise m
y hand when I stopped. He was talking to a girl whose hands were on the open window frame. She leaned forward, grabbing onto the door as she stuck her denim-clad butt out, showing off her slim tanned legs. Her long, shoulder-length hair was dark and glossy, and she tossed it over her shoulders, first to the one side and then the other, giggling as she talked to him. I couldn’t hear what was said, but whatever they were talking about, it must have been hilarious, because she couldn’t stop tittering.

  For a few moments, I stood there, staring at them. I was sure Logan caught my eye, but he looked away again, and I was thoroughly confused. He hadn’t texted me since a small ‘goodbye’ two days ago and now seemed to be ignoring me.

  I collected the last of my cakes from the car and took them to the stand. I smiled as people complimented me on how lovely everything looked and how they couldn’t wait to have a taste of what was on offer. But, inside, it felt as though my whole world was crumbling.

  I had to move my car to the reserved parking at the other side of the field and, by the time I walked back, Logan’s truck was gone.

  More and more people streamed through the gates and I had to hurry back to my stand to place the last item at the front of the display. It was a sign I’d designed and painted myself. It read: The Sweetest Things. It was the name that I always dreamed I would one day call my own store and I dared hope by using the name now, that I was casting some kind of positivity into the universe that would one-day return to me.

  The biggest disappointment of the day was that I simply hadn’t baked enough. The line of customers was longer than my trays were full and by lunchtime, everything was sold except for one or two pieces of pie.

  However, my petty cash tin was full. Molly grinned as she pointed to it and told me that I was selling myself way too short.

  “From the looks of it, you could’ve doubled your prices and still have made a clean sweep of it!” she chuckled. But, a large profit wasn’t my reason for selling at the stall. Dad had insisted on buying all the ingredients I needed and refused to take a cent in return. He was just so proud, he said, and he wanted me to know just how much.