Selfish Love

Just when I thought I couldn't take another moment of it, though, Jimmy's hand began moving up between my legs. I swallowed hard, watching as his fingers walked closer and closer to my dripping pussy. First my knee, then up to my inner thigh, and then I was trembling as his hand moved higher, and higher, and when I was certain he was going to touch my pussy, he didn't.

Instead, he carefully pulled the crotch of my panties away from my lips, moving it to the side and holding my gaze as he pushed his mouth back between my legs. I braced myself for another round of his teasing, only to cry out as he plunged his tongue into my folds and started licking me right.

So fucking right.

I had no choice but to brace myself against his head. I just didn't. Not with the way he was eating my pussy like he was starving. Not when I was captivated by his gaze, dark eyes intense and boring into mine as his tongue lapped at me, greedy in its need to taste me and indulgent in its need to savour me.

When he pulled away, I couldn't stop myself from groaning in disappointment. He laughed, pressing a kiss against my thigh.

"I want these off," he explained, tugging my panties down. "And I figured there's this perfectly good couch literally right here that you could chill on so you don't fall when I make you come on my face."

The fucking sass of him.

But he had a point.

It didn't take long before I was coming on his face. I had no idea where Jimmy learned to eat pussy like that, but fuck, was he good at it. His tongue swirled around my clit before lapping at it, then dipped into my entrance before he started sucking on my clit. I could barely keep track of what he was doing, losing myself once he reached up so he could hold my breast and play with my nipple while he licked me.

That was probably what did me in, honestly, because it was only a few moments later that I was gasping his name.

"Don't stop, Jimmy," I whimpered. "Right--ungh--fuck."

And I swear, seconds before my thighs tightened around his ears and I clutched at his head for dear life, I felt the little jackass smirk again.

Not that it mattered. He could smirk all he wanted if he was going to keep eating my pussy like that.

"Doing all right?" he asked, sitting back and grinning with pride after my orgasm finished ripping through me.

"Mmm," I groaned, closing my eyes as I tried to recover. "Give me a sec."

"Whatever you need."

I flicked one eyebrow up, then opened my eyes. "Undress."

He laughed, startled. "Huh?"

"I need you to strip." I waved a hand at him. "You are wearing an unfair amount of clothing. And you've seen me almost-naked way more times than I've seen you almost-naked. This is an equal relationship, Jimbo."

"So this is a relationship?" he asked as he stood.

"It fucking better be," I said. "I wouldn't go through all these moral dilemmas and risk my friendship with your sister for a one-night thing."

He didn't hesitate before stripping his shirt off. "Good. I was hoping for that."

"Sorry. Forgot to mention it before." I gestured at him again. "Pants off. Now."

I don't know if I quite leered over Jimmy, but I definitely indulged in the sight of him. Lights from the Christmas tree danced along every gorgeous inch of skin as he undressed for me. He wasn't so much thin as he was lithe, which was similar, but he deserved a much prettier word than "thin" considering how attractive he was. His stomach was flat but not overly muscled and his shoulders were pulled back confidently as he turned towards me.

And his cock was, of course, hard as a rock and fucking delectable. But as much as I wanted to taste him again, I wanted something else more.

"You should come over here," I said when his eyes met mine again.

"Yeah?" he asked.

"Mm-hmm. I want you," I replied. "Like, right now."

"I want you like, constantly." His throat flexed as he swallowed hard. "I, uh... I know you said you can't, um..."

"You want to know if you have to wear a condom?" I asked.

"I have one," he said. "And I swear I'm... you know. Clean. But I wasn't sure if you'd want me to wear it."

"You were pretty confident you'd be getting in my pants, hey?" I asked.

He licked his lips. "A guy can hope."

I laughed. "I'm clean, too. But it's your choice. If you're more comfortable wearing it, wear it."

"You gonna judge me if I don't?"

"Not even a little bit. I trust you."

He didn't quite groan, but I definitely heard a soft noise escape his lips as he joined me on the couch.

I finally got to straddle his lap like I'd planned to before he'd blown my fucking mind with his tongue, though I didn't sink down on his cock right away. I needed to touch him first, to kiss him and feel the warmth of his chest beneath my palms, to take my turn letting my hands talk. And he let me, far more patient than he should have been as I explored him tenderly, running my hands down his arms and along his stomach and through his hair before carefully positioning myself over him and sinking down.

His mouth dropped open as I took him inside me. I don't know if mine did or not; I was so focused on the feeling of his cock entering me, my walls stretching around his thick, hot shaft, that I could barely think. He hit all the spots I needed him to, satisfying that hollow craving I'd been desperate to fill, though it took a second attempt before I could get all of his cock in my pussy.

I sighed once I had, pausing with him buried deep inside me. His hands were on my hips but moved around my waist, pulling me forward so he could kiss me. We stayed in that heartbeat as long as we could, our bodies entwined and our lips joined, living in a moment that was just as it was meant to be.

It was just perfect.

When I couldn't take it anymore, I started moving, lifting myself before sheathing him inside of me again. Jimmy moaned, a lovely, thrilling, gorgeous sound that I felt surge through me, and I had no choice but to start rolling my hips faster, eager to hear it again. His hands moved from my waist to my lower back, then down to my ass. He grabbed a handful, making that beautiful noise again as he urged my body forward faster and harder.

Bliss seared through me, his cock possessing my body in a way I couldn't say I'd ever experienced before. It was insistent, almost demanding my pleasure, and I had to steady myself on Jimmy's shoulders as I rode him. My fingertips dug into his back as I realized I was going to come again.

I whispered it to him and he half-laughed, half-moaned. Sweet words left his lips, little urgings, things I felt more than I heard as I worked myself to another orgasm. I was close, so fucking close, when the words became more urgent and his hands tightened on my ass, the tone becoming more desperate and needy.

"Gonna come," he groaned, almost anguished. "Can't... fuck, I can't--"

"It's okay," I whispered, my lips brushing against his ear. "Come for me, Jimmy."

He groaned again, then gasped, then made a noise that was astoundingly hot and tilted his head back. Moments later, his cock throbbed and I felt it as he spilled himself inside my pussy.

His face twisted in an eruption of torment mixed with ecstasy as I kept impaling myself on his cock. It was amazing, the sight of him, and the way his body surged. The sound of him, the feel of him, the way he clung to me as if he thought he would fall off the edge of the world if he let go... it was what I needed. I clutched at him as my second orgasm hit me like a tidal wave, washing over the both of us as I held him against me, quivering on top of his body as I finished.

Indiscriminate time passed as we sat on that couch. Slowly, the world reappeared around me, colourful Christmas lights gently caressing Jimmy's flushed cheeks. His eyes were closed, eyelashes brushing against his cheeks as he breathed steadily. At some point he'd let go of my ass, his arms ending up back around my waist so he could hold me close.

A heartbeat passed, then two, then more, and when Jimmy's eyes finally opened, he smiled at me through the heaviness.

"Can I stay the night?" he asked drowsily.

"You fucking better."

Both of us laughed, a tired sort of laugh, and all I could think when he kissed me again was how thankful I was he'd chosen me.

Seventeen

Mom Guilt is real.

It manifests in different ways for different moms. I guess dads might have it too, but I wouldn't know; Baylee's dad was incapable of admitting guilt in any way, shape, or form, so I didn't have firsthand experience with what Dad Guilt might be.

But Mom Guilt, well.

Mom Guilt is the eighteen phone calls you make the very first time you leave your child with a babysitter, followed by the eighteen minutes of crying when you get home from wherever you were because you feel so bad for leaving your baby for The Very First Time.

Mom Guilt is crying on the toilet because you locked the bathroom door so you could get Two Fucking Minutes Of Peace, but now your child is sobbing in the hallway as the saddest little knocking sounds stab you right through the heart because they miss you.

It's hating yourself a little and then a little more when you indulge and do stupid things like get piercings because you trusted your ex-husband to actually pay the child support he said he would, and when he doesn't and you're down to your last pennies, you can't help but regret eating that slice of bread for breakfast because after dinner, your daughter is still hungry and you have nothing else to give her.

It's making those choices you have to make that hurt your child, not because you want to, but because sometimes what's best for them isn't what they want. It's telling your child no, you cannot stick a fork in the power outlet because it will fry your stupid little brain, only for them to not understand Why Mommy Is Being So Mean. Because they just... they don't fucking understand how electricity works yet, and when you remember that, you feel even shittier because it's easy to forget how scary and new the world is when you've only been on it for a hot minute.

It's counting down the days until they're eighteen and you can celebrate, sort of, because you got them to adulthood and technically they are Not Your Problem Anymore. It's knowing how awful that sounds, even though you know every parent in the world thinks the same thing at some point.

And it's knowing, without a doubt, that it doesn't matter if they're eighteen months or eighteen years old, that they'll never not be your problem anymore, and you couldn't be happier about that... but God damn if you don't want to sell them to the zoo sometimes.

Above all, Mom Guilt is unreasonable.

For example, when I woke up in Jimmy's arms the next morning, I really had nothing to feel guilty about. And I suppose I didn't feel guilty right when I woke up. Instead, I basked in the feel of his arm around me and listened to the steady thrum of his heart, trying to think of the last time I'd woken up in anyone's arms. Daniel had never been much for physical affection and the adult sleepovers I'd had post-divorce were less "sleepovers" and more "Okay, you're done? Cool, I gotta get home to my kid, see ya."

So, as far as the whole cliche of literally waking up with someone's arms around me went, there was a pretty good chance it was the first time it had ever happened. And as it turned out, I liked it.

I liked it a lot.

We had apparently been so exhausted that we hadn't moved an inch after I nestled next to him the night before, my head on his chest and his arm around my shoulders. It had felt natural, easy, like a routine we'd done countless times before and would do countless times more, even though it was the very first time. And I was content to stay there, dozing lazily with the occasional gentle breath brushing my forehead, but the universe had other plans.

At least, my universe did.

Jimmy startled when my phone started ringing, jostling me out of the half-asleep state I'd fallen back into. I snorted back a laugh at the confusion on his face, then flopped ungracefully onto my back so I could roll over and grab my phone from the nightstand. The screen was blindingly bright and I winced, squeezing my eyes shut as I answered.

"Morning, sweetie," I said.

"Hi, Mom," came the subdued response. "Sorry I didn't call right when I woke up."

My eyes flew open.

"What's wrong, Bay?"

"Nothing," she said.

I waited.

"I just miss you," she continued.

My heart ached. "I miss you, too. Is everything okay?"

"Uh-huh."

And then silence.

My daughter did not do silence.

Tension ran through me, so obvious that Jimmy seemed to notice and rolled onto his side, his forehead creased as he studied me. I sucked lightly on the piercing in my lip.

"What fun plans does Dad have for you today?"

She sighed. "I dunno. Probably boring stuff. He said I gotta go to the mall and get a dress for church with Grandma. I told him I don't like church and I hate wearing dresses and then Grandma said Santa wasn't gonna bring me any presents if I didn't go."

I swallowed back what I wanted to say, which was that her grandmother was a detestable hag who definitely didn't have a stick up her ass because that would've implied she was capable of unclenching her tight excuse for a butthole, and tried to sound comforting instead of disgusted.

"Well, don't tell your grandma I said this, but that's not true at all," I said, my voice almost instinctively quiet, like the sheer mention of the hag was enough to make me wary.

Her tone brightened cautiously. "So I don't hafta go to church?"

Ah, fuck.

"I'm not saying you don't have to go to church," I said carefully. "If you really, really don't want to go, you can try talking to your dad. But Santa will bring you presents either way. If he doesn't bring them there, I'll make sure he leaves them here for when you come home."

"Oh," she said miserably. "Well, I guess that's okay. But if I have to wear a dress, I'm not going to be very happy, Mom."

Her attitude was almost funny.

Almost.

We talked a little bit more and I got the gist of what had her so upset: Daniel's mom had brought breakfast over and Daniel told her it would be rude to call me while Grandma was there. So she'd already been annoyed, and when Daniel told her she had to wear a dress--which she didn't actually hate, but she was going through a phase where she was trying to develop her own style, so being told what she could and couldn't wear was the real issue there--she'd gotten even more upset.

And then of course, Daniel's mom implied that she was going to end up on the naughty list for doing one thing after Baylee had spent a whole year being as good as she could possibly be, and Santa had told her the day before that she was on the nice list, and she still didn't understand why not wanting to go to church was something that was bad, and now she was panicking that the Christmas wish she wouldn't tell me about wouldn't come true.

I promised her she was still on the nice list and that I was certain Santa was still going to try to make her Christmas wish come true, but that maybe she should tell me what the wish was so I could double-check with Santa about it. She still refused, of course, but by the time I heard Daniel in the background telling her it was time to go with Grandma to the mall, she did sound a bit happier.

"Have fun at the mall, sweetie," I said.

"Maybe," she said.

"At least try."

"Well, duh," she said, giggling.

"Don't say 'duh,'" I heard Daniel scold in the background. "It's rude."

Baylee's giggles stopped and she sighed. "Okay. I gotta go, Mom. Love you."

"Love you. Talk to you at dinner."

We hung up. Frustrated, I sat back against the headboard, fidgeting with my phone as the Mom Guilt took over.

"You're upset," Jimmy said, propping himself up on his elbow. "Talk to me."

And how was I supposed to explain it to him? That my skin felt like it was crawling, that my stomach was roiling, that while I was lying in bed thinking how good it felt to wake up next to him and how much I'd enjoyed last night, my daughter was being made to feel like she was a bad kid because she didn't want to wear a dress and go to church.

As much as I tried to explain it, he didn't seem to get it.

"I should be doing something to help her," I told him.

"What could you do?" he asked bluntly. "Seriously. Like yeah, it's a bad situation. Yeah, your ex is a douchebag of the highest level. But you said it yourself, there's nothing you can do, not until he brings her back. You can't feel shitty for enjoying yourself."

"I can and I will," I said stubbornly. "Just try and stop me."

He raised an eyebrow. "Is that an invitation?"

My mouth dropped open. "An invitation for what?"

The shadow of a smirk was on his lips, as much as he tried to fight it back. "To try to stop you from feeling shitty."

I stared at him, speechless. I mean, yeah. It kind of was what I'd said, wasn't it? And what he was insinuating... I mean, it was also entirely inappropriate, but since when was I someone who cared about what was appropriate?

Very deliberately, I put my phone back on the nightstand, then looked at Jimmy pointedly.

"Let's see you try, Jimbo. Make me smile."

He didn't waste a second, getting to his knees and moving in close so he was practically pinning me against the headboard. Instantly, his lips were on mine, a searing, scorching kiss that completely took my breath away. A confident hand moved to my knee, nudging my legs apart so he could tap his fingers along my inner thigh.

"Is it working yet?" he murmured against my mouth.

"Mmm," I replied. "Not quite yet."

"Too bad," he said casually, grabbing my wrist and guiding my hand to his cock. "'Cause it's working for me."

I almost smiled when I wrapped my fingers around his throbbing shaft.

"That was fast," I said as he let go of my wrist so he could grab my breast again.

"Fast?" he scoffed, nipping my lip. "I had to sit there staring at your naked ass while you chatted away on the phone. You know how fucking hard that was?"

"I have some idea," I murmured, stroking him purposefully. "But no one said you had to stare at me."

"Like I'd give up the chance to see you naked." He bit my lip again, harder that time. "You know how friggin' hot you are? How friggin' addicted I am to your body?"

That didn't get a smile, but a rush of tingling warmth danced across my skin, bringing redness to my face and wetness between my legs.

His fingers kept doing that maddening thing, tapping along the sensitive flesh on my thigh, drifting closer and closer to my pussy but never quite making it all the way there. I kept rubbing his cock, the smooth heat of his shaft almost as maddening as the feel of his fingers, until I couldn't take it any longer and had to squirm in place, desperate for some kind of friction.

The slight movement didn't go unnoticed. For a moment, I thought Jimmy was going to give in and start fingering me. Those tantalizing fingers of his moved up, and up, and just when my breathing quickened and I was nearly quivering with anticipation, he traced his fingers along my pussy lips... and nothing more.

I whimpered against his mouth and felt the soft puff of air as he laughed.

"Working yet?" he asked.

"No," I muttered, fooling absolutely no one.

He slid his tongue into my mouth as the hand on my breast focused on my nipple. I inhaled sharply as he rolled the hard little nub between his fingers, mindful of my piercing, then ran his thumb along it quickly. That earned him another squirm, so sudden that I almost managed to push his hand against my clit, but he was too fast.