A Many Splintered Thing / Day 32: “What am I gonna do with you, beautiful?”

 Cracked 40K on this weird weird day. Huzzah. ;)

XOXO
S
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She heard him come in but kept her eyes closed. The TV show had morphed into another episode of the same. Yet another argument between the women. Dahlia thought maybe she’d sit up and say something. Apologize for falling asleep. Say she regretted the weirdness that had somehow grown between them in the car.
But she didn’t. Too chicken. She kept her eyes shut as he locked up the back door. He was talking softly and she knew that he was addressing Alice, his constant shadow.
She remembered something she’d overheard a grandmother telling her granddaughter at an ice cream shop once. “You can tell a good man by animals. If animals are at ease around him, you can feel safe being at ease around him too.”
For some reason—given the very few positive adult role models she’d had in her life—the advice had rung true.
She peeked quickly over the arm of the sofa. She could only make out a sliver of kitchen and she saw him moving around in there. The oven door banged shut and then she saw him pass by the doorway with a big pink oven mitt on. Taking the bread to cool on the opposite counter.
The smell hit her and despite a decent dinner her stomach rumbled. The smell was brown sugar and cinnamon, baked goods and yumminess.
Now’s your chance, dummy. Get up. Go in. Talk to him. Push that weird rift back and move forward. You both got a little case of cold feet. Too much too fast. Nerves. It was bound to happen. But don’t let the odd feelings grow. Don’t feed it…
“Can you believe she did that?” she heard him say. No one answered. Of course not. As much as Alice was willing to listen, she sure couldn’t answer.
“I see by the wagging of your tail that you are as flabbergasted by the set of brass balls on Jasmine as I am,” he went on. Then a cabinet banged. “Your outrage, Al, on my behalf, is humbling. Have a treat. We got them tonight at the store. They are organic and homemade and apparently made by baby cherubs based on the price of them.”
She smiled. But the smile faded. When had he seen Jasmine? How long had she been asleep? And why had he seen her?
Jealousy, sharp and sudden, stabbed her in the ribs. It took her breath away and Dahlia shut her eyes tight as she heard his footsteps come her way. She felt Alice nose her arm and could sense Caleb standing there. Towering over her.
Part of her wanted to reach out, touch his jean clad leg, pull him down, and lure him in. The other part wanted to turn her back to him and feign a deeper sleep. She didn’t know when or why he’d seen Jasmine but it made her feel hollow down to her bones.
“What am I gonna do with you, beautiful?” he said. He’d come closer. His fingers brushed through her bangs and she had to focus—as Zen as she’d ever managed to be—not to visibly react to his touch. She could do nothing about her racing heart or the wetness between her legs or the way her heart seemed to jump in her breast. But she focused all her energy on keeping her eyes closed, her mouth lax, her breathing even.
“You go and fall asleep on me, Dahlia. I’m trying to woo you with zucchini bread and my good looks and you doze off. Crushing to a man’s ego, you know?”
She focused on her breathing.
Why did you see Jasmine, Caleb? Why?
“And now I want to scoop you up and take you to my bed. Pour my heart out. Me and my petty, hurt feelings.”
She almost opened her eyes then. Intrigued by his words. Her gut reaction toward him being one of comfort and solace. Her initial urge was to make him feel better.
“But I think it’s best to leave things as they are. At least for tonight. My brain hurts from some of today’s events.”
There was a sadness in his voice that made her heart lurch sideways. She wanted to reach out and touch him. And just as she decided that was what she would do, he spoke to Alice.
“What do you think, Al? Leave sleeping beauty here or carry her to bed?”
A few beats of silence passed. She heard one of the women on the TV calling another a whore. When she thought she’d explode from playing possum he said, “Yeah. We’ll leave her here. If I pick her up and carry her I might wake her up. And then things will get more confusing. I’m not sure, Al, but I think she’s mad at me. Or something.” He pulled the thick throw up to her shoulders and then the room dimmed when he turned the lamp off. “I was never good at the feelings thing, you know?”
He clicked his tongue and she felt Alice withdraw. His energy receded and she was very aware of his absence. It hurt her heart.
After a moment, his bedroom door closed and she was left there with the stupid show chattering, the smell of baking bread and an ache in her chest as she wondered about him seeing Jas.
What the fuck? Why didn’t you talk to him?
Too late now.
*
She pressed against him. Caleb felt her heat invade him. It would have been overwhelming had it not been so dam nice. She kissed his neck and his pulse slammed from just that tiny, innocent contact. He wrapped his arms around her, drawing her closer.
Her hand slid down his belly, slipped beneath the waistband of his sleep pants. He was already hard, hard enough to steal his breath, but when she touched him, his body jolted as if she were electricity and he’d just been plugged in. Her thumb swept over the tip of his cock.
He cracked his eyes, seeing the periwinkle glow of early morning come through the blinds. She squeezed him and a groan rumbled up from the center of his chest.
Caleb knew he should flip over, sheath himself and drive into her. They were running out of time to be together before the day began for real. But what she was doing felt too damn good and he just wanted to enjoy it for a moment.
Her head was nestled at the crook of his neck and her hair was soft against his skin. She squeezed again, stroked him and then she moved down. Her body, soft and curvy, moving against his as she descended. He caught a whiff of her perfume and shut his eyes all the way again, basking in the scent.
Her lips dragged down his belly, she paused to stick her tongue in his navel. Her small hands held his hipbones and pressed them down. When she tugged his sleep pants and began to draw them down, her mouth moving quickly behind the work her hands managed, he caught a second whiff of her perfume.
Something light and fragrant and flowery…flowers…jasmine?
His eyes shot open and he managed to catch her just as she drew his cock out. She caught her hair, wound it around his hands, tugged to force her head up.
Please be Dahlia, please be Dahlia…
But Dahlia didn’t wear perfume let alone jasmine perfume. And Jasmine, being herself, always wore something jasmine based as her signature scent.
Still, a man could hope. He hoped until the very last second when he looked down into Jasmine’s face and she said to him, “What’s the problem, Caleb? You always loved it when I sucked your cock.”

photo credit: [ piXo ] via photopin cc