A Risk Worth Taking

by Jessica Joyce

What are you missing out on if you don’t take the job or move across the country? What are you missing out on, Claireful, if you don’t get out of a relationship you know isn’t working for you?”

what would it cost me to do nothing? To not take a risk that could change my life?

“I don’t want a drink,” I say quietly. “Okay,” he says, voice dipped low, too. “Whatever you do want, maybe you should start it.”

I’m so used to thinking of the word careful in how it relates to the way I view the world, historically—with caution, aware of every angle of risk. I never thought of it the way Connor means right now: to literally be full of care. To be thoughtful and attentive. Diligent. When he says it, his eyes on fire, it’s a good thing, not something I have to fix.

He pulls back, lips damp, his tongue touching that cupid’s bow. “I could do this for hours. You taste so fucking good, but you’re going to come, aren’t you?” “Be less good at it if you want me to last longer,” I gasp out, putting my right hand over his left, which is clutching my thigh. He laces our fingers together. “It’s okay,” he says in a soft, evil little croon. His lips stretch into a satisfied grin. “I’ll do it again. Just give it to me now, okay?”

“I want you to come again,” he pants out when we’ve been at it for minutes, our skin slick everywhere. “Will you touch yourself? I want to see what that looks like.”