The Doctor’s Truth: Part 1: Chapter 19

The ferry ride can’t come soon enough.

We leave the medical center with no answers but promises of results to come.

Otto and Pearl and I spend the day together: we shop around some of the open stores on Main Street. So many of these stores haven’t changed—the ice cream shop has the same sign of a narwhal with an ice cream cone for a horn. We pass Hanson’s General Store, where Donovan and I once shoplifted candy from, on a dare, and then both felt so bad about it we left two dollars in the tip jar. We go into a tourist shop with postcards and T-shirts, and beach equipment in the back, and Otto helps me pick out a couple of ornaments for the tree.

I’m trying to be present, but my thoughts keep drifting to last night. It feels like some kind of fever dream. Every now and then, I remember the deliciously full feeling of Jason inside of me or the low rumble of Donovan’s growls, and suddenly I’m squeezing my thighs, trying to ignore the throb.

I also pick up tickets for the Christmas Eve ferry ride.

December twenty-forth is bitterly cold. It’s going to be freezing on the ferry, so I pull on a dark dress and thick stockings that I roll up my thighs.

While I’m changing, my eyes land on my backpack. Burtie is in there. It’s been days since my last mind-blowing release around Jason’s cock and Donovan’s fingers. I’m wound up, and I’m tempted to relieve some of this pressure, but—

“Mum! I broke a button on my jumper!”

A mother’s job is never done.

Miraculously, the three of us somehow get dressed, get in the car, and make it to the ferry before it departs.

I’ll admit, Jason wasn’t wrong: it actually is pretty magical.

The cold wind that whips off the ocean feels like beestings on my cheeks, but it’s worth it to watch the ferry lit up like this. The siding is draped in strings of pine and holly with large red bows wrapped on every pole. Christmas lights sparkle around the sides and around the enclosed deck. There are two levels to the ferry, and there’s a stage jutting out from the second level where a band is set up but not yet playing. They have holiday music going over the speakers in the meantime. There’s a small cart up front, too, and it looks like they’re handing out hot drinks.

We hand over our tickets at the gate and then climb the ramp to board. Everyone is dressed in thick, puffy winter coats with scarves wrapped around red faces.

The first thing I do is look for Leonard King. If he’s here, I want to avoid him at all costs, even if that means abandoning ship. Luckily, I don’t see him anywhere—maybe this is too “pedestrian” for him. Whatever the reason, I’m grateful not to be in his crosshairs.

The ferry lets out a couple of bursts from the horn, and the engine churns as the workers toss thick ropes onto the deck.

I wrap my fingers around the cold railing as the ferry pulls away from Hannsett Island.

“Hey, stranger.”

I glance over to see Jason standing beside me. He has both hands on the railing, but he looms over me in a thick dark wool jacket. His smile is crooked and uncharacteristically shy.

“Hey,” I say back.

His eyes flicker to Otto. He crouches down then to get on level with the kid. “You must be the man of the hour.” Jason grins.

And I swear—my heart collapses in my chest in that moment. I don’t know what I expect—will Jason look into those blue eyes and immediately recognize his own? Will Otto see himself in that strong jaw? Will they connect on some incomprehensible level, that somehow they’ll just see each other and know?

I lose the ability to inhale. Meanwhile, Jason lifts his palm. “Up top.”

Otto politely gives Jason a high five. Jason drops his hand down. “Down low.”

Otto moves to give Jason a low five, but Jason retracts his hand too quickly with a grin. “Aww, too slow.”

Otto crinkles his nose. “That’s not very nice.”

Jason blinks. “What? No…I mean, it’s a joke. It’s fun. Don’t kids do that anymore?”

Otto looks up at Pearl. “Can we get hot chocolate?”

“Of course,” Pearl says and slips her hand to Otto’s back, guiding him toward the drink station.

“You’re my bacon,” Otto tells me.

“You’re mine.” I squeeze his hand, and he leaves with Pearl.

Jason unfurls, getting back to his feet, and he rubs his hands together as though to warm them. “Tough audience,” he says.

“Yeah,” I say, “he’s too old for his own good.”

I don’t know why, but I’m relieved. Jason is awkward with kids. He and Otto don’t immediately click. This isn’t one of those heartwarming feelings you get after watching man-returns-from-war-to-hug-his-dog videos. It’s just…two people. Existing.

I can breathe again.

Jason resumes his spot beside me, elbows on the railing, one foot kicked up against the side.

“What’s the bacon thing?” he asks.

“Oh—well. When he was little, I asked him what he loved most in the world. And he told me, bacon. So it’s been a running joke, I guess. Instead of saying the dreaded L word—”

“Love?” Jason asks dubiously. “That word?”

“Right, that—instead of that, I tell him that he’s my bacon, and he tells me I’m his.”

“Or you could just say I love you.”

“Wouldn’t feel the same.”

“I get it,” Jason says. “It’s cute.”

I shrug. “It’s us.”

“How are you?” he asks me. He sounds like he genuinely wants to know, too.

“Freezing.”

“I can think of one way to warm you up…”

His body is close now. He leans in, and I can feel the heat of his breath on my cheek.

I shift away. “People are going to see.”

“And?”

“And…you just got a divorce. Isn’t your family all about…propriety? Appearances? It might look bad.”

“Maybe I’m tired of being good.” He puts a finger underneath my chin, tilts my head up, and closes his mouth over mine. It’s hard not to melt against his lips.

But I break away. I put my hand on his chest, forcing distance between us.

“Jason…look. The other night was fun. Really…amazing. I needed that. But.”

“But,” he repeats.

“But…I have a lot on my plate now. With everything that’s going on with Otto…I don’t really have room for another man in my life.”

“I respect that. So what about an arrangement?”

I squint at him. “What kind of arrangement?”

He shrugs. “I just think about those poor vibrators you have at home. All those batteries you must run through.”

I scoff and roll my eyes. “Wow. Call PETA.”

“I was thinking…how about the next time you want to cum, you buzz me instead?”

My eyebrows nearly fly off my forehead. The way he says it…so casually. Like he’s offering to carry my groceries for me. “Oh yeah?”

Those ice-blue eyes meet mine, and he doesn’t drop eye contact. “Any time of day. You need me, I’ll be there. And I’ll make your thighs shake.”

I bite my bottom lip. “I think I might need…a test drive…”

He glances around, and then he slips his hand into mine. He tugs me off the railing. “Follow me.”

“I have to stay here, Otto—”

“Is with Grandma.” He steadily pulls me forward. “We won’t be gone long. I promise.”

I should know better. I’m an adult now. I can’t afford to be sneaking around with Jason goddamn King.

So why do I follow him around the side of the ferry, to the back, and through a green door marked “Staff”?

Immediately, we’re greeted with the loud grinding of the engine. It’s a beast—a copper metal thing that churns and hisses in the middle of the room. The wall is covered with levers and gages measuring…who knows?

Next to the instruments are large posters retelling the history of the ferry, with old black-and-white photos of it from way back when.

“Are we supposed to be in here?” I ask. I have to get close to him to raise my voice over the sound of the engine. The smell is rough, like fumes.

Jason crinkles his eyebrows at me. “Whoa. Trouble. Are you a rule follower now?”

“I’m a mom. A mom who doesn’t want to spent her night in the brig.”

“Relax. They give tours here all the time. No one cares.” His fingers link with mine again—his black gloves are soft, and he guides me further inside. We move around the copper monster, and Jason tucks me into a room that is barely the size of a phone booth—it looks like some sort of operations room, maybe, with a desk full of switches and levers. When he closes his lips over mine again, this time I find myself leaning in. I search his mouth with my tongue, tasting his heat, and I can feel the vibrations of his moans.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” he murmurs against my mouth, and his words send a tingling straight between my legs.

“What have you been thinking about?”

“Kissing you. Touching you.” He bites the tip of his gloved finger and retracts his hand from the fabric. Then he pockets the glove, and I feel his bare hand draw up my thigh. It slides over my legging, then under my dress, until he touches the soft skin there.

His eyes hook me in. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

“Is this a prank? Am I going to end up walking home without my panties?”

A grin coasts his lips. “That would be sweet justice, wouldn’t it?”

“Or karma.”

“You have trouble trusting people, don’t you?”

“You have no idea.”

“Close your eyes.”

I do. I hear him rustle, and then I feel the softness of his scarf wrap around my eyes. He knots it tightly at the back of my head.

I do a bad job at biting back a smile. I feel his breath at my ear, and then I hear him murmur, “This is part one of a ten-part series called…How I Learned to Let Go and Enjoy Life. A meditation session by Jason King.”

I chuckle. “You’re such an idiot.”

But then he leaves me, and suddenly I feel his breath ghosting my legs. I sit back, leaning into the small covered stool here. His fingertips climb my thighs first, inching up the fabric of my dress, and then I feel his soft kisses on my skin.

My sex clenches with anticipation as his hot breath beats against my thighs. His fingers wrap around my panties and push them to the side. I feel him nuzzle, and then there’s that burn of his coarse beard against my sensitive skin. His tongue meets my slit, licking me with slow, languid strokes, as though he’s really savoring every bit of my taste.

I nearly hit the wall. I reach back and balance one hand against the desk, the other hand gripping his hair. My legs are wrapped around his shoulders, and I’m helpless here, helpless to do anything except spread my legs further and grind wantonly against each lash of his tongue. He crushes his face between my legs, and I feel a moan leave his lips and vibrate through me. His tongue curls inside of me, his strong nose nestled against my sensitive nub, and I thank God for that obnoxiously loud engine now because there’s no way I can stop the loud whimpers that fall from my lips. I’m gasping and panting, my heels digging into his back as he licks me deeply, drinking me in. The scratch of his beard mixed with the softness of his tongue sends strange pleasure-pain signals bouncing around in my brain, and before I know it, I’m tugging his hair at the roots.

“Oh God…” I gasp as I feel that low pinch in my sex. He lets out a low growl of encouragement and doesn’t slow down—I don’t know how he’s breathing, but I don’t care. All I can think about is reaching that pinnacle under his tongue.

I bite my lip until I taste copper to keep myself from screaming. My orgasm explodes from me, and Jason is relentless, coaxing throb after throb from me with the unending circular movements of his tongue. He licks, and sucks, and nibbles my sensitive skin until I’m trembling and can barely keep myself upright.

Slowly, he pulls away from between my legs and readjusts my panties. I feel him push the scarf up my face, away from my eyes. “Look at me,” he demands, and those blues are so bright, so intense, that I can barely catch my breath. His lips are red and wet, and he licks them as he scans my face. “Fuck,” he says, “I love the way you’re looking at me right now.”

“How am I looking at you?” I ask.

“Adoringly.” He pets his thumb over my cheek. “I want to make you cum a million times.”

I can’t help but grin at that. “You’ll have to carry me out of here.”

“I’m okay with that.”

His lips brush against mine, and I reach down to unhook his belt. He stops me, though, his hand on my wrist, and shakes my head. “No, Trouble. That’s not what this is.”

“What is this?”

“I needed to taste you again, and I couldn’t wait another second.”

I rest my forehead against his. I feel swoony and unearthed—maybe it’s the powerful orgasm or the boat rocking underneath us, but I can’t get my bearings.

“You’re going to be bad for me,” I inform him.

He grins. “I hope so.”