N E R I D A

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...the closest thing to smut you guys are gonna get

...this takes place within the two year leap
(between chapters 8 & 9)
a little closer to chapter 9

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I was bored.

Painstakingly bored.

I didn't have work today so that alone was the ultimate recipe for boredom. Juliette was going clubbing tonight with her other friends and she's pampering herself at the spa.

On top of all this and worst of all, Jackson wouldn't be home until later tonight.

I convinced him to go out for drinks with his coworkers after work in order to encourage him to be more social.

Boy did I regret that now.

I was the epitome of restlessness and I had no one to burn off all my excess energy with.

Pointlessly I roamed throughout the apartment, clad in only one of Jackson's t-shirts.

The moment I realized that I was considering cleaning the place, I knew I needed to find something to do.

I decided to just stuff my face to bide my time and I was in the mood for something sweet, as usual.

An idea struck me and it only spiraled when I realized Jackson wasn't here to stop me.

I got to work making every sweet I could.

Cookies, cakes, French toast, choux pastry, pumpkin pie... everything I could think of.

It wasn't all peaches and cream that's for sure.

The cookies burnt and my cake didn't rise so that's why I made the French toast; to heal my broken self esteem.

When my French toast came out fantastic, I was so proud that I decided to try the choux.

I'd like to say that the fact that the recipe was so easy contributed greatly to my success but I'm not going to discredit myself.

I made that choux my bitch.

At that point, I felt like some sort of master chef and I was on a roll.

As part of my everlasting mission to show Jackson that I would be the most amazing wife, I made the pumpkin pie.

I don't understand how he can't see how much I love him. We could be so good together, we're already so good together.

I didn't care how long or how hard I had to grovel to show him that I was the woman for him.

It was only after I put a mountain of whip cream on the pumpkin pie did I realize that I made a mess in the kitchen. More of a mess than usual.

The contemplation was real.

On one hand, I can make Jackson fall in love with me tonight because of this pumpkin pie. He worships that vegetable. He might fall in love with me much faster if I just dress up like a big ass pumpkin.

On the other hand, however, he might blow a gasket if he saw the state of his precious kitchen.

Jackson didn't get mad at me often but when he did, there's no other guilt trip like that, save for the wrath of Asian parents.

I had to weigh the pros and cons here and I knew that the best thing for me to do was clean the damn kitchen.

He wouldn't be mad at me and he might fall in love with me at just the knowledge that I cleaned something, let alone the kitchen.

I'm not ashamed to say it took me two hours to clean that stupid kitchen. His kitchen was modeled for a giant and that alone was a struggle and a half. My lack of experience was the biggest factor.

By the time I was finished, my t-shirt was soaked with cleaning liquid and I smelt like a yucky combination of eggs and dishwashing liquid.

I cracked one of the stupid contraptions on myself when I was making that dumb cake.

Knowing Jackson would be home soon, I showered and did a quick pamper session, putting on his favourite lotions and throwing on another one of his t-shirts. I still didn't wear a bra but this time I put on underwear.

For his sake, not mine.

Just as I was finished holding my hair up in a haphazard bun, I heard the front door open and I sprinted outside.

"Jackie!" He caught me at the last second and stumbled back, immediately making me feel nervous. Jackie never stumbles when I randomly dive on him.

"Hey babygirl." I smelt the alcohol on his breath and my stomach sank as all these horrible memories came back.

My father was almost always drunk during the rare times he was home. He would just sit on the couch drinking as he stared at pictures of my mom. At a point in time, I used to be able to chat with him a little, even in his inebriated state. However, as I grew older, he couldn't even look at me without breaking down into tears.

It was so confusing and heart wrenching for me. I felt as though it was my fault he was in that state and I would just hide away in my room until he left. A part of me was a little grateful when he started coming home less and less as the years went by.

I didn't like reliving those memories. It made my stomach tighten and I felt as though I wanted to hurl.

"Are you drunk?" I hesitantly asked as I cupped his cheek.

It scared me to think of Jackson as my father but I just knew they weren't the same. They couldn't be.

Jackson always talks to me, my dad rarely ever did. Jackson never leaves me alone for long, my dad always did. They could never be the same.

Besides, even if Jackson started acting like my dad, I knew I could help him. I was determined to.

"No, I believe I have 95% control of my senses," he replied in that deep, soothing tone of his.

He didn't look very drunk to me. Honestly, he didn't look drunk at all. He just looked more smiley than he usually would.

This was good.

"You didn't drive home right?" I would kill him if he drove home tipsy. Then I'd wake him up so I could kill him again.

"What? Of course not," he replied instantly. "I got a cab home. I would never be so irresponsible. Nerida, you know I will always come home to you right?"

My heart felt like it skipped a beat and I grew so very sheepish. It's the little things he says that makes me feel like I'll have a chance one day.

"Okay," I said, lightly scraping my nails at the back of his neck. "Go sit in the living and wait. I made something special for you."

His eyebrows furrowed, silently asking me what I was up to.

I made a show of sliding down his body to rile him up and lightly tapping his ass on my way to the kitchen. He hated it when I did that but I was never going to stop.

An ass that fantastic needed to be appreciated.

I jogged to the kitchen and grabbed the pie and a fork. When I got back to the living room, he'd taken a seat as I'd asked.

My eyes went straight to his arms and I almost moaned. He was so fit. When he walked around this apartment without a shirt, sweet holy cannoli.

That's why I almost dropped his pie when he raised those bazookas he called arms and took the stupid t-shirt off.

Oh sweet holy cannoli.

My panties.

Nobody could tell me I wasn't the luckiest girl in the world.

I didn't wait a second longer as I walked right towards him and straddled his lap, right where I belong. His hands immediately found their way to my waist and I made myself comfortable.

He gave me a loopy smile and I realized he may be tipsier than he let on. I was thinking more of a 85% control of his senses.

"What do we have here baby?"

"I made you a pumpkin pie." I cleared my throat when I realized I sounded like I was trying to sell Girl Scout cookies. Sometimes I understand why Jackson wouldn't be with me. I was such a baby sometimes.

It didn't mean I wasn't going to try my hardest to be a mature woman for him though.

"I think I love you a little more every day," he mumbled, looking at the pie with heart eyes.

I am well aware that when he says he loves me, he means it in a brotherly, protective sort of way. That doesn't stop me from pretending that I was his soulmate and he was constantly expressing his undying love for me.

It helped me sleep at night.

"I love you too," I replied earnestly, even if he didn't understand the gravity of my words. Bravely, I started trailing my index finger down his chest, between those magnificent pecs, down his toned stomach and across the path where his pants blocked me from going lower.

His eyes stayed on me as I shamelessly roamed the expanse of his torso.

"When did you pick up an interest in baking?" He asked and I delved into the story of my excessive boredom earlier today.

When it came to the part where I cleaned the kitchen, I made sure to utilize the before and after pictures I took. I needed to make sure I could drag it out for as long as I needed to.

The next time he tells me that I don't clean shit, I'm going to whip out these pictures and shove it all up in his face.

However, that doesn't mean my heart didn't explode when Jackson said that he was proud of me.

When I had enough of the chit chat, I picked up the fork and fed him a big bite. He groaned and licked his lips but all I could think about was being that stupid fork.

He fed me next and I jumped at the chance to be fed with the same fork. This counted as us kissing. It always did, always will.

We ate the pie quietly, listening to the silence of the apartment. Halfway through, he placed down the fork and took up a dollop of whipped cream with his finger.

My eyes never left his finger as it entered and left his mouth. Forget what I said earlier. I wanted to be that finger.

He went in for another dip and before he could put it in his mouth, I lost it. I grabbed his hand and stuck his index finger in my mouth.

I sucked softly, savouring the taste of the sweet cream on my tongue. I took the risk and opened my eyes and I literally felt my underwear drench from the unmistakable desire in his eyes.

It was one of those rare times where I saw something besides brotherly love in his eyes. Only when we took these few extra steps that made us teeter on our boundaries.

Jackson and I never talk about these things, and I doubt we ever will, but I just know there's something between us. I can just feel it.

I see the way he looks at me sometimes and I see the way he tries to hide it. I mean, I'm not the bravest person either but still. I just wished we'd stop playing around so much.

However, I had no time to think of all that because he'd pushed his finger deeper in my mouth and his other hand gripped my neck lightly.

I think I dropped the pie on the couch next to us what do I know? I was too busy sucking on Jackson's finger, imagining it was something else. Something longer, and by the feel of things happening under me, much thicker.

A part of me knew that he was only this bold because of the alcohol but I ignored that part because Jackson was finally touching me in the way I wanted to be touched.

The moment wouldn't last for long, I knew that. I also knew that we will never discuss it.

However, the moment... the moment was all I needed.

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just to be clear, they didn't have sex afterward
nor did they partake in any
penetration-involved activities

Nerida and Jackson only did anything remotely sexual after they got married 

this includes the touchings of the genitals

i don't know how they did it but all i know is that their wedding night was explosive

also, fun fact:
i think whipped cream is the foulest thing ever created
that shit tastes and smells like vomit to me

✨d o r i s✨