The fact that Pacey was
nowhere to be found didn't change the fact that Joey wanted to be with him. She
was annoyed he had taken off and didn't leave a note or anything, but she
remembered that she hadn't even phoned to tell him when she'd be home.
Instead of dwelling on his
absence, Joey did what she made her decision to do the night before she left
Dawson's house.
"Unique Array of Art,
Troy Morgan speaking." Troy said with the crisp businesslike voice he wanted
everyone to answer the phone with. It was a little odd, however, that he would
want the phone to be answered that way, considering the eccentric contemporary
art that Troy usually showed.
"Hey, Troy. It's Joey." She
said, moving the microphone of the phone's headset closer to her mouth and the
readjusting the headphones over her ears, feeling like a telephone operator.
She stuck the receiver into her pocket. It had been two weeks since she used
the phone Pacey had bought. She'd eyed it dubiously at first, but Pacey
reasoned that it would come in handy to have a phone that left one's hands free
when one had small children in the house. Joey knew it was because he thought
it was cool. It hadn't taken long for her to love using it.
"Why hello," Troy said, pleased to hear from her. He liked her
immensely from the moment she began working for him, needing extra cash for
college. She was dutifully going to become a lawyer or a doctor or something
successful that would make a mother proud, but her passion was art. So much
passion she had for art, it resulted, because although Troy couldn't convince
Joey to sell the paintings and sketches she finally showed him she'd done, she
stayed working with him. Joey refused to go on to law or medical school, loving
the traveling and the ability to see a plethora of art that came with being an
art dealer and the virtual owner of an art gallery which was quickly expanding
in fame and growth; because of her.
"Are you home?" Troy asked.
"Yes I am." Joey said, searching
the cabinets for something to feed the girls. There wasn't much. She should've
just awakened them when they were passing McDonalds. She pulled out a can of
Spaghetti O's.
"Thank God," Troy was saying
in relief. "We really need you here. I mean, really."
"I know, but I'm not calling because I want to go back to acting like your employee when we both know I run the place." She teased, pulling out a saucepan. She liked Troy. He was a breathtakingly attractive man in his early thirties, tall, with broad shoulders, a muscular body and smooth honey brown skin. His eyes were dark brown and almond-shaped, and his hair was curly and jet-black. Had Joey met him before she began dating Pacey, she definitely would've gone out with him. Now, they were just great friends.
"Yeah, yeah, we all know
that the place would go up in flames without you," he admitted. "So what's up?"
"I want to do it. I want an
exhibition."
Troy was silent for a
moment. As he absorbed it, Joey located the electronic can opener and plugged
it in. When Troy finally spoke, his voice was low and tight. "Did you tell me
that you want to do an exhibition, Joey? Please tell me that's what you said.
Because I'd be pretty pissed if I had to keep on reminding you how lucky you
are that you practically own one of the hottest art galleries in New York
and your own damn art isn't in it, and do you know how ungrateful you're being
because you actually have an art dealer begging you constantly to have an
exhibi—"
"Breathe, Troy," Joey said,
grinning. "It's what I said."
"Oh shit. Oh shit. Fuck, we
have a lot of shit to do!"
"What did I tell you about
your mouth, Troy?" Joey said, trying to sound stern, but was unable to hold in
her own excitement as she shook the can too hard and ended up with a splotch of
red sauce on her shirt. "Shit." She muttered.
"Fuck that." He said
dismissively. He didn't hear the expletive leave Joey's mouth or else he
would've teased her about her hypocrisy. "Joey, do you know what this means?"
Troy asked instead, seriously. "This means that you are going to be putting up
your work. Selling it. Are you sure you're ready for that? Don't get me all
excited and then have you back out like you did last time."
"No, Troy. I'm ready. I
really want to do this."
"All right. Let's do it."
"I can't believe you're
making me do this."
"Look, if you're going to
live here, you have to get down with us and do it. Do it, Pacey. Come on."
"This is insane, you two. I
should've known you two would corner me and—"
"Relax, Pacey. It's not that
serious. It's fun."
"It really is fun, Pacey."
"I know you've done it
before. When you were younger . . ."
"Sure when I was younger . . . and had more energy to horse around on the floor with two young females, but—"
"It's not horsing around, Pacey Witter, and you know it. It's romping . . . Or—or cavorting."
"You know you want to."
"He's dying to. Come
on. Come on."
"I don't think it will work
with only three people . . ."
"Of course it will work.
People do it all the time, babe; it's more of a challenge that way. Here, Tara,
do it again . . . here, Pacey, look. God, it's not hard anymore. You're
such a punk." Melanie sighed and blew hair out of face in exasperation.
"What does it say?" Pacey
asked.
"Right hand, green," Melanie
said dryly. "Can you handle right hand, green? It's a lot safer than the scary,
terrifying right foot yellow we had before."
"I think I got it," Pacey
gingerly placed his hand on the green circle. Sighing, Melanie and Tara found
their own green circles. Pacey looked at his two temporary roommates. "You two
have no lives, do you realize that?"
"Hey, you're playing with
us." Melanie pointed out.
"And it's pouring outside."
Tara added.
"Yeah, but yesterday night
it was Saturday, and do you two realize what you were doing? Do you realize
that when I came in, you two young women were in here, twenty-years-old,
on a Saturday night, watching 'Emeril, Live' on the Food
Network?"
"And having a damn good
time." Melanie said defensively.
"And the night before, Friday
night," Pacey stressed, ignoring her. "I came in here at two in the morning to
get myself a little midnight snack, and I found you two reading the computer
with sunglasses on and the radio softly playing a Sarah McLachlan album on
repeat."
"We were reading a
fan-fiction." Melanie corrected.
"And the sunglasses were on
so our eyes wouldn't get tired." Tara informed him.
"The music is to set the
mood that goes along with the mood of the fan-fiction. And there's nothing
wrong with Sarah McLachlan, might I add." Melanie told him primly.
Pacey was lost. "What the
hell is a fan-fiction?"
Melanie and Tara rolled
their eyes at his sheer ignorance. "Look, just spin the spinner, will you?"
Melanie asked.
Pacey grabbed the board and
flicked at the arrow with his forefinger. "We're pathetic."
"Pathetic is a relative
term." Melanie told him.
"Yeah, a relative term for
pitiful. Especially me. Left foot, red. I have no excuse. I'm a twenty-five
year old man. I should be out and—"
"Out doing what exactly?"
Melanie interrupted, cautiously moving around Tara's head to place her foot on
a red circle. "Walking around the city like a zombie, in the rain, missing your
wife? Or, instead, would you like to go out in the rain to a café and talk
about how much you miss your wife? Hey, how about we go out in the rain to the
bowling alley or the pool hall and you can tell us again how much you miss your
wife and how much you screwed up? Better yet—"
"All right, I have the
picture," Pacey interrupted sardonically, flicking the spinner again. "Right
hand, red . . ." Pacey looked up and observed their awkward positions. "Oh, shit.
This is going to be a bit of a problem."
"Come on," Melanie cajoled.
"Just be careful."
They were careful, but they
all ended up sprawled in a heap on the floor. "Screw this." Pacey said,
disentangling himself and going over to plop down on the beat up brown couch.
Melanie's aviator sunglasses fell to the floor and he picked them up and slid
them on his face. "I want to do something else. You guys have any board games
besides Twister? I'm the man with board games."
"Yeah right." Melanie
snorted, crossing her legs and using the elastic band around her wrist to wrap
her copper red hair up into a loose bun. She tried to ignore how hot he looked
in those sunglasses.
"I really am, missy," Pacey
said indignantly. "I'll kick your ass in some Trouble or some Scattergories or
some Life. You got any of those?"
Melanie and Tara looked at
each other. Tara shrugged. "I think we have . . ." Melanie paused and thought.
"No, we don't have anything."
Pacey crossed his arms. "No
Outburst, no Monopoly?"
"Nothing." Tara said apologetically. "Just Twister."
"I'm dying to play Monopoly here. I wanna shut this one's mouth up." He pointed to Melanie.
"Look, Pacey, you suck at everything. Just admit it."
Pacey raised his eyebrow. "I can name a few things that I really don't suck at that you would love for me to do to you," he said arrogantly, standing up and grabbing the jacket he'd tossed over the arm of the couch that night when he came in. He shoved the sunglasses on top of his forehead. "Now, I'm going to get me a Monopoly game, and I'm gonna kick your respective asses."
"Where are you going to get a Monopoly game from?"
"I have kids, remember? I have Monopoly and Monopoly Junior at home. Anything's better than Twister. God, you two are pitiful. How can you have Twister and not have Monopoly? Jesus." He gave them a look of such irritation as he reached for his keys that Melanie and Tara began laughing.
"You're going out in the rain at ten o'clock on a
Sunday night to get a Monopoly game from your house, Pacey Witter," Melanie reminded
him. "I think you're the one that's pathetic."
"Keep calling me pathetic and
see if I come back bearing my gifts." He threatened playfully, giving them a
warning look and resettling the sunglasses on his nose. He ignored the return
cracks coming from Melanie and Tara as they laughed, and left the apartment.
Joey stepped out of the
shower and tied her terrycloth-toweling robe around her waist before reaching
for her toothbrush. She was excited about the exhibition, and couldn't wait
until she met up with Troy the next day. He'd come rushing over as soon as he
closed the shop, eager to see what he was being allowed to exhibit. He gushed
over the drawings she had in the house, but the pictures she'd done at Dawson's
house almost made him cry; especially the five drawings she'd called The Agony
of Life Series. He declined her offer of Spaghetti O's and left, showering her
with praise as he went, as if that would prevent her from changing her mind,
which he was afraid of. To soothe his nerves, Joey made him help her pack all
of the art he wanted into the trunk of the SUV, and vowed not to open that
trunk until she got to work.
The trunk made her think of
belongings, and she remembered that she'd left their stuff by the door, as well
as the new school clothes and school supplies she'd bought for Casey and Aliya
in Capeside.
Telling herself to remember
to unpack all of that stuff before she left for work in the morning, Joey wiped
the steam from the mirror and looked at herself. The woman staring back at her with
nervous and giddy anticipation was going to have her own art exhibition! To
herself!
Grinning, Joey grabbed a
towel on the way out of the bathroom. Using the towel to vigorously rub at her
wet hair, Joey opened the door, clicked off the light and headed out into the
dark hallway.
As she passed by the stairs,
she heard a sound that made her gasp and flatten herself against the wall.
Footsteps. Heavy footsteps were heading up the stairs.
Heart painfully slamming
into her ribs, Joey frantically looked around in the dark for a weapon. There
would be no way in hell a burglar was going to take her stuff or harm her or
the girls. There was a bat under her bed, but that would take too much time to
get to. If he heard her and cornered her, she would be trapped in her bedroom
with nowhere to go. And there wasn't an one hundred percent chance that she
would be able to use that bat on him. He could easily pluck it from her and
bash her in the head, leaving her unable to protect the girls.
She was losing time. A light
bulb went off in her head. The bat in the bedroom was out of the question, but
there was a plunger in the bathroom that could be put to good use! The
footsteps were almost to the landing. Once the burglar reached that landing,
she wouldn't be able to return to the bathroom, because he would see her.
Too late. The footsteps
paused. Joey squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to make noise as she inched
past the shadowy stairwell. The floorboards creaked. Damn!
The footsteps began to hurry
up the stairs. Knowing it would be useless to try to act like she wasn't there,
Joey raced to the bathroom, and found the plunger in the darkness. When she
warily stepped back out, the plunger positioned over her shoulder like a
baseball bat, Joey could make out the burglar's shape standing by the steps.
The shadow spoke. "Look. I'm
giving you five seconds to put down that weapon and get the fuck out of my
house before I rip out your fuckin' intestines and hang you with 'em."
The words would've sent
chills down Joey's spine, but she recognized the voice. It was dangerously low
and tight with barely controlled anger, but she recognized it. "Pacey." She
whispered inaudibly.
"Your five seconds is almost
up. Put that fuckin' shit down."
"Pacey, it's me." Joey
reached around the wall beside her into the bathroom and flicked the switch up.
Light flooded from the bathroom and into the hallway. Pacey blinked in the
sudden brightness, but when her words sunk in, he focused his eyes on her, and
sharply sucked in his breath.
Joey was standing in front
of him, fright still lingering with the surprise in her eyes. Her hair was wet
and wavy, spilling down the sides of her face, and her full lips were parted
and moist. Pacey licked his own lips as his gaze traveled down her neck and
came to rest on the front of her robe. It was parted, probably from the running
she did, giving him a delicious view of her cleavage and stomach all the way to
her belly button. It was his beloved Joey standing there, in her glory, forever
the seed of his lust and the owner of his heart. The sight of her, in the
flesh, outside of his fantasies, was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen in
his life.
"Holy shit." He whispered.
Joey barely heard the whispered curse. Having come in from the pouring rain he was soaking wet, his jacket clinging to his body, the body that had haunted her dreams for days, the body she wished was with her as she slept alone. For some reason, he had on a pair of sunglasses, and that only made her heart beat faster.
"You're so beautiful." He whispered huskily, slowly stepping forward. "God, Joey. You're so damn beautiful."
Joey didn't flinch when Pacey
pulled the sunglasses off and picked her up. Didn't move when he carried her
into their bedroom. Didn't step away when he closed and locked the door. She
swayed closer to him when his lips pressed to the side of her neck and his
hands rested on her hips. His tongue easily found the erogenous zone on the
side of her neck and tortured her relentlessly. She tipped her head to the side
and gave herself up to the pleasure his tongue and lips was giving her.
As he played with her neck, she slid her hands up his chest
and unzipped his jacket. Impatiently, he helped her remove the jacket, threw
his sunglasses aside, and yanked off his shirt before tugging on the belt of
her robe.
The terrycloth fell to the floor, and Pacey bent his head
to her breasts, sweeping the tip with his tongue, making circles around the
taut nipple. Stifling a soft sigh, Joey reacquainted herself with his strong,
smooth body with her fingers. She flicked his small nipples with her thumbs,
caressed his tight ass with her fingers, and rubbed his rock-hard erection
through his pants.
Pacey urgently raised his mouth to hers and finally kissed
her. The result was a jolt of pure, primitive desire that shot through the both
of them; and neither one was sure who it was that moaned. Joey wrapped her arms
around his neck and pressed herself tightly against his erection. Pacey put his
hands on her waist and pulled her closer. Opening her mouth on his, Pacey
touched his tongue to hers; feeling sparks rush through his loins. Mouths
melting together, tongues tangling and dancing, Pacey and the woman in his arms
felt electricity shoot down their bodies.
Joey broke the kiss first, and fumbled the fastening of his
pants open, mumbling under her breath. Pacey shoved the pants down along with
his boxers and stepped out of them along with his sneakers. Inhaling sharply as
she felt his hot skin come in contact with hers, Joey lifted her mouth to his,
digging her fingertips in gently behind his ears, holding him close. Standing
between her legs, and exploring and devouring her mouth with his tongue, Pacey
moved his hands up and down her smooth, naked back, gentle and caressing.
Clinging to him, Joey found herself in the middle of one of the most erotic,
sexiest, hottest kiss they'd ever shared. Her whole body was on fire.
Pacey kissed her
fervently, plunging into her mouth with his tongue, retreating, and plunging
again. Feeling himself grow so hard it was beginning to hurt, Pacey slid his
hands down past her waist and pressed her firmly against him; feeling
light-headed as he came into contact with her soft, warm wetness. He swore
weakly. Fire shot through their bodies, and Joey bit down on her lip and
squeezed her eyes tight.
Lifting her up
against the wall, Pacey smoothly entered her, moaning as he went. She gasped
and wrapped her legs around his thighs. He paused and swallowed hard, before he
lowered his head and began sucking on her neck. Joey leaned her head back
against the wall. She whimpered and tried to move her hips, but because of
their positions, she really couldn't. Pacey knew this, and he took advantage of
the situation.
His erection still deep engorged in her, throbbing and hot,
aching for movement, Pacey suckled at her breasts, then her neck again, and
then her ear, ignoring her mouth that he knew wanted to be kissed.
"Pacey," she said shakily. "Don't do this to me." Having
him inside her, filling her, without him moving, was torture. Instead of
complying, he pulled out of her and let her stand, his hands roaming lightly
over her body. Joey stood unsteadily on her feet, feeling lost and bewildered,
almost unaware as Pacey knelt, and caressed the flat plane of her belly, then
her legs, and her thighs. He dipped his fingers in between her thighs, teasing
her until she moaned in satisfaction. Then, he leaned forward and replaced his
fingers with his tongue, flicking in and out, back and forth, sucking gently at
the hardened nub; causing her to cry out and clutch his head and press herself
closer to him.
Pacey stood up, and Joey grabbed his hand and pulled him
towards the bed. He sat down and Joey straddled his legs. He kissed her hotly,
before twisting them horizontal on to the bed and entering her again. Joey
wrapped her arms and legs around him and drew his lower lip into her mouth and
lightly sucked on it. He began moving with slow, easy thrusts, moaning against
her lips. She tightened her legs around his thighs and her arms around his neck
as he circled his hips.
Increasing his
rhythm, Pacey thrust into her hard, deep, and swift, driving them towards their
peak. Joey moaned and arched herself against him. He drove himself into her
faster and harder, and together, they reached their earth-shattering climaxes
that lasted an eternity, crying out and moaning in pure unadulterated ecstacy.
Pacey was asleep, lying next to Joey, his arms wrapped
tightly around her, his head resting on her chest. Joey had one arm around his
back and was lightly stroking his forearm with her fingers. She would've moved
a little, to give him some more room, but anytime she shifted, Pacey
unconsciously tightened his arms around her.
Joey smiled tenderly as she gazed down upon his face, which
was illuminated by the light of the moon. His long, spiky eyelashes lay on his
flushed, slightly tanned cheeks. His mouth was slightly red and swollen from
their kisses. Joey bent her head and gently touched the top of his head with
her lips and rubbed her face in his hair.
She was trying to go
to sleep. They'd made love twice, and she was tired, but there was too much
going on in her mind for her to do so. She let her mind wander to the second
time they made love that night.
They'd napped for a
few minutes after the first time, and he'd awakened her by trailing a kiss from
her navel down to the juncture of her thighs. She woke up moaning softly as he
explored her throbbing wet center with his tongue; and she arched her hips
closer to his mouth as she fully awoke.
Her climax was strong and came within minutes, her hands
sliding through his dark wavy hair, biting down on her lip, clutching
reflexively at his head. When he was finished, she grinned at him, turned him
on his back and returned the favor. Before he came, he moved away, lifted her
up on to the bed and against the pillows and pushed himself into her. Her legs
eagerly wound around him, her fingers digging into him, her mouth melting with
his.
He rocked into her fast and hard, so hard that her head
would bang into the headboard if Pacey's hand wasn't protecting it from doing
so. He slid the fingers of his other hand into her silky hair and kissed her
deeply, his tongue demanding, drinking her dry. Her legs formed a viselike grip
around his thighs as she jerked upwards to meet his every strong, smooth
thrust.
They came together like lightning, Joey's fingers raking across his back, drawing blood, Pacey groaning with the pleasurable pain. Their cries escalated as, together, they rode the rocket of almost unbearable rapture, until it burst with a shower of stars, Joey jerking convulsively, Pacey shivering uncontrollably as he exploded deep inside of her, his face buried deep into her neck. For a while, they didn't move.
That
was a few minutes ago. Thinking about it made Joey want to do it again, she
wasn't quite so tired anymore. Joey wondered if Pacey would want to wake up.
She moved out of his embrace, and that time, he let her go, sleepily rolling
over on his back; exactly where Joey wanted him. She kissed him softly and with
growing insistence until she felt his response. When he opened his eyes, they
were smoldering with desire and Joey straddled his thighs. He had an erection,
and Joey smiled to herself; so much for sleeping.