Read My first, My last for Free Online

to light his face. His
mouth curved up with an innocence of a sixteen-year-old boy. I knew my decision
meant as much to Jake as it did to me. Jake loved me, and there was no one else
I would ever love more than him. Ever. This was it.
    “Really? Are you sure about this?” He took me by my shoulders.
    “I’ve thought about it for ten months. It’ll happen
eventually, and I want it to be you. At least I know you love me.” The
confidence in my voice surprised even me.
    “Of course I love you. I’ll love you until I die. You just
made me the happiest man on earth.” He pressed his lips hard against mine. His
shorts filled at their front as he glided his hands to the small of my back,
pulling my pelvis toward him. The bark of the apple tree scraped my neck, and I
arched my back toward him.
    “Tomorrow night. Meet me here at nine thirty. I know the
perfect spot.” He nuzzled his nose into my hair.
    We kissed for another fifteen minutes before I ran off
toward my aunt’s house. Jake followed me, as he always did when we returned
from the orchard, like a gentleman. One last kiss goodnight and I snuck up the
stone stairs. I looked back just before Jake’s highlighted hair disappeared
around the corner, then leaned back against the wall to calm my heavy breaths.
    Yes, Jake would be my first.
     
    Twenty years later
     
    I had imagined this moment for more than twenty years, even
secretly while I was married. The boy with blond highlights and a loop through his
left earlobe hadn’t left my mind for over two decades. But now that Jake stood
at my doorstep holding two dozen roses—not a boy but a man—I didn’t know what
to say. I let my experienced eyes scan him from bottom up without him noticing.
The washed-out jeans and new black sweater suited his physique. His subtle
cologne didn’t completely cover the smell of the store’s fresh clothing. My
thoughts became lewd and dirty in an instant, but that’s because I’d had them
about the first man I’d made love to for twenty years.
    It seems like yesterday. I swallowed through my dry
throat.
    But I had only known him as a teenage boy, not as a man. I
often wondered whether his kisses would be as tender as they were when we were
teens. Did I want them tender, or as rough as I’d imagined, ones that would
penetrate my core and satisfy me for hours? I doubted I could get enough of Jake.
If his teenage inexperience was any indication of his future sexual abilities,
then I was sure Jake could satisfy my needs and desires.
    We locked our gaze for a few minutes. I’d never forgotten the
way those blue eyes pierced my soul. He was clean-shaven, but I pondered
whether the day-old stubble would tickle me when he roamed my body. The
roughness of his jaw line and defined cheekbones made my mouth dry up even
more. Perhaps it was because I was no longer a girl and had unsatisfied needs.
A shiver flew through me when I recalled my lustful dreams of us together, as a
man and a woman, and I finally got the courage to speak.
    “What are you doing here?” I asked.
    “I’m sorry to hear about your loss.” He handed me the
bouquet. The deeper tone sent another wave of jitters through my body.
    “Thank you.” I stared, wishing I’d worn something sexier
than sweat pants and a tank top. “What loss?”
    “Your husband. May I come in, Rose?” he asked.
    The sound of crickets chimed in the distance.
    “Yes, of course.” I gestured for him to enter. The way my
name rolled off his tongue brought back memories from the orchard. When his
back was turned to me, I tugged at my ponytail and pulled the elastic off my
hair. It fell to my shoulders, cradling my cheeks. After locking the door I turned
on my heel to face him again. “Jake, it’s been two years since my husband
passed.”
    “I needed to see you.”
    Needed.
    “You did?” The memory of the girl in the orchard rushed
through me. Vulnerable and open to anything he’d suggest. If Jake were to throw
me on the hall floor