-Caleb-
Jocelyn’s lips were just as soft and plump and perfect as I’d expected. The lifejackets were awkward as fuck, but I still managed to put a hand at the nape of her neck and keep her lips pressed to mine.
I felt it when the shock left her body and she melted into me. I flicked my tongue over her lips, asking for entry.
Jocelyn parted her lips with a little gasp, and I took the invitation and slid my tongue into her mouth.
Fuck, she tasted good. Like honey.
I got rock hard as I imagined what she tasted like other places as well.
My tongue massaged against hers, encouraging her. When she very tentatively tangled her tongue with mine, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she didn’t have a lot of experience with boys.
She was probably a virgin.
The thought had me groaning and pulling my lips away. While my dick twitched eagerly at the idea of being her first lover, my brain finally caught up and convinced me this was wrong.
“Caleb?” Jocelyn breathed, her chest rising and falling in rapid little pants.
I ran my thumb over her cheek and smiled sadly. “Jocelyn, I’m not going to touch you anymore.”
Jocelyn’s brow furrowed. “Why not?”
I thought maybe I might have scared her with my intensity, but no, not my Jocelyn. If she only knew what those deep green eyes invited.
I bumped my forehead to hers. “I don’t think I’ll be able to stop.”
Jocelyn’s eyes widened. “Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh,” I responded.
She contemplated that for a while, then licked her swollen lips.
My cock strained at the innocent motion.
“Is it okay if you didn’t stop?” Jocelyn asked cautiously. “I mean... I don’t mind.”
I sighed and squeezed my eyes shut, telling my body to calm down. It didn’t work. “Jocelyn, I will not have your first time happen in the bottom of a canoe.”
Jocelyn stared at me. Then her cheeks flushed. “H-How did you know that?”
“That you’re a virgin? Or that we’re in a canoe?” I tried teasing.
It didn’t calm my hard-on any, and it just made Jocelyn blush more. “The... virgin thing.”
I ran my fingers over her braid. “I just know.”
“Am I a bad kisser?” Jocelyn asked.
A bad kisser? I let out a bark of laughter. “Jocelyn, I’m sitting here with an erection that can probably be seen from space. Trust me. You kiss JUST fine.”
“Oh.” Jocelyn looked down, or at least attempted to, but our lifejackets were in the way.
“Mhm,” I said. “So, if you wouldn’t mind getting off me, I have to start thinking of grannies and cold showers.”
Jocelyn laughed nervously and crawled the rest of the way over me to get to the back of the canoe. Her whole body skimmed right over my face.
I wasn’t complaining, but it also wasn’t helping the situation downstairs. I hooked my thumbs in the loops on my jeans to keep myself from reaching up to grab that beautiful, round ass of hers.
Once Jocelyn was settled, I moved to where she had been sitting. She navigated the canoe effortlessly to what I assumed was our first “honey hole.”
I almost brought it up to see the tantalizing blush spread across her face again, but Jocelyn shoved a pole into my hands and opened her tackle box. She quickly chose tackle for me and baited my line, handling a dried minnow without flinching.
“I like watching you... do that,” I murmured, grinning when she did, indeed, blush again. “But I really have been fishing before, and I can bait my own line.”
“You haven’t fished here. You wouldn’t know what tackle to use,” Jocelyn replied with a shrug. “We’ve also got worms and leeches.”
“Good thing you’re not squeamish,” I teased.
Jocelyn laughed. “Never. I’ve been fishing too long for that. But I still wear a fish glove. Dad handles all his catches bare-handed.”
“That’s very manly of him,” I deadpanned.
Jocelyn poked a finger in my direction. “Don’t you go bashing my father. He’s a good man.”
I had my reservations, but I relented. “All right. No more dad-bashing.”
“Good.” Jocelyn dropped her line in the water and indicated for me to do the same. “I’m going to backtroll us around the honey—er—where they’re usually sitting slowly. You’re going to want to jig your line.”
“It’s all coming back to me,” I assured her. I jigged the line slowly while Jocelyn got us moving backward, maneuvering the motor with one hand and her pole with the other. Her jigging was smooth and graceful. I felt clumsy by comparison.
“When’s the last time you fished?” Jocelyn asked as we waited for a nibble.
“Hmm,” I said, staring out at the beautiful shoreline. I remembered exactly when, but it wasn’t something I liked to recall. “I guess when I was about twelve. My dad took me.”
“Oh.” Jocelyn was doing the math, and I knew she’d come to the right conclusion. “Right before he got cancer. I’m sorry.”
I squared my shoulders. “No harm done.”
“I still didn’t mean to—”
There was a hard jerk on my line and my pole bent in an arc. “Looks like I got one!”
“Don’t forget to set the hook!” Jocelyn said, reeling in her own line while I played my fish. She set her pole down and grabbed the net.
I glanced down, then looked again. “The net’s purple.”
“Oh. Yeah... it’s my favorite color,” Jocelyn mumbled.
I grinned. “Purple. I’ll remember that.” I hauled the fish up close to the boat, looked down, and laughed. “Don’t bother with the net.”
“Why not? It looked like it hit your line pretty hard,” Jocelyn said.
I easily lifted a walleye not even a foot long and skinny into the air. “It’s a monster.”
Jocelyn bit her lip, but finally couldn’t hold back a spurt of giggles. “You’ve got that right. I think his mouth is bigger than his whole body.”
“I think you’re right.” I started trying to get the hook out of the little walleye’s jaw.
“Caleb, no! Don’t hold him like that, he has a—!”
It was too late. Even as Jocelyn tried to warn me, her explanation became pointedly clear. Literally.
The angry little walleye deployed his spiky, sharp back fan, and I sliced my palm open.
“Fuck!” I shouted, dropping the walleye to the bottom of the canoe.
Jocelyn quickly donned her fish glove and gripped the walleye before he could cause trouble. She dumped him overboard, then tossed her fish glove back into her tacklebox and scooted carefully to the next seat forward in the canoe. “Is it bad?” she asked while I cradled my hand.
“Fuck me, that hurt. It’s probably not as bad as it looks, though,” I grumbled, feeling like an idiot.
Jocelyn took my hand in hers and wiped my blood away with her blue shirt. “It’s not too deep? You’re not squirting blood or anything, so it didn’t hit an artery. Dad will know if it needs stitches.”
“Great. I get to show your father I can’t even catch a fish properly. Joy,” I sighed.
“He’s sliced his hand open, too. It happens. If I didn’t have my fish glove, I’m sure I’d get cut open all the time,” Jocelyn reassured me.
I still had a feeling I’d be getting my fair share of crap over this. But, Jocelyn was right. Better to be safe and go see the bastard than potentially get gangrene or something.
“Do you think they’re done playing ‘hide-the-salami’?” I asked sarcastically.
Jocelyn wrinkled her nose. “Ew. Gross.”
“I’d rather not walk in on them, how about you?” I said.
“No...” Jocelyn replied, going a bit green. “But we have to have your hand looked at. They’ll be able to hear the motor approaching.”
“I hope,” I muttered.
Jocelyn started going back to the motor, then stopped. “Take off your shirt.”
“Excuse me?” I responded while my baser instincts began to perk up.
“Your shirt. Take it off,” Jocelyn repeated.
I raised an eyebrow at her. “Does blood turn you on or something?”
Jocelyn rolled her eyes. “No. But we’ve got to put something around your hand to stop the bleeding, and my dad might get a bit testy if I take MY shirt off.”
“I wouldn’t mind...”
“Look. Whatever this is going on, whatever ‘game’ you think we’re playing, it needs to go on hold for a minute because you’re injured,” Jocelyn said sternly.
I chuckled and unclipped my lifejacket, peeling off my shirt. The air was cool against my skin. But I could feel Jocelyn’s hot gaze on my body. Even though she was trying to be businesslike now, I knew, and she knew, and I knew that she knew that I knew she was watching. There was a sharp intake of breath, then Jocelyn blushed and turned her head aside.
“Put your lifejacket back on,” Jocelyn instructed hoarsely.
I leaned closer to her. “Eh? Can’t hear you.”
Jocelyn’s blush deepened. “Caleb, we’re not going anywhere until you have your lifejacket on.”
“Okay, okay.” I held up my hands in surrender and clipped the restrictive, camo-colored lifejacket back on. Jocelyn’s was a neon purple, I observed. I’d been so busy trying to see through it that I hadn’t clocked the color.
In fact, her tackle box and one of her fishing rods were also purple.
I chuckled as I wrapped my shirt around my bleeding hand. “Wow, you do have a purple fetish.”
“Yes... well... everyone has a favorite color,” Jocelyn said, putting the motor back in motion once I was settled.
We practically flew over the pristine, slate blue water back to camp. Once we arrived, Jocelyn let the boat glide to the shore. I jumped out and pulled it further onto shore with my good hand.
“I’ll get the rope,” Jocelyn told me, pointing up the incline toward camp. “You go tell my father you could use some help.”
“I think I’d rather get gangrene,” I grumbled, but trudged up to the campsite nonetheless.
Hank and Mom were sitting by the fire again, looking pleasantly disheveled. When Hank saw me, however, his expression darkened. “You weren’t out there long.”
I bit the inside of my cheek against a retort and held out my hand. “I had a misunderstanding with a walleye. He won.”
Mom turned pale and jumped to her feet, running over to me. “Oh my God, Hank, he’s bleeding!”
“Grabbed it wrong, didn’t you,” Hank said, unperturbed. He rose slowly and sauntered over to me. “Well, show me.”
I unwound my shirt from my hand.
Hank took my hand in his and whistled. “Got you good. I’ll get the first aid kit. Jeanie, nothing to worry about, darling. He just needs a bandage and some bacitracin.”
Jocelyn came walking up the hill, then. “What’s the verdict?” she asked.
“Verdict is your brother’s an idiot,” Hank snorted.
Gee, and just when I was beginning to think he might be a stand-up guy about all this. “Jocelyn told me you’ve been cut by a walleye, too.”
“Sure have,” Hank said. “But I know a cut like that only happens when you try grabbing one around the middle, and you’d only do that to a tiny little bastard. So you got beat by a minnow.”
I couldn’t stand his gloating. I snatched the supplies from him and plonked myself down on the picnic table bench. “I can take care of it myself, thanks.”
Hank shrugged. “Suit yourself. Your mother and I are turning in for the night. Oh, I snore.”
“Fantastic.” As the evening sun was rapidly falling into night, I lit one of the kerosene lamps and brought it over next to me. The bacitracin step went fine, but as for wrapping the bandage...
Mom and Hank’s tent zipped open, then back closed again. I figured I was on my own until Jocelyn cleared her throat.
“Want some help?” she asked.
I looked down at the mess I was making. “Probably a good idea.”
Jocelyn straddled the bench next to me and took my hand, carefully wrapping it. “Dad really does think he’s just being funny.”
“He isn’t,” I growled.
“I know. But he thinks he is.” Jocelyn laid my hand on my thigh.
I took her hand before she could pull it away. “Thanks.” I played my thumb over the lines on her palm, rubbing slow circles.
Jocelyn looked behind us and dropped her voice. “Caleb, they’re right behind us.”
“Unless they have X-ray vision, that’s not a problem,” I replied, still rubbing circles.
“Caleb...”
I sighed and brought Jocelyn’s palm to my mouth for a kiss before releasing her. “I know this is all getting really confusing, really quickly. We’ll talk more about it tomorrow, okay?”
Jocelyn nodded then quickly clomp-clomped in her wader boots to her tent.
I leaned back and looked at the sky, wondering how long it would be before the stars came out. I supposed if I waited long enough, I might be able to figure out what to do about Jocelyn.