Mr. Write

by Monica James

  “You do realize you’re sunbaking in winter?”

  Carrie’s smile brings back the memory of her well-sated body lying beneath me earlier. “Yes, but we’re on a beach in Morocco. Anything goes.” As if on cue, she reaches behind her and unties the thin strap of her red bikini. She tears it from her body, leaving me to salivate in silence.

  Her luscious breasts are sunny-side up and so is my dick. Dear god. I am insatiable when it comes to her. But I attempt to be a gentleman and continue working on my novel.

  We left Paris this morning, and it appears the wind took us to Morocco. I have no idea when she has to return to the US, and I’m afraid to ask. I don’t want this bubble to burst. Not yet anyway.

  Reading over the chapter I just wrote, I can’t help but think that I’m back. After six months of utter silence, I can’t seem to stop the words from spilling out of me. I never thought I’d get back to this place, but it seems even better than before.

  This inspiration has without a doubt been because of Carrie.

  Gazing down at her, I wonder if there is such a thing as love at first sight. The notion every hopeless romantic wishes for. But it’s almost a myth because, out of all the couples in the world, who can honestly say they’ve experienced this phenomenon?

  Lust at first sight, sure, but love? That’s a whole different ball game.

  Which brings me to my next question.

  What exactly do I feel for Carrie?

  It’s definitely past the point of merely liking her, but I bypassed that stop the moment we met. The thought of us going our separate ways when we get back home gives me heartburn. I rub over my chest, the burn rising.

  “Are you okay?” Carrie asks, peering over the top of her Ray-Bans. “I told you not to eat all that spicy harissa sauce.”

  Playing it off, as I don’t want to alert her to my love-sick thoughts, I grin. “I’m fine, Mom.”

  She opens her mouth playfully, which just evokes those sinfully delicious images all over again. However, when she rises and crawls onto my lap, straddling me, I decide to make a whole different set of memories.

  “Mom? I’d be worried if you did the things we’ve done with your mom.” To emphasize her point, she presses her breasts to my bare chest.

  My dick instantly twitches, the gluttonous bastard. She smirks, thrilled she’s able to get a rise out of me—literally. “How’s the book coming along?”

  “Great,” I reply, clenching my jaw when she rubs her hand over my hard-on. On the flight over here, I told her about my meeting with Gerry and how I most likely will screw over her father. She played it off, but deep down, she has to feel like it’s a betrayal.

  We steered clear of the topic because Carrie now has the inside scoop on J.E. Sparrows doings. Although she supports me as Jayden, fucking over her father as J.E. may be an issue down the line. I hope not, but I suppose only time will tell.

  “That’s good to hear. How about you take a break?”

  I’m pretty certain by break she means fucking my brains out, which sounds like a fabulous idea.

  Just as I’m about to dip my fingers into her skimpy bikini bottoms, a camera flash sparks to my right. I turn to see what it was, which is a complete rookie move because standing before us is none other than the paparazzi.

  Thankfully, it’s only one chump with a camera, but that’s one chump too many because he just snapped a picture of Carrie topless. “Motherfucker,” I curse under my breath as Carrie yelps, wrapping an arm around her as she fishes for her top.

  “Is this your new squeeze, J.E.?” he has the gall to ask, still snapping away. In the past, the paparazzi have never been an issue as Liz loved the attention, but now, these photos could ruin us both.

  I’m pretty certain Axle has no idea his daughter is sleeping with the enemy. If these pictures see the light of day, Axle will disown her, especially after I dump his arse and sign with Gerry.

  As she’s frantically getting dressed, I lift her from my lap and settle her on the sand. She looks at me, working her bottom lip. She knows what this will do to both of us. But it’ll be a cold day in hell before I allow this parasite to ruin our future before it even begins.

  “Mate, give me your camera.” I stand, brushing the sand from my legs casually.

  In response, the arsehole takes another picture, no doubt capturing my tenting erection. This wanker is going down.

  “This is going to go one of two ways,” I state confidently. “You either give me your camera, or I take it from you. And trust me, option two will not end in your favor.”

  This guy barely looks out of diapers. This may be harsh, but it’s an introduction to the real world. If you want to spy on people, then there will be consequences.

  Now that he’s got his happy snap, he seems to realize I have about sixty pounds on him and that I’m not messing around. “I can’t. My boss will kill me. This is my first real scoop,” he says with a quiver to his voice.

  “Listen, kid, your boss is going to take credit for the photo and pay you a fraction of what he’ll sell it for,” I explain as I know how these scumbags work.

  “That may be true, but I can’t go back empty-handed. I’m already skating on thin ice. I’m trying to put myself through college,” he says, talking a mile a minute when I’m totally unmoved by his sob story. “I’m an English Major.”

  That explains why he spotted me out of the crowd.

  “Is that a Nikon?” Carrie asks, appearing beside me, thankfully dressed.

  The kid looks at her, then down at his camera suspiciously. “Yeah. How did you know?”

  Carrie reaches into her bag and produces her own camera.

  The kid’s eyes widen. “Wow, is that the latest Canon?”

  Carrie nods, toying with the strap. “I’m in art school. It took me months to save up for it.” Even though her family has millions, I have no doubt she’s telling the truth. Carrie works for what she wants and doesn’t sponge off her father.

  “That photo you took…” she explains, frowning, “It’ll destroy everything I’ve worked hard for. I know you don’t understand why that is, but just trust me.”

  She’s appealing to his humanity while I’m picturing all the ways I intend to break every bone in his body.

  His gaze flounces back and forth between us, but he’s not budging. “I’m really sorry, but if I don’t have anything to show Yale…”

  The moment he says that name, I gesture with my finger that he’s to stop talking. “Hold up. You work for Yale Kent?”

  He nods quickly.

  “Oh, mate, my condolences.” Yale is a bottom feeder. I feel sorry for the kid.

  Yale doesn’t care whose life he ruins. He would sell out his own mom if it meant he could make a quick buck.

  I’m suddenly struck with a brilliant idea. “How about you erase every photo you took of us, and I’ll give you a real headline. One Yale will love.”

  There is no love lost between Yale and me, and quite frankly, I think he’s the one who leaked the photos of my very naked ex-wife to the press. However, I doubt any skill was needed on his behalf as I’m certain Liz mailed him the pictures.

  It was right after her boob job. She wanted the world to see what book number eight of mine bought her.

  “I’m listening,” he says, drawing the camera against his chest protectively.

  Not seeing the point in dragging this out, I ask, “Is there a pharmacy close by? And a doctor who would prescribe me some…Viagra?”

  Carrie bursts out laughing but quickly reins it back in when she sees I’m serious. “What do you need Viagra for?” she whispers from behind her hand, looking down at my crotch. “I know for a fact you don’t need it.”

  I can beat on my chest like the barbarian I am later because right now, I have to sacrifice my self-pride to save the woman I…like? Adore? Love? I scoff at the notion and focus on the task at hand.

  The kid weighs up my question before a lopsided smirk replaces his frown. “Hypotheticall
y speaking, if I said yes, I did, what exactly would you do?”

  Without a stutter, I reply, “I would walk out of the pharmacy with the bottle of Viagra in hand as you snap all the shots you want of me reading over the label.”

  The kid’s eyes widen while Carrie mutes her giggle behind her hand. “That won’t exactly win you any favors with the ladies.”

  “There is only one lady I’m trying to impress,” I state, peering over at Carrie, who blushes. “Besides, Yale will lap this up. Trust me. Anything to prove who has the biggest dick…even though there is no competition.”

  The kid ponders my offer, then nods. “Your funeral,” he says, walking over and showing me the viewfinder. When I see he has the delete prompt all geared up, I nod. He deletes everything off the memory card and passes Carrie the camera so she can double check the evidence is gone.

  Once she’s checked it twice, she passes it back to him.

  The way her lips are pulled in reveals she wishes there was another way. But I meant what I said. I couldn’t care less what this does to my reputation. If anything, it might put this bad boy, manwhore image to bed once and for all. Nick is going to be pissed, but he’ll see reason after I write him a bestseller.

  “Shall we?” I say, interlacing my fingers through Carrie’s. She squeezes my hand, expressing her gratitude.

  The kid leads the way, and Carrie and I follow.

  “This will completely ruin your cred on the street,” she says, leaning into my side. God, she smells amazing.

  “This will ensure incidents like the one on the plane and in the restaurant and wherever else will never happen again,” I counter, shuddering at the thought.

  Carrie’s spine straightens as her grip on my hand tightens. “Maybe you could ask for double the dose.” When I turn to look at her, unable to keep the smirk from my cheeks, she adds, “Just in case he can’t get a good shot of what you’re holding.”

  This is clearly an excuse because there is a little thing called a zoom button, but I nod. “Good idea.”

  She smiles, before reaching down and fondling me subtly. “I’ll make it up to you.” She accentuates her promise with a wink.

  Shaming my manhood has never felt more victorious.

  The kid whose name turned out to be Terry left Morocco one happy camper. He got what I promised, and that was to announce to the world that J.E. Sparrow was a limp dick.

  Who would have thought my lack of a hard-on would bring Carrie and I closer together?

  The moment Terry left, she dragged me into an alleyway and fucked my brains out—no Viagra needed. Once we were done sneaking around like love-sick teenagers, we decided to grab something to eat and then explore the beachfront markets.

  As Carrie was trying on a dress she had spotted and loved, I waited for her by the jewelry case and happened to see something that instantly made me think of her. Without a second thought, I bought it and hid it in my back pocket.

  We walked back to our hotel, Carrie unsuspecting of the gift I had buried in my pocket. When we got to our room, she said she was going to take a bath, which is where she’s been for the past hour.

  I’ve been focused on my book because with the crappy internet connection, I haven’t been tempted to check the football scores. Even my email cutting in and out isn’t a huge loss. Switching off from technology suddenly doesn’t seem like such a bad thing.

  I have everything I need—scotch, my laptop, and the woman who utterly spellbinds me.

  I don’t know the exact moment I passed the point of no return, but was there any other way? I don’t remember feeling anything other than this longing for Carrie, and with each moment I spend with her, my feelings only seem to grow. Like today.

  There was no questioning my decision because I would happily sacrifice my reputation to save hers.

  I don’t ever remember feeling that way. And it terrifies me.

  “That felt amazing.” Carrie emerges from the bathroom. Bundled up in an oversized bathrobe, she’s drying her long hair.

  I can’t take my eyes off her. She looks positively delicious with rosy red cheeks and freshly painted pink toenails. I’m trying not to stare, but holy fuck is she a vision.

  My cell chimes, interrupting my gawking. Peering at the illuminated screen, I see that it’s Nick. I really should answer, but when Carrie places her foot on the edge of the bed and commences rubbing lotion on her legs, I do the complete opposite. I turn it off.

  “You’re not going to get it? It could be important,” she says, oblivious to the effect she has over me.

  Sitting up higher against the headboard, I watch mesmerized as she massages the white cream into her defined calf and over her knee. The split in her robe reveals the flesh of her inner left thigh. Her supple creamy flesh reminds me of the gift I bought her.

  Reaching into the bedside dresser drawer, I retrieve the blue velvet pouch the shop assistant placed her gift into. Carrie pauses, eyeing the bag. “So I got you something…” Her surprise is clear, which suddenly makes me nervous. “If you hate it, that’s totally okay. I just—”

  “I won’t hate it,” she interrupts softly, capping the lotion. “Thank you so much.”

  I offer her the bag, not seeing the point in dragging this out.

  She leans forward, stroking her fingers over mine as she accepts. She unfastens the gold string and reaches into the small pouch. The moment the silver charm bracelet catches the light, a small gasp leaves her. She holds it up and examines the charms hanging off the thin chain.

  She’s silent, and I don’t know if that’s a good or a bad thing. If I were to give this twenty-dollar piece of jewelry to Liz, she would be silent too, but her silence would be due to disgust because the charms were silver and the stones were not real diamonds.

  But this is Carrie, not Liz, and when she meets my eyes and smiles, I’m reminded that they are universes apart.

  “Jayden, this is beautiful. I love it.” She fingers over the dangling airplane charm. She goes on to examine the others—the Eiffel Tower, a camera, the letter C to match the one hanging from her neck, a bird to represent a dove, and a strawberry. She fingers the strawberry, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Why a strawberry? I understand the meaning of the others, but a strawberry?”

  Unable to stop my grin, I place my laptop on the bed and rise. Walking toward her, I slowly lean down and inhale, sampling the length of her neck. An intake of breath escapes her. “Because you smell like strawberries and cream.” And now is no exception.

  “I do?” She gasps as I pull away.

  “Yes, you do,” I confirm, reaching for the bracelet. Opening the clasp, she turns her wrist over and offers it to me. Unable to help myself, I bend down and lay a gentle kiss over her racing pulse, before putting the bracelet on her.

  Once it’s fastened, I can’t help but admire how good it looks. Rubbing my thumb over the crease in her wrist, I smile. “You can always add more. I just thought this was a good start.”

  My comment suddenly takes on an entirely different meaning.

  She lifts those eyes, which slay me, and pins me to the spot I stand. I have no idea what she’s thinking. “Thank you.”

  “I’m glad you like it.”

  But she shakes her head, chewing her lip. “Not just for the bracelet, but for everything. Since I’ve met you, my life has been…”

  Her pause has me filling in the blanks. “Has been what?”

  “Has been good. I can’t remember the last time I’ve felt this happy.” She quickly lowers her chin, appearing embarrassed for sharing too much.

  But that won’t do.

  Placing my pointer finger under her chin, I coax her to look at me. She does. “Ditto. It doesn’t make any sense, but I suppose no great love affair does.”

  She appears horrified and frowns. “Is that what this is? An affair? When we go back home, does this all end?” Her sadness crushes me.

  It takes a moment for me to reply. “No, Carrie. Not for me it doesn’t. I don’
t know what that means for us, but the most important thing is that I want there to be an us. And I hope you do too.”

  I wait for her response, watching as she carefully considers her words. I won’t push her because I know this is a lot to digest, but I want her to know how I feel. This isn’t just a holiday romance for me. It never was. This is real.

  She toys with her bracelet, appearing deep in thought, and just when I’m about to change the subject because I don’t want to pressure her, she catches me unaware and pushes me onto the bed. My arse hits the mattress, and I don’t dare move a muscle.

  My heart is in my throat as Carrie unhurriedly unfastens the sash around her waist and peels the robe from her body. It pools by her feet, leaving her completely bare. I need a minute.

  Even though I have feasted on her flesh, seeing her naked is like witnessing a miracle. Her wet hair falls around her shoulders, drawing attention to the fullness of her perfect breasts. Her nipples instantly pebble, and I suppress my guttural moan.

  Continuing my visual journey, I wet my lips when I remember licking a path down her toned stomach and over her ripe sex. Her honey was succulent and sweet, but there was a fire to her taste, one that collided with my smoldering need for her.

  “Take off your shirt,” she commands.

  As I comply, I’m instantly hard, and the straining against the front of my jeans seems to please Carrie. She grins, and the sight is fucking devious.

  “Touch yourself.”

  I wasn’t expecting that, but I’ll play along. “You want me to show you how hot I am for you, dove?”

  She nods coyly.

  Seeing no point in delaying what we both want, I unfasten my button and reach into my jeans. Gripping my shaft, I never break eye contact as I begin to stroke myself. It feels great, but it’s not my hands I want.

  Carrie watches me closely, her cheeks blistering as she rubs her thighs together.

  “Don’t be shy. I know what that pussy feels like. Don’t deny yourself.” My permission sparks a deviant to emerge because she does as I say and begins to stroke herself.