by Monica James
The image is almost too much.
When she slips a finger into her heat, a breathy moan escapes her.
“Feel good?” I ask, pumping my cock.
“Yes.” She gasps, opening her legs wider to gain deeper access. “How about y-you?”
“Yes, but I would much prefer your hands. Or better yet, my hands in you.”
She groans, tossing her head back.
Her fingers work fervently, and the sight of watching her get herself off is so fucking depraved, I almost come at the image. But when she suddenly stops, I rein it in because I know she has only just begun.
With her pussy glistening, she saunters over, her sweetness lingering in the air. I attempt to draw her toward me so I can slam her onto my face, but she stops me. She slowly drops to her knees and draws my jeans down my legs.
I’m still jerking myself off, and when she sees me in the flesh, the tip of her tongue skims along her bottom lip. She places her hand over mine, watching closely as my strokes increase and the drop of pre-cum catches the light.
She instantly leans forward and catches it with her tongue.
My hips jerk off the bed and a grunt catches in the back on my throat. “Dove?” I question in a strained voice; this is her show, and I have no idea what comes next.
But apparently no words are needed because in this case, actions speak a lot louder than words. She sweeps her hair over her shoulder before bending down and sucking the tip of my cock.
Sweet baby Jesus.
I stop jerking myself off as the sight of her lips wrapped around me is just too good to miss. Brushing her hair aside, I watch as she slides down my length. When she gets a quarter of the way down, I remove my hand, but she quickly retracts and breathes steadily through her nose.
I don’t dare move a muscle as she becomes accustomed to my size and goes back for round two. She licks and sucks, and my fuck, I don’t remember a blowjob ever feeling this good. She splays both hands against my upper thighs as she bobs up and down between my legs.
Each time, she gets deeper, her rhythm quicker, and before long, I am fisting the blankets while she moans around my cock. When she reaches between her legs and begins a hypnotic dance, I grunt, thrusting my hips upward and hitting the back of her throat.
“Oh, fuck, sorry,” I pant, attempting to withdraw myself as she gags, but she surprises me when she holds on tight and doesn’t let me go.
Her touch is almost punishing, and it’s exactly what I need. She suckles me deeply, using her tongue to circle my tip before licking all the way down my shaft. As her actions turn wild and desperate, so do her fingers as she sinks them deep into her heat.
The vibrations of her moans pulsate all the way up my cock, and it takes all my willpower not to explode. Her breasts sway between us, and if there was ever a more erotic sight, then I don’t know what it is.
“Carrie,” I growl, gently stroking her hair to coax her to let me go before I make a mess. “Dove…when I come, it’s going to be inside that hot little body of yours.”
She moans, her fingers working a mile a minute, and holy shit, I could just come from watching her get herself off. She’s pumping two fingers inside her but finally comes up for air when I run my thumb along her wet bottom lip.
I don’t give her time to catch her breath, however, because I reach into the bedside dresser and hunt for protection. Once I’m suited up, I lift her, and in one fluid movement, she sinks onto my length. We both moan at the connection.
We take a moment to savor the union because being face to face this way warms my heart. She loops her hands behind my nape and begins to rock slowly. I circle my hands around her waist, allowing her full rein as she arches backward, controlling the speed and depth of her movements.
We never break eye contact, and there is something profound to her touch. She bends and kisses me, whimpering when our tongues duel sluggishly. Being inside her this way is unlike anything else, and when she increases the tempo, bouncing on my lap and lowering her inhibitions, I know that I am falling in love with Carrie Bell.
Never have I felt this alive.
Her body quivers, hinting she’s close, so I tighten my grip around her waist and rock her against me. Each stroke hits her ripe center, and it’s not long before she’s bucking wildly.
When she arches backward, I circle her pink nipple with my tongue. “Oh, god,” she whimpers, slamming onto my dick over and over. “I want—”
“What do you want, dove?” I ask, sinking so deeply into her, I don’t know where she begins and I end.
“I want there to be an…” she cries, bowing back as I reach down and rub over her clit. “An us too,” she finally declares before coming with a guttural groan.
Her hot, sticky flesh sends me into overdrive, and with the smell of her sweet arousal on the air, I pump once, twice, and am fucking done. I come with a roar, squeezing her so tight, I’m afraid I’ve milked her dry.
She collapses in my arms, breathless and completely spent because what just happened wasn’t just sex, it was a game changer.
Now that we’re on the same page, the question is, what happens next?
This is the end…my only friend, the end (noun)
Three Days Later
As I peer out the airplane window, I can’t help but compare my arrival to my departure. I left Seattle a shadow of the man I once was, but I return the man I remember myself to be.
Yes, what Liz did was unforgiveable, but in a way, if it wasn’t for her indiscretion, I’d never have met Carrie. I intrinsically slip my hand around hers, marveling at how two weeks can change your life forever.
Over the past three days, we talked, we laughed, and we made love. It was incredible. Due to the shitty reception, I switched off from the real world—literally. My phone has been off, as has my Wi-Fi on my laptop.
But truth be told, I haven’t wanted to join the real world because my reality was so much better than anything outside the bubble Carrie and I lived in.
My novel is almost complete. I can’t remember ever feeling more excited over a manuscript. So, although Morocco was our own private oasis, coming home feels good because I have so much positivity to come home to and that hasn’t happened in a very long time.
Carrie has made a few calls and will stay with a friend until she figures out her living arrangements. I offered her my home, seeing as there is more than enough room, but with our “relationship” being so new, she decided it was best if she stayed somewhere else.
That doesn’t mean she can’t stay over. And I plan on her staying over more nights than she is away.
Peering over at her, I can’t suppress the swell of emotions I feel for her. She has been my sustenance and nurtured my soul.
She looks up from her photography magazine, sensing my thoughts. As usual, when we lock eyes, I’m hit with the inspiration bat, and words come pouring out of me. She really did quench my thirst in every possible way that there is.
When the captain announces our descent, I stow my laptop, looking forward to calling Nick and discussing my book. He’s going to be pissed I’ve been MIA, but what could’ve possibly happened in three days that can’t wait?
Carrie sighs, lost in thought. “Everything okay?” I ask, rubbing my thumb over her bracelet she hasn’t taken off since I put it on.
“Yes, but I think I’m going to miss you.”
I can’t help but laugh. “You think?”
An adorable smirk tugs at her lips. “I will,” she amends. “Maybe we can have a sleepover?”
“Of course. Although, I don’t think much sleeping will take place.” I bury my nose into the curve of her neck, unbelieving her smell has the ability to leave me hard.
“Surely, not again? After this morning?” She’s referring to when I ate her out for an hour before ensuring every surface of our hotel room was christened.
I shrug while she bursts into laughter. But it seems strained.
Once the plane lands, everyone is in a hurry to disembark, but Car
rie and I seem to want to prolong our goodbye for as long as we can. I can’t shake the feeling that now that we’re back, Carrie wants to tell me something. All along, I knew she was guarding a secret, and it seems Seattle has brought that to the surface.
When we can no longer avoid the inevitable, we exit hand in hand.
An awkwardness swarms around us because no one likes goodbyes, especially when our hello was so memorable. Deciding to distract myself, I reach into my back pocket and turn on my phone. The moment it powers up, it beeps continuously, which is no surprise.
“Someone is a popular boy,” Carrie comments, peering over at the illuminated screen.
When it finally stops chiming, I see that I have sixty-eight voice messages and one hundred and seventeen text messages. All are from Nick.
“I hope everything is okay.”
“Yes, it’s just Nick being a drama queen,” I reply, scrolling through the texts quickly. They are all of the same nature—name-calling and him demanding I call him. But it can wait.
Carrie’s friend lives about an hour from me in the opposite direction. We step outside and wait in the taxi line in silence. It’s evident neither of us wants to part ways, but for life to go on together, we have to live it apart.
A driver gestures that the next cab is ours. I drag her suitcase toward the idling taxi and place it into the trunk.
“So…I’ll call you when I get to my friend’s?” she asks, struggling to figure out the right protocol when it comes to a new romance.
But there are no rules when it comes to Carrie and me. That’s been evident from the first moment we met.
Threading my fingers through her belt loops, I draw her toward me until we’re only inches apart. “You can call me the moment you get in the cab,” I correct, and she smiles.
The impatient cabbie slams the trunk shut, hinting we’re to wrap this up.
“Okay.”
She chews the corner of her mouth, which drives me wild. She is wrestling with what to do, but there is only one thing we can do. And that’s for me to devour her whole.
We kiss unapologetically as she stands on her tippy toes to keep up with my fierce demands. I fist her hair, humming into her mouth as she melts against me. My senses sing in delight; she is a delicacy on my palate, and I will never tire of her taste.
But when the driver honks twice, this sample will have to do for now.
“I’ll talk to you soon.” I brush the hair from her face, running my thumb over the apple of her cheek. She leans into my touch with a sigh, but something is stirring in her eyes.
“Before I go, I need to tell you something…” She gulps, and my heart rate picks up speed.
“What? You can tell me anything,” I assure her, but she doesn’t seem so sure.
This is hardly the place for confessions, so instead, I soothe the furrow lines between her brows. “Tell me tomorrow.”
She chews her lip, lowering her eyes. She’s harbouring a secret and coming back here has clearly opened old wounds. But whatever she has to tell me won’t diminish my feelings for her.
Neither of us wants to make the first move, but knowing I’ll see her soon and preferably in my bed has me kissing her forehead and saying goodbye.
I watch as she gets into the cab, taking a small piece of my heart with her.
Only when the taillights are no longer visible do I turn and join the back of the line. I figure it’s the least I can do for holding it up.
My cell chimes, reminding me of the endless voice messages I have to listen to. Unable to avoid Nick any longer, I answer on the third ring.
“Hello, mate…how—” But he doesn’t let me finish.
“Where the fuck have you been?” His serious tone is so not like Nick.
“I was in Morocco. With Carrie. I had shitty reception and my Wi-Fi—”
He’s not interested in excuses. “Get your ass over to my office ASAP. We need to talk.”
I’m waiting for a wisecrack, but I get nothing. This can’t be good. “Okay. I’ll be there in twenty.”
Fifteen minutes later, I’m exiting the elevator and making my way to Nick’s office. His secretary, Denise, peers up from her computer when I walk through the door. “He’s expecting you.” She gestures for me to enter, but from the look on her face, it’s apparent she wants to be nowhere near me when that happens.
What the hell is going on?
Not bothering to knock, I push open the door. Nick is sitting behind his desk on the phone, but when he sees me, he quickly hangs up on whoever he was speaking to. Standing, he runs a hand through his uncharacteristically messy hair. “You need to sit down, man.”
“I’d rather stand,” I counter, crossing my arms. Whatever he has to say, he needs to do so now.
Sighing, he steeples his fingers over his mouth as if wrestling with the best way to tell me his news. “Dude, there is no easy way to say this, so I’m just going to come out and say it.”
“Okay,” I reply, drawing out the O. He’s clearly lost his mind.
Rounding his desk, he stands in front of me, before finally perching on the edge. “Liz is blackmailing you.”
It takes me a moment to process what he just said because it’s simply ridiculous. “Excuse me?” I can’t keep the humor, or maybe it’s surprise from my voice. But when Nick doesn’t blink, I know this is serious.
“She visited you in Paris, right?”
“I wouldn’t say visited. More like gate crashed,” I correct, shuddering.
“Well, whatever the technicalities, she knows about the deal with Gerry.”
“What?” If it wasn’t for my immaculate hearing, I’d swear I misheard him, but his demeanor of us being royally fucked confirms this clusterfuck as being real.
“Gerry’s wife…she and Liz play badminton together. They also happen to be in the same social circle, you moron. She didn’t look familiar?” Retracing my steps, I think back to the night I saw Gerry and his wife.
My stomach drops.
“Fuck me,” I moan because I remember thinking at the time she did look familiar. I just couldn’t place where I’d seen her. Now I know.
“That’s not the worst of it. She told Liz that Gerry was in Paris talking to us about the deal.”
And that explains how she knew where I was. But so what. “Who cares if she knows? It’ll be public knowledge soon enough.” But when Nick reaches for the bottle of whiskey from his desk, I add, “Right?”
He unscrews the lid and takes a long sip. “Actually, no. This is where the blackmail part comes in.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose.
“You didn’t happen to tell Liz that you’ve suffered writer’s block, did you?”
“Of course, I…oh, bugger,” I curse, remembering that, in fact, I did.
“Jayden, why?” Nick asks, shaking his head as I slump into the leather chair.
Not only did you shit on everything we had, but you also took away my will to write. Those were the words that signed my death warrant.
“So she knows I couldn’t write, big deal. How’s that enough to blackmail me with?”
“She is threatening to tell Gerry, and well, that’s not what any publisher wants to hear. Especially someone pushing the boundaries as it is.”
“We can tell Gerry the truth. I can show him the manuscript. It’s almost done,” I reason, but Nick’s grim reaction alerts me to how naïve that suggestion is.
“It won’t make a difference. You know how these publishers are. If she tells him this, and if his wife backs the soulless she-devil, he will pull the offer. Especially since you were all read the manuscript, mate,” Nick says, mimicking a poor sounding me.
“So let him pull it then. If he doesn’t have faith in me, then I don’t want to work with him,” I stubbornly argue, but Nick frowns. There’s a catch. There’s always a fucking catch.
“She’s threatening…Carrie.”
I take a moment to compose myself before I rip the arms off this chair. “H
ow?” It’s all I manage to say, but it’s enough.
“She knows Carrie is Axle’s daughter. She is threatening to tell Axle about Gerry opening his own publishing house, and that he’s trying to poach you, and that well”—he rubs the back of his neck — “that Carrie knew this entire time and didn’t tell him. She is going to implicate Carrie, and I’m sure Axle won’t be too happy to know his daughter helped ruin him.”
That conniving so and so…I’m going to kill her.
No matter what Carrie says, this will ruin her relationship with her family. Axle will see this as the ultimate betrayal and cut Carrie from his life. This is a fucking mess.
“So worst-case scenario is Gerry will pull the offer, and Axle will drop you like a hot potato and tarnish your name. You’ll be without a publisher, and I’m sure the literary world will think you’re a literary limp dick. You’ll be ruined,” Nick concludes, clearly not in the mood to sugar-coat anything.
Placing my head in my hands, I take a minute to digest this because it’s a lot to process. I should have known she wouldn’t leave without a fight. There is only one way to fix this. I’ll be damned if she drags Carrie into this, and I plan on doing anything it takes to save her from the evil clutches of Elizabeth Sparrow.
Standing, I steal the bottle of whiskey from Nick and gulp down the amber goodness. “I’ll take care of it,” I announce, handing him back the empty bottle.
“How?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Jayden…” But I wave him off.
“This is my mess. I’ll fix it.”
“How?”
“The only way I can. Giving her what she wants.”
Nick tsks me, shaking his head. But it’s too late. “And what’s that?” He humors me in case there is another solution. There isn’t.
“Me,” I state, realizing this is the beginning of the end. But if it’s a fight she wants…it’s a fight she’ll get.
Coming back here to a place I once called my home brings to light just how much I’ve changed. The three-story mansion was once my sanctuary, but now, the superficial monstrosity is an eyesore.
