by Maggie Marr
My eyes closed. I pictured her in bed. Her black hair spread out across her pillow forming a satin halo around her porcelain face. Soft breaths caused her chest to rise and fall. Her nipples pulsed beneath a satin slip of a nightgown. My cock tugged with the image. These images and desires had been growing inside me since the moment she’d fallen into my arms. Being with her today at Gayle’s, seeing where she’d spent most of her time after her mom died, meeting Gayle, and even having Amanda tell me the truth of about the wedding solidified my want for her. Each day, my physical reaction to her grew and yet changed into something more than desire. My heart thrilled with how her skin crinkled around her eyes when she smiled, how her smile took over her whole face, how when she told the truth you had to listen to her. Her pure earnestness was something I loved. I didn’t just want Amanda, I needed her, too.
I wanted to go to her. I wanted Amanda more than I wanted a glass of liquor, and tonight, unable to sleep or chase Amanda from my mind, the desire for the heat of booze was pretty damn bad.
“Ryan?”
My groin tightened. Hearing my name on Amanda’s lips shot a shiver down my spine and my cock pulsed. Ambient light outlined her body beneath her nightgown. Two tiny straps held the flimsy material on her shoulders. One swift tug and her body would be bare before me. Her nipples were pert and tight under the silky fabric. Her fall of lush black hair surrounded her face.
“Ryan, are you okay?”
My name on her lips again. Hard and thick, my cock stood firm, wanting her. My heart hammered in my chest and blood thundered through my body, simply because Amanda stood before me, alone in the night, and had whispered my name.
I stepped toward her. Amanda’s eyes widened with my closeness. She saw the desire that raged in my eyes. My body was stone, each muscle tight with desire for her. “I’m … I’m fine.”
But I wasn’t.
The want, the want pulled hard and fierce and I couldn’t … I couldn’t …. My hands grasped Amanda’s upper arms. Her skin was so soft. The hard need that had been coiled tight and held down for weeks tightened even more. I bent to Amanda and I took her lips.
My tongue licked against the seam of her lips. She didn't stiffen. Instead her lips parted and her hot sweet breath rushed toward me. She softened to my touch as my hands raced up her arms. I felt a release from her as though she, too, had held back these feelings, this need, but couldn’t hold back any longer. I cupped her jaw with one hand. She moaned into my mouth. My cock was hard between us and she pressed closer to me.
My fingertips brushed down her neck and over the outline of breasts. Over the tight pert nipples. Another moan with my touch. My hand slipped under her nightgown and up over her soft thigh. My fingertips found the triangle of curls. I slipped one finger into her folds and felt the wet heat of her. I pressed her swollen nub and her pussy pressed forward into my hand. My other hand cupped her breast, the pad of my thumb pressing and teasing her breast.
My finger slipped inside her and Amanda’s body tightened around me. Heat tore through my body. Her body was wet and tight and filled with want. I pulled my hand from her breast and tangled my fingers through her hair pressing her tighter to me. My mouth devoured her. My tongue pulsed through her mouth probing and seeking. A moan pulsed over her lips.
My cock throbbed. I found her neck and my lips moved down to her collarbone.
“Oh, Ryan,” she whispered.
I pulled my finger from her pussy and a soft sound of regret moaned over her lips. My hand grasped the bottom of her tiny nightgown and I slipped it up over her head.
Amanda Legend stood before me, naked in the night.
My gaze drank in her porcelain skin. The perfect firm breasts with tight pink nipples. The slope of her belly and the curve of her hip. The mound of tight black curls that covered her sex. I was an indiscriminating womanizer. I’d slept with countless women and yet, I’d never seen anyone as beautiful as who stood before me now.
She crossed her arms over her body. “We…” Her gaze darted around the yard. My body moved closer to her. I wrapped my arms around her and pressed my lips to hers. She surrendered to my kiss, all doubts, all worries released by our desire for each other.
Her hand reached out and settled on my chest, above my heart. I pressed my hand over hers. She leaned forward and her tongue met mine. She slipped her hand down the front of my boxers and grasped the base of my cock. My belly tightened with her touch. She pulled upward, and stroked me.
Her gaze locked with mine. My chest tightened and a rough hiss of breath escaped my lips.
I pulled her in closer to me. I couldn’t get close enough. My control was nearly gone. But taking her here, taking her now, wasn’t what I wanted. She deserved more from me. My fingers slid down the front of her belly and I slipped them into her cleft. She tightened in my arms. I rolled her slick nub under my finger. My mouth worked her mouth, my other arm tightened around her. With each pulse of my finger she jolted in my arms.
“That’s it Amanda, come for me.”
With my words she closed her eyes and threw back her head. The fall of black hair danced about my arm. She was panting now. Hot bursts of breath warmed my neck as my fingers pulsed faster and faster along her pussy. My eyes drank in the sight of her body as she reached for her climax. Her breasts worked up and down with her quick breaths. A pink color bloomed on her skin. The pulse in her neck accelerated.
“Come now, Amanda, come.”
A low moan escaped over her lips as I pressed against her clit and slid my two fingers deeper into her pussy.
“Ryan,” she whispered. Her body trembled and jerked and trembled again.
Then she lay limp in my arms, her body perfect. My tongue licked her nipple and sucked so softly. Another tiny moan escaped her lips. I pulled her up and helped her gain her balance.
Her eyes opened. A flush rushed to her face and her arms crossed over her perfect breasts.
“You’re too beautiful for that.” I pulled her arms away from her body and let my gaze devour her once more. Her body pressed close to me. My lips sought hers and I placed a soft kiss on her mouth. The throb in my cock pulsed. Tonight I would create my own release. I would put Amanda into her bed then I would have another shower, this time filled with the real memory I’d just created. We wouldn’t have sex. Sex with Amanda would mean more than I could give. If we ever did have sex together I wanted it to be more perfect than a quickie in the garden.
I bent down and picked up her nightgown and slipped it over her head. I kissed her again. “Come on, Princess,” I said. “Let’s get you to bed.”
Chapter 16
Ryan
Amanda drove me to set and I clasped her hand while she maneuvered through the early morning L.A. streets. I only had one small scene and once my work was finished she took me to Dr. Dwyer’s office. Few words had been exchanged between me and Amanda, but we shared smiles and soft touches. There was a hint of last night, but nothing was said. All of it too fresh for either of us.
Once we arrived at Dr. Dwyer’s Beverly Hills office, I turned to open my car door.
“Good luck in there,” Amanda said.
She had to know that this session would be about her and what had happened and how I was meant to handle all the emotions flooding my body. Today I hadn’t craved a drink, but instead I had craved Amanda: her body, her touch, her skin pressed against me.
I leaned toward her. My fingertips brushed through her thick hair. Her lips pressed to mine and heat rippled through my body. My gaze locked with hers.
“I’ve wanted to do that all damn day,” I said.
The corners of her mouth lifted into a smile. “I’ve wanted you to.” Her forehead pressed to mine. “You sure you don’t mind me not driving you home?”
“No, of course not. Go. My NA meeting is just down the street. How much trouble can I get into? Besides, you’re going to a fitting for Lane’s wedding gown. How can her maid of honor be a no-show?”
“Thank yo
u.” Amanda squeezed my hand. She looked at me shyly. “At some point we should probably talk.”
“About last night.” I nodded. The memory made my cock stir. My fingers wove through her hair. “I know.”
“See you later tonight,” Amanda said.
“Bye, Princess,” I said. A smile tugged up the corners of my mouth and she returned a smile to me. I shut the car door and headed toward Dr. Dwyer’s office. I was a little apprehensive; I already knew I wasn’t going to like what he had to say.
*
“Getting involved in any kind of sexual relationship your first year of recovery is considered unwise.” Dr. Dwyer placed his pen onto the lined notebook that sat in his lap.
My elbows rested on my knees. My palms were cold and my fingers were clasped tightly to each other.
“Have you spoken to you NA sponsor about this?”
I jerked my body back and settled into the couch. “You say it’s unwise, but it’s not impossible?”
Dr. Dwyer tilted his chin forward. His gaze bounced from my eyes to the window and back again. He was thinking, choosing his words with care. “Possible, yes, but highly inadvisable.” He picked up the notebook and set it on the table to his left. “Here’s the thing, Ryan, you just got your feet under you with the drugs and the alcohol. The fear is that you will trade in one addiction for another. That you will become addicted to the rush of chemicals in your brain that occur when you enter into a new relationship, and instead of focusing your energy on your step work and staying sober, you will focus your energy on this other person. And then …” His words trailed off, as did his gaze.
“And then what?” I asked.
He looked at me directly. “And then if the relationship doesn’t work out, you will crash. You will crash hard emotionally and you’ll have a higher potential for relapse. And with every relapse there is always the fear of overdose and possibly death.”
Air whooshed from my lungs. Relapse. Drugs. Alcohol. Death. Jesus, this was serious shit. Every single word was something negative that could happen as a direct result of becoming involved in a relationship during the first year of recovery. Heartache was going to be inevitable for me. Amanda was leaving. Once the film was completed and summer was over, Amanda would move to New York.
“Has the relationship…,” again Dr. Dwyer paused and seemed to search for his words. “Has the relationship progressed?”
My heart kicked upward in my chest. Sex with Amanda. Heat pulsed in my belly and a tight feeling pulled in my groin.
“Are you asking me if we’ve had sex?”
Dr. Dwyer nodded.
“No,” I said. “No sex, but we’ve kissed.” When was the last time I kissed a woman while I was sober? Plus, Amanda was the first woman I’d ever kissed since I was fifteen that had not led to sex. Sex with Amanda. I shifted in my seat because the pressure in my groin made me uncomfortable. “I don’t think she’s ever had sex.”
Surprise registered on Dr. Dwyer’s usually non-emotive face. “That’s quite a responsibility for a man. Especially if she is someone you care about.”
Did I care for Amanda? Yes. Her laugh made my heart nearly burst from my chest. Her eyes and her body and the memory of her naked under the moon, for me and me alone, caused a deep tug in my belly and my cock. Heat flamed through me, a heat that was greater than desire, a heat that caused me to know I wanted Amanda to be mine now. And the idea of anyone else having her? The idea sickened me.
“It’s my recommendation that this relationship go no further,” Dr. Dwyer said. “Explain to her where you are in your life. Be honest. Let her know. If you’re meant to be with this person she will understand and eventually you may find your way back to each other.”
My heart rate stayed high in my chest. I wouldn’t let Amanda go. She’d drawn me in and this was more than a physical pull. She was beautiful and smart and sharp, and yet vulnerable and unspoiled even after years in the Business.
“I don’t know if I can do that,” I said. “I don’t know if I want to.”
Dr. Dwyer pressed his lips together and slowly nodded. “Then, I believe, you are making your road to recovery much more perilous than is necessary.”
Amanda
“You are going to be the most beautiful bride,” I said. Lane stood on the pedestal and turned to her right. She examined the gown Georgina had designed for her. A long, white, off-the-shoulder gown of vintage lace. The dress accentuated her curvy figure, and yet was soft and romantic.
“I just love it,” she said. Lane stared at her reflection and then looked at me. “Do you think Dillon will love it?”
“Yes, but I think he’d love it if you walked out in ripped jeans and a torn tank top. The way Dillon loves you … it won’t matter what you wear to the wedding just as long as you’re there.”
Lane turned back to the mirror. I tilted the champagne glass in my hand as a toast to her.
“I need to stop by Chanel on the way home,” Lane said. “You have time?”
I nodded. “I have the rest of the day. So sad, before this summer the Chanel salesclerks and I were on a first-name basis. I do so love a Chanel bag.”
“Once your father hears the truth about what Kiley has been doing, I’m certain your Chanel spending will begin again.”
A chill rushed up my spine. I met Lane’s reflected gaze in the mirror. “I’m still not sure Daddy knows what she’s doing,” I said. “I want to believe that he’s focused on the movie and not on rumors he may have heard.”
The seamstress finished with her adjustments and left the room to find some silk ribbon she needed for a seam. Lane stepped down from the pedestal and I handed her a glass of champagne.
“Come on,” Lane said. “Your father would never let anyone treat you like this.”
I shrugged my shoulders. “I’m not so sure.” I settled back into the couch. “I mean, when I told my mother about Daddy and our nanny, he didn’t speak to me for nearly six months.”
Lane’s eyes held sympathy.
“And then we got Mom’s diagnosis and he had to start talking to me again.”
Lane’s lips thinned. “I am so sorry. No thirteen-year-old should feel like they caused the end of their parents’ marriage and then have to deal with their mother’s death.” She settled beside me, still wearing her wedding gown. “You know none of that was your fault.”
“I know,” I said. My brain knew the facts and realized how messed up everything had been and how none of what happened the summer before my mother died was my fault. But my heart? A ball wedged tight behind my ribs. My heart never believed my brain.
“Oh my God,” I said. “Stand up! You can’t sit in that dress before the wedding, not even for me.”
“You’re my best friend, I’d roll around in the mud for you in this gown.”
I choked on my champagne. “Don’t ever say that. You’re wearing an original Marchesa. Not even I am worth that.”
The words were barely out of her mouth when the seamstress returned and looked at Lane sitting on the couch. “You shouldn’t be sitting down in that dress,” she said, shaking her head. “If you can take it off now I will get started on the alterations.”
Lane’s eyes met mine in the reflection of the mirror. Her eyes wide, knowing she was in big trouble.
“I told you,” I whispered with a smile.
*
Lane’s driver, Bob, who also functioned as her bodyguard since Dillon hated the idea of Lane being alone, parked at the side entrance to Chanel and then opened the Escalade door for us. We slipped into the boutique before the paps could snap a shot. The inside was cool and dark. Chloe, a sales clerk I knew well, waited just inside the door. Her gaze slid from Lane to me and a tiny muscle above her lip twitched.
“Amanda”—she leaned in and air-kissed my cheeks—“I had no idea you were coming today.”
“It’s been a while,” I said. Chloe air kissed Lane.
“Let’s use the private viewing room,” Chloe said. She wav
ed her hand toward the door on her right.
“No, we won’t be here that long,” Lane said. She started down the hall toward the front of the store with me behind her. “I just wanted to check out this one pair of shoes I saw in your window last week.”
“I’d be happy to bring them back to a fitting room for you,” Chloe said. She nearly fell over herself to get Lane’s attention. “What size?”
Lane turned around and then glanced toward me and back to Chloe. “No, that’s okay. We just want to take a quick look.” She skirted Chloe and we both headed toward the front of the store, but before we got through the archway we heard a familiar voice.
“Darling, I’ll take three pair. And don’t forget the bag and the dress. Deliver it to the house and put everything on Steve’s account. I am certain he can take the hit.”
Lane and I entered the showroom. In the center stood Kiley. Her mane of blond hair—thanks to an incredibly expensive weave—fell to the center of her back. She wore a barely there skirt and a pair of Loubies with giant heels.
She turned her attention to the man standing beside her. “Darling, can I get you a new pair of shades?” Her hand tickled the back of his neck. He was extremely handsome with jet black hair and dark eyes. His skin was olive-colored and his jaw was angular and well-defined.
Lane leaned toward me. Kiley still hadn’t seen us. She stood on the far side of the store, her hand running up and down his arm. Her engagement ring glittered.
“I think that’s Roberto Angletti, the Italian model,” Lane said under her breath.
“With my father’s new wife? Yes, Lane, I think you are right.” Sarcasm colored my every word.
