by S. E. Hall
“What? You got all that researched and accomplished with one text to your dad?” I ask in awe.
“No. It was about four texts, and his back to me of course,” he laughs. “But yes, that’ll be how it works from now on.”
“Must be nice to have money. Buys power,” I mutter, not far enough under my breath.
“Not gonna lie, it is nice. But the real perk is using that power to help other people. Seriously. It’ll be a huge burden lifted for all tenants on the second through fourth floors. Imagine how many elderly folks, and single moms, women in general, we’ll be helping avoid the long trek. Especially in the dark.”
“That’s true,” I smile. “You and your dad are kinda rock stars.”
Now stopped at the door of 301C, he turns to give me a very unhappy glower. “Let’s not ever talk about, or use the words rock star again. Or JT. You call me Jefferson. Even when you’re mad. Hear me?”
“I hear ya, Jefferson,” I blow him a playful air kiss. “Now show me this apartment you’re so determined on me moving into.”
It may have taken all evening to get to this point—between the “turned out to be an asshole” Zeke fiasco, Jefferson and I fighting, then having a text battle, only to fight some more and the “how I put out my trash” debacle—but as soon as he opens the door to the apartment, I know there won’t be a fight over this.
I may feel uneasy, and kind of pitied, about this whole situation…but I’ll just have to find a way to pay him back, even the score, ‘cause there’s not a chance in hell I’m turning this place down.
Nineteen
JT
BELLAMY DOESN’T WANT to like the place, but she can’t fool me—she loves it.
I can almost hear her thoughts. She doesn’t think accepting would be “right,” too proud for what somehow got into her head as “pity” or “charity.” Despite that, she’s well on her way to losing the battle with herself, and mark my words…no way she’ll turn this place down. Her inner struggle though, crinkled little brow and lip gnawing—adorable.
And her biggest issue, I’m sure of that answer too. Bellamy can’t wrap her brain around why I’m doing these things for her, especially so soon. Even though I’ve tried to explain many times…it really is all I know.
Maybe I should ask Aunt Emmett to give her a call, tell her how Uncle Sawyer came busting in and rearranged her life in a blaze of raging testosterone, far exceeding what I’m doing. He had Emmett moved into a duplex right by him and driving a car he arranged in the blink of an eye.
Speaking of cars…gotta figure out something there because the thought of Bellamy running to the bus every day, lugging a heavy backpack and wolfing down breakfast on the fly doesn’t sit well with me. At. All.
Okay, maybe I won’t have Emmett call.
I silently follow behind her as she looks around, slowly running her fingertips across the marble countertop, walking inside the shower to secretly marvel at its spaciousness and hesitantly sitting on the bed, bouncing a little to test it out.
“So, what do you think?” I finally ask, already sure of the answer by the sweet look of wonderment on her face.
“You know what I think,” she says in a pitiful pout. “How could I not love it? It’s beautiful. Huge. And furnished with nicer things than I’ll ever own. But,” she smiles, loaded with equal gratefulness and obstinacy, “I can’t accept. I’m fine where I am. More than fine, because I earned it.”
I lean over her, hands braced on either side of her hips, mattress is pretty soft, and mouth temptingly close to hers. So close, the tiny puffs of her nervous breathing warm my lips. “You’re precious, and I respect the hell out of you trying to refuse. But you’re moving into this apartment, Bellamy. You have to. I evicted you from the other one, remember?” I wink.
“You weren’t serious about that.”
“Oh, but I was. You’re moving. Period. End of sentence. And discussion.” I brush my lips along hers, loving the slight tremble my touch elicits. “Tomorrow work for you? I just so happen to know a Squad of helpers who’ll have your old place cleared out in no time. All you have to do is decide what’s going where.”
“Jefferson, I don’t want Brynn or your family to think I used her, was only friends with her, to get rich people favors,” her voice cracks.
I stand up straight and laugh heartily. “My sweet, beautiful Bellamy. What am I gonna do with you? Trust me, every single person in my family will know exactly who was the hunter and who was the prey in our arrangement. I told ya, it’s an inherited trait. My mom, older sister and every aunt has been in your same situation. So, don’t worry about that shit for another second.”
She sighs, silently gathering her thoughts. And with a final huff, concedes. “Obviously, I want to keep all my personal stuff. Pictures, clothes, books, toiletries and dishes. And my own bed sheets. The rest can go to Goodwill.”
I pull her up by the hand, tugging her against my body. “That’s my girl,” I hum on her lips and slide my hands in her thick mane of hair, devouring the sexy fucking mouth I can’t go too long without.
I kiss her rougher than I mean to, a feeling of possession that I never thought would happen to me making it impossible to be gentle. When she whimpers, soft and sweet, and wraps her arms around my neck, I feel it even stronger. Unfathomably so. Damn.
I’ve kissed more girls than I can count, and rarely, maybe never, did I stop there, satisfied. But Bellamy? I’ll take just her mouth, all night, if she’ll let me and be a very happy man.
She won’t though…pulling back no sooner than I finish the thought. “We better go,” she breathlessly tortures me. “It’s not my apartment yet.”
“Actually, it is,” I grunt, going for her mouth again.
She laughs, pushing on my chest to stop me. “I thought you were hungry? It’s getting late. If we’re gonna eat, we need to do it soon.”
“True,” I regretfully agree. “How about I run and grab us something while you pack up your private stuff? You know, anything I don’t want Judd or Ryder seeing when they help move ya. Lingerie, your vibrator or any other toys and all panties and bras.”
This time she snickers, her face flaming crimson. “Um, you better pick up something real close by then, ‘cause it won’t take very long to dump my one drawer of panties and bras in a bag.”
I know my eyes are bulging with unchecked shock. “Are you trying to tell me you don’t own a single piece of lingerie or toy?”
“That’s what I’m telling ya.”
“How is that possible?”
“Quite easily,” she shrugs. “Why buy lingerie I can’t afford that no one’s ever gonna see? And why spend money on “toys” I’d never use?”
“But what about getting off? You what, always use your fingers?” Just flies outta my mouth itself.
“Oh my God, stop talking! This conversation has taken a painfully personal turn.” She spins on her heel and dashes toward the front door, calling over her shoulder, “Let’s go. Think food, back on track.”
But I catch her before she escapes, my front pressed to her back, trapping her against the still-closed door. I move her hair aside and taste my way up her neck ‘til my mouth is at her ear. “Bellamy,” I rasp deeply and purposefully, “tell me why you’re so embarrassed. Everybody does it.”
“Not everybody,” she whispers.
I can’t hold in my groan. Knew she was a virgin, which turns me on more than I can even describe. But she’s just informed me that I’ll be the man to give her the first orgasm she’s ever had. I might throw her down on the floor and give it to her right fucking now.
“Baby girl,” I lick the shell of her ear, “are you telling me you’ve never snuck your hand down to your sweet lil’ pussy and given yourself pleasure?” I’m a masochist, asking because…I want to see how she responds to dirty talk, praying she’ll push her ass back against my dick to feel me, knowing she won’t.
She shakes her head.
“Why not?” I continue my sel
f-torture, enjoying every damn second.
“I just haven’t. I guess you don’t crave it until you’ve had it that first time, and I never got around to that. If it helps you view me as normal,” she inhales a deep breath, “I did have a certain kind of dream.”
“A wet one?” I stifle any reaction, not sure what would come out at this point. Her innocence is baffling and agonizingly fucking sexy at the same time.
She nods.
“How long ago was this dream of yours?” I start kissing her neck again, spurring her to answer.
Which she does, on a puff of air, all but inaudible yet I hear her loud and clear. “Couple nights ago.”
“You don’t say?” I grind my hard-on against her ass, adding a small bite on her skin. “The timing has me curious. Was it about anyone I know?”
“You know the answer,” she moans, tilting her head to give me full access.
“I damn well better, hate to have to kill someone. But I want to hear you say it,” I growl, sucking harder along her flesh. “Say it, Bellamy. Who were you dreaming about when you woke up with a soaking wet pussy?”
“Y, you,” she quivers with her reply. “I was dreaming about you, Jefferson. Happy now?”
“As fucking happy as I can ever remember being. Make me a promise.”
“What?”
“Stick with the not touching yourself thing. Not with anything, your fingers or toys. Don’t go rogue on me now, after telling me that I’m gonna be the one to make you come for the first time. Promise.”
“I, I don’t remember telling you that.”
“Don’t you?” I slide my hand to her hip and around the front, one fingertip teasing its way down. “Want it now, Bellamy? Hmmm?” I lick and nip at her ear, jaw, neck. “Want me to make you come, baby?”
If she says yes…I’m coming with her. Don’t fucking care if it’s my goddamn jeans…I’m coming with her.
She drops her forehead to the door with a thud and shifts away from me. “No,” she whines like she hates herself, “no, not yet.”
And…I hear my dick start weeping. Right there with ya, poor motherfucker.
“But,” she turns around slowly, shyly, and jabs me straight in the dick again with a beautiful smile and sexy whisper. “I will promise. To, um, wait. For you.”
I take what I can get, storing away her exact expression, words and tone for later, and cup her face. “Good girl,” I wink before slamming my mouth to hers, dominating every move of our tongues against each other’s…just like I’ll soon have complete control of her body, pleasure and release.
God, grant me a patience with which I was not born.
AFTER WE SCARF down the Chinese food I bring back and watch bits and pieces of some movie in between kissing like horny teenagers at a drive-in, and the one, more than a handful of covered tit she lets me have for all of ten seconds, she announces it’s time for her to go to bed.
I’m slow to rise off the couch and grab my keys, once again foolishly praying she’ll ask me if I want to stay over. She doesn’t. As I already knew she wouldn’t.
Bellamy isn’t like any girl I’ve ever met. Well, maybe I’ve met some similar and just wasn’t instantly compelled to take the time to get to know them. Either way, her willpower is infuriatingly mind-blowing and yet, sadistically, I appreciate it. I want to be sure before I take anything precious and preserved from her that I might not deserve.
So, I give her a long, soft kiss goodnight and head to my car. Then fire off a group text to the Squad before I forget.
Me: Hey there people who were obligated at birth to help me out when I ask. And Ryder, now trapped by choice. Tomorrow after work, 6ish, we’re moving Bellamy into a new apartment. See all you fuckers at 104A, Appleton Apartments tomorrow.
I get a few responses of “okay” or a thumbs-up emoji…and then Judd’s reply.
Judd: Since Skylar and I are married, you really can just include HER in these group texts and I promise ya, I’ll get told what I’m doing.
Me: We get it, you shot out of your dad’s ass and like to whine about the same shit he does- EVERY DAMN TIME. Flip the record bitch, and see you tomm night.
Judd: Say that shit to my dad, asshole.
Me: I’ll text him now, pussbag.
Presley: Jesus ladies, you’re BOTH pretty! Now STFU, I’m watching Dance Moms. And they’re better at the petty bitch thing than either of you.
Me: You shouldn’t volunteer the very pathetic info that you watch that shit.
Brynn: We’re moving MY best friend and I’m just now hearing about it, from YOU?
Me: Just forced her into it tonight Brynny. I’m sure she’ll tell you tomm.
Brynn: FORCED? Elaborate please, before I have to kick your butt.
Presley: Brynn, if you’re gonna keep this going, at least say ASS.
Sky: I agree. And I’m leaving convo before my husband starts crying.
Presley: Which would be different than any other night how?
Judd: Still here Pres.
Presley: Then leave. Go wash your chach. (That means your vagina, FYI)
Me: ANYWAY. Brynny, are you new? Think Dad and Mom. Uncle Saw and Emmett. Every couple you know. I used tactical persuasion to make her see that my way was best.
Brynn: Silly me, don’t know why I was concerned. Should’ve saved my worry for after you answered!
I laugh out loud and put my phone up, driving away. I love my family—always there when you need them, never without bringing along the biting sarcasm.
And tomorrow, not only will we get Bellamy moved, but I’ve got the perfect housewarming gift for her in mind.
That I’ll give her after everyone else leaves.
Also, due to the fact that the words “housewarming gift” actually entered my mind, I reach down and do a quick dick check. Still there.
Now, one last call I have to make.
“Are you in jail?” he answers groggily but loud.
“Dad, don’t think they let you call from your own cell phone in jail,” I laugh. “So no, I’m not. And no, not being held for ransom this time either. I just wanted to give you a heads-up that I need to leave work around four tomorrow.”
“Why sure Son, that shouldn’t be a problem. Thank you for asking in acceptable advance,” he bites out, sarcasm not to be hindered by sleepiness. “Why do you need to leave?”
“Squad’s moving Bellamy into the new apartment. I need to grab food for everyone and a gift for her ahead of time.”
“A gift?” He laughs. “Never dreamed I’d see the day. You really like her, huh?”
Without thought needed, I immediately reply. “Yeah, I really do. She’s…something else.”
“Well, I’m happy for you. Those “something else’s” are hard to find. Four o’clock is fine.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“None needed. Get your girl.”
Twenty
Bellamy
I STRUGGLE THROUGH the day, wound in nervous knots—unable to concentrate, sit still or take an effortless deep breath.
I’m moving, or rather being moved, today. Into a large, fancy place I could never afford and know I don’t deserve. By a man so sexy and kind, but even more so bossy, that I don’t think refusing was ever really an option.
I called Brynn on my break to make sure she wasn’t angry with me, relieved to find she wasn’t. In fact, she couldn’t seem to decide between laughing and apologizing for her brother’s inherited, alpha assertion.
So at least I don’t have to worry about our friendship, it’s fine. But I am still concerned about what the rest of Jefferson’s family will think of me and my possible motives—of which I have none.
My biggest question, however? The one causing riotous commotion in my head, heart and stomach? Jefferson Tate Kendrick…and his possible motives.
What if he’s quick to lose interest in me? Do I have to move back? All the furniture I owned will be gone. And the critical, potential loss, the one I care about most and won�
�t be able to fix with some packing tape and a trip back to Goodwill…what if this is merely the first step in wholly giving in to him and I lose my heart?
I’m beyond scared and confused, both my literal and emotional independence being stripped away bit by bit, and yet, I’m not sure I want to stop either from happening. Simultaneously petrified and exhilarated by the possibility of being able to depend on someone else for anything, especially to take care of my feelings. Feelings I’ve never even come close to entrusting to anyone else. Besides my parents, which is so not the same thing.
My shift finally ends and I rush out, ready to sprint for the bus and get home to oversee my move, but I’m stopped dead in my tracks.
“Seriously, you didn’t think I’d be here?” he asks in a flirty growl, standing at the curb with his passenger door already open for me.
“You, um, didn’t say you would be,” I bobble my flattered words, walking his way. “So I-”
“Bellamy,” he grabs my hips and tugs me to him, resting his forehead on mine. “I’ll be here every night to pick you up from work. We clear now?” I nod and he gives me a quick kiss. “Good. Now in your fine ass goes,” he chuckles, giving me a boost into his car.
As soon as he climbs in behind the wheel I ask, “What smells so good?”
“Dinner,” he motions to the backseat with his head. “Gotta feed the help. Grabbed Thai. You like?”
“I love,” my purr escapes as I lick my lips. “They’re helping me though, so I’d like to pay for it.”
His responding laugh is heavier with a feral growl than humor. “And I’d like for them to all be done and gone, leaving us alone, by the time we get there. Think that’s gonna happen?”
