3 BOOK BUNDLE Her Last Love Affair , Her Last Love Affair: Breathing Without You AND Her Last Love Affair: The Final Journey

by Clara James

  Lifting his upper body, he placed the flat of his right hand on her back, telling her that he wanted her to remain still. Meanwhile, he shifted his hips, poking the heavy head of his shaft clumsily between her slick folds. It didn’t take long for it to find its goal, though.

  He penetrated her in one, slow but fluid motion, uttering muttered curses and drawing in shuddered breaths through an open mouth. Allie could tell that he wasn’t as generously sized as Carl, but the angle of his entry caused him to brush against the front wall of her passage, finding her G-spot.

  “Stephen,” she gasped, pushing herself further into the couch and rubbing her clitoris against the hard edge.

  “Ugh,” he grunted, his hips meeting her bottom.

  Strands of Allie’s hair was sticking to her sweaty forehead, as she bucked beneath him, urging him to move and stimulate that sweet spot once more.

  Stephen, however, was not going to be rushed. He gently slipped from her, before repeating the slow, smooth thrust. Again and again, he repeated that motion, breathing deeply, almost as though he were meditating.

  Allie was far from relaxed. Her hips jerked with as much movement as they were capable of and she pleaded in soft whispers and strangled moans. It was exquisite torture. He brought her so close to orgasm, but never took her all the way.

  “Just breath,” Stephen urged.

  “I…am…breathing,” she replied brokenly, as he brushed over the sensitive skin of her sex once more. Her legs kicked out involuntarily and she wrapped her right foot around his calf.

  “Trust me,” he continued in a lower tone, draping himself over her back and leaning towards her ear. “It’ll come,” he assured her. “Deep breaths.”

  Unable to do anything else, Allie followed his instructions, inhaling deeply, before releasing the breath through an open mouth. Having always held her breath when she felt a climax building, she was certain breathing would do nothing to help her, but she continued to do as directed.

  “That’s good,” Stephen cooed, as his hips met her ass in the same gentle rhythm. He knew she was teetering on the edge and he also knew exactly what would push her over it. Withdrawing almost completely from her, he simply held himself still, the mushroomed head of his manhood stretching her entrance. Then, without warning, he slammed himself forwards, his balls slapping against her inner thighs.

  The sudden, forceful thrust caused Allie to open her mouth and release a grunted breath of surprise. However, that exhalation quickly turned into a squeal of pleasure, as molten lava shot up from her sex and warmed her entire body. The small muscles of her sex spasmed quickly, squeezing Stephen in short, sharp bursts.

  The intensity of the sensation caught Stephen off guard, and he suddenly found his eyes rolling back in his head, as his shaft lengthened and released its sticky climax in strong bursts. Breathing hard, he slumped over her, his muscles no longer capable of keeping him upright. “I don’t think…” he panted. “It would have been like that nine years ago.”

  Having still not quite found her way back to Earth, Allie giggled girlishly, while her sex continued to lazily milk Stephen’s spent shaft.

  CHAPTER SIX

  BEST FRIENDS

  Carrying a clear plastic container of caramel Frappuccino, Rosalind gently grasped her sunglasses and perched them on the top of her head. As she rounded the corner, she saw that Allie’s front door was ajar and her brow creased. Approaching, her steps slowed and she drew back the cup of icy liquid, as though prepared to use it as a weapon if necessary. With her free hand warily outstretched, she pushed at the partly open door. “Allie?” she asked, while the hinges creaked and the door slowly swung wide.

  She was met by a broad male back, dressed in a black leather jacket. He was running a hand over the nape of his neck and twisted at the sound of Rosalind’s voice. “Oh, hey,” he said in a husky southern accent.

  “Umm,” she mumbled in response. “Hey,” she echoed bewilderedly.

  “I’m just leaving,” he explained. “Allie’s…err…” he paused, glancing to his left. “Just coming,” he added, when he noticed movement coming from the bedroom.

  Rosalind took a step forward. Pushing the door wider, she leaned her upper body into the apartment and tried to follow the focus of the man in front of her. There, she found Allie dressed in only a bathrobe. Her loose hair was mussed from sleep, except Rosalind guessed there hadn’t been much in the way of sleep. Allie’s face was set in a silly contended smile, but there were bags under her eyes.

  “Allie, sweetheart,” the man crooned. “You’ve got a visitor,” he informed her, gesturing with an open palm towards Rosalind’s top half.

  Allie glanced from the face of the man to Rosalind’s confused features. “Hi,” she greeted, her tone lifting in question.

  Righting herself, Rosalind stepped into the room, pushing past the leather-jacketed stranger. “You forgot?” she demanded.

  “Forgot what?” Allie responded.

  Opening her mouth to speak, Rosalind sucked in a breath, before remembering that they weren’t alone in the room. Quickly pressing her lips together, she twisted to face the man. “Do you mind?” she asked rudely.

  “Oh,” he replied, uncomfortably. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s all right,” Allie chipped in, wandering towards her date from the night before and placing a placating hand on his chest. “Look, umm…” she murmured.

  “It’s okay,” he quickly stated, sensing her disquiet at the tension unmistakably mounting between the two women. “I’ll get out of your hair,” he added, motioning towards the door. “You know,” he chuckled. “I had a great time last night.”

  “Me too,” Allie smiled, following him closely as he reached the threshold.

  Before leaving, he leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on Allie’s lips. “It’d be nice to do this again sometime,” he suggested quietly.

  “Maybe,” Allie stated, waving him off.

  Rosalind didn’t take her eyes from the pair. As she watched the exchange, her mouth dropped in disbelief.

  With a frustrated sigh, Allie closed the door and rapidly turned on her friend. “Did you learn those manners in finishing school?” she demanded. “You know, this is my home, Ros.”

  “And you know, we had a date for lunch,” Rosalind snapped back. “I was waiting in the restaurant for over an hour,” she added. “Have you any idea how worried I was.”

  “So worried you stopped at Starbucks on the way,” Allie pointed out, striding across the room and tossing the words over her shoulder as she breezed into the kitchen.

  Glancing down at the cup in her hands, Rosalind huffed in response to the accusation. “What the hell is going on with you?” she insisted. “You don’t turn up to lunch; you don’t even remember we’re supposed to be having lunch. You’ve got strange men in your apartment, and when I called you at work yesterday, they told me you were off sick.”

  Allie didn’t bother to lift her head at the long list of complaints Rosalind seemed set on airing. She was intently focused, instead, on fixing herself a cup of coffee. Huffing, she slammed cabinet doors, as she tried to find a fresh jar of the instant stuff. “I’ve been feeling a little off color,” she stated, choosing to only acknowledge the last of Rosalind’s points.

  “Well, you clearly felt a lot better when you picked up Mr. Texas.”

  “Kansas,” Allie matter-of-factly snapped.

  “What?”

  “Stephan is from Kansas,” she explained, closing another cabinet with a sharp bang.

  “I don’t care where he’s from,” Rosalind erupted, marching into the kitchen. “Look,” she sighed, trying to keep a tenuous hold on her desire to grab her friend and shake some sense into her. “I just want to know that you’re all right. You’ve been acting so strangely these last few weeks.”

  Giving up on her search for coffee and trying to remember the last time she actually went grocery shopping, Allie perched herself on a stool by her breakfast bar. Lifting her fac
e to Rosalind, she shook her head. “I’ve been having fun these last few weeks, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

  “All right,” Rosalind conceded. “There is nothing wrong with having fun. But there’s more to it than that.” The tension seeming to suddenly pop, she slowly wandered to where Allie sat and took the stool next to her. Fortunately, on that day, she was wearing pants and had no problem settling herself on the seat. “We’re supposed to be friends, aren’t we?”

  “Of course we’re friends,” Allie automatically responded.

  “So why can’t you talk to me about whatever it is that’s bothering you?”

  “Nothing is bothering me,” she countered, placing her hands on the counter in front of her and steepling her fingers. “I’ve been having the time of my life, Ros,” she added, smiling to herself.

  Rosalind could tell that her best friend’s thoughts had taken her elsewhere and didn’t bother to attempt to bring her back for some moments. She took the opportunity to really look at Allie, to note the genuine look of happiness that radiated from her. However, she knew on a deeper level all was far from well with the woman beside her. It was a feeling in her gut, something she could never put into words, but a sensation that she simply couldn’t ignore.

  “I’ve been looking at the world differently.” It was Allie who broke the silence, as she continued to thoughtfully gaze at her entwined hands.

  “But why?” Rosalind asked, beginning to feel as though she were beating against a brick wall. “What’s happened?”

  Allie considered how she would answer for several seconds, before lifting her gaze to Rosalind and fixing her with open, honest eyes. “I’ve been given a wake-up call,” she said softly.

  “What the heck does that mean?” Rosalind scoffed back. “You going to die?”

  Allie knew that the suggestion had been made in jest; a thought so outrageous that it didn’t occur to Rosalind that it could be true. She wanted to deny it, to laugh and reassure her friend. However, she couldn’t. Instead, an uncomfortable silence descended on the pair.

  The smile quickly vanished from Rosalind’s face to be replaced by one of mortification. “Allie,” she whispered, that one word asking a thousand questions and expressing a hundred emotions.

  ***

  The women talked well into the evening and, in the end, Rosalind spent the night on Allie’s couch. They only briefly discussed the disease, Allie admitting that she’d not bothered to read anything about it, and that, if she were honest, she didn’t care. She knew enough to know that her days were now numbered, all she wanted to do was enjoy them while they lasted.

  Naturally, Rosalind expressed concern and urged Allie to go back to the doctor, or to at least consider the possibility of chemotherapy. But she realized, even as she was speaking, that Allie’s mind was firm.

  By the Sunday morning, Allie wasn’t sure whether she felt better or worse for having unburdened herself. In some ways, it was a relief to no longer carry the secret of her illness alone. On the other hand, spending the night talking about cancer and death had put those things back at the forefront of her mind and depressed her deeply. What she need, desperately, was a new distraction. Another man, another old flame, another good fuck.

  Hustling Rosalind into the shower and inviting her to raid her wardrobe, Allie settled on the floor by her coffee table and opened her laptop. As she waited for the computer to come to life, she allowed herself to drift back over the years; searching for faces that she’d like to see again. Her brain slowed in its hunt, lingering over a man she’d met at a journalists’ conference the summer before. He’d given her his card and asked her to call, but she’d never bothered. In fact, she’d stupidly tossed the card in the trash when she’d got home. However, she did remember that he worked for the LA Times and his name was Mitch, so he should be traceable.

  Going straight to the Los Angeles Times’ site, she began scrolling through articles, only glancing at the by-line of each. Eventually, she found one written by Mitch Hatley. “Hatley,” she mumbled. “That’s it.” As she spoke, she clicked on his contact address and wrote a quick note, simply mentioning where they’d met and asking him to contact her.

  With that done, she logged onto her email account and was struck by the number of alerts she’d been sent from Facebook. Several people, some she was certain she’d never met, had added her as a friend. However, one name stood out among the rest. Quickly, she opened a new browser and signed into the site, eager to read the private message he’d left her. It was brief, but it sent a delightful shiver down her spine.

  ‘Allie, so good to see you on here! I know it’s been a long time since high school, but hope you remember me. Funny enough, I’ve been living in San Francisco for a year. I had no idea you were working for the Chronicle - that’s nothing against the paper, I just don’t read the news. Anyway, the point is, I would have got in touch sooner if I’d known you were so close. Would be amazing to see you.’

  “Who’s Reece?” the question was asked just before a crunch of toast echoed around the room.

  Startled, Allie wrenched her neck around to find Rosalind leaning on the back of the couch peering at the laptop screen. “For God’s sake,” she muttered, trying to catch her breath from the fright. “He’s…umm,” she added, trying to regain some composure. “He’s…”

  “He’s hot,” Rosalind offered, glad to have something lighthearted to concentrate on after the soul-draining conversation of the night before. Her head tilting to the side, as she tried to get a better look of the small profile picture in the corner of the message.

  Allie cast her gaze back to the screen and noted that Rosalind was right. Reece had always been attractive, but he had grown even more so with age. His dark, almost black hair was cut in an Ivy league style with just a few strands of his short bangs clinging damply to his forehead. Although she could only see his head and shoulders, it certainly seemed as though he was topless and the bright azure sky suggested that he was on a beach somewhere. His grin was as bright and wide was always, causing his deep brown eyes to sparkle.

  “So, you know him?” Rosalind asked, nudging her friend from her assessment of the image.

  “Err, yeah,” she responded, peering reluctantly over her shoulder. “We were at high school together.”

  “Oh,” Rosalind replied, taking another loud bite of toast. “You were close?” she probed.

  “Well,” she hedged. “Yeah,” she acknowledged, unable to keep her focus on the woman behind her and allowing her eyes to move back to Reece’s. “We dated for a while. He was my first love,” she added quietly.

  “Really?” Rosalind said grinning. “Well, why the hell did you let him go?”

  Allie chuckled, dipping her head. “We went to different colleges and just drifted apart,” she admitted, wondering why she’d let that happen.

  “And?” Rosalind urged.

  “And what?”

  “Are you going to see him?”

  “Oh,” Allie blurted. “I’m not sure,” she shrugged.

  “What?” Rosalind almost shouted, rounding the couch and throwing herself on to it. Quickly leaning forwards, she rested her chin on Allie’s shoulder as she tried to get a better glimpse of him. “Why the hell wouldn’t you want to see him again?” she demanded. “Was he an ass?” she quickly added, not waiting for a response. “Did he cheat, lie?”

  “No, no,” Allie shook her head. “Nothing like that.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  Allie silently gazed at the picture of a happy, handsome, hunky Reece. “He’s not like the others,” she eventually explained.

  “Because he really meant something to you,” Rosalind offered. It was phrased as though it could have been a question, but they both knew it wasn’t.

  “I wouldn’t want to ruin what we had before,” Allie nodded.

  “Well,” Rosalind said thoughtfully, leaning back on the couch and popping the last piece of toast into her mouth. “I don’t see how
you can ruin what you had. That’ll never change,” she said sagely, the words muffled by crunching. “But you have got a chance to add to those memories.”

  Allie cocked her head to the side, still staring at the computer screen. “I suppose,” she reluctantly agreed. As far as she was concerned, although Rosalind’s logic was sound, it didn’t mean things would work out that way.

  “Look,” Rosalind announced, leaning forward once more and placing both hands on Allie’s shoulders. “I don’t necessarily agree with the way you’re dealing with things,” she said. “But,” she quickly added, knowing that Allie would simply repeat the same arguments she’d put forward the night before. “In the spirit of having no regrets, I think you’d be really stupid not to make the most of this.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  FIRST LOVE

  To Allie’s delight, Reece was still the force of energy, fun and life he always had been. Although they’d originally planned to just have a casual dinner, they had ended up going on to a club, drinking several cocktails and dancing into the wee hours. It was almost two o’clock in the morning when they arrived, hand-in-hand at her apartment door.

  “Well,” he sighed, releasing his hold on her and placing his palm on the wall. “I haven’t had a night like that in a while.”

  “I don’t believe you,” Allie muttered good-humoredly, fumbling with her key in the lock.

  “I’m serious,” he insisted, smiling in a way that prompted tiny wrinkles to appear at the corners of his eyes. “You’re a bad influence.”

  “Ha,” Allie exhaled. “You remember that time we had a date for the movies and you didn’t get me home until after midnight?” she asked. “I was grounded for a month.”

  “Well, there you are,” he quickly responded, lifting the index finger of his right hand to emphasize his point. “I was with you that night, too. Bad influence!”

  Allie turned to face him fully, leaning her right shoulder against the door. She hummed a sarcastic ‘yes’, as her eyes moved up his six foot frame.