“Oh, Boyd. Stop it,” she whispered, drunk on my words. Her eyes looked glassy, and her chest heaved under the pressure of my compliments and my hands. My left hand caressed her right breast while the other ventured between her legs. She was so wet. I inserted two fingers and started teasing her swollen center. She let out a soft moan and reached for my cock. She started stroking it and rubbed the bead of pre-cum over the head with her thumb. “Fuck, Ally. I wasn’t done.”
“You weren’t done?”
“No. Where was I? Ah, yes…your breasts. I fucking love them.” I leaned down and licked and sucked on her right nipple while pinching the other.
“Oh, fuck,” she moaned, caressing my head.
I released her and started placing kisses on her belly. She squirmed. She was ticklish; I liked that.
“Your skin drives me insane. So soft.”
“It’s too pale.”
“It’s perfect. You don’t know how many times I’ve gotten off thinking of your ivory thighs around me.” I was saying too much. I stood up, and she looked at me with a worried face. “As a matter of fact,” I said in a playful tone, “I need them around me right now.” I opened her legs and ran my hand up her inner thigh. “Open them wider. I want to look at you.” There was only a bedside lamp illuminating the room, and yet I could see the embarrassment coloring her cheeks. “Your pussy is glorious; I don’t need to tell you that. It’s where I want to get lost over and over. I like it so fucking much that if we didn’t live on opposite sides of the globe, I would almost make you a proposition.”
“What proposition?” she asked, pulling her brows together in confusion.
“I would propose for my dick and your pussy to meet on a regular basis,” I said with a grin, and she laughed softly. “Now…” I grabbed a condom out of my jeans and I rolled it on. “I’ve done more talking than I fucking care to. I will fuck you until you ask me to stop…or until I’m so worn out I have nothing left.”
She laughed again, and I leaned down to capture her mouth with a wet kiss, poking her with my erection. I positioned myself between her legs and thrust into her warm, wet folds. Our eyes locked and I pulled her legs up on my shoulders.
“So, what’s it going to be, sweetheart? Who’ll give in first? Me or you?” I asked her with a smirk.
“You,” she replied defiantly.
“We’ll see about that. I’ll make you beg for mercy, and don’t think I’ve forgotten about spanking that ass of yours.”
MY NIGHT VISITOR WAS GONE when I woke up. For a moment I wondered if I had dreamt it all, but then I realized my muscles felt like jelly and my vagina was sore.
There would never be a more blissful type of ache.
I smiled under the blankets thinking about the way Boyd looked and the things he had said the night before. He was so fucking sexy.
He just said what he said to get you turned on. You know his kind. He doesn’t get attached. Well, he did have a certain fondness for my vagina, and the admiration was mutual; I was quite a fan of his cock.
I took a shower and got dressed. I applied some makeup and tousled my hair, unable to forget what he had said about my curls.
When I came down to the kitchen, I found Ella sitting on a kitchen chair with her guitar in her lap and a coffee mug on the table in front of her.
Boyd and Lou’s parents were MIA.
“They went to the farmers’ market,” Ella said.
“Oh. I hope I get to see them before I leave to go home today. When is your flight to New York?” Ella and Lou were supposed to go back to her hometown to spend the holidays with her parents.
“It’s not until this evening. Listen,” she said with a coy smile, lowering the tone of her voice and looking around to make sure we were alone. “Leanne saw Boyd come out of your room this morning.” She raised an eyebrow at me and gave me a satisfied look. In fact, she looked victorious. She looked like she had just won a game of chess and was about to yell Checkmate! I shook my head in disapproval and turned my back to her, grabbing a mug, and pouring some coffee from the pot.
“So…are you going to spill the beans or not?”
“Where are they, Ella?”
“Lou and Boyd? They’re outside, working on Boyd’s truck. Ally, I’m done listening to your excuses. I want to know everything. How long has this been going on?”
There it was. I couldn’t escape it any more.
Like it or not, it was time for me to fess up.
Ella insisted I had to tell her “the truth, the whole truth, nothing but the truth,” so I did. I glossed over the details, and she didn’t press for more info, but the whole time, she wore a satisfied smirk on her face and I wanted very much to wipe it off. The guys came back in and we decided to go out for brunch. Boyd and I casually danced around each other and joked like nothing had happened.
We were both so good at this game.
Even as I thought that, I felt a pinch of sadness in my chest.
I was going to have to say goodbye soon, and who knew when I’d see him again.
* * *
One moment I was having brunch with my friends and playing footsy with Boyd, trying to keep our flirtation to a minimum, and the next I was in the Twilight Zone. I could even hear the music play out in my head. It had to be a freaking fifth dimension indeed. Otherwise, there would be no fucking way in hell I’d come face to face with the last person I expected to meet in the whole United States of America.
Suddenly, it felt like everything was moving in slow motion.
I stared at him, getting seated at a table not far away from ours.
He was with a pretty, slender blonde. I swallowed and looked down.
I wasn’t ready for this. I never would be.
“Something wrong?” Boyd asked, turning in the direction of where I had been looking just a moment before.
“No!” I said a little too loud. “It’s nothing. I thought it was someone I knew, but it’s not possible…”
“Who? A friend? An ex-boyfriend?” he asked in a low voice, his tone serious.
“No…yes. It’s not him.” I avoided Boyd’s eyes, hoping he wouldn’t call my bluff.
There was no doubt. It was him.
Shane Lightfoot, AKA the man who stepped all over my heart.
Against my better judgement, my mind went back to the saddest summer of my life.
* * *
Ten years ago, Summer 2004
Ever since I could remember, I’d wanted to study in Europe for a semester, but when I decided to become an attorney, I knew it wouldn’t be the best move to be gone so long. So, after my first year of law school, I enrolled for some summer classes at the prestigious London School of Economics and Political Science. That way, I wouldn’t be postponing or delaying my studies by staying a prolonged amount of time in Europe, as enticing as it sounded. I enrolled for three short summer programs and planned to be back home in time for my second year of law school.
As much as I was impatient to live in London for the summer and visit a couple European cities between my three sessions, I was sad I’d be spending June and July away from my boyfriend. He was a law student, too, and we had met at Georgetown during our freshman year.
Shane was also from Tennessee, but we didn’t get to know each other until our second year of college. His father and grandfather were both attorneys, and his granddad had served two terms as a senator. Shane’s father had political aspirations as well, and although he was elected as a state representative, he never won the elections to become a senator like his father.
It didn’t take a genius to understand that his family expected Shane to also follow a political path.
Shane wanted to please them, but often I wondered what he really wanted to do with his future. His parents obviously hoped he’d follow in his grandfather’s footsteps. I wasn’t too fond of the type of pressure his family constantly put on him, but I had no doubt he’d be able to accomplish whatever he set his mind to.
When I first met
him, I was fascinated by the way his mind worked. There was nothing he couldn’t do. He aced the toughest classes like it was no big deal.
We were friends for a long time, and strangely enough, I never thought of him in a romantic way. Then, toward the end of our third year at Georgetown, things between us started changing and we fell in love. Through it all, I was aware that we might end up going our separate ways. I loved him, but I had a realistic approach about our relationship.
I was never the whiny, needy girlfriend.
I also never let myself believe we had much of a chance at building a future together.
When Shane didn’t get into Harvard Law, however, things began to change.
Shane didn’t seem too distraught about not getting in. He confessed he was just sad to disappoint his parents.
“I’m happy to stay here in Washington with you, Ally. I believe this is what’s supposed to be, otherwise I would have gotten into Harvard Law, don’t you think?”
I believed what he said. I truly loved him.
When it was decided that both of us would be attending Georgetown’s law school, we started making plans for the future.
Shane was the one to convince me we should move in together.
So we did. We moved into a small apartment at the beginning of law school.
My girlfriends wouldn’t shut up, telling me all the time how lucky I was to have gotten one of the few good guys. They said he was the whole package. In a way, he was.
Shane was handsome in an all-American kind of way. He was tall with sandy blond hair, green eyes, and a smile that knocked the breath out of me. His face had beautiful, strong features, and he had the physique of a basketball player, which made sense because he had played in high school. Shane wasn’t just handsome, though. He was smart, and on top of that, he was funny and kind, always ready to help any of our friends.
Every guy wanted to be him, every girl wanted to be with him, and he was in love with me. I couldn’t believe my luck.
I felt like the luckiest person at Georgetown.
We were young, and despite living together, I didn’t ask him anything, didn’t ask him what his plans were. I was happy to live life with him day by day.
My parents weren’t too thrilled when I told them we had moved in together, but they trusted my judgement. As for Shane’s parents…they weren’t happy. His father liked me just fine, but his mother…that was another story.
The woman hated me.
She told her son he should steer clear of redheads. “Redheads are the work of the devil,” she said. I had overheard her say those exact words.
Lucky me.
Shane wasn’t too worried about his mother’s disapproval, though. In fact, a couple months before I left for London, he started talking about his plans for us.
He wanted to get married, possibly in the next couple years.
His confession about us sparked a proposal he hadn’t really planned out, meaning he didn’t have a ring yet.
It didn’t matter. I had never cared less for jewelry than when he confessed he wanted to marry me. I was so happy, I felt as if I were on cloud nine.
When I left for England, we decided we’d email and message, but because we would be in different timezones and he had a summer internship at a prestigious law firm in Washington, DC, we decided we wouldn’t make a fuss about calling each other.
We promised to Skype when possible, but other than that, we acted like grownups. It was just a few weeks. We’d go back to sharing a bed in no time.
We sent each other long emails at first, but with my homework load growing and his internship keeping him busy until late, we switched to messaging throughout the day. His texts were funny and always made me smile. Mine would mostly involve a tidbit about what I was studying or something I had just seen or learned about London.
One weekend, I was traveling to Paris during a short break between two of my courses. I was traveling with two other girls who were in my class, but at some point before we reached our destination, they revealed to me that they were a couple.
In other words, we wouldn’t be sharing a hostel room as originally planned.
On top of that, I ended up spending most of the weekend alone.
I was alone. In the most romantic city in Europe.
I missed my boyfriend. Suddenly the need to hear his voice was stronger than anything else. I wanted to email him to try to see if we could set up a time to talk on the phone. I went to a café to use the internet access, and I found that he’d sent me an email the night before.
Shane missed me. My heart ached for him, and when I saw an email from him in my inbox, I realized just how much I did miss him. We hadn’t spent this many days away from each other since becoming an item. I had been fine so far—always studying or with other students—but now I was all alone, discovering a foreign city, and the need for him was almost unbearable.
The subject line just had my name.
I opened it up, impatient to read what he had to say.
Ally,
It pains me to write you this email.
I know I’ve talked about our future and made you a lot of promises, but things have changed. It was silly and irrational of me to discuss marriage with you when we’re both so young.
I’ve done some thinking, and I don’t think I can commit to what we talked about before you left. Part of the reason is that I’m not going to be at Georgetown any more.
I got an acceptance letter from Harvard Law. As you know, I was on their waiting list. I already submitted all the necessary paperwork for my enrollment.
I’m sorry, I know this is sudden.
It’s killing me to break things off like this.
I wish I could give you a proper goodbye.
I’m moving out of our apartment this weekend. Don’t worry, rent is covered until September.
I hope you’re having a fantastic time in London.
Take care of yourself.
I know you’ll make a wonderful attorney.
Goodbye,
Shane
I read the email three times…and then I burst into a fit of laughter.
It was far too ridiculous to be true. It had to be a joke.
He was kidding me. He was trying to prank me. He loved the show Punk’d—in fact, he talked all the time about pulling off some epic prank.
I knew it. I could feel it.
He was tricking me. Typical Shane. Georgetown’s jokester.
The bastard wanted me to flip, shit my pants, and believe his joke.
For a moment, I almost believed it was real, though. I was going to give him an earful! I read and reread the email.
The more I read it, the less funny I found it.
Eventually, I didn’t find it funny at all. I kept reading the email over and over.
Was it really a joke?
If so, it was a tasteless joke.
Was he serious?
He could not possibly be serious, could he? My throat suddenly went dry, and my heart started racing in my chest. I downed the rest of the iced coffee I’d ordered.
I started writing him an email, but then decided the situation required an international phone call. Yeah, my parents were going to kill me for the roaming charges, but whatever. I needed to hear his voice and I knew if I could just get to talk to him, I would feel a lot better. Maybe I’d even let him call me gullible.
The Harvard thing had to be part of the joke…but what if it was true?
Even if we weren’t both going to be at Georgetown, it shouldn’t have mattered. I knew he loved me. We could survive the distance. Our love was not a flickering flame. It was the real deal…or so I thought. Doubt started seeping into my chest, and my head started spinning. None of this made sense. This was not the same guy I had left teary and nostalgic at the airport a few weeks before.
A tear rolled down my cheek. I felt like I was stuck in a bad dream. I needed to know this wasn’t true. I needed to know this was a careless, cruel joke. I
n a few weeks, I’d make him pay for it.
I refused to believe my world was spiraling out of control.
This wasn’t happening to me while I was on the other side of the world and could do nothing about it.
I still had another session of classes in London. I wasn’t going back to the US for another twenty days.
Twenty days.
I wasn’t going to give up on what I had gone there for, but…twenty days. It meant I wasn’t going to be able to talk to him face to face for three weeks. I needed to fix this.
Right now.
I knew we could fix this. I’d assure him things were going to be fine. Still, what in the hell had gotten into him? I couldn’t understand.
My panic turned into anger. I needed to make the phone call right then.
I needed to hear his voice.
I reached my hotel and went up to my room. I fell on the bed, suddenly nervous. I stared at the printout of his email, trying to convince myself it was just a stupid joke.
I grabbed my phone and stared at the screen with a knot in my throat as panic filled my stomach.
I finally dialed the number, impatient to hear his voice.
It went to voicemail.
I called again, and again, and again.
His phone kept ringing and ringing and ringing. Every ring felt like a stab to my heart, an imaginary knife going in deeper and deeper, killing me a little bit more.
Was this really happening?
After a few tries, I decided to leave a voicemail. I cleared my throat and said,
“Shane…call me. Text me. I need to talk to you about your email. I-I don’t understand. Is that a joke? Is that supposed to be funny? Call me back. Please.”
I threw myself on the bed and read his email once, twice, three times. I stared at the screen of my phone like a desperate teenager trying to summon a call from the boy she’s infatuated with.
Not About Love (This Love Book 2) Page 8
