Life as We Know It (Love Not Included) (Volume 4)

by J. D. Hollyfield

  “Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”

  “I’m going to give you exactly what you asked for. And as your fairy date-genie, I am about to grant you your first wish.”

  He smiles mischievously. “And what is my second wish?”

  “Getting me out of this dress by the end of the night, of course.” I wink.

  THE MUSIC IS POUNDING through my veins and I’m jumping up and down like a true maniac. Sam, who is next to me, attempts to sway to the music, but I believe he is a wee bit too intoxicated to get the beats right. We stand in the center of Bowery Ballroom, a small music venue in the center of Manhattan, while a band called The Has Been plays on stage. I’m not too familiar with them, but music is music. I made the decision to pull off the Band-Aid quick and take him to the one place Henry wouldn’t step foot in. If he turned around and said no thanks, then that would be it. We would save each other the headache and part ways.

  Instead of giving me the parting speech, he smiled that magnificent smile of his and pushed me into the venue, more excited than I was to get inside. Not only did he render me speechless at his excitement, he caught me completely off guard when he suggested and met me shot for shot of tequila.

  “How you doing?” I scream to my left getting Sam’s attention.

  “Great! This place is crazy. Do you know this band?” He yells in return.

  It’s hard to answer him right away. I just take him in. Looking so happy and at ease in my life. Both still in our fancy attire, Sam has unbuttoned the top of his suit and loosened his tie. His smile is across his whole face and his cheeks are flushed, either from the heat level in this place or the five shots of tequila we have consumed.

  “I don’t, but I’ve heard of them. Do you like?”

  “Yeah, they’re great!” He beams back turning his attention back to the stage.

  Well shit…

  I may have just met my match.

  I don’t know how we got my apartment door open. I think it took both sets of our sloppy drunk hands to put the key into the lock. We barrel through my door almost crashing into the table. We refused through this whole process to unlock our lips from one another. Currently, we are at war, attacking each other lick for lick, bite for bite.

  “I’m going to devour every single part of your body.” He grunts while pushing me against the couch. He wastes no time taking my dress and ripping it off me.

  I panic at him actually ripping the expensive material, but before I can stop him the dress tears smoothly off my body.

  “Sam, the dress,” I moan as his mouth hits my lower collarbone.

  “I’ll buy you a fucking closet full of them.”

  He takes his tongue in a circular motion and does some sort of dance around my lower neck. I allow my head to fall back moaning at the sensation. Behind us, I hear a gasp. I look up to realize we never closed my front door and Mrs. Clawson from two doors down is standing there with her hand over her mouth.

  Sam catches wind of our guest. He lets go of me and heads toward the door.

  “Good evening Ma’am.” He smiles then slams the door shut.

  Storming back over to me, he takes his strong hands, places them under my tush and lifts me onto the back of the couch.

  “It is imperative that we have absolutely NO interruptions for what I am about to do to you.”

  His statement causes me to squirm. I have never seen this carefree side of Sam. We’re both extremely tanked and he’s not hiding his urge to eat me alive. I’m practically naked now expect for my red thong. Actually I take that back. Because, whoops! Sam just ripped that clear off as well.

  “You’re going to owe me a lot of underwear soon,” I mumble to the sky as he attacks my neck once again.

  “I will buy you the whole god damn store,” he growls against my heated skin. He brushes his tongue across my fading bite mark. When I think he is going to freshen his mark, he surprises me by taking his demanding hands and gripping my waist.

  “I need you to hold onto the couch, Pen, can you do that? Don’t fall over.”

  I mean I’m not a kid, I can hold onto a cou— “Oh God all—fuuuck”

  Yep, totally caught me off guard. I get why it was important for me to hold on, because the second he instructed me to grip, he dropped to his knees and his tongue was onto and into more important things.

  Licking and suckling on my lips, he eats me alive, like literally. The second he inserts the first finger, I lose it and start to clench. “Shit…shit. I’m coming…” I don’t want this to end. But who gives someone that much tongue talent? I explode in his mouth while he continues to work me. He eventually slows but just enough to build me back up.

  With another quick move, he stands abruptly, catching my shoulders as I let my hands loose and almost barrel backward over the couch.

  “On your feet, Pen,” his husky voice signaling he is lacking control. I obey immediately and jump up, back to my original standing position. Excited at what he has in store, I put my arms up ready for him to flip me, carry me, spank me—shit I am completely at his disposal.

  And the winning choice is to take my hips and flip me so I now face the couch. Taking his warm palm he gently starts rubbing my ass cheek.

  Then whack!

  He takes his palm and smacks it across my smooth skin. I jump involuntarily. Definitely wasn’t expecting that one.

  “God your ass, it’s like a feast in itself. So beautiful.”

  Whack!

  Again, he hits my now pinked cheek. “Your skin. It’s so smooth. Like porcelain.” He rubs over his mark. “I just want to mark your body so everyone knows this is mine.” This domineering side of Sam, let me tell you, is actually super-hot. To have a man so consumed with you is something I can’t even explain.

  So I don’t.

  I push my butt against his raging hard on. “You seem to be doing more talking and less action, hot shot,” I say, I egging him on.

  With that, he takes a hand away from my hips and I hear the sound of his belt buckle coming undone. I hear the tear of a condom wrapper and before I can determine his next move, he is entering me from behind.

  And holy sweet baby Jesus.

  I’ve been taken quite a few ways. Well not that many. But enough to say I like it this way or that. And never in my existence has it felt this good. I almost worry once he is done royally fucking me that my eyes will be permanently stuck in the back of my head.

  In and out, he slams into me like he’s on a mission. I hold tightly to the couch cushions, but no matter how hard I grasp, he still pounds into me harder each time, causing the couch to actually move. As in, I’m getting pounded so good, the earth is moving!

  Ha! Okay, so maybe just the furniture.

  Every thrust Sam offers sends me higher and higher on the scale of orgasmic explosion. And have I ever mentioned what a fantastic multi-tasker this man is? Because while he ravishes my body with his huge length of goodness, his finger is working magic of its own, rubbing my nub in a circular motion causing the best friction known to woman.

  “Tell me your mine, Pen.” He pulls out to slam back home. “Tell me you are done denying this and you are completely mine.” Again, his thrust hits its mark and I let out the least sexy groan that has ever come from my mouth. I want to answer him. I want to scream yes at the top of my lungs, but those very same organs are trying to remember how to pump air into them so I don’t pass out.

  Just when I think he is going to give me a pass at responding his right hand grabs at my nipple and pinches.

  “Oh god, yes!” I scream from my hoarse throat.

  “Tell me Pen, tell me you’re mine.”

  “God I’m yours, all fucking yours,” I manage to spit out just in time for one final push and my world goes dark. Pleasure shooting through my frontal lobe causes my eyes to close and my vision to blacken. I grip the couch so hard I may possibly puncture the fabric. Being only seconds behind me, Sam lets go and allows his release to blow through him.
>
  Mother of all that’s holy.

  It’s a shame it’s going to take all of eternity for me to catch my breath. I can’t feel my feet and I’m not sure if I’m even standing on my own. Sam’s muscled body is draped over me while I lay my body over the couch.

  “Holy shit, I think you may have killed me,” Sam’s hoarse voice sounds from behind.

  “You have reached the voicemail of Penelope Summers, I have been completely fucked, and cannot answer your call…” I taper off because I don’t have any more energy to continue speaking. His breath hits my shoulder blade and he spreads gentle kisses along my back and shoulders.

  “Where have you been my whole life?” he breathes onto my back.

  “Ahh you know…” Waiting for you.

  I FEEL LIKE I’M in a cocoon of warmth. I snuggle further into my nest in hopes of continuing the dream that I’m having. I feel something brushing my hair and faintly register it as Chelsea, not that she’s learned to pet me since the last time I slept. I swat at her paw, but instead of fuzziness, I meet something a lot larger and way, way stronger. My eyes flutter open and I see the most beautiful baby blues staring right at me.

  And then I cuss.

  Loudly.

  “Holy shit!” I squirm, fighting out of the bear grip Sam has me in.

  “What, am I that bad looking in the morning?” he chuckles.

  Collecting myself, and calming my overbeating heart, I try and remember why he’s in my bed. “Shit, no… I’m sorry. I just…forgot you were here for a second.”

  Botched dinner, the concert, tequila, majorly hot couch sex… Yep, I remember now.

  Sam snuggles me closer, which I gladly allow. “I’m surprised you stayed the night. I thought you would want to get home to your eight-thousand thread count Persian sheets,” I mumble into his naked chest.

  “I thought about it, but then I saw the gang of rats conspiring in the kitchen and I couldn’t just leave you alone to fend for yourself. So I stayed to defend your honor,” he jokes.

  I pull away from his chest to give him my mean face when I’m met with his humorous blues. “That’s what Chelsea’s for. She’s my body guard. Fights off the rats for me so I’m able to get my beauty rest.”

  Sam starts laughing, bringing his bare arms up and tucking my out of control hair behind my ears “Oh I believe it, since this so-called Chelsea has been digging her claws into my stomach all night and morning.” At that I look down and of course, there is Chelsea manhandling Sam, perched on her side clawing at the bedsheets covering his lower half. Damn you bed sheets!

  I bring my head back down to my chest pillow. “Well I think she actually likes you.” I tease.

  “Well, I hope so since I hope to be seeing a lot more of her.”

  Sa-wooon!

  Let’s be honest. We were both pretty smashed last night. And even though we both screamed at the top of our lungs about who belongs to whom, we were still drunk. So that’s fair game to retract said statements come morning time. And to know that his offer still stands is totally swoon-worthy awesome.

  “So you really want the pleasure of attaching yourself to this hot mess known as my life?”

  He brings his hand to my face cupping my cheeks and maneuvers me so we’re eye to eye. “As I see it, you are doing me the pleasure of allowing me into your world. A place I never knew existed.” He reaches forward and places a sweet, soft kiss to the tip of my nose. “I want in. And I want it all. Tell me about you. Everything.”

  Everything? Wow, if I knew how eager he was to dive into this I would have written a biography and just let him read it during morning coffee. I begin to laugh. “Well what is there that you want to know?”

  “Everything,” he states seriously.

  “Like how old I was when I got my first period, everything? Or my simple likes: books, music genre, etc?”

  I think I’m still drunk.

  He flips me on my back, unfortunately causing him to flip poor Chelsea off the bed, major setback for him, and hovers over me. “I want to know anything that will allow me to know you inside and out. And yes. If that entails knowing your first, whatever you call it, then yes.”

  This just simply melts me. How is someone built to be so perfect? This form of faultlessness in front of me almost scares me. People aren’t made to be so handsome and perfect and dreamy.

  Yeah, I said it. D-R-E-A-M-Y.

  How is something like this happening to me? I stare at him, searching for any sort of deception in his eyes. But I see none. I only see the smile of a man who looks happy. A hard working man, who dedicates his time and money to help better this world and has finally found his match.

  And that’s me.

  I try to calm the butterflies going nuts in my stomach.

  “What are you thinking about my sweet Penny?”

  There it is again. The soft melody of my name.

  “I’m thinking about if you are good at cooking breakfast or not, because I’m freakin’ starving.”

  With the most handsome smile in three regions, I allow him to drop his lips to mine. One, two, three small pecks before he pulls away and connects his baby blues to mine. “In regards to feeding myself, I have other plans, but once I’m done feasting on you, I will certainly see what I can do about getting you fed.”

  With a sly little wink, and before I have a chance to protest or approve, Sam is off on his mission to get himself fed.

  SO IF YOU CARE to know, I’m in a relationship. As in dating. Otherwise known as taken.

  Yep you heard it hear folks. I am officially off the market…again.

  After we were both fed properly, Sam made me confirm that our drunken escapades were not just that, and made me literarily pinky promise I meant what I agreed to. Okay, so maybe Sam didn’t make me pinky promise. He made me scream his name after breakfast until my voice was so hoarse, anything that came out of it could have sounded like, I’m yours, I’m taken, no one look at me or my new hot, obsessed boyfriend will gut you. The fact that Sam was so protective was super sexy to me.

  Sadly, that morning he apologized for the spanking. Said that he was way over served and a side of him came out he didn’t even know existed. I kindly accepted his apology and noted to myself to make sure to always over serve him tequila because that spanking shit was the bomb.

  I had to bring up work. Because let’s face it. Major red flag right now. As much as I wanted to run and change my Facebook status, I also really wanted to keep my job. Sam agreed that he would keep us quiet to Mr. Wellington for the time being, until I was ready to give my notice. He would sign off on his contract with West and Mills to make sure my boss was satisfied and didn’t poke around too much and continue the charade with my contracting work.

  Then there was his whole side of things. I didn’t feel one-hundred percent comfortable walking into his office come Monday morning holding hands, but he said otherwise. He’s the boss and he doesn’t care what others think. Well, the problem was that I did. I didn’t want to come off as the hussy help who slept her way into her position. Even though technically I did, I also have a brain. Of course this was a battle lost. He was not having it. He wanted me to be his, and at the end of the day he was not ashamed nor would he hide what he had.

  And he had me.

  Worry wart, schmorry sport, someone needs to tell me to relax, because everything that I was so concerned about turned into being the silliest thing.

  Sam stayed true to his word. He did not hide us.

  I chose not to have another sleepover Sunday night and show up to work on my own, come Monday. Sam was there stalking the elevator and tackled me once the door opened. I worried there were cameras in the elevator, but Sam took no notice as he pressed the emergency button, and got his good morning hellos out of the way. Once he was thoroughly satisfied, the doors reopened and we made our merry way into the office.

  His secretary, of course, did not look pleased. I took it for a typical, it’s Monday face but when Monday came and went
and Tuesday and Wednesday rolled around, I was starting to figure out she just was not happy.

  “So why doesn’t she just quit if she is so snatchy-faced out there?”

  “What do you mean?” Sam asks flipping through our current results from the organic compounds test, estimating the percentage of microbial contaminates his structural green steel will avoid.

  “I mean, if she’s so angry about not winning you over, why not just quit? It’s not like she had a chance to begin with, right?” I look at Sam, giving him the “right?” look.

  Sam turns to me, dropping the ledger on to the table. “Pen, I couldn’t have even told you her name up until like three weeks ago, and that’s only because I had to ask it. She’s been working for me for almost a year, I believe, and I never once addressed her by name. What does that tell you?”

  “That you’re an ass?” I comment sarcastically.

  He offers me a look that says watch it, before sighing deeply. “Well probably, but it also tells you that I am not interested. If she’s so miserable out there then she can quit, or hell, I’ll fire her. I don’t care.” He leans forward picking up where he left off, flipping through the ledger. He hasn’t been one hundred percent focused today, and I’m not sure why. I tried to dig a little earlier in the day but he brushed me off.

  I continue running my reports and finish up my research on EPA’s articles on ecofriendly materials when Bimbo Barbie herself comes knocking on the door.

  “Yes?” Sam barks out at the disturbance. Bethany walks in, or should I say sashays. “Mr. Dresden, Mr. Claremont is here to see you.”

  Sam immediately looks up at Bethany, and then looks in my direction. The name is not familiar to me so I’m not sure what his quick change in mood is about.

  “Thanks. Bring him in.”

  “Who’s Mr. Claremont?” I ask.

  “Don’t worry about it.” Just as he dismisses my question, a heavier set gentleman enters Sam’s office. He directs his vision straight towards Sam, until he sees the other person in the room. Once he latches eyes on me his irises dilate and his eyes widen.