“I have no future at Cartwright – You took that away from me.” My words are tangled in bile. “You say you love me and all you do is mess with my career.” My voice is a little too loud. Jordan starts to cry in a loud, shrill pitch.
“I’ll take him outside,” Stella says. She grabs her diaper bag and moves hurriedly towards the door.
I use her exist to gather my thoughts. My perfect weekend in Orlando with my perfect man and his perfect family – that’s all a memory now as my stark reality barrels down on me like a runaway freight train.
I slump into the couch and bury my face in my palms. The tears start to flow liberally.
Spencer kneels down next to me. He rests his palm on my shoulder. I want to pull away from his touch, but I don’t have the energy. “Amber, I know you want to stay at Cartwright, but the energy over there is toxic for you,” he says softly against the side of my face.
Who’s fault is that, Spencer? That’s what I want to say, but the sobs are all that escape my lips.
Spencer continues, “Amber, I’ve created a position here at DisSpence for you. You’ll work under Stella’s supervision for the rest of the summer. I’m having an office set up for you.”
Well, don’t you have my whole fucking life all planned out, Spencer? My mind is spinning.
I push myself up to my feet. I take wobbly steps towards the exit. I hear Spencer calling out my name. I don’t turn back.
“Not now, Spencer.”
And I’m out the door.
Chapter 20
I swear I can feel my blood powering through my veins.
I toss back my sixth shot and lace my arms around Ruthie’s neck before pulling her champagne flute out of her hand and taking a huge gulp. We’re on top of a table in the VIP section, grinding provocatively all over each other and Luke looks like the veins in the side of his neck are about to pop. I’d bet that he has some major hard-on action going on in his pants.
I lost my shoes about an hour ago but I don’t care. Right now, my only goal is to get wasted!
I bit the bullet today.
After I left Spencer’s office, I couldn’t go back to Cartwright. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. There were emails from Mr. Moretti and Pam Shenk both asking to speak with me. Hailey had called about five times. Even Domenic had sent me a text message asking if I was alright. I didn’t want to deal with it all.
So, I sent Mr. Moretti an email thanking him for the opportunity to work at Cartwright, however brief it was and informing him that I would not be returning to work. Then, I sent my friends an email, asking them to meet me at a bistro in Greenwich Village. I sat them down and I confessed everything to them. I told them about my relationship with Spencer, Mr. Moretti’s indemnity contract and Spencer stealing Stella Goldberg away from Cartwright. I was nervous about being honest with them but eventually, all of them – including Nadia – expressed nothing but support for me and my predicament.
Then, Ruthie suggested that we drink it off.
And I’d never heard a better idea in my life.
So now, we’re at some sketchy nightclub in Greenwich Village and Ruthie and I are having the time of our lives.
“We have to work tomorrow!” Hailey shouts over the music tapping her right index finger to her left wrist indicating that it’s late, it’s time to go home. Nadia is sitting next to her with her arms folded tightly across her chest, scowling like a sourpuss.
The techno music vibrates through me and I sway and jump and gyrate so hard. There’s sweat rolling down my temples. “One more drink!” I say waving my index finger in the air before motioning to the waitress.
In the flashing green and blue lights, I see Nadia roll her eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. I ignore her and keep on dancing with Ruthie.
Just then, the tempo booming throughout the club changes. A familiar beat pours out over the room.
We found love in a hopeless place…We found love in a hope-less place…
I turn to Ruthie and grip her by the shoulders. “That’s my song!” I spin around quickly and throw one leg up in the air.
And then…the whole room goes black.
Chapter 21
I awaken to the sound of a high-pitched buzzing that makes me want to send my head through a wall. I open my eyes and instantly regret it. The light in the room bores into my eyes causing an unbearable throbbing in my temples.
“Aaacckkk!!! What is that?” I wail, pulling a pillow over my head. The delicious smell of Spencer’s skin is woven into the fabric.
I hear Spencer’s muffled voice. “It’s your phone. Your mom is calling.”
“Make it stop!” I cry pulling the pillow tighter over my ear.
The buzzing stops instantly but the excruciating throbbing won’t let up. I feel Spencer’s warm hand stroking up and down my side. “Amber, I need you to drink this,” he says in a soft voice.
I groan but he cajoles me persistently. Finally, I push myself up, bearing all of my weight on one arm and take the glass of water from him with my other hand. The cool liquid soothes the back of my parched throat on the way down. I look past Spencer’s shoulder and notice that I’m in his apartment. Not mine. I push the empty glass back towards him and run my hand across the hair matted onto my face.
“Ouch!” I wince as my fingers brush against a sensitive swollen spot on my forehead.
“Hey, hey. Careful there,” Spencer instructs in a soft voice, gently pulling my hand from my face. “You banged your head pretty good when you fell off of that table last night.”
Ugh!
I was really hoping that I would wake up to find that yesterday had been nothing but a horrible nightmare…no such luck.
“Did I really quit my job?” I roll over and squint up into Spencer’s face.
He nods weakly with a sympathetic smile. I groan and pull the pillow back over my face.
“How did I get here anyway?” I say from under the pillow.
“I called you a trillion times last night. Your friend – Hailey, I think – she hit re-dial once you fell off of the table.” He gently pulls the pillow from my grip. “Look Amber, you don’t have to worry about anything, okay – Your friends will pack up the things you left at the office, I have movers taking your stuff from your Brooklyn apartment and bringing them out to the new condo today, and your job at DisSpence, you can start whenever you’re ready.”
His words are meant to comfort me, but they only remind me that I’ve failed.
Miserably.
I push the pillow away and look at him under heavy lids. “Spencer, I didn’t come here – to New York – to meet some rich guy who would take control of every aspect of my life. I came here to build my own life and stand on my own two feet. You can’t just take over every aspect of my life.”
“Some rich guy?” My words have stung him. I guess they were meant to. “I hate when you act like I’m some stranger. I love you. You can’t treat me like this.”
“If you loved me, you wouldn’t treat me like this – you’d let me find my own footing and stop meddling in every aspect of my life,” I shoot.
“You can blame me all you want because things didn’t go to plan, but if I remember correctly, you wanted me to handle the Moretti situation.” His lips are drawn into a tight line.
“And you told me not to worry. You told me everything would be alright.” My words come out bitter.
“Everything will be alright,” he insists.
“You are truly delusional,” I say struggling out of the blankets tangled around my limbs and pushing to my feet.
“Where are you going?” he snaps.
“To the toilet – Can I?” My words are marred with sarcasm.
He sighs heavily as I waddle towards the bathroom.
Then, bang!
I stub my toe into one of the many unopened boxes lining the walls of Spencer’s apartment.
“Ouch!” I yelp as Spencer rushes to my side.
“Are you alright?” he asks crouchi
ng beside me, concern painted across his beautiful face.
“Why won’t you unpack these boxes,” I cry out in pain as I reach for my aching toe.
Grief washes over his expression. “The things in the boxes belong to Chloe.” His voice is soft as he presses his back into the wall and slides to the floor.
Usually, I’m compassionate about Spencer’s grief, but in this moment, I’m sick of playing second fiddle to his dead wife. “Unpack the fucking boxes,” I snap through clenched teeth as I pull out of his grasp and wobble my way to the bathroom.
Chapter 22
Spencer went with me to an NA meeting this evening.
We’ve been fighting too much lately.
I hate it.
I’ve apologized profusely about the way I reacted to Spencer’s reluctance to deal with Chloe’s belongings in those unopened boxes. But still, I feel like shit for the way I behaved.
I just want us to be happy. After all that’s happened, I just want us to be happy.
In moments like this, when I’m at my most vulnerable, my addiction is like the devil sitting on my shoulder whispering that everything would be so much easier if I just popped some pills. I have to be strong to fight him off. I’ve been craving a dose for a long time and I’m not sure how much longer I can hold off. That’s why Spencer’s support is crucial to me in moments like these.
“Do you like the duck?” Spencer asks reaching across the glass tabletop to grab my hand.
I smile over at him. His blue-green eyes glimmer in the candlelight. “It’s great. Delicious.” The meal of roasted duck with grilled vegetables and mashed potatoes has just been delivered from the French restaurant across the street.
“So, why aren’t you eating? You’ve just been pushing those vegetables around on your plate all night.” His fingers run across the back of my hand and I can see the concern in his eyes. Usually, I’d be stuffing my face like a pig, but tonight, I find it hard to focus on the meal. I’m a bit off-kilter and have zero appetite.
I inhale sharply pulling my hand out of his grasp and my shoulders slouch forward. “Spencer, I love you. And I’m so happy that I’ve found you, but I just feel like my whole life is too intertwined with yours now. You’ve infiltrated every aspect of my life – you’re my lover, you’re my landlord, you’re my boss…it’s too much.”
He sighs. “Don’t be silly, Amber. I know you’re not complaining about the fact that I love making love to you. And as far as you stating that I’m your landlord – that’s just silly. I would never take a penny of rent from you. This condo –“ he says sweeping his fork around the room where we are sitting “—is my gift to you. Don’t ever speak of rent. As far as being your boss – Stella will be your boss –“
“No Spencer – you will be my boss,” I interject leaning back in the solid kitchen chair.
He releases a puff of air through his lips. “Okay, Amber. This new arrangement can be temporary if you want. Spend a few months at DisSpence and by the end of the year, law firms will be knocking down your door to scoop you up. Then, you can return to cubicle-hell, just like you like it.”
He snickers. But I refuse to laugh at his joke. “I’m too dependent on you, Spencer. What if we split up –“
“Don’t say that, Amber!” The anxiety in his eyes is so raw.
“No – What if we do?” I’m standing my ground on this one. We need to talk about this. “I would be without a lover, without a home and without a job…in New York City, no less,” I glance around at my elegant new condo. “…I feel really insecure about this, Spencer.”
He eases up from his seat and comes to kneel beside my chair. He puts his palm to my cheek. “Please don’t say things like that, Amber. I will always take care of you. No matter what. Nothing can stop me from taking care of you.”
“You just don’t get it –“ I try to counter but now his lips are now tracing a path up my bare leg. “Spencer –“ I whimper as he pushes at the hem of my green A-line skirt.
“Let me make love to you…” His voice rasps low. Spencer’s lips make their way up to my core and he pulls at my lace panties with his teeth. The sting of his bites shoots through my body and my nipples harden like small stones.
I need to make him stop. We need to finish this conversation. He has to know how I feel…but…not right now. Right now, I just want him to take me. Any way he pleases.
I press my shoulders into the back of the chair, hook my thumbs into the elastic waistband of my thong and shimmy it off of my body.
He moans softly against my cleft, and again, I am jolted from within. “Your pussy is so fucking beautiful.”
I arch my back, sliding my fingers into his brown-gold strands. “That feels so good,” I pant. And again, he moans against my most sensitive spot and I shudder hard in response.
He runs his tongue feverishly across my folds, back and forth. I sigh and pant under his touch. He grabs hold of my thighs and pulls my core to the edge of the chair so he can have more access. He explores my inner walls with two bent fingers while lapping aggressively at my clit. My body is weak from the pleasure. I grip the edge of the table to keep from sliding to the floor.
“You’re so wet for me, Amber,” he growls into my flesh as he spreads my legs further apart. I’m using the dwindling strength of the muscles in my abdomen to maintain my precarious perch on the edge of the chair.
“Lick my clit, Spencer. Lick it.” My moan comes out several octaves higher than intended.
His greedy hands reach up, clawing at the cotton of my white tank top. I want to slide the straps off of my shoulders and set my aching breasts free, but if I do, I’ll fall flat on my ass. For some reason the knowledge that I’m hazardously close to falling over the edge makes me immeasurably hotter.
His tongue thrusts against me with raw desire as he pinches one of my nipples through the fabric of my top. I hold steady to the table and grind against his face and the greedy lashes of his tongue send me coursing over the edge of a violent climax.
He quickly reaches up and steadies the back of the chair just as I am about to topple over. He’s kneeling with his face against my thigh watching me shudder with ecstasy. I weakly slide my body back to an upright position in the now-slick chair, my head tossed to the side as I attempt to regain my stability.
Spencer stands and leans over the table, and in one dramatic gesture, he pushes all the dishes and cutlery from the kitchen table. I watch stunned as it all falls to the hardwood floor with a loud crash.
He releases the buckle of his belt and his pants slide to the floor effortlessly. His rock solid erection hangs from under the hem of his wrinkled dress shirt. He pulls me up by the wrists and bends me over the table.
I hear the condom wrapper tear open and then his cock rushes through me, sharp and fast. I gasp as I feel the sweet sting of his penetration.
“I’m sorry, Amber,” he whispers into my hair. And I know that this apology is not just for the sharp, beautiful pain that shot through me when he pierced my body with his own. He’s apologizing for the chaos that his overwhelming love has caused in my life. I accept his apology silently by thrusting my hips back eagerly to meet his.
He wraps his toned arms around my torso and I feel safe and loved even though he’s ripping through me with the ferocity of a wild beast. His tempo is demanding and unrelenting. My body yields to his because there’s just no choice.
“I have to make this right, Amber,” he mutters into the air as his body collides with mine over and over again.
“Yes,” I whimper and my voice comes out soft like a breath.
He leans into me, pressing his strong chest into my back as he runs his tongue across my salty skin. And that’s what catapults me headlong into a sizzling orgasm.
He slows his rhythm to allow me to recuperate, but he doesn’t stop completely. I grind into him gently and when he least expects it, I clench my muscles around him sharply and a roaring orgasm rips through him, my name dangling on his lips.
&n
bsp; Chapter 23
As I turn over the weathered page, I hear Spencer snore softly against my chest. I pull the fabric of my floral-patterned bed linens up over his bare shoulders. Although it’s mid-July, the room is a bit cold. The air conditioner must be up too high.
I immerse myself in Jane Austen’s Sense and Sensibility as Spencer breathes rhythmically against my chest. The beautiful words jump off the page. I’ve read them a thousand times and each time, they’ve been more beautiful than the last, but this time, with Spencer sleeping snug against my body, they couldn’t be more appropriate.
Amber Nights - The Esquire Girls Series - Amber's Story (Books 1, 2, 3 & 4) - Box Set Page 17
