by Amiee Louise
“Well, it’s lucky I’m neither old, fat, nor a minger. Last time I checked, I was quite the opposite, sweetheart.”
I pull her closer to me and nip her neck until she is writhing on my lap. She slides her hand into my shirt and lazily roams over my chest. I cup her breast in my other hand and gently knead it. Definitely all natural, no silicone here. Thank fuck for small mercies.
“Mmmm,” she moans softly as I nuzzle my face into her neck and nip her earlobe between my teeth.
“You like that, sweetheart?” I rasp, and she shivers in my arms.
“I’ve seen you in interviews, but the girls weren’t lying when they said your voice...” she whispers, and I silence her by crushing my lips to hers, gently stroking my tongue along hers. I pull away and look up into her innocent, golden eyes.
“Ah, ah, I thought we weren’t doing real names? That includes talking about who I am, what I do, who I have, or haven't, slept with and how much is in my bank account. In here, I’m just ordinary, regular Bolt.”
She giggles, and I lean down, taking her nipple into my mouth. She gasps aloud and writhes in my lap, causing my erection to grow painfully stiff. She reaches back and rubs my erection through my trousers. I growl, and in an instant, I lift her up, lay her down across the booth and undo my belt. I take it off and grasp her wrists, holding them prisoner above her head. I loop the belt around them and tighten it, suddenly feeling a little unsure of myself. What the fuck am I doing?
“Is...Is this ok?”
She bites her lip and nods.
“You’re a kinky one.”
I wink cheekily, but the truth of it is, I can't bear for another woman to touch me the way Peyton did.
“Oh, sweetheart, I haven’t even gotten started yet.”
I unzip my trousers, reach into my boxers, and fist my erection in my hand.
“Fuck, your...your muscles are...huge!” she blurts out, and her cheeks stain an adorable shade of dark pink.
I smile and bite my lip piercing suggestively.
“Are you sure it’s just my muscles, sweetheart?” I rasp, and she shakes her head.
“You’ve got the whole fucking package, honey, now get over here and fuck me hot stuff.”
I move back over to her, and my hands dance over her slim frame, causing her body to erupt with goosebumps.
“All in good time, sweetheart. Good things come to those who wait; come being the operative word, babe,” I say suggestively.
I sit back on my haunches and move her black lacy thong to the side, giving me full access to her glistening pink slit. I swipe my finger up her wetness, and she arches her back. Fuck me, she's soaking.
“Oh God!” she moans.
“You like that?”
She nods, and I push my finger deep inside her, expertly twisting it to stroke her inner walls.
“Oh, Jesus!”
I chuckle softly pulling my fingers free of her slickness. I wink, and she smiles a genuine smile. As she smiles, her face morphs into Peyton’s, and I jump off her as if she has burned me. Not now, fuck me, not now.
“What’s wrong, hot stuff? Did I do something wrong?”
I sink to the floor and run my hands through my hair. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Fuck, this was a mistake, I’m sorry.”
My voice is barely a whisper, and she manages to sit up.
“Untie me, please?”
I quickly untie her hands from the confines of my belt, and she sits down on the floor next to me with a concerned look on her face.
“Did I do something wrong?”
She places her hand on my bicep, and I flinch away from her. I scramble across the floor like a scared animal and get to my feet. I pace the floor, and she sits on the edge of the booth, straightening her thong.
“Look, I don’t know what I did wrong, honey. I know we weren’t doing real names, but if it makes it easier for you, I’m Angelique, but you can call me Angel.”
As she says her name, I feel all the colour drain from my face. Angel. The name I used to call Peyton. My stomach roils, and I feel bile rising in my throat. Fuck me, I think I’m going to throw up. Breathe Newbolt, breathe.
“FUCK!” I curse loudly, and she stands up.
“I’ve never had that reaction to hearing my real name before; throw a girl a rope, honey.”
I appreciate her attempt at humour, but the thoughts in my head are warring with my heart. My head is telling me to forget her and move on, just bury my cock to bury the pain inside me. My heart is telling me that I’m betraying her and defiling her memory by using other women to get over her. The truth is, I’ll never be over her, but can I really go through life wondering what if and living in the past, wondering what could have been? My head is swimming with unwanted thoughts, and I have to get out of here. I haphazardly zip up my trousers and the tremor in my hands returning with a vengeance. She stands there watching me, and as she sees me trembling, she moves closer. She brushes my hand.
“Breathe, honey,” she says softly, trying to calm me. She strokes my knuckles reassuringly, and I let her.
“Just give me a fucking minute, babe,” I say a little more harshly than I intend, and she flinches back, dropping my hand and eyeing me warily.
“Look, I’m sorry, babe, I...I’ve got fucking issues, ok?”
I laugh bitterly, and the concern in her eyes breaks my heart. I can’t allow a near stranger to see me like this. I move past her and drop down onto the chair. I lean forward and scrub my hands down my face.
“You don’t need to see me like this, babe, I...I should go.”
She crouches down in front of me and looks up at me.
“It’s fine, honestly, don't go. I told the bouncer to turn the cameras off, so if you just want to talk, no one has to know.”
I smile weakly, grateful for her discretion.
“I understand, you know, I saw...on the news...what happ...”
I cut her off and cover my face to rid myself of the image of my Peyton.
“Please, do not carry on that fucking sentence,” I say, with a hint of warning in my voice.
“I’m sorry, Sam.”
I uncover my face and look at her, regarding her intently. She gasps and looks visibly shocked that she said my real name out loud. But instead of being mad, I oddly like it and feel comforted by it.
“Do you mind me calling you, Sam?”
I smile and shake my head.
“Oddly enough, no.”
Her face transforms into a bright grin, and her face turns into Peyton yet again. I stand up, and she moves backwards out of my way, allowing me to continue my pacing. Fuck, what’s wrong with me? You’ve got a nearly naked woman, ready and willing for you to fuck her senseless right in front of you, and you’re being a goddamn pussy.
‘Stop thinking with your big head and think with the little head in your pants.’
Brody’s voice echoes clear in my mind, and I spin around finding her watching me with those innocent golden eyes. In that moment, everything stops, and I see everything with crystal clarity. The voice in my head quiets. The swimming in my brain stills. The trembling in my hands stops, and for the first time in six months, I am thinking clearly. I stalk across the room like a predator ensnaring its prey, and I push her down across the sofa, crushing my lips against hers. I cup her breast roughly in my hand.
“Do you want it slow and gentle or hard and fast? Because right now, I’m not sure I’m capable of gentle. It’s been too fucking long,” I say huskily, and she grasps my erection.
“What do you think? I’m not the slow and gentle sort of girl, Sam.”
The corners of my mouth quirk up into a smile, and that’s all the consent I need. Game on. I unzip my trousers and free my steel erection. Her eyes widen as she sees it. I smirk cockily and reach into my pocket for a condom. I tear the foil packet open with my teeth, and her eyes lock with mine. She reaches down and starts to play with herself. I growl at the sight of a nearly naked woman beneath me
and quickly roll on the condom. The head of my cock finds her slick opening, and I shove forward, burying myself deep inside her to the hilt. She gasps as I hit her g-spot, and I quicken my pace.
“Oh God, Sam! Fuck me harder.”
I look down at her, and her face morphs into Peyton’s. I blink my eyes and shake myself. Fucking focus. I lean down to pick her up, and she wraps her legs around my waist. I move lithely across the room, still buried inside her. Her back hits the wall, and I pull her closer to me, burying her head in my neck so I can focus on my end game. I nip her neck, and I start to quicken my pace, pistoning in and out of her wet heat, each stroke becoming harder and more frantic. I lift her up and impale her on my cock as she moans softly. Suddenly, I hear Peyton’s voice in my ear.
“Is she worth it, baby? Does she compare to what we had together?”
I try desperately to shake the voice away by slamming her against the wall. I know I’m being rough, but it’s the only way I can take back the control I urgently crave.
“What does her pussy feel like wrapped around your cock, Sam? Is she really worth it? You’re mine, Sam, and I’ll always be yours.”
I shout out in frustration and squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block out the sound of her voice.
“Does that feel good, baby? Do you like it rough?” I rasp, and I slam her against the wall, driving her higher.
“OH FUCK! Give it to me, Sam, harder, oh God harder!”
Angel screams, and she lifts her head up, looking me straight in the eye. As her eyes lock onto mine, they morph into the blue of Peyton’s eyes and any semblance of control I maintained completely fucking snaps. I ram my cock deep inside her, and she gasps audibly. I move my hand from underneath her bum and cover her mouth. Her eyes cloud with obvious arousal, and I slam so hard into her that her eyes begin to water.
“You like it hard, Angel? Do you like feeling my cock deep inside you? Fucking beg me for it, beg me.”
I move my hand from her mouth and lay her down on the floor.
“Please, please, please, Sam, fuck me like an animal. I fucking need it. I need you to make me come, and I want to come all over your big, hard cock.”
I quicken my already frantic pace, and she reaches down to play with her clit, writhing and moaning beneath my large frame.
“That’s it, fucking come for me,” I growl, and I feel her walls tighten around my cock.
“Oh Christ, Sam, I’m coming.”
Her orgasm crests over her like a tidal wave of pleasure. As she starts to cry out, riding out her release, I find mine and growling incoherently as we both come down from our orgasms. She is panting on the floor beneath me, and as I pull out of her, I feel nothing. I don’t feel the usual post-sex feeling of warm contentment, I just feel numb. I pull off the condom, knot it and dispose of it in the black bin in the corner of the room. I tuck myself back into my boxers, zip up my trousers, and straighten out my clothes. I button up my shirt and my waistcoat as I run my hands haphazardly through my hair in silence. She is standing in front of the booth, regarding me intently. She smiles warmly, but as I turn around and as she sees the expression on my face, her smile fades.
“Are you ok? That was...incredible, did I...?”
I pull out a wad of notes from my pocket, not allowing her to finish her sentence. I tuck the wad of notes into the waistband of her thong and avoid her gaze. I clear my throat.
“Thanks for the...thanks for the fuck, babe, it was...fun”
I wink cockily. The expression on her face is priceless, and as I turn to leave, she takes the wad of notes I tucked into her thong and launches it at my head.
“I’m not a fucking whore!” she shrieks, and I roll my eyes.
“If the cap fits, babe, you sure as hell acted like one.”
Fuck my life; I need to get out of here.
She goes to grab my hand, but I snatch it away, open the door and leave the room.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. I’m a goddamn mess. Will the real Sam Newbolt please stand up?
***
Present
“Look, I have to go, Sam; I really need to get back to Freddie,” she says softly, and I reach for her wrist.
“Angel, please don’t go. Don’t run from me again, I can’t bear it. I’ll get down on my knees and fucking beg you if I have to. I’ll do anything, please, just don’t go. I’ve spent the past year in hell because I thought I had lost you. But you coming back to me, it’s fate. We’ve got a second chance. Fuck, we’re someone’s parents now; we have a child together. Surely that must mean something to you.”
I look deep into her blue eyes and see a years’ worth of pain.
“Of course, it fucking does!” she chokes out.
She opens her mouth to speak again, but her words seem to get trapped in her throat, and she doesn’t say another word. Her silence echoes off the walls of the hospital corridor we are standing in.
“Talk to me, angel, please, your silence is fucking killing me.”
My voice is barely a whisper, and she looks up at me, shaking her head as she turns and runs out on me.
Fuck my life.
32
Peyton
I am back at the hotel with Remy and Freddie after leaving Sam standing speechless in the hospital corridor. Even though I have ached to hear his voice for this past year, his words shredded me. The fragile truth of it is that I can’t be with him, no matter how much I love him. He doesn’t deserve this broken version of me. It might look like I’m making excuses, but I know deep down in my heart that Sam fell for the feisty, no-nonsense version of me. Now, I feel all the fight has literally been knocked out of me. A whole year has passed, and I have totally rebuilt my life under a brand-new identity and consigned myself to the fact that my relationship with Sam was just a distant memory.
My thoughts are interrupted by my purple HTC One ringing. I pick it up from the low coffee table in front of the grey sofa, I am sat on, and I don’t recognise the number. I connect the call apprehensively, my heart beating a frantic tattoo.
“Hello?” I say cautiously.
“Angel,” he rasps, and I involuntarily shudder at the sound of his familiar voice.
Sam. How did he get this number? Only a handful of people know the number to this phone.
“How did you get this number, Sam?” I say through gritted teeth, and I can’t help but sound irritable. Infuriating fucking man!
“I told you when we first met, I can get any information I require, within reason. I have access to the best people money can buy, you can’t hide from me anymore, angel.”
I hear the amusement in his voice, and I get up from the sofa. I start to pace the hotel room. I go over to the window and look out at the New York City skyline.
“You could have just asked me for my number, or does that not fit in with your stalkerish tendencies?”
I smirk to myself at the familiar, easy banter between us, and he chuckles softly.
“Fair point well made, babe, but I had to get you to talk to me somehow, angel. You’re so intent on fucking constantly running from me. I’m a desperate man, what can I say? I’m nothing if not inventive,” he rasps, and we both laugh.
In that moment, I feel exactly the same way as I did a year ago, caught up in the whirlwind that is Sam Newbolt.
“Come to me, angel, I’ll send a car for you and Freddie, just say the word. Please let me meet my son.”
I lean my forehead against the window, contemplating his request for a second, and I realise that his request isn’t unreasonable. I’ve punished him enough by keeping his son from him for six whole months. Freddie deserves to know his daddy.
“Ok, I’ll come over; we’re at The New Yorker Hotel on Eighth Avenue.”
He clears his throat and replies cautiously as if he was expecting me to say no.
“Wow, ok...I’ll send Cole for you, angel. Wait in the lobby for him. I would come and get you myself, but I’m kind of on our fans radar here, especially after everything that’s happ
ened. We’re front page news.”
I take a deep breath, and my heartbeat starts to quicken at the prospect of being with alone with Sam again after all this time.
“Cole can be with you in ten minutes, angel. My place isn’t far away.”
I clear my throat and continue to pace again.
“Ok, I need to grab a shower and get changed. Give me an hour, and I’ll be waiting.”
He pauses for a moment.
