Confessions (Tattoos & Tears Book 3)

by Amiee Louise

  “Hi,” I say softly, suddenly feeling shy as he reaches his hand out to me.

  “I’m Jensen, Jensen Starr.”

  I nod, take his offered hand, and he envelopes my hand in his large, soft, warm one.

  “Peyton. Pleased to meet you, Jensen.”

  He nods, mirroring my body language and he keeps his hand in mine a little longer than is acceptable. Oddly, I don’t mind this handsome strangers grip on my hand.

  “You look like you could use a drink, beautiful.”

  His rich, all-American voice washes over me and strangely comforts me like a warm hug.

  “It's been a bad week, unfortunately.”

  Fucking understatement. He regards me intently, maintaining eye contact and cocking his head to the side.

  “Ditto. Want to share, sweetheart? I’m an extremely good listener, maybe we could cheer each other up?”

  I look shyly away at his flirty tone, and he steps closer to me.

  “I don’t bite...well unless you want me to.”

  He smirks, and I shiver as I remember those are the exact words that Sam used when he first came into Saint Sinner Ink on that fateful day. It seems like a lifetime ago now. I drop his hand as if he is on fire and take a step away from him as the lift comes to a halt at my floor.

  “I...I’m sorry, this is me.”

  I sidestep him, and he winks as I step out of the lift.

  “I’m in the penthouse suite, just in case you were wondering, beautiful,” he calls out, as the lift doors close.

  Jensen winks cheekily, and the lift begins its ascent.

  I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding and rush down the corridor to our room. Freddie’s carrycot is in my hand, and I’m trying desperately not to wake him. I quickly use the key card to gain entry to our room and step inside, closing the door behind me. I lean my head on the door and gulp in precious air. Fuck me. In those seconds, I make the snap decision to just pack up and go home. Back to my new life in Santa Monica. Back to my job at Cool Beans, and back to my friends Joel, Henley, Blaze, Rayne and Dax.

  I place Freddie’s carrycot gently on the hotel room floor and catch Remy’s warm gaze. As soon as his eyes lock with mine, I let out a strangled sob.

  “Take me home, Rem, this was all a big fucking mistake. I should have listened when you said it was a bad idea. Please, take us home.”

  I go to move into the bedroom, and Remy stops me by gently taking my hand in his.

  “Beaut, the police are here to ask you a few questions.”

  It isn’t until he says those words, that I look up and register the presence of two police officers.

  Shit.

  38

  Sam

  As I watch Peyton leave my apartment, I rake my hand furiously through my already unkempt hair.

  “What the fuck, Lyla? Do you see what you’ve fucking done! You can’t just randomly show up here when you fucking feel like it! What the fuck are you even doing in New York?” I reprimand her, trying to keep my temper in check and she shrugs nonchalantly.

  “Does it matter? It looks like I turned up just at the right time. Besides, I’m here now, baby; why not take advantage of that? I can make you feel good, Sammy.”

  She moves closer to me and runs her nails down my abs. I recoil from her touch, as if I can’t bear her hands on me.

  “You need to get the fuck out, Lyla, and don’t you ever fucking call me Sammy!” I say, in an exasperated tone.

  “Say it with a little more conviction, babe, and then maybe, just maybe, I’ll do as you say.”

  Jesus fucking Christ.

  She smirks, and I grab her wrist roughly.

  “I’m quickly losing my fucking patience, Lyla. You need to leave now; I won’t tell you again,” I say with a clenched jaw, and I can feel the tic begin in my neck. “I’m fucking done, Lyla. You and me? It’s fucking over. Whatever we had or whatever you think we had, is over,” I spit harshly.

  She reaches for me, but before her hand can make contact with me, I back as far away from her as I can.

  “Sammy, please, it’s only ever been you. I love you!” she says petulantly, and I half expect her to stomp her foot for effect.

  I scrub my hands down my face, fast losing any semblance of self-control. I pick my phone up from on top of the mantelpiece and dial the number I need.

  “Cole, it’s me.”

  His deep, rumbling timbre fills my ears.

  “I’m driving, you’re on hands-free. What can I do for you, mate?”

  I watch Lyla cautiously as she regards me intently from across the room.

  “Yeah, I’ve got an unwanted guest in my apartment.”

  He clears his throat.

  “That wouldn’t be Lyla would it, by any chance, mate?”

  How would he know that? Then I think back. Peyton. Fuck.

  “Yeah, it’s Lyla; look it’s a long story, I’ll explain later. Could you come and get rid of her, please?”

  He pauses for a few seconds.

  “I’ve kept quiet for long enough, Sam. What the hell is wrong with you? What about the woman I just took back to her hotel in floods of tears? Everyone seems to be treading on eggshells around you and not addressing the issue, but I’m not afraid to call you out on your bullshit. I’m your friend before I’m your employee. She’s the mother of your son, for fuck's sake! Just fucking cut the girl some slack and stop being a stubborn dick for once in your god damn life!” he snaps in his deep, rich voice, which he uses when he’s really pissed.

  “Spare me the lecture, Cole. You’ve got no fucking idea, have you? What about what I’ve been through? I thought she was dead, and it turns out that her parents knew she was alive. They knew, and they said nothing!”

  I raise my voice, and Lyla’s attention piques at the snippet of information.

  “It’s all you, you, you! Fuck me, Sam. You are such a selfish prick. What about all she’s been through? Have you considered that? It’s obvious she’s jealous and hurting at seeing you with another woman. Fucking Lyla! Of all the women in the world, it had to be her! Peyton still cares about you, you complete dick! So, I suggest you man the fuck up!”

  Cole raises his voice, and I begin to pace the floor of my apartment, feeling more than a little agitated.

  “Look, can you come and remove her or not? Because I don’t fucking want her here,” I bark, feeling all the strings that are holding me together slowly start to tear and sever around me.

  Cole sighs.

  “Fuck me. Alright, I’m just running an errand. I’ll be as quick as I can,” he says indifferently, and I hang up without saying goodbye.

  I make my way back into the living space to find Lyla sprawled out on my sofa, completely naked and I try to look anywhere but at her breasts.

  “What the fuck? Didn’t I make myself clear that I didn’t fucking want you here?” I shout, and she rolls over onto her stomach.

  She rests her chin on her hand, showing off her perfectly manicured, blood red fingernails.

  “We all know you’re going to fuck me, Sam. It’s always a sure thing when it comes to us. We may as well get it out of the way. You want me as much as I want you, admit it. Peyton was just an inconvenience, a stop gap while you figured out it was me you really wanted.”

  I take a deep breath. What the fuck? Is she being serious right now or is she fucking with me?

  “You’re actually beginning to sound like fucking J.D! When are you going to get it through your thick, pathetic skull that it’s just sex! All it’s ever been between us is hot nasty sex. Nothing more, nothing less. We’re toxic together Lyla; you ended up in fucking rehab because of me, because that’s who I am and what I do! I’m Sam fucking Newbolt! I’m every woman’s fucking fantasy! I break people, I hurt them, and then I move onto the fucking next, with no regard for the consequences!” I roar and pick up her coat.

  “Get your fucking clothes on now and get out of my house,” I say coolly.

  I throw her clothes
at her, and she gets up from the sofa. She moves closer to me, until we are toe to toe, and she grabs my cock through my silk pyjama pants. I swallow harshly.

  “Your cock tells me differently, Sam; he wants to come out to play,” she purrs seductively, and I will my cock not to react.

  Come on you fucking traitor, do me a favour, just this once. I take a step back from her, not trusting myself to be near her.

  “Sammy, baby,” she croons, as she follows me into the kitchen.

  I look up, and she is stood in the doorway in her underwear, twirling her hair around her finger.

  Fuck.

  “Lyla,” I say, with a hint of warning to my voice.

  She struts with confidence into the kitchen and stops in front of me. She walks two fingers down my chest and stops at the waistband of my pyjama bottoms. I regard her intently, and my resolve snaps as I let her stroke my growing erection.

  What the fuck are you doing, Newbolt?

  “Just relax. Let me make you feel good, baby,” Lyla purrs and drops to her knees in front of me.

  She tugs my pyjama bottoms down until I am totally naked from the waist down in front of her. She takes my cock in her hand and strokes it up and down, but all I can think of is Peyton. She takes me deep in her throat, and I grunt at the feel of her wet mouth around me.

  “Stand up, darlin’, this isn’t working for me.”

  I drag her to her feet, and she looks at me with those blue eyes of hers, which look almost too big for her face. She runs her finger down the centre of my chest, trying to entice me to continue. I pull up my pyjama bottoms and run my hands through my hair. This is a mistake, Newbolt.

  “Is something wrong, baby?” she pouts.

  It isn’t adorable like she thinks it is; it’s extremely fucking annoying. She presses her already bare, and silicon enhanced breasts against me.

  “Why won’t you just admit it, Sam? You feel something for me. There’s always been a spark between us.”

  I make my way around the kitchen island, pick up my glass, and fill it liberally with Macallan whiskey. As I pour my drink, she moves lithely around the island and slides her hands under my t-shirt. She nips my earlobe and rakes her blood red fingernails across my abs. I growl at the feeling and grip both of her wrists in one of mine. I spin her around and trap her beneath me.

  You’re going to regret this once it’s over.

  I try desperately to block out the voice in my head, which tells me it’s wrong, and clear my throat before I begin to speak.

  “This doesn’t mean we’re back together, Lyla. This is going to be just sex. We were toxic together, and all it ever will be with us is mindless sex.”

  She looks up at me with those eyes I was once in love with, and all I see is a hole to empty my cock into.

  “You don’t mean that, Sammy. We were good together, baby.”

  The way she whines grates on every last nerve in my body, and just to shut her up, I grab her roughly by the shoulders and push her to her knees. She lightly licks the head of my cock and grins up at me. Fuck me, I hate this woman. I can’t stop this thought dominating my brain as I grab the blonde hair at the back of her head. I push my cock deep into her throat, and I hear her start to gag. Her eyes start to water, but I don’t give a fuck as I start to pump back and forth between her soft pink lips. She pulls away with a loud retching sound.

  “Sammy, calm down, lover,” she manages to say, before I ram my cock back into her mouth.

  She pulls away again, her eyes wide and glossy as she coughs and splutters.

  “So, that’s how you want it is it?” she asks, trying desperately to sound seductive and failing miserably.

  “Shut up and keep your mouth busy, you fucking whore,” I say, as I force my cock in her mouth again.

  As I thrust back and forth, I can feel my balls slapping off her chin, and I realise how thoroughly disgusted with myself I am. With this at the forefront of my mind, I feel my climax building. As if Lyla can sense it as well, she pulls back.

  “Not in my mouth, Sammy. You know I don’t like it,” she says.

  I forgot how much she used to hate it when I shot my load in her mouth. I smirk at the thought and grunt as I push as far into her throat as I can. I hold her head firmly in place with both hands as I come down her throat. Her eyes widen, and she tries to pull away, but I hold her head where it is until my release subsides.

  “I said not in my mouth, you prick!” she says, as she spits what’s left of my come into the sink.

  “It wasn’t in your mouth, sweetheart. You didn’t say anything about your throat,” I say, with a wicked laugh and she narrows her eyes at me.

  “You’re a fucking bastard, Sam. You know that don’t you?” she complains.

  I take an elaborate, cocky bow and laugh again.

  ”We’re not done yet, babe. Get on your fucking knees and make me hard again,” I say, with a commanding tone to my voice.

  She looks like she is going to say something, but I grab her shoulders again and push her down.

  ”Good girl,” I say gruffly, as she starts to suck on my limp member.

  I’m not even sure I want to carry on, but I know I need to focus this seething anger I feel somewhere. Why not at this fucking horrendous woman? As my cock starts to get hard again, she smiles up at me.

  “Aren’t we in a randy mood, tonight?” She purrs, but instead of it sounding sexy, she makes my fucking skin crawl.

  I place my hands under her arms and raise her to her feet. I lead her into the living area and bend her over the sofa. I roughly push her legs apart with mine, and she pants breathily. Everything about this moment feels all kinds of wrong, but it’s what I need. At least that’s what I tell myself as my cock enters her slick channel.

  “OH SAMMY!” she screams like a fucking porn star as my cock moves in and out of her.

  I begin to pound in and out of her slick folds. I suck my index finger, and when I take it out, I start to rub it gently over Lyla’s anus. She purrs and looks over her shoulder at me. At that moment, I’m glad she is facing away from me, so I don’t have to look at her fucking face. I know this isn’t what I want, but after the revelation that Peyton’s family knew she was alive, I am in desperate need of a release. She looks slightly stunned as I push my finger in her tight hole up to the knuckle. I work my finger gently in and out of her arse while she starts to pant loudly with lust.

  “Oh, Sam!” she screams in a pitch that only dogs can hear.

  I growl animalistically as I hammer harder into her.

  “Harder! You know I like it rough, Sam!” she shrieks, as I quicken my pace.

  I want this moment to be over as fast as it began. I thrust so deep I can feel my cock bump her cervix. All the while, I’m pushing my finger in and out of her arse.

  “IS THAT HARD ENOUGH FOR YOU?” I bark, as my free hand finds her slender throat.

  “CHOKE ME SAM! CHOKE ME LIKE YOU USED TO! SHOW ME WHO’S IN CHARGE!” she yells.

  I grip her throat tighter and increase my deep thrusts, fucking her harder each time.

  “DON’T STOP, SAMMY, DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE STOP!” she pleads desperately, as my pace becomes relentless and almost brutal.

  “Is this how you like to be fucked, Lyla? Treated like a cheap whore?" I say gruffly, as I feel her orgasm ripple through her.

  “SAM! SAMMY! OH! OH! OH! SAMMY! OHHHHHHHHH!”

  She comes loudly around my cock. I look down at her in the throes of passion, and I feel nothing. I know I should feel bad, but I don’t. She looks back at me all doe-eyed and satiated.

  “Aren’t you going to come for me, Sammy?” she says sweetly and bats her fake eyelashes.

  I remove my finger from her arse, pull my cock from her pussy and push the tip of my cock against her tight back entrance. I drive forward firmly, and as the tip of my cock disappears inside her, she squeals.

  ”Sammy! No one’s ever fucked me there before,” she says with uncertainty in her voice, and she tries to
move away.

  I look coldly into her eyes, I grip her firmly by the hips, and reply, ”Do you see anyone who gives a fuck?”

  I push further into her, and she gasps loudly. Fuck me she’s so tight. I think she might have been telling the truth about not doing it before.

  “Sammy, be gentle. Please, baby,” she whimpers.

  As I start to push in and out, I can feel my anger starting to subside.

  “Slow down, Sammy!” she says in a baby voice, and I clench my jaw at how fucking infuriating it sounds.