Текст книги "The Redhead Revealed"
Автор книги: Alice Clayton
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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 18 страниц)
Chapter 8
Jack had started his trek around the world. He was truly amazed at how many fans turned up to see him everywhere he went—and he was more than a little freaked out by it.
“Grace, I mean, it was just this blast of screaming. I could barely tell which end was up. I couldn’t really tell where it was coming from. And then the outside doors opened while I was going through the hotel, and there they all were,” he explained late one night, calling from his hotel in Chicago.
He was basically living out of a suitcase at this point, on the promotional tour for Time.
“I’m not surprised, love. You’re their Joshua. They love you.” I sighed into the phone, wishing I were there with him.
“It’s just so weird. I mean, literally last year I could barely get into a casting director’s office, and now?” He laughed mournfully.
“Hey, you’re about to have that town by the balls. When this movie opens you’ll be bankable. Everyone’s gonna want to work with you. Wait and see.”
“I know, I just…Jesus, if they only knew—” he started to say.
“If they only knew what? If they only knew you were an amazing musician? If they only knew you’re the funniest motherfucker this side of London? If they only knew how much you love your Fatburger?”
“Grace, please. No one cares that I like Fatburger.” He chuckled.
“Oh, really? I know teen girls, and I know how their minds operate. New Kids fan, remember? I guarantee if you mention your favorite fast food, at some point it will be mentioned again. Us girls? We love that stuff. I still remember who Joey McIntyre’s favorite singer was, and I haven’t read anything about him since 1991.” I laughed, thinking of the issues of BOP and Teen Beat I used to read cover to cover.
“Girls are weird,” he muttered.
“I heard that,” I warned.
“Good, I ruddy well meant you to. You’re all mental, and somehow I ended up with the craziest one of all,” he said, teasing me now.
“Tread carefully there, or I’ll make you watch my Hangin’ Tough Live tape.”
“Tape? Like an actual videotape? Wow, like, from the eighties?”
“You’re on thin ice, fucko,” I said, lowering my voice to let him know I was serious. I tried to stifle a yawn, but he caught it.
“You need to get some sleep, love. You sound exhausted. How are the rehearsals going?”
“Good. They’re good. Everything is pretty well set. No more rewrites so it’s getting easier.” I snuggled under the covers. This was the time of night I missed him most.
“You’ll be ready to open?” he asked, covering his own yawn.
“Yes, I think so. Sweet Nuts, you sound tired too. Why don’t we go to sleep?”
“That sounds good. If I were there, what do you think we’d be doing now?” he asked. I could hear his covers rustling. Somehow, knowing we were both doing the same thing made me feel better.
“Hmm, right about now you’d be turning me on my side.”
“Yes?”
“And sneaking your hands under my shirt.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“And now you’d probably be surrounding my boobies with your hands.”
“Definitely.”
“And now you’d be groaning.”
“Because your boobies feel so fantastic?”
“No, because I just turned on Golden Girls, and it’s the episode where Rose tells Dorothy and Blanche about the Great Herring War.”
“And on that note, I will say goodnight. Say goodnight, Gracie.”
“Good night, Gracie.”
He paused, and I could hear him turn out the light.
“I love you, Jack.”
“I love you too, Grace.”
***
The next week was hell for both of us. I was in rehearsal all day, every day, and usually well into the night. He was on his monster promo tour, all over the country. I checked in on him each day via the internet, and my Sweet Nuts just looked exhausted. But he was having fun too. As a great tie-in to the time-traveling aspect of the film, the studio had booked personal appearances for Jack in the science centers and museums across the country. These places had never seen such giddy crowds! This was truly the most exciting thing he’d ever gone through, and when he told me how nervous he was, or how much it freaked him out when everyone screamed at him, I simply reminded him this was awesome.
He was experiencing something hardly anyone in the world could appreciate, and the more he gave to his fans, the more they loved him. They loved that he said whatever he wanted, that he was self-deprecating, that he was funny and silly—and, boy, did they love that he was British.
“I’m just about to get in the shower. What’s your schedule like today?” I asked one day when he called to check in. He was somewhere in the Midwest, although he wasn’t sure exactly where. Different city, different hotel every day.
“Mmm, taking a shower are you?”
“Yes, George, settle down. Although I do miss showering with you,” I said, knowing the reaction I’d get.
“Stop it. Killing me!”
“You know how much I love to wash your hair. It makes me a little crazy,” I purred into the phone, grinning like a cat. “That’s something only I get to do.”
“Maybe I should include that in the interview I have this afternoon. I can tell them all about this nuts girl that gets off washing my hair while I hold on to her boobies—for balancing purposes only,” he said.
“You wouldn’t dare. That hair and those coconuts are mine and mine alone,” I laughed.
“Mmm, don’t remind me, Grace. Not right now. I have a meet-and-greet in twenty minutes, and I don’t think I could explain away my current state of excitement.”
“Easy there, trigger. Only two more days and you can channel your excitement my way.”
He was going to be in town for literally twenty-four hours, at least sixteen of which were taken up by promotional and press obligations. I would be in rehearsals. The only time we’d have together would be night. Which was fine by me. I’d take what I could get.
I’d watched daily as his confidence grew, and the mobs increased. He’d had to start traveling with security, and each night his hotel was crawling with Joshua-lovers. He used aliases at each hotel, never checking in under Jack Hamilton. Once he used my name—a dangerous little game. A few times he used a combination of Holly’s name and my name, and then? Then he really starting having fun with it.
In the same week, in different cities across the country, if you were looking for Jack Hamilton, you could have found him under the names:
George McHair
Johnny Nuts
Sheridan McGeorge
And, my personal favorite:
Sophia Patrillo
Finally, he was in New York. I was on pins and needles all day, not only because he was here, but because I didn’t know when exactly I was going to get to see him. Rebecca was in town as well, having joined him for part of the movie tour, and we’d tentatively planned to meet at an Italian restaurant for dinner. He was once again in a hotel, this time the Plaza.
Nice.
We texted most of the day. He was all over town—on The Today Show, at Seventeen magazine, MTV Studios, radio stations—you name it and he was there, ending the day with a Super Sexy Scientist Guy event at the Museum of Natural History. One of his last texts made me blush…a lot.
Grace
I’m going to fuck you until you can’t see straight tonight.
Are you ready for that, Crazy?
Sweet mother of pearl…
George
Get. Over. Here. As. Soon. As. You. Can.
Make me see God!
Last one:
Grace
Will pick you up at the theater at 9 for dinner.
Will be in a black town car.
Panties are unnecessary.
That motherfucker. I still had four hours of rehearsal. How the hell was I going to get through this?
***
As I clicked my phone off, I giggled a bit. I could feel my face flushing. He never failed to get a reaction out of me, which was exactly his intent. As I smiled to myself, I noticed Michael watching me. He nodded to my phone.
“What?” I asked, still flushed.
“Hot date?” he asked, taking the seat next to mine.
“Um, well, yes. He’s only in town for a day, so we’re going out for dinner. He’s so busy right now. You should see the schedule they have him on.” I brushed my hair back from my face and tucked it into a sloppy bun, my constant hairstyle these days. There was one piece that never quite made it in, and I was forever fussing with it.
“That’s good. I mean, good that you get to see him for a night,” Michael said, watching me futz with my hair. “Your schedule’s been pretty busy too. Is he going to make it back out for the show?”
The curl fell out again. I pushed it back. “He says yes, but who knows with the amount of press he’s doing. He’s heading to England for the London premiere, and then to France. So I don’t know. I know he’ll try.” I sighed, feeling myself slump in my chair a little.
“Well, you’re going to be amazing. I know he’ll want to see that,” Michael added, still watching me struggle with my stupid curl.
“Thanks. We’ll see. I’m starting to get really nervous,” I admitted, making my eyes huge to mask how nervous I truly was.
“You’re not going to ruin another pair of my shoes are you?” he asked.
I immediately laughed. When we were in college, I had the lead in a musical—my biggest role since junior high. Michael was running the light board for the show, so he watched us rehearse each day. He’d offer me his critique each night as we walked home. His opinion was always important because as much as he enjoyed my singing, he was never just a Yes Man. He always gave honest feedback.
Opening night I showed up at his apartment, shaking. I was so nervous that when he opened the door, I threw up on his shoe. After he removed the unfortunate Adidas, we sat on his couch and listened to Toad The Wet Sprocket. He wrapped his arms around me and told me everything would be fine. That I would kick ass and take names. That I should never second-guess my talent. To trust myself.
In the end, I did kick ass. But I still tend to get nervous on opening night.
“Well, we’ll see won’t we?” I said, smiling as I returned to the present. “It’s been almost ten years since I’ve been on any real kind of stage, so I’d steer clear of my mouth.” I laughed, and the curl fell out one more time. “Blasted hair,” I muttered. We both reached for it at the same time.
He got there first. As I stared with wide eyes, he tucked it back into my bun, his hand lingering maybe just one second too long.
In that second, things began to change for us.
He looked at me with those brown eyes I remembered from all those years ago. Those brown eyes that used to light up when we’d laugh together. Those brown eyes that would deepen when we argued.
We’d been such great friends. We spent countless hours alone together—doing laundry, watching movies, cooking dinner—but the friendship we had was never anything more. Although I had very strong feelings for him that were definitely more than friendly, he seemed not at all interested in me romantically, so I kept them to myself.
But when I was onstage it was a different matter entirely. Every so often I would catch him looking at me, when his guard was down. The way looked at me when I was singing gave me hope that someday he might come to return my more-than-friendly feelings. I was head-over-heels in love with my friend Michael, and I wanted nothing more than for him to want me in the same way.
And then, that night came. In those brown eyes I had once, just once, seen my love for him mirrored back. Those brown eyes had closed tightly in passion during our one night together.
I’d thought of those brown eyes occasionally over the years, wondering what had happened to him and where he was. And now I’d come to know those brown eyes, trust those brown eyes, all over again. This time in New York.
Those brown eyes now looked back at me with confusion and trepidation and…something else? Was I imagining it? Was I just seeing what I wanted to see?
Wait, did I want to see that?
My phone beeped, and the eyes changed.
He pulled his hand away from my face as I looked at my phone.
I smiled sheepishly. “Holly,” I said.
He nodded and stood up. He started to walk away, then seemed to pause for a split second before continuing on. I pressed ignore on my phone and settled back into my chair, stunned by the rush of emotions I felt.
What the hell was going on? Michael was looking at me in a way that, well, I would have loved to have him look at me.
Ten years ago.
Not now.
Right?
I shook it off. I had to. I threw myself into the last part of rehearsal, losing myself in the show and the work of creating Mabel. This ate up the rest of the evening, and All Things Michael were locked safely in The Drawer to be forgotten.
When we finally broke for the night, it was only a few minutes before nine, and I was anxious to see Jack. I’d brought along some clothes for dinner, and I quickly changed—abandoning my regulation yoga pants and cami for a heather-gray wool wraparound dress Leslie and I had found at Bergdorf’s a few weeks ago. I paired it with knee-high black boots, giant hoop earrings, sassy red lipstick, and a huge smile.
I waited for him in the lobby of the theater, saying goodbye to some of the other cast members as they left. Several of the guys from the crew wolf-whistled at me, and I grinned. It was nice to know I could still clean up pretty well.
Michael walked out and said goodbye quickly, stopping at the door. He looked back as if he was about to say something, but then continued through the doors.
I was still pondering this development when my phone buzzed. It was the Brit.
“Hi,” I answered.
“Hi yourself. Are you ready?” he asked in a low voice.
“I’m ready. Where are you?” I asked, smoothing my dress once more.
“I’m outside in the car. I can see you in the lobby, Grace,” he said, voice almost a whisper.
“You can see me, can you? What am I doing?” I asked, bending over to pick up my purse from the bench, making sure to stand up slowly, arching my back and pushing my chest forward.
“Mmm, I love it when you bend.” He chuckled darkly.
“Now that’s one I haven’t heard before.” I laughed as I buttoned my calf-length camel leather coat over my dress and wrapped a red cashmere scarf around my neck.
“Fucking Nuts Girl, you know what it does to me when I see you in red.” He groaned.
“Well, then, you’ll love what’s underneath this dress,” I said, loving that he could see me and I couldn’t see him.
I put a little extra bounce and sway in my hips as I walked across the lobby toward the glass doors. They automatically swished open, and as the crosstown bus pulled away from the curb, I saw him.
He was leaning against the town car, looking like a wet dream come true. Black jeans, black v-neck sweater, leather jacket. He gave great lean…
“You look beautiful, Crazy,” he murmured as I walked toward him.
“You look crazy beautiful,” I answered.
I took the cell phone from his hand and closed it. I shut mine off and placed them both in my bag. I leaned in, placing my mouth very close to his right ear.
“There’ll be no need for phones tonight. I plan on engaging in a little personal, one-on-one communication, yes?” I kissed the spot right below his ear that I knew drove him out of his mind.
He groaned, hands coming up to pull me the rest of the way to him. He was already hard, and I moaned at the realization. “I missed you,” he growled, his hands on the small of my back, pressing his body against mine.
I smiled and wrapped my arms around his neck. “George, you have no idea,” I said, kissing him greedily on his perfect lips.
“How fast can you eat dinner?” he asked between kisses.
“That depends, but pretty freaking fast. Why?” I asked, as he began to kiss my neck. My hands dug into his hair with wild abandon.
“Because as soon as we’re done with our dinner plans, I’m taking you straight to my hotel, taking everything off this glorious body, and ravaging you until you’re incoherent,” he said, licking the little hollow at the base of my neck.
I actually shook when his words met my ears and my brain processed what he’d just said. “Hell, love, all I really need are some crackers and a glass of water. Then we can have the hotel boom-boom,” I said, my eyes rolling back in my head as he began to unbutton my coat, his mouth never leaving my skin.
Then I became aware that we were standing in the middle of a very crowded sidewalk only blocks from a Time billboard. I knew this because Leslie and I walked three blocks out of our way to see it when went for coffee.
A crowded sidewalk, and I am making out with Jack Fucking Hamilton. I pulled away—his lips actually still attached to my neck, hands busily prying at the buttons on my coat. “No, no, Sweet Nuts. Dinner first, buttons later. Besides, isn’t Rebecca meeting us there?” I asked, struggling to maintain control. I could feel my resolve slip a little when he stuck two fingers between the buttons on my coat to graze my breast through the dress.
“Yes, she is. But she would understand. She knows how much I’ve been missing my Grace,” he whispered in my ear—in the Queen’s English for pity’s sake.
As much as my body wanted to simply have him ravage me up against the side of the car, my brain began to function just enough to pull away again and hold up one hand.
“Okay, pony boy. Listen up. We’ll drive to dinner, and we’ll have the dinner. We’ll hang with Rebecca. We’ll decline dessert, we’ll decline any after-dinner drinks, and then we’ll leave. We’ll go straight to your hotel, and I’ll let you begin to do things to me in the elevator on the way up to your room. Deal?” I watched his eyes light up as I came to the end of my sentence.
“Okay, deal. But no appetizers,” he said, holding open the door to the car.
“No appetizers,” I agreed, stepping in.
Once we were situated, he told the driver where to take us, then raised the divider, separating us from him.
“Grace?” he said, sliding closer to me on the leather seats. He smelled uncommonly good. The Hamilton would be hard to keep away tonight.
But who ever wanted to keep away the Hamilton? Certainly not this girl.
“Yes?” I answered, reaching out to stroke his cheek.
“You said nothing about the car ride to the restaurant and whether I can do things to you in here.” He grinned, smirk highly evident.
Damn.
“No, I suppose I didn’t.” I sighed resignedly, his hands already moving under my dress. My breath hitched as his fingers traced a circle on my upper thigh.
“We have about twenty-five blocks to play. Up for a little slap and tickle?” He smiled, watching my reaction as he eased his hand higher, closer.
“Oh hell, love, that’s something you literally never need to ask. Always yes. Yes to slap and tickle.” I kissed him deeply.
We may have been a little late for dinner.
Chapter 9
Rebecca and I had a blast getting caught up, and Jack just shook his head while we carried on over dinner. She told me all about the stalkers, the Time fans coming to his appearances, and the paparazzi trailing him constantly now. Because he had me otherwise occupied in the car, I’d failed to notice the car following us, carrying his new security guard. The guard now went out with Jack for high-profile events, and for not-so-high-profile events, like a simple dinner. That would take some getting used to.
We got to the restaurant rather quickly, so there was no chance for actual sexy times, just the promise of the sexy times. The panties had very nearly come off though, and I was now hypersexual. Everything was turning me on: the way he drank his wine, the way he twirled his pasta, the way he licked his lips to catch a plop of sauce. And was it me, or was he massaging that breadstick?
I had to excuse myself from the table. I needed some air. He was seriously driving me crazy. Rebecca followed me to the ladies room.
“Is he trying to make you self-combust?” she asked, raising an all-knowing eyebrow in the mirror.
“Jesus, yes! You noticed it too?”
“Oh shit, girl, he is on. He misses you so much. I almost feel dirty watching the display of table sexing going on…Almost. I’m still totally going to watch.” She laughed at my expression.
“He’s killing me. I almost can’t stand it,” I admitted, fanning myself.
“Grace, I have to tell you, he’s so in love with you,” she said, reapplying her lipstick.
I stopped fanning and looked at her.
“Why do you say that?” I asked, really interested in what she was going to say.
“I just know. He talks about you all the time. And he really misses you. You should’ve seen him in his interviews today. He was bouncing out of his seat, checking his watch. Ya know, he tries to play it so cool, but he’s just an idiot. Those fangirls think he’s all sexy scientist man, and really, he’s just a British goober who adores his girlfriend.”
I was so glad he had a friend like her. She really got him.
“He is kind of an idiot, isn’t he?” I laughed, thinking of him back at the table. Massaging his breadstick.
But he’s your idiot.
Yes, he really just is.
“Boys are idiots when they’re in blue-ball hell. You need to make sure he gets some tonight. I can barely contain myself with all the sex vibes being thrown around, and he’s like a brother to me!” She grimaced as we walked back to the table.
We arrived to find the security guard, Joe, talking quietly to Jack. I slid into my chair, grasping Jack’s hand on the way and kissing his knuckles as he curled his hand around mine.
“Hey, love. Miss me?” he asked quietly, winking.
“I did actually. Are we leaving soon?” I winked back and waggled my eyebrows suggestively.
He exchanged a glance with Joe, then looked back at me.
“Well, yes. Soon. But you should know there are a bunch of photographers outside. You okay with that?” His concern for me showed on his face.
I took a deep breath.
“Grace, it’s cool. You can walk out with me,” Rebecca said. “We’ll play this off. They don’t need to know you were here with the Jack Hamilton. Maybe you were just here with the slightly-less-well-known-but-equally-hot Rebecca Lake,” she said, fluffing her hair and striking a pose.
I took another deep breath.
This was going to happen eventually. It was shocking that it hadn’t happened yet. If I hadn’t moved to New York, I probably would’ve been identified long before now. But Rebecca was right. I could walk out with her, grab a cab, and meet Jack back at the hotel.
“It’s cool. I’ll do whatever you want, love. You know that.” I placed a finger over his lips as he started to comment on my very easily misinterpreted statement. “Obviously, for everyone involved, I think it’s probably better if I walk out with Rebecca, though, don’t you?” I giggled as he tried to nibble on my finger.
“Yes, yes, it would be better, I suppose.” He sighed heavily.
“I’ll get a cab and meet you at the hotel.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Grace,” he said. “We can all ride in the same car. Just don’t let them photograph us together.”
I rolled my eyes, but decided to let him have this one. We stood up and made our way to the front of the restaurant. Rebecca went out first, with me following, but when I saw the flashes, I froze a little. She smiled gamely, took my arm, and guided me to the car. I tried to hide my face without looking like I was trying to—who knows if I actually pulled it off. Jack followed a moment later, grinning for the cameras.
We all piled into a black Suburban with tinted windows and sped away toward the Plaza. Jack and I held hands in the backseat, talking quietly. We dropped Rebecca off first, and then once we got to near the Plaza, I insisted they drop me off in front of Bergdorf’s so I could walk the last block or so.
“Now you’re just being silly, Grace,” Jack pouted as I bundled up for the short walk.
“No, I’m being realistic. Your movie comes out in less than two weeks, and the last thing you need now is to have me show up, making your fans think you’re unavailable. We can discuss this again in a few months once things have mellowed a bit. No more discussion tonight.”
This brief encounter with what he went through on a daily basis had confirmed what I already knew about how I’d be treated if the press found out he was dating someone—especially someone older.
He pulled me to him for one last kiss. “Room 1492. And, Grace?”
“Yes?”
“Don’t wait too long,” he whispered, kissing me slowly.
I kissed him back, then slipped from the car. The cool air did nothing to cool me down as I walked around the block, dodging the still-thick traffic on the sidewalks. After circling once, I figured enough time had gone by, and I began to make my way back toward the park and the Plaza.
***
When I got to his room, I found the door slightly ajar. When I entered I saw that my Brit had been busy. There were candles lit throughout the room, and he was waiting. He still wore his black pants, but the sweater had come off, revealing a long-sleeved white T-shirt, untucked and slightly slouchy.
“Hey,” I said, setting my bag down.
“Hey yourself,” he answered, taking a sip of his wine. He had a bottle of red open on the sideboard, and he’d poured a glass for me.
I crossed to him, picking up my wine. He didn’t move, but his eyes followed me. I raised the glass to my lips, sipping slowly. I felt the warmth slip down the back of my throat and rolled the taste around on my tongue. A slow smile crept across my face.
He ran his hand through his hair and grinned sexily at me.
I began to unbutton my coat, and he said, “Slower.”
My eyes widened, and then I understood.
“Slower, huh?” I asked in a low voice.
He nodded.
I set my glass down, biting back a smile, and let my hands return to the buttons on my long coat. I slipped each one of them open, slowly and methodically. I watched as he watched me, his eyes following my movements. Once the coat was unbuttoned, I gently removed it from my shoulders, allowing the leather to slide down my arms, before laying it on a chair. His eyes traveled the length of my body and back again, the green noticeably darker once they returned to mine.
I smiled, enjoying his reaction. I grabbed one end of my scarf and tugged. As it untangled, the ends trailed down my skin, the fringe catching a little on the low neck of my dress. Once again, he followed my movements with his eyes only, before bringing his gaze back to mine. His breath was coming faster, although, to his credit, he was containing his excitement better than I was.
I was breathing rather heavily, and I could feel my cheeks flushing. But I was nowhere near finished. I bent over slowly, allowing the v-neck of my dress to fall open, giving him a little peek. I removed one boot, then the other, unzipping at an almost unbearably slow pace. He took another sip of his wine, then set the glass down. He hooked his thumbs in his belt loops and leaned back against the dresser.
The eyes were dark, dark green now.
I untied the bow holding my dress together, but kept the wool closed, covering myself as long as we could stand it. It turned out to be not that much longer, as he finally pushed himself off the dresser and came to me. Without words, his hands went to my hips, causing the fabric to fall slightly, revealing what I had on underneath.
“Mmm, Gracie. That’s my bad girl,” he whispered as his now almost-black eyes took in the deep-red lace bra and panties I was wearing especially for him.
“You like?” I teased, letting my dress puddle on the floor at my feet.
“Very much,” he breathed, his fingers now tracing a path from my collarbone to my navel.
My breath caught and my back arched to keep contact with his touch. My hands quickly came up behind him and pulled his shirt off, tossing it over my shoulder with a playful throw.
“I like it very much too,” I purred, running my hands over his chest and down to his navel, circling it with my fingertips. He twitched at the feeling, and I looked at his lips. His teeth were biting down just slightly on his lower lip, and I knew I needed to kiss him, now.
But before I had a chance, he sank to his knees in front of me. His hands moved to the small of my back, pulling my body closer to his. My hands tucked into his silky curls, and I ran my fingers through them and made them stand straight up. I pressed his face into my tummy, hearing him sigh as his lips made contact with my skin.
His fingers slipped under the band of my panties and began to slowly drag them down my body, revealing me to him once again. He gazed at me once I was bare before him, then looked up at me, his eyes shining.
“Brilliant,” he said, running one hand from my bottom to my knee, easily hooking my leg over his shoulder.
My hand caressed his face as my body tensed in anticipation of his touch. He nuzzled at me, and my hands gripped him for balance. His lips found the space where my leg joined my hip, and he kissed me.
“Fucking brilliant,” he whispered, letting his tongue trace where my panties had been.
I moaned at the feel of him, at the sweet fluttering of his tongue and lips as he swept me open. His soft lips met me, and as he probed me with his tongue, I could feel the want and need I had for him, that was always there, begin to build.
He stood quickly and lifted me from the ground, removing my bra as he carried me to the bed.
The sight of Jack Hamilton, shirtless and about to make me see God, was something I’d never tire of seeing, and I panted at the thought of what was about to happen.
He laid me down and stood over me, his hands sweeping over my body. My shoulders, my breasts, my tummy, my hips, my thighs, and finally his fingers found me, nudging my legs open, revealing me to him.
“You’re so beautiful, Gracie,” he murmured and bent his head to me. His tongue found me instantly, and as he stroked me, I cried out at the perfection that was him.
No one would ever know my body as well as he did, and no one would ever make me feel the way he could.
His hands held me down on the bed as my body thrashed. His mouth and lips and tongue brought wave after wave, crashing against me, making me moan, groan, sigh, cry, and finally scream his name.
“Oh, God, mmm, Jack, Jack, Jack!” I screamed, feeling as though my insides were bursting. He hovered over my body, the intense pleasure beginning to ebb as he took me down slowly, his tongue now gently sweeping over me, lips kissing, teeth nibbling, as he made his way to my inner thigh.
“Hmm, this appears to be fading. Can’t have that.” He chuckled and bit down, making his Hamilton Brand stronger.
The combination of the crazy orgasms he’d just given me and the exquisite pain of his teeth brought me out of my dream state and back into reality.
