Текст книги "Forever a Jett Girl "
Автор книги: Meghan Quinn
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Текущая страница: 22 (всего у книги 22 страниц)
“Oh, my fuck, kick me in the crotch and call me fucking Sally! Of course I will marry you. I’m going to marry you so fucking hard.”
Jett shook his head and laughed, as I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed the ever living piss out of him.
34
“America’s Sweetheart”
Goldie
“Stop fidgeting,” Jett whispered in my ear as we walked down a very small red carpet that was full of flashing cameras and shouts from the press covering the rather popular event we were attending.
Turning toward him so the press couldn’t read my lips, I said, “I’m pretty sure I’m going to piss myself.”
Nervously, I gripped my collar that Jett so thoughtfully replaced, after the one he originally gave me was caught in the fire. This one matched the diamonds in my ring, showing just how thoughtful the man I loved was.
Chuckling softly, he kissed the top of my head and said, “Don’t be nervous, Little One. You deserve this.”
“Mr. Colby, Mr. Colby,” reporters called out, trying to gather his attention. “Is it true you’re engaged? Mr. Colby, do you have time to answer a few questions?”
“Throw them a bone,” I said, while patting his chest, glancing at my ring. It was something I did very often, not because it was a fucking boulder sitting on top of my finger, nope, it was because it was Jett’s mark on me. Once and for all, I was his, forever I would be a Jett Girl.
The day of the fire, I couldn’t even think about it, it still made my skin crawl. It’s been a few weeks, but it still seemed too fresh, seeing the movement on the third floor, thinking it was Jett, not being able to contact him; it all boiled down to the worst moment in my life, next to losing my parents.
After they were able to put out the fire, investigators went in and were able to confirm that Mercy started the fire. She apparently spent a good amount of time dumping gasoline along the front perimeter of the house, making sure to ignite the damn place. She then helped herself inside, through a window she broke, lit the gas on fire, and then trailed her tank throughout the house until she made it to the third floor; she was practically a human blow torch, igniting everything in sight. I’m still shocked the girls and Kace were able to evacuate as quickly as they did with some of their things. Thankfully, Mercy missed the “servant’s quarters” when she was lighting shit up.
Fucking crazy ass bitch.
It’s scary to think Jett could have been on the top floor…that he could have been trapped, but thanks to one simple phone call from a jeweler, a jeweler I will forever suck dick for, he snuck out the back and went to get my ring. Not even Kace knew about the proposal.
It’s so weird how little things, like a phone call, can save your life, or how a small coincidence of drawing a gravestone over and over again can bring two helpless souls together.
“Come on,” Jett said, as he pulled on my hand, knocking me out of my thoughts.
I trailed behind him, holding on to his hand tightly as he curtly nodded to a reporter at the end of the pit. Jett adjusted his tie and cleared his throat, “Mr. Cardone, what a pleasure to see you.”
“Mr. Colby,” the man said, while shaking Jett’s hand. “Thank you for coming over here; may I ask you some questions?”
“Of course,” Jett said kindly, as the other reporters crowded around Mr. Cardone, sticking their recorders as close as they could get to have a chance at the little Jett Colby exclusive being conducted.
“Thank you. I promise to be quick. Can you make a statement on the recent engagement rumors?”
“I can,” Jett said proudly, as he pulled my hand up to his lips and kissed my knuckles gently. He looked down at me with the sexiest smile I had ever seen and he said with great pride, “Mr. Cardone, please meet my fiancé, Goldie Bishop, the woman who’s stolen my heart and the talented artist who will be showcased tonight.”
In one quick wave of light, cameras pointed at me and started flashing at an unsurmountable rate, making it hard to keep my eyes open. So, instead of looking toward the pit, I looked up at Jett and smiled.
“Congratulations,” Mr. Cardone said. “You are one lucky man.”
“That I am,” Jett agreed.
“Can you tell me how you two met?”
“Through the true luck of serendipity.” Jett kept it simple because, apparently, she was a hooker that I pulled from the pit of Bourbon Street wasn’t as romantic as the word serendipity.
“Do you have a wedding date?”
Jett tore his eyes off of me and looked at Mr. Cardone. “Not at the moment; we’re just enjoying being engaged right now.”
“An honored tradition,” Mr. Cardone added. “The news about your mansion being burned down has been a popular subject in the city, any plans to rebuild?”
“Yes, we will be meeting with contractors soon to preserve the look and feel of what the Lafayette Club used to be. The club is just a possession; I’m just grateful no one who matters to me was hurt.”
“In the meantime, where are you staying?”
Jett gave him a pointed look and said, “That’s not really the media’s business, but I will say that we are staying at one of my many properties while we figure out the rebuild of the club and continue to concentrate on the construction of the community center, which is my top priority. Until the center is complete, we will hold off on construction of the house. I have plenty of places to stay, but there isn’t a community center where people can gain a second chance.”
We were currently staying in a hotel Jett owned on Canal Street, and the proximity to the French Quarter was dangerous for me because every Saturday, I was drawn to Café du Monde for my weekend intake of beignets. Jett refused to miss our new tradition, but my ass was starting to wish we’d skipped a weekend or two. Jett thought differently; he rather enjoyed the extra little curve to my ass, fuck did he enjoy it.
Even though we didn’t have the Bourbon Room to play around in, the man came up with new and exciting ways for me to submit.
Did you know there are suction cups strong enough to hold up a grown human against a floor to ceiling window? Yeah, me fucking either, but holy hell is that an experience.
“Do you have a name for the center yet?” Mr. Cardone asked.
Without skipping a beat, Jett answered “Justice,” not explaining the meaning; he didn’t have to; the title spoke for itself.
“Very fitting,” Mr. Cardone complimented. “Can I get you to make a statement on your father’s upcoming trial?”
Jett’s jaw tensed at the mention of his father. Leo was up for trial in a few weeks and his outcome was looking like incarceration for an obscene amount of time, meaning, he would be dying behind bars. The man deserved every bit of his punishment, but after some long talks with Jett, he still felt sad about losing a piece of himself.
Jett was by no means sad for his father, no, the man was pure evil, but it was the notion of losing something Jett never had to begin with. No matter what, Jett will always strive to impress his father, to prove to his father that he is an honorable man, a man of society, a well-respected impact on the community, but would never receive the praise he craved. When Jett admitted his feelings to me, I cried for the little boy inside of him, and now I make it my duty to show him how important, valuable, and needed he is. I try to deliver the love he’s been craving since he was a little boy.
Gripping tighter on my hand, Jett answered, “All I have to say is my father deserves whatever the truth unveils.”
Nodding his head, Mr. Cardone turned toward me and asked, “Miss Bishop, congratulations on your first showcase, shall we be seeing more of your art in the future?”
Caught a little off-guard, I smiled and nodded, trying not to let the words “fuck yeah” slip out of my mouth.
Jett nudged me, indicating I should say something. Clearly, he didn’t want to be engaged to a mute.
“Yes,” I squeaked. “I hope so, at least, but if not, I’m okay with that because fortunately I’ve been offered a job at Justice as an art therapy teacher, so I’m quite excited to help those in need.”
“That is great to hear,” Mr. Cardone said, while writing a quick note. He looked up at Jett and me and said, “Thank you so much and congratulations. I can see how the city is just going to fall in love with you two; it’s quite evident you are infatuated with each other.”
Jett nodded his head and guided me toward the entrance of the art gallery.
“Infatuated with your dick,” I said, as I cuddled up close to Jett and whispered in his ear.
“Trying to get yourself in trouble already, Little One?” he asked with a smirk.
“Is it working?”
“It’s always working,” he insinuated while looking down.
I placed my hand on his chest and slowly started to move it down to his waist when he caught it and sternly looked me in the eyes.
“Behave yourself,” he commanded, turning me on like a mother fucker.
“And if I don’t?”
“Haven’t you learned not to play with fire?”
“My pussy is wet, come on, bang me in the bathroom. Pretty please! Look, my nipples are hard; rub them, do something. I’m a wanton woman with the need for that tree trunk, you know…the one that sits between your legs, the one that plows me like a fucking mac truck?”
Jett leaned forward and pressed his mouth against my ear as he spoke, “I know perfectly well what my dick can do to you; I don’t need reminding. Now, you are going to behave for the next few hours, and if you’re a good girl, I will reward you, but if you get out of hand, you won’t like your punishment, and I can fucking promise you that.”
His southern voice rumbled down to my very core, kicking up the heat level in my body. Yup, I was going to be a very good girl.
“Understood?” he asked, pulling lightly on my ear with his teeth.
“Fuck, yes,” I said breathlessly.
“Watch your mouth, Little One.”
“Yes…sir,” I smiled, making Jett roll his eyes and pull away.
“Now, show me your painting.”
When I got the call that my picture was picked for the showcase spotlight, I squealed and ran around Jett’s apartment naked, pushing lamps and pictures over just for the hell of it. I remember Jett standing in the middle of the room, mouth open, watching me pelvic thrust the air in joy. After I got off the phone, he spanked me on the ass for my behavior, and then fucked me up against the couch in celebration. Do we know how to celebrate, or what?
Since then, I’d kept my mouth shut about my painting so it would be a complete surprise to Jett. Thinking about my piece and what I did, I was nervous to show him. He was a possessive man; he was not going to like what he saw.
“Over here,” I guided him, as we pushed through the crowd to the back of the room, where my picture was hanging. A light shone over it, casting the perfect glow on my picture of Jett Girl tits in marked up purple, green, and gold hues. In the center of the canvas was a paper mâché cast of my own breasts, colored white, with one single Mardi Gras nipple tassel hanging off of a nipple. It was, by far, the most offensive piece of art ever made, but it was the definition of Mardi Gras. Just below the canvas was a plaque that held the name of my artwork.
Jett bent down to take a look at the title and then raised an eyebrow at me. “You named your artwork, ‘Where the Fuck is my Titty Tassel?’?”
Giggling to myself, I nodded and asked, “Isn’t it fitting?”
He shook his head and examined the canvas for a second before recognition washed over him. His brow creased and his jaw turned hard as he looked down at me.
“You are in so much fucking trouble, Little One.”
Gulping, I asked, “Whatever for?”
He pressed his lips to my ear and said, “You know damn well why.” His nose nuzzled the side of my face as he continued, “I will be buying this tonight; there is no way in hell anyone else will own a piece of you, even if it’s a pair of paper mâché breasts. You’re mine, Little One, you’re all fucking mine.
To think I thought I knew what happiness was. I was so fucking wrong, because right here, in this moment, resting in Jett’s arms, this is what happiness was. This is what it meant to be this overjoyed, this satisfied in life, to have the feeling of complete euphoria.
After everything I’ve been through, losing my parents, losing our business, losing my education, and selling my body just to make ends meet, I never in my wildest dreams thought a dark and mysterious stranger would stumble upon me and try to save my soul, but he did. Jett Colby saved me, and for that, I will be eternally grateful.
People of fortune see life through rose-colored glasses, but not me. I see through purple, green, and gold-colored glasses. I live life through three simple words: justice, faith, and power. Justice for those striving for second chances, faith in the people involved in my life, and the power of love. With those three words, those three meanings, I can finally sit back and live my life with the infamous Jett Colby by my side.
Epilogue
Kace
I could feel my jaw twitching as I watched Lyla walk across the room in a black strapless dress that hugged every fucking curve of her body. She was taunting me. I wasn’t a moron; I knew her game. She’d been taunting me since she left the club, since she told me without holding anything back that I wasn’t the man for her.
We were celebrating Goldie and the achievement of her first showing in a French Quarter art gallery, but all I could focus on was Lyla and every intentional movement she made. I watched as she flirted with every man in the gallery, touched their arms and laughed at their pathetic attempts at jokes. She was putting on a show, purposely making me jealous, and fuck if it wasn’t working.
I knew I wasn’t the man for her. I knew what she said was right, that I was an empty shell, that my soul was black and I had nothing but a warm body to offer her. I’ve known that since the moment my fist connected with Marshall Duncan’s head.
All it took was one wrong word, one wrong turn, and one wrong punch, and just like that, my life was over.
People like to celebrate the day they were born, the day they were married, the day they met the love of their life. Not me, I celebrate the day I let someone provoke me, the day I made the worst decision of my life, the day I took the life of another man…the day I fucking died.
BOURBON SERIES SPIN-OFFS TO COME
1. Kace—for all of you Kace fans, he will be getting his own story. Rest assured, I am not through with this brooding and damaged ex-boxer.
2. The Ringmaster—Cirque du Diable is Diego’s erotic club where he is the Ringmaster, controlling the circus surrounding him, but can he control the one woman who wants nothing to do with his lifestyle? I can’t wait to introduce you to Diego’s story…he’s so yummy!
3. The Black Top Racing Series—Zane Black, mogul and entrepreneur who owns an underground raceway in New York City’s abandoned subways will have his own series. Zane’s story is already in the works; I will keep you updated.
4. Life After (Being a Jett Girl)—This is a possibility for Francy, Tootse, Babs, and Pepper to tell their stories. We will see…
Thank you for reading Forever a Jett Girl! I hope you enjoyed it. If you did, please help other readers find this book:
1. This book is lendable, so send it to a friend who you think might like it so she can discover me, too.
2. Help other people find this book by writing a review.
3. Come like my Facebook page.
4. Find me on Goodreads.
5. Don’t forget to visit my website:
www.authormeghanquinn.com
Table of Contents
Copyright
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Epilogue
Bourbon Series Spin-Offs
