The Redhead Series

  Once he hit the Promised Land, however, he stopped humming, and I began to moan as he kissed me, tracing the entirety of my sex with his tongue and lips, being agonizingly gentle. I sighed, arching my back like a cat and stretching my arms over my head. Sometimes he would work me slow and long, and I could tell this was going to be one of those times.

  Those nights were always un-freaking-believable.

  He spread my legs wider, hooked them over his shoulders, and continued his gentle caressing. His tongue made delicate circles around me, working up and down and making me moan deeply. His fingers opened me farther, leaving me completely vulnerable to whatever he wanted to do.

  He was so good at this. But instead of letting me have a quick release, he’d take me just to where my legs began to shake, and then he’d back off, blowing cool breath on me, making me shiver and cry out.

  By the time he had made me almost-come the fourth time, I was begging for it. Just before he brought me to the place where I would finally see stars, he moved quickly up my body, poking his head out from under the covers.

  He entered me slowly, deeply, and I was able to watch his face as he nudged his way inside. We both cried out as he sank in, inch by inch, taking what seemed like an hour to finally be in me. We sighed together, and I wrapped my legs around his waist tighter, desperate to have him as deeply as I could take him in. I looked up at his earnest face as he slid in and out, his blond curls hanging down all crazy and sexy, and his strong arms as he held himself over me. He sucked in his bottom lip and bit down on it with his teeth as I bucked up to meet him.

  Beautiful.

  “Oh, God, Jack, that is . . . oh, God.” I struggled to find the words to explain how good he felt inside me, and couldn’t. He continued his slow, methodical movements, designed to make me shiver and shake, as I listened to his throaty moans. He hooked my right leg up over his shoulder, and with this new angle he went even deeper, hitting my J-spot, which made me cry out instantly.

  “Come for me, Gracie, please . . . I need to feel you come,” he begged as he felt my walls begin to squeeze him more firmly. His brows came together as he pumped into me firmly, constantly, with no letup as I raced toward my orgasm.

  This time, I came crazy quiet. Having been worked to the brink of pleasurable insanity, I shook wordlessly, totally caught up in my body, his body, and the effect he had on me. It was like a star exploding. He shouted my name as he emptied into me, releasing a deep moan.

  He sank down onto me, burying his head in my neck, and I held him tightly as he shook, my legs and my arms refusing to let him leave my body. I took all of his weight and his sighs and his shakes as he completely relaxed into me.

  I ran my nails up and down his back and finally into his hair as he sighed his Jack’s Happy Sound, warming my skin with his sweet breath.

  We stayed like that for several minutes, then he finally lifted his head from my breast. I brushed his hair back from his forehead and kissed him softly.

  “Can I tell you something?” I asked.

  “Of course.” He smiled.

  “I love you,” I replied, kissing him again.

  “I love you too, Gracie.” He sighed into my kisses. We cuddled for an hour, wrapped up together and eating hotel chocolate.

  God Save the Hamilton.

  Later on, we might have gotten some chocolate in places that it had no business being, and we decided a quick rinse-off was needed. We had yet to use the huge shower together, and it seemed to be a good time.

  Firing up the rain showerhead above, we turned on all the side sprays and even the steamer for a sauna effect. I went back into the bedroom to grab one more piece of chocolate, and when I came back into the bathroom, the entire shower was filled up with steam. I couldn’t see Jack but I knew he was already in there, because he had written the word poo on the glass door in the steam. I could hear him in there chuckling.

  “Hamilton, you are such a child,” I called out.

  “Sheridan, get your ass in here,” he said, sticking his head out and releasing a cloud of steam into the room. “The words will get progressively worse if you don’t.”

  Mmm, I had missed seeing my Brit all naked and wet.

  I slipped out of my robe as he watched me and climbed in past him. Standing under the main rain shower, I felt the water rush down over me. I could also feel the six other jets spraying different parts of my body, and that was really nice.

  Almost naughty.

  He grabbed my shampoo, and as he lathered me up, I let my arms snake around his waist, holding his wet body closer to mine. He was careful, as always, to keep the suds out of my eyes, and then as he tilted my head backward under the spray to rinse it clean, he leaned in and kissed the hollow of my neck.

  “Mmm . . . ,” I whispered. He laughed wickedly as he worked the conditioner through, paying special attention to the ends, like I’d taught him.

  Now it was my turn. As I stood on my tiptoes to reach his head, he steadied me with a firm grasp on my breasts. “Grace, I really could look at your tits for hours. God, they are just fantastic . . .” He trailed off and I moaned softly as his fingers slipped over my nipples.

  What is it about being wet that makes everything feel so amazing? It’s as though every sense is heightened and every touch, every caress, feels more intense.

  As soon as I rinsed his hair out, he took my shower gel, lathered up a sea-wool sponge, and began moving it across my body, leaving a trail of scented bubbles. I grabbed a similar sponge and proceeded to wash him as well, working my way from his chest and arms down to his stomach, skipping down to his legs and back up to his Mr. Hamilton.

  He was all kinds of hard. As I slid the sponge across him he twitched, and when I looked up at him, I saw dark green burning back at me. He lowered his sponge between my legs and I planted my feet wider, giving him increased access.

  I dropped my sponge, using my hands and the bubbles to stroke him firmly up and down, feeling him get even harder. He mirrored my actions, swirling his fingers through my slick, wet . . .

  I moaned, feeling him twitch again as soon as he heard me.

  I could feel sprays of water hitting my body everywhere and the steam was thick and hot, making my head swim.

  I needed to feel his skin and I pressed myself up against him, our wet bodies sliding across each other as he pushed me against the wall. The coolness of the tile, the nozzles spraying in so many directions, and the sight of Jack standing naked under the rain shower, the water running down his face and body, made my knees go weak.

  “Fuck me, please. Fuck me,” I begged, pulling him still closer. He quickly picked me up, wrapped my legs around him, and was inside my warmth instantly. His body held mine in place as he pounded into me, everything slippery, hot, and wet.

  His face was inches from mine as I scratched at his back, getting more and more aggressive with him. The speed with which he slammed into me and the grunts he made each time made me crazy. I crashed my body against his as he impaled me.

  I could feel every inch, every thrust, every pump, and it made me out of my mind with lust. My insides were on fire; I was loving how hard he was pressing into me, using his strength to ravage my body.

  “Grace . . . Fuck, Grace!” he groaned.

  “Yes, yes, fuck Grace!” I screamed, feeling his body sliding against mine.

  My body’s tension was building, increasing, threatening to split me in two with its ferocity. I pulled at his hair, making him slap at the tiles behind me.

  We came together, with me screaming his name and him biting my neck as he burst into me. We stayed like that for a moment, panting heavily, the water still beating down. Then he finally released me, holding me close and kissing me on the cheek. The way he could be dirty and biting me one minute and sweet and loving the next is what made him so incredible.

  Then he whispered, “While you’re in New York, I’m having them install a shower like this in your new house. Don’t even try to argue with me.”

&
nbsp; He’d get no arguments from me.

  That night we exhausted ourselves, staking our claim all over the cottage, and finally ended up in the one place that was oddly becoming a tradition.

  “Why the hell do we always end up naked in a closet?” he asked sleepily, his hands possessively surrounding my breasts as we came down from another round of mind-blowing sexy times.

  “I don’t know. We’re kinky, I guess,” I croaked, my throat raw from a night of blissful screaming. He really had shown great foresight in choosing accommodations separate from the other guests. I certainly wouldn’t have wanted to be in a room next to my loud mouth, and Jack hadn’t held back at all, either.

  I stood up shakily, reaching down and pulling him up, and we dodged the hangers and the ironing board and made our way back toward the bed. I slipped into his discarded shirt, and he found his boxers hanging from the TV.

  I went to my side and he to his, and as we met in the middle, I said, “George, it is now sleepy time, not sexy time. I need sleep, are we clear?” I raised my eyebrows in a severe way.

  “You’ll get no arguments from me. You’ve worn me out, woman. I am officially all used up.” He pulled the duvet up over us as I clicked on the TV.

  “Hey, you just called sleepy time. Turn that off, Grace.” He tried to grab the remote away from me.

  “Wait, wait . . . aha!” I yelled triumphantly, finding Lifetime and my favorite show. The theme song from The Golden Girls streamed into the room.

  “Bloody hell,” he muttered, but by the end of the song he was humming along with me, and by the end of the first scene, he was laughing along with me.

  And by the end of the episode, we were both fast asleep, all tucked in and peaceful.

  The next morning we woke up early, started the day with a bang (ahem), and were on the road back to L.A. by ten thirty. I wanted nothing more than to stay in bed with him all day, but Tuesday was getting so close, and I still had so much to do.

  We drove in relative silence and listened to songs on our iPods. We held hands the whole time, reluctant to separate even when we stopped for gas. It was as if we were quietly beginning to acknowledge how little time we had left with each other, and it was getting harder to ignore.

  He kept his hand on my leg the rest of the drive back to L.A., and when we finally pulled into Holly’s driveway, it was already midafternoon. He needed to head back to his place for a while, and as I kissed him good-bye, I almost couldn’t let him go.

  He kissed me longingly and swept my hair up into a loose ponytail, holding it on the back of my neck.

  “Crazy, I’ll be back before you know it. You won’t even have unpacked yet, I bet,” he said, looking at my sad face.

  “I know, I know . . . I’m being silly. You want to stay in for dinner tonight?” I didn’t want to leave the house for anything. I wanted him all to myself.

  “That sounds great. You can make me dinner.” He smiled, tickling my ribs.

  “We can cook together. You get to help me.” I laughed, squirming out of his grasp.

  “That’s a deal. I’ll be back as soon as I can, love,” he replied, kissing me once more. Then he drove away.

  I walked into the house, shocked at how empty I felt without him there. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to happen. I was supposed to have had a little fling with a hot Hollywood piece of ass, moved to New York, and had that be the end of it.

  Now I was head over heels in love with this wonderful guy, leaving in less than two days, and we hadn’t even discussed what we were going to do about it.

  What a fucking mess.

  Holly was in the kitchen, sitting at the counter with a plate of crackers and a can of spray cheese. She didn’t even try to hide the fact that she was really shooting the cheese straight into her mouth and leaving the crackers behind.

  “So, how was the dick?” she asked immediately.

  “The dick? It was nice.” I sighed and leaned back against the fridge.

  “How nice?” she inquired, pushing the cheese through her teeth and showing it to me.

  “So nice, I’m amazed I’m able to walk, frankly,” I said, sliding down the fridge and sitting on the floor.

  She looked at me carefully and then put the top back on the can, tossing it to me. “What’s wrong, Grace?” she asked, starting in on the crackers.

  “Why do you think something is wrong? I had a fabulous weekend, got fucked like it was going out of style, and . . .” I trailed off.

  “And?”

  “He told me he loved me,” I said, raising my hands to my face.

  “Shut up,” she breathed, eyes wide.

  “And I might have said it back.” I grinned, peeking at her through my fingers.

  “Wow. Then what the hell is wrong?”

  I thought for a minute. “I feel blue, Holly.” And then the tears finally started.

  I was so happy and so sad at the same time; it was bound to come out. She came and sat down next to me, putting an arm around me and letting me sob.

  “Okay, you’re blue because you love him and you’re leaving,” she stated.

  “Uh-huh,” I sobbed.

  “And you’re blue because he loves you and he’ll be three thousand miles away.”

  “Uh-huh,” I cried.

  “And you’re blue because he’s twenty-four, and what the hell does a twenty-four-year-old movie star have in common with a thirty-three-year-old aspiring actress who’s moving to New York, albeit temporarily?”

  “Yes!” I wailed, clutching the can of aerosol cheese to my chest. She pried it out of my hands, replacing it with a kitchen towel.

  As she patted my back soothingly, I gradually calmed down. When I finally got myself under control, I looked at her in despair.

  “Hol, what am I going to do?”

  Her eyes were thoughtful as she considered. “You’re going to decide what you want and then talk to him about it. I knew he loved you, and I’m glad he said it. You deserve to have all the facts in front of you when you talk.

  “But you need to go into this with your eyes wide open. Things are going to be difficult . . . you know this. He’s going to be busy; so are you. You’ll both be pulled in two totally different directions, and they’ll be the opposite directions from where you’ll want to be.”

  I blew my nose into the kitchen towel, and she grimaced but continued. “Talk to him, Grace. See what he wants to do. I know long-distance doesn’t usually work that well, but in this industry, couples are separated all the time. You never know. Stranger things can happen. Who knew you would even get to this place?” She squirted another shot of cheese into her mouth.

  I was silent for a moment.

  “What’re you thinking about?” she asked.

  “I’m thinking that I want some spray cheese.”

  She smiled and handed it over.

  We sat on the floor for a while, not talking, just passing the can back and forth in the same way that we used to share a joint. Cheese, marijuana . . . same thing, really.

  That night, we had a lot of fun making dinner. I made grilled salmon, roasted asparagus, saffron rice, and a salad. Jack assisted. He was allowed to heat the oven, stir the rice, set the table, and kiss my neck whenever he felt it looked lonely. This apparently was a lot.

  After dinner, we went outside and shared one of the lounge chairs on the terrace. We engaged in the random chitchat that people do, wrapped up in each other and looking at the stars. I was looking at one star in particular and wondered how I was going to leave him in less than two days. I must have sighed rather heavily, because he whispered, “What’s up, Crazy?”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, snuggling back against him. His legs were extended and I was perched between them, leaning back against him. His arms were wrapped solidly around me.

  “You’re here, but you’re not really here. You want to tell me what’s going on?” He prodded, nuzzling at my neck with his soft lips in a way that usually made me go all silly.


  There was no silly right now.

  I sighed again, turning on my side to face him. “I’m thinking about what happens on Tuesday, when I get on a plane and leave your sorry ass.”

  “Ah, Tuesday. Well, what do you think should happen?” he asked, looking very serious all of a sudden.

  “Hell, I don’t know. I know it’s probably suicide to try to make some big proclamation right before I leave, but I’m just going to miss you so damn much. These last few weeks have been pretty fucking amazing,” I said, touching his face.

  “I agree. Amazing. So why do you assume it won’t continue to be amazing? I, for one, am looking forward to all the phone sex we’ll be having.” He grinned, looking so handsome I almost burst into flames just being next to him.

  I smiled but then shook my head. “See, that’s just it. Why would you want to have phone sex with me when you could be having actual sex with anyone you wanted here?” I asked quietly, not able to meet his eyes.

  He raised my chin and made me look at him. He glowered at me. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that,” he replied shortly.

  “Why? You won’t have to watch Golden Girls all the time anymore. You can go back to going out, living your hipster lifestyle, which, frankly, you should. You’re twenty-four, for fuck’s sake, and I’ve been keeping you at home every night. How the hell are you not bored? There’ll be women lining up for you!” I was getting all worked up, and quickly.

  “Grace, you seem to be under the impression that I tell women I love them all the time. Can I tell you how often I’ve said that to anyone other than my family? Twice. That’s it: in my entire life, twice. Why would I fuck around on you?” he asked, getting heated.

  “Hey, man, people in love fuck around all the time. It happens,” I retorted, leaning up on the chair and out of his arms. “How about the next party you’re at, when there’s a blonde and a brunette wanting to take you home with them? What do you do?”

  “I tell them about the redhead that I’m in love with, and then I tell them to piss off. Where the hell is this coming from?” he asked, getting angry.