The Redhead Series

  Now that is intelligent design.

  I could feel myself building again, and as I pressed his face into me, he moaned, sending the vibration straight into me. I threw my head back against the seat as I came again, thrashing about under his tongue.

  He leaned back a little, licking his lips. “That’s two, love,” he said with a wink.

  “I changed my mind—get inside now. I need you,” I said, trying to get him to crawl up my body.

  “Hell no! I need you to really be ready for me, Gracie,” he teased. His fingers began to dance around me, and when he grazed me with his knuckle, it was shocking. My back arched into his fingers as one, then two slipped inside.

  “Fuck, you’re tight,” he said, his voice uneven and husky. I panted, and he watched as I began to shake. His fingers, strong and sure, stroked me, and finding that J-spot, he brought me to another hard orgasm.

  “And that’s three,” he said with a triumphant grin.

  “Unbelievable, as always. Now get up here, please. I need you inside me,” I growled, my face flushed with passion.

  “I think my bad girl deserves one more, don’t you?” he asked, slipping back down.

  As his fingers plunged back into me, his tongue found me once more. His teeth nibbled lightly, and I almost came out of my skin. His fingers stroked me from the inside, manipulating my J-spot as his tongue teased out another earth-shattering orgasm. I could feel this one coming, and it was huge. The combination of textures and rubbing and sucking and licking and stroking and pushing and incredible sweet invasion was too much. I let out a long, lusty scream, which became his name, over and over again.

  “Oh, God, Jack! Oohhh!” I screamed, collapsing against the seat. He kissed the inside of both of my thighs, and when his lips found the site of my original Hamilton Brand, he bit down, marking me once again as his. I hissed and dragged him back up to me.

  I pushed him into the seat, swung my leg over him, and sat on him. I felt every perfect inch of him as he sank into me, and we both cried out.

  “Jesus, I missed you, George,” I said as my body clenched around him, never wanting to let him go.

  “Fuuuuck,” was all he could get out as I began to move my hips, encouraging him to sink deeper into my body. He drove into me as I bounced above him, his mouth capturing my nipple and teasing me with his teeth. I rolled my hips back and forth, letting him feel all of me, his cock exploring me from the inside. His hands were rough on my hips, guiding me, slamming me up and down harder and harder as we both felt the explosion building.

  “I missed you, Jack. I missed feeling you inside me,” I chanted as he moved me up and down.

  “Oh, God, Grace, you feel amazing,” he groaned. “You’re so warm and wet and tight around me.” He sped up, and I matched his rhythm. He looked me in the eye, brow furrowed, jaw clenched. I knew this sweet face. My Jack was about to come.

  I squeezed him with all I had, feeling my orgasm begin to rip through me, and we came together.

  In the back of a town car, in the middle of Manhattan. What must that poor driver be thinking?

  This long weekend was going to be insane.

  three

  Now that Jack was in New York, things felt right. They felt good. My oonie certainly felt good . . .

  As we headed to Jack’s hotel, I’m sure the driver was mildly curious about why we didn’t spend any time at Grant’s Tomb once we got all the way up there, but no matter.

  We pulled up to the Four Seasons on Fifty-Seventh Street, and when we climbed out I suddenly remembered we weren’t supposed to be seen in public. Especially checking into a hotel. Very bad idea.

  “Hey, why don’t you get checked in, then call me and let me know what room you’re in, and I’ll come up,” I said quietly, beginning to move off in the direction of Madison Avenue.

  “Grace, that’s silly. Hey, Grace . . .” he protested, as the bellman took his bag inside and I walked away.

  I held up my cell and mouthed, “Call me.”

  He grimaced, shook his head, and went inside.

  I walked around the block, waiting for his call. I knew he thought I was being stupid, but based on the press coverage he was now getting—ugh. I didn’t want the scrutiny that would accompany another “unidentified redhead” sighting.

  His premiere was coming up so quickly, and he was about to start a huge press junket. Then he’d be traveling all over the country to make personal appearances. He wasn’t sure how many people would actually show up to see him, but I had a feeling it was going to blow his mind. He was going to be freaking swarmed.

  And speaking of the premiere, nothing had been said about whether I was invited. I’d mentioned it to Michael, just in case I would maybe need to head back to L.A. for a weekend. It would be tricky because our rehearsal time was so limited—the show was set to go up the first week of December. We’d locked in three weeks of performances initially, and then we’d see what kind of response we got.

  I was almost around the block when I got a text from the Brit:

  Get your sweet ass back here. Room 2104. Don’t make me come looking for you—I will make a scene. I will identify this motherfucking redhead.

  And I’d thought I was being all subtle and shit. Dammit, he knew me too well.

  You are never subtle.

  Good point.

  I finished my loop, made my way through the front entrance into the beautiful lobby, then found the bank of elevators. I thought fondly of our hotel in Santa Barbara and the fact that the hotel sex had been unfathomably great. Hmm . . . We might have to sleep here tonight, instead of at my place.

  I approached his door and knocked lightly. I could hear him on the phone, and when he opened the door, he smiled and pulled me in, continuing his conversation. I admired the room. It was well appointed and had a great view of the park. I checked out the bathroom: huge. It also had a rain shower like the one in Santa Barbara. Yep, I was definitely staying here with him. I didn’t care if I had to enter the building separately every day wrapped in a giant poncho.

  I went back into the main room and saw Jack standing by the window, still on the phone. He mouthed the words I’m sorry, and I shook my head with a smile. “No problem,” I mouthed back.

  With a running leap I vaulted myself onto the giant bed, landing smack in the middle with a belly flop. It was soft and inviting, covered in pillows and a silky duvet. I heard a snicker behind me and turned to see Jack looking amused at my acrobatic feat. I curled up on my side and waved at him. He smiled back and mouthed, “Five minutes.”

  I snickered, getting a delightful idea. I rose up, then sat on the side of the bed, within grasping distance of him. “It’s hot in here,” I mouthed.

  “More AC?” he mouthed back, starting toward the thermostat.

  “No, I’m going to get totally naked while you try to carry on your conversation,” I whispered. I didn’t want him to miss that part.

  His eyes widened as I proceeded to do exactly that. First the jacket and scarf came off, then the sneakers. My shirt came off next, followed quickly by my usual yoga pants. I could see him beginning to have trouble following his conversation, so my plan was working. I sat on the edge of the bed in my white panties and white lacy bra, and beckoned him over with one finger. He stalled, trying to decide what to do.

  In the end, the boy won out over the man, and he stood in front of me, still on the damn phone. “I’m sorry, love. It shouldn’t be much longer,” he mouthed.

  I smiled sweetly up at him, snaking my hands around his waist and bringing him closer. “It’s okay. Take your time,” I whispered. “I’m just going to do things to you while you carry on,” I said, to his horror and delight.

  He attempted to back up, but I quickly unzipped him and had my hand around him through his boxers before he could move very far. His eyes closed quickly, and he hardened completely in my hand.

  God, you really had to love a twenty-four-year-old.

  Yep, and I really had to love this o
ne in particular.

  I stroked him firmly, watching his face contort. He was a little distracted, you see. I pumped him, both hands inside his boxers now, and I could see he was really going to have some trouble soon.

  “Mm-hmm, mm-hmm, so I would need to be there for the London premiere on which day? Oh, God . . . I mean, sorry. Oh, God, that’s fine. I can be there then . . .” He moaned, and I took pity. His eyes rolled back in his head as I stood up and pushed him gently away.

  “Meet me in the shower when you’re through,” I whispered, removing my bra and throwing it over my shoulder as I walked toward the bathroom. I used to be so concerned about men seeing me naked, always worried about what was sticking out, what was jiggling, what was smushed. But with Jack? I knew all he wanted was me, and he preferred me naked. Totally liberating.

  I stopped at the door and slowly slid my panties down, looking behind me.

  Jack stood in the middle of the room, mouth hanging slightly open, with his pants around his ankles. He looked totally turned on and slightly mortified at the same time.

  I stifled a giggle and twirled my panties around my finger, now totally exposed to him. His eyes traveled down my body and back up to my eyes. “Hurry up,” I mouthed, and slipped into the bathroom.

  I’d barely gotten the water started and was adjusting the temperature when I heard the door open. I smiled as the water poured over me, steam filling up the large glass enclosure. Then I felt a very warm and very naked Jack press against my back, and my breath caught in my throat.

  “You are diabolical,” he muttered, dragging his tongue up the side of my neck.

  I shivered as he spun me around. “Next time, get off faster,” I said, pulling him under the spray with me.

  “No one is getting off fast, love. Certainly not you,” he promised, dipping his head to kiss the hollow of my neck.

  Oh, this was going to be a great weekend.

  Waterlogged and weak-kneed, we left the shower about an hour later, having thoroughly enjoyed the hotel’s giant water heaters. I’d lost track of how many times the Brit made me see stars, and I was a little concerned that I now had a shower-tile imprint permanently etched into my bum.

  We were punch-drunk and slaphappy as we stumbled into the bedroom, laughing at the lunacy of our actions.

  “Seriously, George, you’ve only been in New York a few hours, and we’re already working through our greatest hits!” I giggled, falling onto the bed and struggling to get under the covers. My hair was wound up in a towel, and I wore a plush Four Seasons robe. He walked around to his side of the bed, pulling the covers down as he went, and climbed in next to me.

  “I’ve been working you in my mind for weeks now, love, and I have a whole set of newest hits for us to try this weekend.” He grinned dangerously. I was in for it. We might never leave this hotel. “Besides, I missed you like crazy,” he added. “Now that I have you in my clutches, I may not let you go again. And speaking of clutches, bring those fantastic tits over here,” he muttered, pulling open my robe as he pressed his body against me. He turned me on my side, his hands finding my breasts, and then . . .

  Perfection. All was right with the world.

  We were both asleep in minutes.

  I woke up groggy and confused, as I often do when I nap in the afternoon. I felt Jack’s strong arms around me, and for a second I thought I was back in L.A. But the light was different, and when I looked around, I remembered where we were. My heart stuttered a bit, reminding me we weren’t together all the time anymore, but it started up again as I thought about the rest of the long weekend.

  Mmm . . .

  I rolled away carefully, trying not to wake him, and made it to the edge of the bed before I felt his hands pull me back to him. I giggled.

  “Where do you think you’re going, Nuts Girl?” he asked, his voice thick with sleep.

  “To brush out my hair. I’m sure it’s quite lovely from falling asleep with it wet.” I attempted to run my fingers through it, and I could tell it was sticking out every which way. Charming.

  “I think it looks cute—sort of a cross between finger-in-the-socket and homeless,” he said, pulling me back against him. “Scoot, please,” he instructed, pressing me onto my back and laying his head on my chest. He nudged my neck up so he could snuggle into the nook and wiggled about for a minute until he finally settled in.

  “Comfortable?” I asked with a quiet smile.

  “Incredibly so, yes,” he said, wrapping his arms more tightly around my waist.

  I glanced at the alarm clock and saw that it was already four thirty. We’d effectively wasted the day on showers and naptime. Just then, my stomach let out a loud growl.

  Jack moved lower on my body, kissed my tummy, then looked sternly at my navel. “Shhh, don’t be rude.”

  I giggled when, seconds later, my stomach growled again.

  Jack rolled his eyes. “I said quiet down,” he ordered, kissing my tummy once more.

  “Sweetie, I need to eat something. How are you not hungry? We both skipped lunch, and you flew all night!” I said.

  “Actually, I’m starving now that you mention it. Fancy a snack?”

  “I fancy a snack,” I affirmed, removing his arms from my waist and taking the room-service menu from the night-stand. “Are we going out for dinner tonight?” I asked, flipping through to the snacky stuff.

  “That’s entirely your call. I made no plans, other than an interview I have to do Saturday morning,” he answered, scratching my back.

  “Are we in a salty mood or a desserty mood?” I asked, chewing my lip thoughtfully.

  “Both. Just order what sounds good to you, and I’ll eat whatever,” he said, looking at me.

  “What’re you looking at? No more comments about my hair.” I frowned, trying again to run my fingers through it.

  “No, it’s just . . . it’s just really fucking great to see you, Gracie.” He smiled softly at me, his eyes bright green.

  “I missed you too, George. I really did,” I whispered, kissing him gently, breathing in his warm s’more-like smell. There was really no way I would ever eat a s’more again without wanting to have sex with it.

  My tummy growled again.

  “Okay, I’m calling in this order, and then we’re going to plan our evening. And we are leaving this room, Hamilton. We’re in Manhattan! We aren’t staying in all night,” I warned, picking up the phone.

  “Sheridan, if I wanted to make you stay in all night with me, all I’d have to do is wave some candy in front of you and then kiss on your sweet boobies. You’d be putty in my hands.” He grinned sexily.

  “There’s candy?” I asked, looking around excitedly.

  Jack laughed so hard, he fell off the bed.

  four

  We finally left the hotel around eight, heading for my place so I could show him where I lived and pick up some things. I did want him to sleep at my place. I wanted him in my bed and in my shower and on my couch, even if this was all rented furniture. But sweet damn—I wanted another round in that giant shower, and we had all weekend for me to have him s’more up my place.

  Enough with the freaking s’mores.

  This distance thing was making me a little insane.

  We caught a cab in front of the hotel, and it was so quick I didn’t even have time to worry about anyone seeing us. Maybe I did need to relax a little. New York was really different from L.A., and in his ratty jeans and ball cap he looked more college student than famous, so I doubted anyone would recognize him. And he wasn’t worried about being seen with me, so what the hell?

  We made out like teenagers in the cab on the way to my apartment. When we arrived, I nodded to the doorman as we walked inside. “Hi, Lou.”

  “Evening, Lou.” Jack nodded as well, and Lou nodded back.

  I kept him at arm’s length in the elevator, and when we finally made it into my apartment he was like an octopus, arms everywhere. He finally settled in behind me, hands clasped firmly over my tummy,
chin planted on my shoulder.

  “Okay, give me the grand tour,” he said.

  “Well, this is pretty much it. It’s not big. I don’t need a lot of space, and it’s close to the rehearsal studio. Kitchen, living room, bathroom down the hall, and bedroom is the last door on the right,” I said.

  “It’s nice,” he said, looking over my shoulder.

  “Eh, it’s okay. It’s no Laurel Canyon. That’s home to me,” I said, leaning back against him.

  “But you haven’t even lived there yet. How can it be your home when you’ve only slept one night there?” he questioned, kissing my neck right under my ear.

  “Mmm, and what a night it was,” I said with a giggle, turning to wrap my arms around his waist.

  His hands came to my face, bringing me forward into another soft kiss. “Yes, it was. But really, how can that be home? I mean, do you truly consider L.A. home?” he asked, looking at me with questions in his eyes.

  “God, yes. It does feel like home. When I first found my house, I knew it would need a lot of work, but I knew it was my home. I could clearly see myself living there. And even though I had to leave for this job, wherever I go, that house is home.” I closed my eyes, thinking of the warm California sun, and I could almost smell the lemon trees on my front porch and the honeysuckle in the backyard.

  I opened my eyes to see Jack studying me carefully.

  “What’s that look for?” I asked.

  “So you are planning on moving back, right?” he asked, running one hand through his hair.

  “Hell yes, ya goofball! I didn’t spend all my savings on my house just to sell it again! I don’t know how long I’ll be out here, and I love New York, but when this is over? I’ll be back home.” I pulled him against me. “What about you?” I asked, my face pressed into his shirt.

  “What about me?” he asked, his breath warm and sweet in my hair.

  “Where are you going to live when all this is over? Will you go back to London after the premiere, or are you planning on staying in L.A.?” I asked, a little afraid to hear the answer.