Avoiding Amy Jackson (39 page)

This is starting to become a theme—a theme I’m thoroughly enjoying.

James’s long legs make quick work of the hallway, and when we finally reach his door, he slides his keycard in without difficulty. In a matter of seconds, he has the door shut behind us and he’s pressing into me, pushing my body against the door. My breath hitches when his hand grips my thigh and lifts it up, wrapping my leg around his waist.

My dress is now pushed up around my stomach and my black satin panties are visible to his sensual gaze. “These need to go,” he demands before ripping the delicate fabric right off of my body.

Oh holy panty-ripper.

“Fuck, Amy,” he growls into my ear as his mouth licks and sucks at my neck.

I am ravenous for him. My hands push his leather jacket off of his back and my fingers slide underneath his t-shirt. My nails dig into his skin as he crushes his mouth to mine. Our kiss is all-consuming, completely mind-blowing, and I think this kiss has me stupefied. No seriously, I think I’ve lost brain cells. James’s body is like my own personal version of cocaine. I’m addicted to him. I want to lick him up and taste every perfect inch. If I could crawl inside his body, I would.

I moan loudly when he thrusts his jean-clad hardness against my bare skin.

“These need to go,” I tell him as my fingers frantically work towards unzipping his jeans. “Get that perfect cock out for me, James,” I whisper as my hands push his jeans and boxer briefs down just enough to reveal that dirty-blond swatch of hair that leads to the Promised Land.

“Say it,” he commands with a smug grin. His eyes shine with amusement.

Asshole.
I know exactly what he wants me to say. Normally, I would tell him to kiss my ass, but today, I feel like obliging his ego. I’ll buy into this game. I’ll stroke him to satisfaction.

“Get. That. Huge. Thick. Soup. Can. Cock…
inside of me
.” I speak the last words seductively, purring them into his ear.

“Amy?” His eyes are demanding, staring down into mine, and exuding enough heat to light my entire body on fire.

“Yeah?” I manage to rasp out.

“Hold on tight, baby. I’m going to fuck you now.”

Oh yes, please.

And we’ve reached that pivotal point where I am no longer capable of coherent thought…

Chapter Thirty-Six

“I’m a cock. I enjoy deep thrusts, long fucks, and hard pounding.

End. Of. Story.” – James’s cock

Amy’s back is pressed against the hotel door. Her legs are wrapped around my waist, the heels of her feet urging me deeper. In one fluid motion, I thrust into her fast and hard. Her head falls back and she moans in a deep, raspy voice. Her cheeks are flushed pink and her lashes sweep downward with each jarring penetration.
She feels incredible.

“Fuck me, James,” she whispers into my ear as her nails scratch down my back.

My hands grip her firm ass and a long groan escapes my throat. Amy’s body is tight and hot and everything I’ve ever dreamed of. She’s panting and moaning, and I feel her clench around me in rhythmic waves.
I’m going to fuck her senseless
. Every time she moves tomorrow, she’ll be reminded of me. She’ll be reminded of my cock inside of her, filling her, pleasing her, making her come. She might need a wheelchair to get around for a few days—crutches at the very least.

“Oh my god, James! I fucking love your cock!” she cries out.

I grunt in response and continue plunging inside of her, seating myself deeper, and bringing her closer to climax.

This is James’s cock. We’re busy right now.

That grey matter three feet north is useless at the moment because I am in control.

Don’t worry. I’ll stick with his plan of action and will continue to fuck Amy’s brains out.

I own this shit.

Epilogue

“Happy beginnings, make-up sex, and telephonic exorcisms.” - Amy

Three weeks later…

I never thought I’d say these words, but I’m officially in therapy. Yes, Amy Jackson is currently seeing a therapist twice a week. My therapist came highly recommended from my best friend, Ellen. She has been utilizing these grief-counseling services since her ill-fated attack over a year and half ago. Ellen had nothing but awesome things to say about my new psychiatrist, Susan.

After my first therapy appointment, I knew Ellen was right. Just one hour of sitting in Susan’s office and I felt like I had made an insane amount of progress in dealing with my grief from Benny’s death. I’m aware that’s an interesting choice of words when discussing therapy and psychiatrists, but it’s the truth. In three weeks’ time, I’ve faced a lot of my demons. I’ve relived some of the most traumatic memories of Benny’s death. These therapy sessions make me feel like I’m in the middle of a detox and I’m slowly purging my system of everything I’ve buried away for far too long.

This is both an excruciatingly painful and surprisingly refreshing process. Yes, it’s painful to go back to the day that Benny died. I’m sick with grief when I’m reminded of that horrifying day. The day I found him dead. The devastating moment when I saw his lifeless body in our swimming pool. These memories, the visuals that are spurred inside of my brain, are sometimes too much to process, but the fact that I’m actually facing them makes me hopeful. Therapy has become something I look forward to. After each session, I feel like I’m slowly gaining a piece of myself back.

I almost never thought I would see this day. I never imagined that I would reach a point in my life where I would actually start to function like a normal human being. It’s pretty awesome. And James, well… He makes everything one hundred times better. I can actually admit that we’re in a relationship now, and I’ve been known to even say the word boyfriend out loud. Yes, I’ve actually called James my boyfriend in front of other people.

This makes him very happy.

You can only imagine the cocky, smug grin that spreads across his mouth. Yeah, he’s kind of an asshole that way. He’s an asshole who managed to push himself into my life and plow through all of my ironclad walls. He was a force to be reckoned with, and I’ll forever be thankful that he never gave up on me. If it weren’t for James, I’d probably never be where I’m at right now. I know it’s only been a couple of weeks since I finally admitted that I love him, but this was a long time coming.

So here we are, James and I, working towards our happy beginning. Because that’s where we’re at right now—we’re right at the beginning. We’re not rushing things. We’re not talking about moving in together or professing words like marriage or family. We’re just basking in the happy start of our relationship. James and I are right smack in the middle of that wonderful period of time where you can’t keep your hands off of each other and you find yourself giddy with excitement at the sound of each other’s voices.

We’re savoring each other and all of the firsts we can share together. Things like our first date at the movies or the first time we enjoyed dinner with friends as an official couple. We’ve also experienced our first fight, first make-up sex, first fight after makeup sex… I’m starting to wonder if James makes a goal to get me riled up just so we can fight and then angrily screw each other’s brains out. The man is kind of a genius that way.

I still have my moments of being scared shitless that my selfish tendencies will destroy us, but James is always there to reassure me. The man gets me in a way that no one else ever has, and I realize that this makes me the luckiest bitch on the planet.

I’m currently lounging on James’s sofa, watching a movie as he sits beside me. He’s busy working on a few documents that have something to do with insurance premiums for his practice. This makes me appreciative that I’m just a lowly nurse. I have no desire to deal with any of that nonsense, not to mention the fact that my brain probably doesn’t have the mental capacity to understand it. My mind is too busy reading smut novels and keeping track of my favorite reality shows. Shows that James acts like he despises, but I know he secretly loves them.

He’s a closet Kardashian fan, by the way, and I know for a fact that Kourtney is his favorite. I found this out the other day when I was sitting on the couch, watching re-runs of The Kardashians when James proceeded to ask me if Kourtney had had her baby yet. It took me a good fifteen minutes to stop laughing, and the only reason I did was because James had thrown me over his shoulder and carried me into his bedroom.

I pull my attention away from the flat screen when I hear James let out a sigh. His brow is furrowed and he appears more than frustrated. I slide my foot in front of his computer screen, visibly interrupting his train of thought.

“God dammit, Amy!” he spits in my direction.

This does not deter me in my quest to get him worked up. I continue to wiggle my foot around his laptop screen as he unsuccessfully tries to swat it away.

“Amy.”
He says my name with his famous warning tone as his eyes close shut in annoyance.

My only response is to keep wiggling my foot around in his face.

“Amy,”
he warns again. This time he takes a deep inhale and groans loudly when the air finally leaves his lungs.

“Oh come on, Limp Dick. Lighten up a little,” I goad him. I’ve found that muttering his old nickname usually benefits me in the most delightful way.

His eyes snap towards mine, nearly spitting fire in my direction.

“Oh are you pissed now? Did I hurt your frail ego?” I ask sarcastically as a sly smile crests my lips.

James sets his laptop down on the coffee table and proceeds to launch himself on top of my body. I’m splayed out comfortably on his couch, and now his masculine physique is suspended over top of me. “Does this feel limp to you?” he jokingly questions as he thrusts his pelvis into mine.

A combination of a giggle and a moan are wrenched out of my mouth as he grinds himself against me.
God, that feels good.
The anticipation of getting naked with James is already starting to make my body warm and tingly.

“You didn’t answer me,” he scolds as he grabs my hand and places it over his obvious arousal. He repeats his question, eyeing me with a wicked intent. “Does this feel limp to you?”

I squeeze him gently with my palm and stifle the urge to crush my mouth to his. “Eh, it’s not limp, but it could definitely be harder,” I deadpan.

I’m lying.

James’s cock is straining…
hard.
His dick has provided enough room inside of his sweatpants that I could bring my sleeping bag and camp out for the night.

If I laid him on his stomach, I could spin him like a top.

He could literally do cock push-ups right now if he wanted to.

Have I mentioned that I love James’s cock?

He abruptly stands up and continues to stare down at me with a wicked expression. I have no idea what this man has planned for me, but I have a feeling I’m going to love it. And then…he shocks the shit out of me by turning around and walking down the hall towards his bedroom.

“Hey! Where in the hell are you going?” I shout as I sit up on the couch.

“None of your business, sweetheart,” he calls over his shoulder.

What. The. Hell?

I jump off the couch and start sprinting down the hallway. I notice the lights are turned out in the master bedroom as I take two steps past the threshold. Warm hands reach out from the darkness and grab my waist spurring a loud shriek to whoosh out of lungs. My hand grips my chest and my heart pounds furiously underneath my palm.

“Holy shit! You motherfucker!” I take a deep breath, shaky breath. “You scared the crap out of me!” I slap my hand down against his chest.

James chuckles quietly at my dramatics.

“Screw you, buddy,” I say as I start to turn around to head for the door.

I’m stopped in my tracks when James grabs my arm, drawing me flush against him. His hands grip my waist and then launch my body onto his bed, my butt bouncing on the mattress.

“James!” I squeal in excitement. I was actually going for annoyance, but let’s be real here. This is exactly why I wanted to get him worked up.

He stalks towards me. “You might as well call into work now because you’re not going to be able to walk tomorrow.”

My chest heaves up and down in anticipation as he slides his body over mine, pushing me into the mattress. It’s an exquisitely wonderful feeling. His hands curve underneath me, cupping my ass and tugging me into his very un-limp, deliciously hard dick.

But before his lips reach mine, my cell phone rings loudly from the bedside. The ringtone I set for Lizzy noisily fills the dark bedroom. My eyes perk up, and James groans in frustration as he rests his forehead against mine.

“I need to get that,” I tell him.

James reluctantly leans away from me and I grab for my phone.

“While I’m on the phone, you should probably go ahead and be a good Boy Scout and grab a condom. The last thing I need is to get knocked up by your soup-can-cock special sauce.”

He shakes his head and barks out a laugh as I answer my phone.

“Lizzy! Where in the hell have you been? I’ve been demon-dialing you for the past twenty-four hours!” I shout into the receiver.

“Hi, Amy,” she greets with a laugh. “I’m sorry. I’ve been kind of busy.”

My brow creases in puzzlement as my ears try to register the sounds coming through her end of the line. “Where in the hell are you?” I ask immediately.

“Well…” She trails off hesitantly. “I’m out of town.”

I swear I can hear the sound of slot machines in background, but I’m sure my ears are deceiving me. There’s no way in hell Lizzy is in a casino right now. “Out of town? Where exactly did you go?”

James is now looking at me with curiosity. He knows I haven’t been able to get ahold of Lizzy for the past day. I’ve obviously been spending a lot of time at his apartment and haven’t really been to Lizzy’s and my place all that much, but when I stopped by yesterday, I was a little concerned. She wasn’t home or answering any of my text messages or phone calls. If I hadn’t heard from her soon, I was prepared to call the police and fill out a missing persons report.