Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 100275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
“What are you doing?” I ask.
No reply.
Against my better judgment, I help her step onto a yacht. “I feel like we’re going to get arrested.”
“No.” She smiles. “Bobby J’s dad died and left him the yacht. But Bobby J hates boats. So the yacht never gets used.”
“Who’s Bobby J?”
“An old friend.” After finding a key under a deck-seat pillow, she holds it up, proud of herself. It takes her several attempts to get the key in the hole because it’s so dark. When the door unlocks, she reaches for the rail and descends the steps leading below deck.
As soon as I catch up to her, my fingers slide into her hair, and my forehead rests against hers. “You fuck up my head, Jaymes. You fuck it up so badly.”
A tiny flicker of light from the yacht club flashes across her face through the porthole on our right. “So what?” Her hands remain limp at her sides. “You’re not mine. But I’m yours, so the question is, What will you do with me?”
I cup the side of her face and kiss her neck. “Mine,” I whisper.
She melts into me, kicking off her heels. “Lower,” she says in a breathy voice, fingers knotted in my hair, tugging me in the direction she wants me to go.
I slide the dress straps down her shoulders, exposing her breasts. As I suck a nipple into my mouth, she hikes up her skirt so the whole dress is gathered around her waist.
“Kiss me lower . . .”
I kneel in front of her, peeling her black thong down her legs. The pads of my thumbs tease her inner thighs as I bury my face between her legs, spearing my tongue inside her as far as I can get it.
“Yesss . . .” She moans, tightening her grip on my hair with both hands to keep me where she wants me.
By the time she cries my name, I’m so hard that I can barely get my dick out of my pants fast enough. As soon as I do, I lift her to me and thrust into her. With my pants and briefs shackling my ankles, I shuffle us into the bedroom. The patient version of me would help her out of her dress instead of leaving it bunched at her waist, and I’d toe off my shoes to remove my pants and briefs. But I only go so far as to remove my jacket and shirt because I fucking love her breasts pressed to my chest. And I want her nails digging into my back while she chants, “Oh, god . . . yes.”
She does too. She chants it so loudly I bet everyone left at the clubhouse knows she’s getting close to having her second orgasm of the night.
This woman has me unhinged.
Both of her hands claim the sheet beneath us, jerking at the cotton while her heels dig into the mattress, and she grinds against me. “Y-yesss!”
My endgame should be my release, but it’s not. With Jamie, it’s watching her fall apart beneath me. It’s the sexiest, most divine thing I have ever witnessed.
But the grim reality is that this is nothing more than an illusion.
Chapter Twenty
JAYMES
It’s weird how little I remember from my childhood. And some of the things I think I remember don’t make sense. So, I know those are memories of dreams, not reality.
However, one recurring dream from my childhood was of a couple. I never noticed their faces, just their backsides strolling down a wooden dock, hand in hand. She was in a peach floral sundress, a dainty white purse dangling from her other hand. In his other hand, he carried her high heels by their straps while she padded barefoot.
Even at a young age, I thought there was something special about a man carrying a woman’s shoes, something tender about it.
This morning, I’m that woman with bare feet as Fitz and I stroll down the dock hand in hand before sunrise, and in Fitz’s other hand are my high heels.
When we return to Missoula, he won’t hold my hand or carry my high heels. And that’s okay because I’m living the dream.
I dreamed of this moment long before I knew Calvin Fitzgerald. Dreams deserve recognition when they come true. So with the cold, damp wood under my feet, I recognize this moment as a dream come true.
Nevertheless, like all dreams, it is a mere moment in time. A moment that will come and go like the tide. Crashing at the surface one minute and getting lost at sea the next.
This weekend, we crashed. In a blink, I’ll feel lost.
“Want to talk about it?” Melissa turns on the nightstand light when I ease the bedroom door shut. She sits up, rubbing her squinted eyes.
“Talk about what?” I step out of my dress and pull on leggings and a hoodie before repacking the rest.