My brother is a jerk.
My best friend is a pain in the ass.
Okay, neither of those statements are true. Both Ben and Piper are superb human beings, and we are blessed to have them in our lives. Yes, that’s much better for my maid of honor speech. A speech. In front of people. Fine, the majority of people who will be at the wedding are family and close friends.
And, I don’t have to give a speech, I want to give a speech. This is, of course, after I sing at their wedding. Again, in front of people. This is a new thing for me, and because I’m the jerk and pain in the ass, I decided to go balls out and sing and give a speech all on the same day.
Go me!
“Babe, do you know where my clippers are?”
Jameson Strauss. Damn he’s a fine-looking man. If I don’t answer him, he’ll come find me. Not only will he find me, but he’ll be shirtless and sweaty from his workout. I went from being a jerk to a lucky bitch in one thought. I’m also a horny bitch. I haven’t been able to get enough. I swear, it reminds me of the weeks we were living together and sleeping together in secret; I’m ready to pounce at the drop of a hat. Not that he’s complaining. Hell, no. My guy loves some sexy times and when I’m the one to initiate? He’s even more turned on.
“Hey, did you hear me?” Jameson is standing in the door to the dining room where I’m sitting. Papers are strewn across the table in my efforts to write the stupid speech. Plus, the music sheets for the song I’m singing are mixed in with all of this. I really should be a little more organized. The thought of the song has me doing the other thing I’ve been doing a lot lately—crying.
“Whoa, Ash, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” The concern in his voice makes my tears fall even faster.
“I . . . I . . . don’t know!” Yep, I’ve lost my damn mind.
“Shh, it’s okay.” Jameson drops to his knees and pulls me toward him. The moment my cheek hits his chest—his warm and sweaty chest—I relax, but the tears don’t stop. Seriously, they are like a freaking faucet. Oh, he’s so cuddly.
And half naked.
I snuggle into him and sniff the scent that sends my ovaries into overload. My hormones are bouncing around like damn grasshoppers. Granted, he’s a little more stinky than usual but for some reason, today, that is enough to do me in. I sniff him again and sigh at the smell that is one hundred percent Jameson Strauss, my favorite smell in the world. I can’t believe I deprived myself of him for years.
“Did you just sniff me?”
I nod in response. I need more of him. In me or on me; I need more. Straightening my back, my chest rises and I feel his body stiffen in awareness. My hold on Jameson tightens before I poke the tip of my tongue out and swirl it around his neck. A low groan rumbles from the back of his throat, and I feel how turned on he is.
Who am I to deny such an obvious invitation? I slide my hands back and forth along his back, allowing my nails to scrape his skin. Before I’m able to do much more, he lifts me up and my legs go around his waist as he lays me on top of the table.
“You’re playing with fire, baby.”
“Mmm . . . burn me, Jameson.”
Without another word, Jameson steals my lips with his own, and I melt into the table. My legs are still wrapped around his waist and his lightweight workout shorts do little to restrain his hardening erection. I lift my hips and the brief contact almost creates an orgasm. I’m like a damn firecracker ready to go off.
I don’t have time to contemplate my almost orgasm because Jameson is tugging down my tank top to expose by breasts to him. The cool air from the ceiling fan causes my nipples to harden just as he flicks one with his tongue.
Our sex is always phenomenal but something about these spontaneous encounters makes it even more so. Jameson and I have always had an attraction, but the moment we quit lying to ourselves and everyone else and made our relationship official, the phenomenal sex became something much more. We’re combustible. Each tug, lick, and thrust is full of passion and heat. Each time we’re together, I can’t believe it will get better, but each time it does.
When Jameson makes love to me, I feel treasured and loved. When he fucks me like he’s about to now, I feel desired and beautiful. I can’t wait another minute and begin tugging off the cotton shorts I’m wearing. Clearly impatient, Jameson smacks my hand out of the way and does the honors. I giggle a little, but the look in his eyes instantly turns me from smiling and giggling to the verge of an orgasm from a look. How does he do that?
“Fuck, Ashton, you’re so goddamn beautiful.”
Smiling, I sit up and wrap my hand around his neck, pulling him toward me. I kiss him with everything I have, hoping he knows how much he means to me. I don’t have a chance to deepen the kiss before Jameson slides his hands under my ass and lifts me up as he thrusts into me. It’s quick, it’s hard, and it’s glorious. His hands stay under me, keeping me in place with him as he thrusts into me. Each movement pushes him deeper into me. It only takes seconds before my orgasm peaks. Throwing my head back, I let out a cry that rivals a howling coyote.
Jameson immediately follows me. With his chin to his chest and his eyes clenched, I can tell he’s trying to hold on, to ride out his orgasm. He fails and comes with a vengeance.
“Baby, why are you crying?”
Shit, I didn’t know I was. “Sorry. I don’t know why. I’m not sad. That was fanfuckingtastic. That orgasm started in my toes and made its way to my head like a rocket. Maybe your dick tapped my tear starter or something.” I mock and tease because I have no idea why everything is making me cry.
“Doubtful. You’d tell me if something was wrong, right?”
“Of course. I’m sorry,” I say as he pulls from me and stands up. His shorts are only around his ankles so he pulls those up while handing me my own. I don’t bother putting them on and, instead, start walking toward our room and the shower.
“Hey, don’t walk away.” Stopping to look at him, I smile. The tears have stopped but I see the concern on his face and realize how much my emotional roller coaster affects him.
“Dude, your jizz is running down my leg. I’m just heading to the shower.” When in doubt, go with humor and an eyeroll. “Look,” I say, walking toward him. My hand goes to his chest where his heart is beating a mile a minute. “I’m fine. The song, the speech . . . they’re giving me some anxiety. Tears are a given when I’m a stressed-out mess. Plus, I’m probably about to get my period so this will all be over in a few days. Don’t worry your sexy self. Now, are you going to shower with me or do I have to wash my own back?” I tap his chest with my hand as I dramatically pivot and begin walking, a little extra sway to my hips.
Before I know it, Jameson’s rushing toward me, and I’m running from him, laughing. He catches me just as I make it to our bedroom door. His arms wrap around me from behind as he leans down to whisper in my ear.
“If it’s too much, don’t do the song. They’ll understand. I don’t like seeing you stressed. It makes me hurt for you.”
And, cue the tears. “You can’t say stuff like that,” I say, turning toward him. “How is a girl supposed to keep it together when you’re sweet? I’ll be fine. You’ll be there, and I’ll just sing to you like I always do. Now, come wash my back.”
Jameson growls and smacks my ass when I step into the bathroom. I know the song and the speech are creating anxiety. I know I should probably talk to my brother and Piper. I also know I won’t. I’ll suck it up and make this day everything they both want and deserve. I can lose my shit another day.