twenty-three
As promised, we ate our room service in bed, clad only in our hotel robes. I insisted that he be naked beneath, making it easier for me and my trusty oonie to pounce after dinner. We laughed and talked, and I even let him have a few bites of my grilled cheese. The shake I kept for myself. Grace does not share ice cream. She does, however, talk about herself in the third person.
By the time he wheeled the cart away, I was thoroughly sated and happy. I giggled and applauded when he began performing an impromptu striptease on his way back into the bedroom, and I even hummed a burlesque bump-’n’-grind tune while he danced about. I hooted and hollered, and threw a flower in appreciation of the show.
He was truly one of the funniest guys I had ever met. I hoped that as his fame increased, his fans would get to see that side of him. He wasn’t just a pretty face. He was damn smart and had one of the quickest wits I’d ever encountered. What I loved about him was that he was never embarrassed. He always let go of how silly he sometimes looked and it was absolutely endearing. Who would’ve guessed the guy who was making women swoon across the country could engage in the silliest robe removal I had ever seen? Certainly not me.
He finally dropped the robe while I screamed in laughter, then he crawled under the covers at the foot of the bed, now humming his own tune. I watched as his truly biteable buns disappeared under the comforter, and I squealed as I felt his teeth nip at my ankles. His entire body crept under the covers, and I tracked his progress based on the bites on my calf, the side of my knee, the top of my thigh, and finally my Hamilton Brand. This was reached only after he prodded my legs apart with his nose, his hands wrapping around my hips and pulling me roughly down the bed. He continued to hum his merry little tune, and at some point, I heard it change into something that sounded like “God Save the Queen.” I began to hum along with him, and I felt him smile against my skin.
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.”
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.
“It’s coming from the fact that we’re going to be three thousand miles away from each other, and I’m scared to death about what’s going to happen. Maybe I shouldn’t be so involved already, but I am. And even though you probably should be involved with somebody else, I hate the idea,” I said angrily, sitting up straight.
“Be with anyone else? Why don’t you let me decide who I want to be with? Is this something I need to worry about? You seem awfully defensive. Something you want to tell me, Grace?” he asked, watching me carefully.
“Oh, please. You’re the one who’s going to have a pussy parade to choose from as soon as you pop back up on the grid. They’ll be falling over with their legs in the air, and it can be just like before you started spending your evenings with Ma Kettle,” I snapped.
He glared at me, running his hands roughly through his hair. “Grace, you are bloody insane! Are you bent on fucking this up before we really even get going? And a pussy parade? You’re really pushing it,” he said, the warning clear in his voice.
I shoved myself out of the chair and stalked over to the ledge, looking out at the city—the city that I was leaving. In two days. Why the hell was I picking a fight with him now?
I spun about fast, seeing him sitting in the chair dejectedly. He looked confused and hurt and pissed as hell.
Would you quit trying to mess this up?
I walked back over and stood in front of him. He didn’t look up.
“Jack?” I asked, trying to get him to look at me. He didn’t answer. I tried again. “Hey, look at me. Please?” I asked.
His eyes closed at the word please. “I’m pissed at you, Gracie,” he said darkly, but the use of the name Gracie let me know he was more hurt than pissed.
“I know. I’m pissed at myself right now. Can you understand why I’m nervous, though?” I inquired, daring to reach out another hand to his hair, scratching at his scalp.
He ducked away from my hand; he wasn’t going to let this slide so easily. “I get why you’re nervous to leave, but I don’t get why you think I’d do something like that. If this is gonna work, especially when we’re apart, there needs to be some basic trust,” he said, finally opening his eyes and looking at me.
Oh, man, he was better equipped at twenty-four to deal with this than I was.
“I know, love. You have to understand, I’ve got thirty-three years’ worth of crap baggage knocking around behind me, and if you take me, you take the baggage. Old insecurities . . . they’re a bitch.”
“You don’t think I’m nervous about this, too? The timing of this whole thing is crap. We’re crazy to even try to make this work, but I think it’s crazy not to. I don’t know what’s going to happen, either, Gracie. We might be totally fucked.”
“I agree,” I answered, frowning.
“You need to settle down, though. No more pussy parade. That was uncalled for,” he said, his face serious. “And quit blaming our age difference when it’s your shit that’s making this weird right now.”
I paused and took in what he’d said. He was right. This was all my shit.
I reached out tentatively, approaching the scalp scratch once more. This time, he let me.
“Fucking Nuts Girl.” He sighed, closing his eyes again in acceptance.
“How about we just take it as it comes, and we’ll see how we manage the distance thing? We don’t need to decide anything tonight . . . yes?” I said.
He leaned in and pressed his face against my stomach, embracing me and pulling me into him.
“Yes,” he said, his voice muffled as he hugged me. We were quiet for a minute as I played with his hair. “Grace?” he asked, still muffled.
“Mmm-hmm?”
“You’re thirty-three?” he asked my tummy.
“Yep.” The jig was up.
“Fuck, you’re old,” he said, holding me tighter. He knew to restrain me.
“Hating you right now, Hamilton,” I said, seething.
“Loving you right now, Sheridan.” He laughed.
Shit storm over . . . or was this just a shit squall?
I managed to get out of his grip and walk over to the hot tub and slowly slipped out of my tank top and shorts. He watched me as I removed my bra and panties and slid into the water.
“You can’t love me from over there. Now, get your ass in here and make this thirty-three-year-old scream,” I said, leaning back against the rim with my arms spread out, making sure my breasts bobbed just above the surface.
He was in the tub in thirty-seven seconds.
And that was the night I found out Jack Hamilton could hold his breath underwater for an obscenely long time.
We slept deeply that night, pleasantly exhausted. Curled up with his hands on my breasts, I slept the sleep of the solidly fucked. And that can be taken several ways.
The next morning dawned clear and sunny—classic California for my last full day in L.A. And I would be spending it mostly alone. Jack was up early, and I watched from the bed as he changed. He had interviews all day and was taking a lunch meeting with Holly and a new director for a movie he was hoping to do in the spring. He had essentially quit working once Time was finished shooting, devoting his time to the upcoming media blitz that would take him halfway around the world and back again.
I sighed happily at the sight of my Jack walking around sleepily, dressed only in his jeans and no shirt. His hair was extra curly this morning, and he looked adorable. He smiled when he caught me staring and asked what I had planned for today.
“Well, I’m finishing up some last-minute packing, and then I’m having lunch with Nick to say good-bye. I’ve gotta go over to my house late this afternoon to sign the last few work orders, and then I’m officially moved in, just to move back out.” I tossed him his shirt, which was on the floor next to my bed. I couldn’t resist giving it a quick sniff.
Mmm, s’mores and sex.
“Grace, did you just sniff my shirt?” he asked, incredulous.
“Yep, I did. And after you leave, I’ll probably lie on your side of the bed for a while because the pillow smells like you. I’m ridiculous when I’m in love. We’re talking Hallmark here.” I giggled, hugging his pillow to my chest and taking deep breaths in, flaring my nostrils and widening my eyes.
“Wow, that’s not attractive.” He laughed, taking in my display. I curled up on his side anyway and continued to watch him putter about.
“What time are you heading over to your house?” he asked. “Maybe I’ll meet you there. I need to take a look at that master bathroom before I start sledgehammering, to make way for . . . the steam shower!” He suddenly landed on the bed next to me, wrapping my neck in a choke hold like a pro wrestler.
“Like you know how to install a steam shower, pretty boy,” I said teasingly, enduring an old-school noogie smackdown.
“I would supervise, obviously. I can’t let these hands get too dirty,” he said seriously, admiring his hands. I rolled my eyes, and he went back to scrubbing the top of my head with his knuckles.
“I’m meeting Chad there at five.”
“Perfect timing. I should be finishing up with my last interview about then. I’ll swing by,” he said, finally releasing me.
He finished getting ready and purposefully avoided my eyes when he snuck the ball cap into his back pocket. But he didn’t put it on, so he was still honoring the agreement.
Down in the kitchen, I made him toast, slightly burned with lots of marmalade (he really was like my own Paddington Bear . . . he was Hamilton Bear) and wrapped it in a paper towel so he could eat it in the car. I put a travel mug of coffee next to his bag while he gathered up the rest of his things. He wasn’t exactly packing up, but I did notice that some extra things were on their way out, like his cell charger, which had been plugged in next to mine for the last few weeks.
Grace, you don’t have time to panic.
He smiled when he saw the coffee ready to go for him. “Love you, Nuts Girl.”
“Love you more, Sweet Nuts,” I answered back, shaking my boobies at him. He raised an eyebrow and then left, blowing a kiss over his shoulder.
“See you at five!” he shouted, and soon after, I heard his car pulling away.
Then I was alone. I went up to my room to finish packing. I looked around, starting to feel blue again . . . and saw a note on my pillow! I smiled and opened it.
Quit pouting and get your packing done. And you look damn good for 48 years old. Tee hee?
My laughter broke through the stillness of the house.