Jamieson
Fuck!
That woman. I can’t even put into words how amazing she is.
Walking away from me at the elevator, stomping mad and needing a release, her steps hitched as she adjusted her linen slacks. To think, she was that bothered by our kiss. Her rubbing one out in her car was the furthest thing from my mind, but it was fucking perfection. I may not have expected it, but walking up to her car, looking to finish that kiss, I didn’t envision her using a bright pink power tool.
I listened to her loud cry as her orgasm rose, causing a russet blush to appear on her china white skin. The rocking motion of her riding the wave of her orgasm as it built was damaging to my resolve. Gawking at it all, it took everything in me not to rip open her door, peel those pants down and slam myself to the hilt between her thighs.
Thinking about it, spanking her would be a treat indeed, leaving my palm mark on that globed ass with her face pressed up against her car hood.
Staying until the end of her release wasn’t my intention, but I couldn’t tear myself away. So, waiting until she’d placed the hefty toy on the dash, I stayed silent. Adjusting my cock, I then tapped on her driver’s side window. She didn’t even flinch. With a brief conversation and her peeling out of the parking lot in her own kind of style, I held back my laughter until she was out of sight.
“Third time’s a charm, Crown,” I tell myself, walking to my rental car.
Seeing her at my father’s funeral, she’d caught my eye. I’d expected we’d be in bed after a few timely crass words, sexually charged fights, and perfectly placed hands. Leaving her at the track, then engaging in a horrific dinner with my family, my mind consistently undressed her as I munched down on my steak. Yeah, Wyatt sparked the argument, or maybe it was mother. Either way, it gave me time to text the sexy Asian beauty. Somehow, someway, her fire engaged me and cooled my ice-cold heart.
I keep women at a distance, emotionally. Their bullshit, their drama, and their lacking morals are what I always seem to find. Do I care? No. A wet pussy, an open mouth, and a greedy ass are all that keep me entertained, usually. But her mind far surpasses any easy women I’ve met before.
Clicking the remote for the door of the rental, I hop into the blistering hot seat and crank up the air. Fuck, it’s hot here. I want to go home more than anything. It’s been months of this heat, bullshit with the family business and the hospital. My only respite has been the shop I bought here. It’s given me a reason to vacate the hospital and avoid the history of the past that haunts me as I think about my parents and their deaths.
Throwing the car in gear, I talk to myself as I pull out of the parking lot. “Thank fuck you’re awake, Wyatt. I need back to the cold before my insides burn up in this California heat.”
Checking the time, I have a half hour before I need to be at the shop. I bought it on a whim, and I’ve only been there once. Gruber, the guy running it for me, texted earlier about an issue with the building. Pulling up the address on the GPS, I drive straight over. Gruber was once a great surfer, but the puss-ass shit he does now makes him no better than a street racer turned executive bigwig. You can push the high-powered guy to the gutter, but the gutter can’t truly be a star. Your fate is decided by those pinnacle points in your life that defined you long before you were born.
Yeah, in name I’m a Crown, but my edges are rusted, my diamonds are cracked, and the luster has worn off. Growing up as a kid, I saw all the powerful, pompous assholes that thought their shit smelled like five hundred dollar Gianni Versace eau de cologne, or perfume. No, their shit just stunk worse than the fragrances they used to mask it. Take away the shine and they’re still just assholes looking to climb the ranks. Me? Well, I had a powerful, fantastic, and warm, loving father that I needed to make proud. Did I? No. Some days I wonder if he even remembered I was a Crown, or even his son.
When my dad was alive, he lived a life full of motor oil and exhaust. I like the fresh air, the brisk cold, and the sound of absolutely nothing. The rumble of a bike and well-tuned cars sound great, sure, but I’d rather a helo to take me to the heights where no one else ventures. Tamping down the snow first is perfection to me. Looking back up at your tracks and seeing you’re the only crazy motherfucker up there is priceless. Yeah, I do the comps and the X-Games, but to hit the slopes by my house in Colorado is way better than anything else.
Not one member of my family ever visited me for a weekend of riding the slopes. In all honesty, their California skin couldn’t handle the cool air. Yeah, Wyatt visited when he could, but it was to hang out and talk about family shit and the will that hung over our heads. Now I’ll never have that chance with my parents again. Death has taken care of that, unfortunately, so it’s just me and my siblings.
Pushing the ‘poor me’ mood out, I concentrate on the drive down La Cienega. The sun’s beaming down, steaming up my frosted edges, and I’ve had the air conditioning running in this car nonstop to avoid the blistering heat. It’s unbelievable how bad I find this heat after living in the mountains for so long. Pulling up in front of the tiny side street, I signal the turn.
Waiting for the long line of slow drivers, I finally have a chance to advance through. Turning through the first lane, I’m almost through the second when I feel the car jerk. “Fuck me. Now I know why I love it in Colorado. The fucking traffic here is ridiculous.”
Wondering what the hell happened, I’m spinning around in the seat to look for the culprit. “Could this shit day get any worse?” Damage on this cheap ass rental is not what I needed today.
Unbuckling my belt and leaving the car, I’m honked at by no less than five road rage inductees. Stepping out, I wave my hand in the air. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. Some fucktard just ruined your day. Never mind that mine’s been a ball of fucking joy.”
Kiss my ass.
Stepping around to the back of the vehicle, it’s easy to see the issue. Stuck just under my bumper is a Smart Car with the tiniest little girl hiding her face.
She rolls down her window when she sees me approach. “Please, please, don’t call the police. This will be my ninth accident in three months. I can’t have them involved.”
“Sweetie, if this is your ninth accident, you need to hand me the keys to the jellybean and start fucking walking down the street.”
While tears flow down her face, streaking her makeup until she looks like a Picasso, I’m yelled at by the surrounding motorists. Shit. As always, my growly voice scares teenagers. Sneering at the odd one and tossing up a few ‘fuck yous’ to the others, I feel sort of bad for giving her a hard time, so I decide to be nicer. “Look, stop crying. I can’t handle it. I’m just going down the street. Follow me and I’ll get your info. You don’t follow through, though, I’ll run you down with this rental.”
Sniffling as she wipes her face on the back of her hand, she nods as she catches her breath.
Walking back to my door, I hop in and advance the rest of the way through the intersection, pulling off once I’m out of the way of the annoying masses.
“Fuck me. First it’s Wyatt telling me about mother and their heart to heart, then seeing the woman that fires up my ‘fuck you’ attitude better than most. Now I’m late to the meeting with Gruber because of a bumper car and it’s blindfolded driver.”
Taking the keys out of the car, I lock it up and start it remotely so the A/C will keep going, then walk over to the young, teary-eyed terrorist. She has her windows up tight while she talks on the phone. Attempting to ignore me, I tap her window. I’m surprised by the little ant as she holds a petite finger in the air, asking me to wait a second.
“You have got to be kidding me.” Checking my watch, seeing that I’ll be beyond fucking late, I decide to call Gruber. Dialing him, he picks up on the third ring.
“Powder Kings.”
“Hey man, it’s Whiskey. I got into a fender bender with a ladybug so I’m gonna be a few minutes late.” Staring down at the little girl behind the wheel, she scrambles through paperwork as the phone falls from her ear. Bending to pick it back up, I watch her blunder through the conversation while trying to explain something.
“Yeah. I’m gonna be here for at least another hour,” Gruber states.
“Cool. I’ll get out there as soon as I can. I’m just a few streets away, and it shouldn’t be more than a few minutes.”
“No worries. See you soon.” With Gruber hanging up, I pocket my phone.
Looking down on the driver, I tap the kid’s window again as I see she has herself straightened out and her phone set down. Hopefully, this means the little shit will come out to talk to me.
Rolling her window down a smidgen, she leans forward. “Um, excuse me?”
“Yeah?”
“Are you Jamieson Crown, the snowboard racer?” A cute grin crosses her face and she lights up slightly. Not unusual, I get it all the time.
“Yeah, I’m Jamieson.”
Smiling brightly, she rolls the window down a touch more and passes an envelope out. I take it in hand, wondering what’s going on.
“You’ve been served.”
Whipping up the window fast, she slams the car in reverse and takes off into the oncoming traffic we’d just left. Before I even know what’s happened, I’m standing in the street with a fucking subpoena. I’m sure I know what it’s for, but I’m too damn curious not to look.
To Jamieson Harris Crown.
With the untimely death of one Jaxson Crown and one Marca Crown, the reading of your father’s will was postponed until the outcome of your brother and co-heir, a one Wyatt Crown, was finalized. Now that Mr. Crown has awoken, we will commence with the reading and decisions of the will on…
Zoning out to the details of the remainder of the letter, it seems I have no choice but to attend the bullshit meeting. The worst part of it is, that they want to schedule it for the day of our sister China’s court case. She won’t be able to attend, and I promised her that I’d be there to support her at court. Now, not only do I have to stand her up, but I have to go to the reading of the will without Wyatt. He’s in no shape to leave his bed, let alone the hospital.
I scrunch up the letter and toss it in the backseat of my rental. Every nerve I own has been fucking set alight today. I want to tear down the world and everything in it to just be left alone, but no. Not one of these fuckers will leave me be.
“So much fun being back in Cali,” I mutter, starting off. Gruber better have good news for me because my shit meter is fucking full, and I’m about to take it out on someone.