The Unidentified Redhead Page 18

  We were twisted.

  That was the one that had the COUGAR caption. Mother fuck. Well, technically, not yet he hadn't.

  I looked over at him, driving my car, as was now habit. Usually he drove, I sat, we talked and held hands or he played with my pant leg, trying to push it further up my thigh. I pretended to try to stop him, usually. Truth be told, I loved that he couldn't keep his hands off me. But in this car, at this time, it was different. His hands were clutched tightly on the steering wheel as we moved west towards the coast. His jaw was tense, and I could see the worry on his face. I could fix this simply by taking his hand off the wheel and holding it in my own.

  I couldn't quite bring myself to do it though, and so I waited, and watched…

  He sighed again and I knew he was wondering how to fix the tension that had built up between us. It had grown even since we'd gotten in the car. I was quiet, biting on my lip and staring out the window. Every now and again, I saw him look at me out of the corner of his eye, darting his eyes back to the road ahead when I would try to meet them. He seemed so far away. I didn't have a big car, but he felt miles from me.

  He looked so sad, so concerned. He was as torn up about this as I was. I felt terrible seeing him look so conflicted.

  Fix this. Fix this, now.

  I watched him run his hands through his hair again and before he could place his right hand back on the steering wheel, I caught it, and brought it to my lips. He turned quickly to look at me, his eyes surprised and…relieved?

  “Hey,” I whispered.

  “Hey, yourself.” He smiled back, face lightening immediately, then dropped our hands to my thigh, where he immediately brushed up my dress so he could rest them on my bare skin.

  I felt his hand on my skin and I felt a sense of calm, of peace, of quiet settle over me.

  I felt a sense of grace.

  ***

  We pulled into Geoffrey's, one of my favorite restaurants. It was in Malibu, on the water, perched on top of a beautiful cliff overlooking the Pacific. I'd never told him this was one of my favorites, but he knew. We held hands as we walked into the restaurant, and the host took us straight to one of the tables right in front, the ocean spread out before us. They both went to pull out my chair and I grinned when Jack won out.

  After tucking me in, he sat across from me and I was reminded again how truly striking this man was. He was beautiful, just beautiful. We smiled for a moment, waiting for the waiter to finish explaining the specials. We picked out a bottle of wine together and then settled into another silence, watching the tide ebb and flow below us. This silence was much better than the last one.

  “So, should we talk about it?” he asked, brushing a piece of my hair back behind my ear, he'd been watching me struggle to keep it unstuck from my lip-gloss.

  “We can, but it doesn't change anything. It would be great if we could walk right into a crowded Hollywood club holding hands in front of all the paparazzi, but we can't.”

  He smiled at the thought, curling his hand around mine.

  “No, I suppose we couldn't,” he sighed, the same concern flashing through his eyes again. I was determined to not have those gorgeous green eyes look like that again.

  “So, let's just cross that bridge when we come to it. Besides, my ass will be far away in New York, and then you can make sure to slut it up playboy style again.” I smirked, pulling my dress a little lower and exposing just enough of my breasts that I knew would pull his focus. Sure enough, like a magnet, his eyes were drawn there, and when he looked at me again, the green was on fire.

  The waiter brought our wine, and after we ordered, Jack raised a glass to me.

  “So, here's to our second meal at the beach, and may this one be seagull shit free.”

  “That might be the best toast I have ever heard in my entire life,” I added, clinking his glass merrily and sipping the wine we had chosen.

  We laughed, and then Jack leaned into the table a little, taking my hand again.

  “So, I have something I would like to propose.”

  “Hamilton, be careful. The first night we met you told me that we would engage in a tryst, and that happened didn't it?” I thought of that magical night, when the dirty martinis had flowed as freely as the banter.

  “I remember, Sheridan, and I've quite enjoyed trysting you. But this one is different.”

  “Oh, do tell,” I teased, sipping my wine, delighting in the feel of his fingers tracing circles on the inside of my palm. He had it open on the table, fortuneteller style.

  “I have to go out of town this weekend, to Santa Barbara,” he started, and I felt my face fall. I only had a few days left, and he was leaving. This sucked so much ass. His eyes were down, staring at our hands. Then he looked up, staring at me through his lashes.

  “I want you to come with me. Will you come?” he asked, his words rushing out. Like I would ever say no to that. Like I would ever say no to him.

  Fantastic, hotel sex.

  I maniacal giggle escaped before I could catch it.

  He caught it. “What are you thinking?” he asked, the corner of his mouth turning up in that sexy half grin that made my knees go weak.

  “I was thinking: fantastic, hotel sex,” I admitted, still not containing the grin that was ear to ear.

  “Hotel sex?” he asked, blinking. Understanding now dawned in his eyes and they burned into mine.

  “Hmm, hotel sex. The best kind of sex.” He chuckled lowly.

  “Hotel sex, where Grace doesn't have to be quiet,” I purred.

  “Hotel sex, where Jack doesn't have to be quiet either,” he answered right back, making my tummy clench at the thought of Aggressive Jack making another appearance.

  “Hotel sex, where we will finally have the sex…is it wrong of me to want to skip dinner and drive to Santa Barbara right now?” I asked, only half kidding.

  “No, it's not wrong; I've half a mind to drive you there right now. You could use a good shagging,” he answered, raising the inside of my palm to his mouth, pressing his sweet mouth to it, and then darting his tongue out to lick it lightly. My mouth hung open as I contemplated his words.

  He wants to shag me.

  He wants to shag me.

  Why did that sound so dirty, sexy, and all around nasty? I got shagged in Santa Barbara, and all I got was this fantastic orgasm. It had a nice ring to it. I was sooo going to get shagged.

  About time.

  ***

  After dinner, we drove back to Holly's. This time, we were touching the entire time. When we paused at the light at Santa Monica and Coldwater Canyon, his hands had been unstoppable, roaming all over my legs, my arms, over my dress, under my dress.

  Whenever we stopped at a stoplight, he would lean over and kiss me like someone was going to take my lips away from him, and he was determined to get all he could, while he could. I was a little free with my hands as well. I had already unbuttoned nearly his entire shirt, his jacket long since abandoned to the back seat. When I noticed we were at a particularly long light, I had a brilliant idea.

  I pulled my eyes off him long enough to press the button that controlled the convertible. He was in the middle of kissing me and struggling to get past my seatbelt enough to allow his fingers the access he needed to make me all shivery and silly. He noticed the top going up and he stopped suddenly.

  “Did I do that?” he asked, looking confused. “I was nowhere near the button.”

  “No, Sweet Nuts, but you were getting close to the button that matters. I did it. I thought we could use a little more privacy,” I teased, pulling my dress up high enough so that he could see the white lacy boy shorts I was currently rocking. He inhaled sharply, eyes going dark green again. I had come to recognize the eyes going dark as portentous of good things to come.

  “You're dangerous, Nuts Girl. We're still miles from the house,” he groaned, as I continued to tease him, showing him a little more than just my boy shorts.

  “I only need a few miles to
work my magic, Hamilton. Just drive the car,” I directed, pointing at the light that had changed without taking my eyes away from his. He smiled, placed his hand high on my thigh again and drove on. I took the opportunity to pull myself up on my knees and then it was on.

  I attacked.

  I was all over him. My mouth sucked hard on his neck and my tongue found his ear. I moaned into it, biting on his earlobe.

  “Mmm, Jack…I can't wait until you're inside me,” I purred, crudely, knowing this would drive him out of his British mind. I heard him exhale forcefully and I saw his hands grip the steering wheel tightly.

  “Grace…don't test me,” he warned. I could see the vein on his neck begin to bulge as he struggled to maintain control over both himself and my car.

  He truly was beautiful, in every sense of the word. I leaned over and with one hand buried in his hair, and my mouth fixed on his neck, my other hand snaked into his lap and unzipped him quickly. He fumbled, trying desperately to keep me away from him, but he had already lost that battle the moment he said “shagging” back at the restaurant. I had been simmering at a rolling boil since that moment, me and my oonie just biding our time until we could pounce.

  And who could ever resist a pouncing oonie? Jack should have known better by now that when my oonie wants something, she gets it.

  Oonies aside, there was a Mr. Hamilton Junior that needed attending to. I placed my hands around him, leaned down, and took him in my mouth. He reacted frantically.

  “Fuck, Grace…don't…seriously, don't…ahhh…No. No, Grace…Gracie, we can't…oh, wow…ahhhh…we really shouldn't… aw, fucking hell…”

  He gave in.

  I heard screeching tires over his little diatribe, but mainly, I was focused on him. I licked him from base to tip, swirling my tongue around his head, and then taking him in deeply to the hilt. I could feel him hit the back of my throat and I moaned, sending vibrations through him. That's when I heard “Fucking hell” and I knew he was mine.

  I pulsed him in and out, using my hands to create more friction as we sped up through the canyon. It was testament to Jack that he was able to stay on the road. One of his hands did come down briefly to tangle in my hair; I stopped only long enough to place it safely back on the steering wheel.

  I could tell he was getting close, his breathing was rough and his voice, which always chanted my name seconds before he came, was starting to get tense.

  I heard a squeal and then silence. Before I knew what had happened, I was pulled out of my seat, losing a shoe in the process, and was placed unceremoniously on his lap.

  He had stopped me right before he came. Twenty-four-year-olds were my new favorite thing. I needed to tell Oprah to put them on her list.

  But now Aggressive Jack was in the house, or rather in the car. A car that was not big enough to contain him. I sat on his lap, my knees clumsily pressed into the leather behind him, as he looked at me without words. His hand stretched out to press the button that would put the top back down, and as it moved over our heads, I looked up and saw stars. I twisted around and looked over my shoulder and saw the whole of Los Angeles spread out before us.

  Mulholland.

  We had made it all the way to Mulholland.

  We were parked, and once the engine shut off, all I could hear was my breath, his breath, and the music. The Cult's “Fire Woman” spilled out into the night.

  I started to say something about the view and his hand closed firmly over my mouth.

  “No, Grace. I told you not to test me,” he said darkly, eyes almost forest by now.

  His breath was still a little shaky from my recent activities, but there was no question he was in control now. “Grace, did I tell you how beautiful you looked in this dress tonight?” he asked, slipping one finger under the strap and sliding his hand down below the fabric. His other hand lifted me off his lap just enough to pull the dress out from under me, billowing it out around us.

  “Mmm hmm,” I answered, thinking how sweet he was.

  “I want you to remember that.” He smirked, grasping a handful of silk and tearing it from my breast. I gasped as I watched it shred beneath his hands, leaving me open to the breeze. I was naked underneath other than my panties, and though he continued to rip my dress off my body, he never took his eyes off mine.

  Then, he snarled, he fucking snarled at me. He scooted me up on my knees, taking his hand and dipping it casually underneath the band of my panties.

  “And as much as I love this lace? I need to see my Grace,” he said, ripping those off too. I was now completely exposed, parked on the edge of a cliff, straddling my Brit who, by the way, was still hard as hell, out and about, and pointed directly at me.

  We stared at each other, our breath coming faster and faster, waiting to see which one would break first. He was breathing heavily and his nostrils were almost flaring with the passion that I could feel coursing through his body and flowing into my own. His lip curled in a sneer that was beyond belief in its sexiness. He looked like an animal, an angry and about to be out of control animal.

  I could feel the breeze against my over-heated skin, raising goose bumps all over. I pressed myself down against him, ever so slightly, feeling his sex against mine, and then we both broke at the same time. Foreheads knocked, teeth clicked, lips smacked and probably bruised as we clawed at each other. His hands went to my breasts. He pushed them together and licked them both at the same time…glorious.

  I buried my hands in his hair, pressing him further against me as I began to swirl my hips…fantastic. He bucked up against me, his hips tilting me backwards, and up against the steering wheel. I honked the horn with my flailing elbow…perfect.

  We kissed, licked, sucked, nibbled, bit, moaned, groaned, panted, and grabbed. My wetness coated him, making us slide against each other in the most pleasing way. I could feel his hardness pressed against me and as I rocked against him. I was manipulated deliciously. I knew it would not take long…this sex was on fire.

  I shifted in his lap at the same time he shifted and then…

  I could feel him.

  He could feel me.

  We both stopped and stared, wide eyed at each other.

  He was so close, he was right there, he was almost…inside me.

  I could feel him, right where it needed to be. The sense of him, the feeling of him, almost inside of me, made my blood boil. He gripped my hips tightly, holding us perfectly still. I would have been shaking if he were not holding me so tightly.

  “Oh, God, Jack, oh my God…please?” my voice shook. I couldn't wait any longer. I needed, I physically needed him to be on the inside, in my inside, right now.

  He was perfectly still, and then I felt him push into me, just a whisper more than he had been, still only barely inside me, but just the promise of him.

  We both moaned at the same time, and then he did the most unbelievable thing.

  He pulled away.

  I cried out at the loss.

  “No! No, please Jack. Come in, please come in.” I struggled to push myself down on him and looked in his eyes for an explanation. I could see a battle raging across his face. He was thrilled and horrified all at the same time.

  “No, Grace, not like this,” he said shakily, his voice dark and thick.

  What?

  His face was changing rapidly, from lust to fear to anger and then to pure carnal frustration. Mixed with determination. Dammit.

  “Not in a car, not outside, not like this. Not now,” he said again, his voice cracking as he pulled away further, away from my warmth that was aching to envelop him. He sighed heavily and he lifted me off his lap carefully, setting me back into my seat. I was still in shock from what had just happened, I truly thought we were about to, well, in the words of a thirteen-year-old boy…do it.

  As my heart and my body began to readjust, my brain caught up. He did want me, obviously, he wanted me. But he wanted it to be special.

  We were both fools. Crazy fools.

  I
blushed suddenly at my nakedness. I was sitting in my car naked, parked on the side of a mountain, with a still very hard Brit next to me, and we were both trying to get back in control of ourselves.

  I caught his eye and we both smirked.

  “That was, wow. I can't believe how hard it was to stop myself,” he said.

  “No kidding. I'm impressed. And apparently a bit of a slut,” I laughed, primly covering my exposed breasts with pieces of my dress. It was shredded.

  Panties? Shredded.

  Pride? Slightly shredded, but intact.

  “Are you kidding? Slut becomes you; you're my favorite slut. And just because I'm not going to be inside you tonight, doesn't mean I won't be very very soon,” he answered, his voice rolling in sex as he twirled my panties on his finger, or at least what was left of them.

  He shrugged out of his shirt, handing it to me and he put his jacket back on. I buttoned up and leaned over to kiss his neck.

  “How quick can you get us home?”

  “Buckle up, Nuts Girl,” he quipped, hand on my thigh as we tore off into the night.

  ***

  When we got back to Holly's we walked in giggling like teenagers, only to be stopped by Mama Holly with a carton of Chunky Monkey. She took one look at us. I was dressed in his shirt, buttoned all cock eyed. One shoe. He was wearing his jacket, no shirt underneath…very Miami Vice. We both had bite marks on our necks. She shook her head as we ran through the kitchen, shaking her spoon at us.

  “You had better hope there were no photographers wherever you were, dammit!” she shouted up to us. I ran up the stairs ahead of him, still naked underneath his shirt, and I swear to Holy Chex Mix…he bit me on my butt.

  ***

  We had a crazy night, reminiscent of our first night together. It was as if we knew that by this time tomorrow night, we would be moving beyond our own little sexual frontier and it was like a countdown of our greatest hits. He made me crazy in the bed, up against the door, in the shower, and once again…on the floor of the closet. His hair was a mess, my hands refusing to let go whenever he got that maniacal tongue near my lady bits.