The Unidentified Redhead
Page 32

God Save The Hamilton.
Later on that evening, 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 overhead rain faucet, we turned on all the side sprays and even turned on the steamer so we could have the sauna effect. I went back into the bedroom to grab one more piece of chocolate, and when I came back in 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 thoughtfully 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 toward the door.
“Sheridan, get your ass in here,” he teased, 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 al na**d and wet. It was … wel … steamy.
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.
Naughty, almost.
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 clean, he leaned in and kissed the hollow of my neck.
“Mmm … ” I whispered, not being able to help it. 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, narrowing his eyes as I massaged the shampoo through, making it stand up wildly. I moaned again 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, 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 behind 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 down between my legs, and I planted my feet wider, giving him increased access.
I dropped the 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 …
“Grace,” he murmured as he caressed me.
I moaned, feeling him twitch again as soon as he heard me.
I could feel the 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 up against the wall. The coolness of the tile, the nozzles spraying in so many directions and the sight of Jack, standing na**d 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 my body in place, and 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, loving how hard he was pressing into me, using his strength to ravage my body.
“Grace … Fuck, Grace!” he groaned.
“Yes, yes, f**k Grace!” I screamed, feeling his body sliding against mine.
I could feel my body’s tension 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 at my neck as he burst into me. We stayed like that for a moment, panting heavily, the water still beating down. 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 why he was 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 warned, slapping my ass as he turned to rinse off one last time.
He would get no arguments from me.
That night we exhausted ourselves, staking our claim all over the cottage, and finally, ending up in the one room that was oddly becoming a tradition.
“Why the hell do we always end up na**d in a closet?” he asked sleepily, his hands possessively surrounding my br**sts 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 accom-modations where we were separate from the other guests. I would certainly not want to be in a room next to my loud mouth. Jack had not held back at all, either. He was quite mouthy … in more ways than one.
I stood up shakily, reaching down for him and pulling him up. We dodged the hangers and the ironing board and made our way back to 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 times, not sexy times. I need sleep, are we clear?” I asked, raising my eyebrows in a severe way.
“Hey, you’ll get no arguments from me. You’ve worn me out, woman. I am officially all used up,” he answered, pulling the duvet up over us as I clicked on the TV.
“Hey, you just said sleepy times. Turn that off, Grace.” He frowned, trying to grab it away from me.
“Wait, wait … ah ha!” 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 and even when we stopped for gas, we were reluctant to separate. 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 in L.A., and when we finally pulled into Holly’s driveway, it was already mid afternoon. He needed to head back to his place for a while, and as I kissed him goodbye, 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 sighed, looking at my sad face.
“I know, I know … I’m being silly. You want to stay in for dinner tonight?” I asked. I really 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 back into the house, shocked at how empty I felt without him there. This was not the way it was supposed to happen. I was supposed to have had a little fling with a hot Hollywood piece of ass, move to New York, and that was 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 f**king mess.
I went into the house and found Holly in the kitchen. She was sitting at the counter with a plate of crackers and a can of spray cheese.
She didn’t even bother trying 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, not even letting me set my bag down.
“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 admitted, 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 f**ked 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 with you?” she asked again.
I thought for a minute, and then answered. “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. And it came out all over her slate tiles in her gourmet kitchen. She came and sat down next to me, putting an arm around me and letting me sob.
“OK, you’re blue because you love him and you are leaving,” she stated.
“Uh huh,” I sobbed.
“And you’re blue because he loves you and he’l 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 that is 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.
I got calmed down while she patted my back soothingly. When I finally got myself under control, I looked at her, snot running everywhere.
“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. I’m just 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 finished, as I watched her squirt 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.” I smiled slowly at her.
“I don’t believe you.” She smiled back sadly at me, but handed it over.
We sat on the floor for a while, not talking, just passing the can back and forth in the way that we used to share a joint. Cheese, marijuana … same thing really.
That night, Hol y stuck around for dinner and then mysteriously disappeared to her room. 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 I 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. He was sitting on the lounge chair, legs extended, and I was perched between them, leaning back up against him. He had his arms 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 made me go all silly usually.
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.” I smiled tiredly.