Sugar on the Edge (31 page)

“Charlie’s in England,” he says as his hands still against me.

“Yes,” I acknowledge. “He is.”

“I’d want to go back… to visit his grave.”

My hands come up and clasp Gavin’s, holding him tight against me. I squeeze his fingers gently. “Of course, baby. You can go back whenever you want.”

“I want you to come with me,” he says, still with his eyes focused on where our hands are now mutually joined across my chest.

“Yes, I’ll go with you. Whenever you want.”

“And you’ll live here with me?” he says as his thumbs starts to move again across my nipples, and I can feel him start to grow hard underneath me again.

“Yes, I’ll live here with you, Filthy.”

“Will you continue to be my assistant… help me… travel with me?” His eyes never lift to mine, instead they still gaze vaguely at where his hands work my breasts.

“Yes, all of that,” I tell him firmly.

Finally… his eyes lift, and they seem to sparkle in the reflective light of the TV. They are wide, open, and vulnerable when he asks, “Will you also start falling in love with me?”

My breath catches in my throat, and my heart expands to about ten times its normal size. I reach one hand out and lay it along Gavin’s cheek. His eyes close briefly from the touch, but he opens them up just as quickly to await my answer.

“Yes,” I whisper to him. “I’ll start falling in love with you. I promise.”

“Good,” he whispers back. “Because I’ve already started that process with you.”

Pressing my palms to the pillows beside his head, I lean down and kiss him gently. When I pull back, I give him the tenderest of smiles. “Falling in love with me, huh?”

“Falling deep,” he confirms.

“Me too.”

“That’s fortuitous for me,” he says with a grin.

“Is this too fast?” I ask, worried that maybe we’re seeing something that we want to see but that shouldn’t be quite visible yet.

“Not fast enough, in my opinion,” he says, and then moves his hands down to play between my legs.

My head falls back at his first touch, and I reach behind me with one hand to stroke him. He’s already rock hard, still slightly moist from our last round of lovemaking.

“I thought you said you were done?” I ask on a gasp when he slips a finger in to me.

“I’ll never be done with you, Sweet. Never.”

“Savannah!” I yell from my office chair as I stare at the manuscript on my laptop.

“What?” she yells back from somewhere on the first floor.

“Come here,” I call out, leaning back in my chair and gazing at the computer with a smile.

“No,” she yells back with a whiny voice. “That’s three flights of stairs, and I’m still sick.”

“Bollocks. You’ve had no problem letting me fuck you the last three days, silly wench, so three flights of stairs shouldn’t be a problem. Now get your sweet ass up here.”

I can actually imagine the grin on her face, and I listen as her feet race up the stairs toward me. When I hear her at the top, I swivel the chair around and face the door. She comes barreling through and launches herself onto my lap, her arms wrapping around my neck. The chair moans and groans under the added weight and movement.

“What’s up, pup? Want a little afternoon quickie?”

Why yes, yes I do,
but I don’t voice that out loud.

Instead, I turn the chair back around toward my desk, swiveling both our bodies, and point at the laptop. She leans forward, peers at the screen, and reads the two words at the bottom.

The End.

“Filthy,” she squeals as she squeezes me in a bone-crushing hug, nearly strangling me. “You finished.”

“I finished,” I tell her, both happy and sad all at once. It’s a definite cause for celebration when an author finishes a story, having poured blood, sweat, and tears into the words. But you’re also sad and empty at the same time, because you’re leaving behind the same blood, sweat, and tears. There’s also a nervousness… a fear that maybe what you wrote wasn’t worth the blood, sweat, and tears that leached out of you onto paper. Particularly following up a huge hit. Is this book just as good? Will the fans love it or will I have let them down?

Savannah scrambles off my lap and tugs at my hand, so I stand up. I bend down to hug her again, perhaps catch that sweet mouth in a kiss so we can begin the celebration, but she pushes me to the side, steps past me, and sits in the chair. It squeaks loudly as she pulls it up to the desk. Her hand reaches out to my laptop as she says, “I can’t wait to read this bad boy.”

Quick as lightning, I slap lightly at her hand in admonishment, and she gives a yelp as she draws it back, narrowing her eyes at me. “What did you do that for?”

“No reading just yet. We’re taking a trip.”

“A trip?” she asks dubiously.

“Yes, a trip. We need a vacation.”

“A vacation?”

“To a beach.”

“A beach?”

“Are your brains addled, love?” I ask her as I pull her up out of the chair, wrapping my arms around her waist and leaning down to kiss her neck.

“But we live on a beach,” she says breathlessly as I kiss behind her ear.

“A bloody cold beach in the winter,” I point out, moving my lips to her jaw. “I want to go somewhere tropical with you.”

“Mmmm. Tropical,” she moans as my hand comes up to cup her breast.

Releasing her, I grab her hand and start out of my office. “So let’s get packing.”

She follows me down the stairs and into the bedroom. I go in the closet, pull out a suitcase, and toss it on the bed. Heading to my dresser, I open the top drawer, pulling stuff out and throwing it in the suitcase. “We’ll get me packed up, then go to your house and get whatever else you need.”

Savannah’s hands on my lower back cause me to falter, and the kiss she presses into the middle of my back stops me. Turning to her, I look down at her beautiful face as she stares up at me with warm eyes. “Before we go, I think you need to be congratulated for a job well done.”

“I do?” I ask, my lips curving into an anticipatory leer.

Her tiny hands work at the button of my jeans, and then slowly unzip the fly. My breath catches as she pushes her hands inside right at my hipbones and pushes the denim down. She pulls the front of my briefs down, and her hand gently takes my cock. It immediately starts to swell as she moves her soft hand up and down.

“Yes, you need something special,” she murmurs as she drops to her knees before me.

“Something special?” I breathe out in a long rush.

“A congratulatory prize,” she whispers as her tongue flicks out over the head of my dick.

“A prize,” I repeat in a daze.

“Are your brains addled, love?” she teases me, and then takes me fully into her mouth.

Yes, my fucking brains are completely addled when it comes to Savannah. I stroke the top of her head while it bobs up and down on my cock. I watch her with hot eyes and a warm heart, balls tightening and my chest thumping like a drum.

God, I’m falling in deep…

“You wanted to go somewhere tropical, here we are, and yet, we haven’t left the room yet,” Savannah complains as her head rests on my thigh and my hand strokes her backside. We just got done having a math lesson… one that involves adding two people, two mouths, and equaling the sweet number of sixty-nine.

“This room is awesome,” I tell her with a light slap on her ass. “Why would we ever want to leave?”

Savannah lifts her head and looks around the room. She looks back at me, her lips swollen from the unbelievable blow job she just gave me and her neck flushed from the stupendous orgasm I just gave her.

“It’s a pretty awesome room,” she agrees.

Best I’ve ever been in as a matter of fact.

After we’d ran around like two kids in a candy store packing our bags four days ago, we actually stopped and looked at each other stupidly, having realized we had no clue where we wanted to go. So we jumped on my laptop and did some searching. Two hours later, we decided on Jade Mountain in St. Lucia.

The resort was small and catered heavily to its clientele. Each room came with its own personal butler, who was available via a cellular phone 24-7. But that wasn’t the best part. No, the room was the best part of this entire trip.

It was huge and square with no internal walls. A large, king-sized canopy bed with mosquito netting draped over it took up one wall. Along another wall was a bathroom that sat up on a raised dais. The toilet was sheltered by a small, three-foot tile blocked wall to afford some privacy, but the shower stood out in the open. The middle of the room bore a couch, two chairs, and a coffee table, and just to the right of that was a small, indoor pool. But the coolest feature, by far, was the fact that the room only had three walls. The fourth wall was gone… non-existent, and the room completely opened up to the outside with a fabulous view of the Piton mountains and the clear waters of the Caribbean. The indoor pool actually started inside of the room, at the base of the raised bathroom, and ran lengthwise outside to the large outdoor deck stacked with teak furniture, potted tropical plants, and hummingbirds that zoomed around the blooming flowers. Each room was constructed to have utter privacy. Even standing on our deck and leaning over it, the way the resort sloped down the face of one of the mountains, you couldn’t see another room above, below, or to the left and right of us.

Didn’t mean you couldn’t hear the other people all around us. We found that out our first night when I made love to Savannah on one of the deck chairs. After she cried out loudly as she came, we heard someone above us snickering. She tucked her red face into my shoulder and hissed at me to take her back in the room.

Instead, I dumped her in the warm pool and jumped in behind her. We played, splashed, then kissed some more, and my dick just never seems to quit with Savannah because before you knew it, I was hard again.

Then I was inside of her again.

Then she was screaming again.

Then snickering could be heard from above us again.

By the second day, we didn’t give a shit who heard us and had completely eschewed all clothing except when the butler came to our room to deliver food.

“I suppose we could get out… go do something,” I muse as my hand slides up her leg.

“Hmmm,” she moans, as I get closer to her sweet spot. “Like what?”